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santaasi · 5 months ago

Text

obviously blind

pairing: james potter x bsf!fem!reader

summary: for years, james potter thought he was chasing love. sirius black knew better — he’d been holding it all along.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love, james calls reader love, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 11.3k

a/n: it was probably the longest idea to write and edit. i rewrote every moment a bunch of times trying to bring it all to perfection. therefore, this time I hope more than ever that you will like it and you will support me with a like, comment or reblog. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing…

slaves – footprints

You left your mark on me like footprints in the snow

Would you promise me you'll never let me go

November 15, 1971 My dear best friend, Hogwarts is brilliant! You should see the castle; it’s massive, with these moving staircases that sometimes take you to places you didn’t even mean to go! I tried to get to Charms class last week and ended up in the Trophy Room instead. Sirius says it’s part of the fun, and I’m starting to agree. Speaking of fun, I made a new friend! His name’s Sirius Black, and he’s a bit of a troublemaker like me. Don’t tell Mum, but we might’ve let some Filibuster’s Fireworks off in the Great Hall during lunch. The teachers were furious, but the look on their faces was worth it. How’s Beauxbatons? Is it true your castle is magical in a totally different way? Sirius said something about unicorns roaming the grounds. Is that real? Write me everything—I want to know what it’s like over there. Hope you’re having as much fun as I am. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WAS UTTERLY SPENT. Not the charming, rakish kind of spent he might brag about after a late night of mischief, but truly, completely, soul-drainingly done. The journey to the Potter family cottage, which should have been a brisk jaunt, had turned into a Herculean trial. Blame the snowstorm that had swept through magical London like some vengeful Norse curse, burying everything in its path under heaps of frosty misery.

It started with a delayed train — no, not delayed, imprisoned. Sirius and James were already aboard when the announcement came, trapping them in a stuffy carriage surrounded by loudly complaining wizards and at least one crying baby. And because the universe clearly found Sirius’ misery entertaining, the train came to a jolting halt halfway to their destination, snow packing the tracks so thickly that it took hours of magical clearing before they moved again.

When they finally arrived at the station, they discovered that Mr. Potter, their much-needed savior with a warm car and a better attitude than either of them, had been delayed at work. Thus, Sirius and James were left to trudge through the snow-laden countryside, dragging their trunks behind them, with James’ endless chatter about Lily Evans ringing in Sirius’ ears like a persistent curse.

“Her smile, Padfoot,” James had sighed dreamily at least seventeen times, his glasses fogging up as if even thinking about Lily caused them to malfunction. “And the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s concentrating—”

By the sixteenth sigh, Sirius had been sorely tempted to shove a fistful of snow into James’ face. By the seventeenth, he was mentally composing a list of Unforgivable Curses and ranking them by efficiency. Yet, even as he grumbled under his breath, Sirius couldn’t bring himself to abandon the trek. The Potters were the closest thing he had to a family, and spending Christmas anywhere else — no matter how dire the journey — was unthinkable.

When they finally reached the Potter home, Sirius didn’t so much step inside as collapse into it. He shoved the front door open with the dramatic flair of a man escaping death itself and sprawled across the polished wooden floor like a martyr for his own cause. His trunk fell beside him with a satisfying thud.

“Home at last,” he groaned, voice muffled against the rug. “Tell me, Prongs, do they serve last rites before cinnamon rolls, or do we skip straight to the feast?”

The cottage, of course, was as warm and welcoming as Sirius remembered. Strings of fairy lights twinkled across the beams, casting a cozy glow of red, gold, and green. A holly wreath hung crookedly on the wall — lil’James’ handiwork, no doubt — and the scent of pine mingled with the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon, butter, and something sweet. Sirius’ stomach growled audibly.

“Oi, shut it, you ungrateful mutt,” James shot back with a grin, though Sirius could see his friend’s eyes darting toward the kitchen. “You’re embarrassing us in front of the wreath.”

James hadn’t even set his trunk down before a figure appeared in the doorway.

At first, Sirius barely registered her presence. He was too busy muttering about the injustice of underage magic restrictions. But then — oh, then — she stepped fully into view.

A girl.

Not just any girl, but you.

You moved with a kind of quiet confidence that Sirius instantly clocked, your steps unhurried, your presence undeniable. The golden glow of the fairy lights danced across your hair, giving it a shimmer that seemed almost unreal. You were wrapped in a deep blue jumper — Sirius realized this after a moment’s brain lag — and your cheeks were rosy, likely from the heat of the kitchen.

You carried a tray of steaming cinnamon rolls, the scent of melted sugar and spice trailing after you like some kind of domestic enchantment. Sirius’ mouth went dry, and for the first time in years, he was at a loss for words.

“Well,” he managed after a beat, hauling himself upright and trying for a semblance of decorum. “Now I see why you were so keen to come home, Prongs. You’ve got cinnamon-roll-bearing angels dropping out of the sky.”

You laughed, soft and melodic, the sound so unguarded it seemed to wrap the room in warmth. Sirius couldn’t help but notice the way your lips curled into a smile that was equal parts inviting and mysterious.

“Hello to you too, Sirius,” you said, your voice carrying a familiarity that made his ears perk up.

Sirius blinked. Wait. Of course. This wasn’t some celestial being summoned to his rescue; this was James’ childhood best friend. The one James had vaguely mentioned — just a handful of times over the years, always in passing and with a strange softness that Sirius hadn’t thought to question before.

And yet, here you were. In the flesh. Standing in the middle of the Potters’ living room with a tray of baked goods and a smile that Sirius suspected had the power to stop traffic.

“Well, well, Jamie-boy,” Sirius drawled, nudging James with his elbow and watching his friend with amused curiosity. “You never told me the famous cinnamon-roll angel was also — what’s the word? Ah, yes — real.”

You raised an eyebrow at Sirius’ antics, though your smile didn’t falter. Instead, you glanced toward James, who looked like he’d been hit with a Confundus Charm.

Sirius smirked. “James, mate, you alright? You’ve gone all... slack-jawed.”

But James wasn’t paying him any attention. His hazel eyes were locked on you, wide and brimming with something Sirius couldn’t quite place. He watched as James' gaze traced over the streak of flour smudged on your cheek, the stray strands of hair escaping from your ponytail, and the red apron dusted with flour and cinnamon.

Sirius almost snorted aloud. This was the James Potter who couldn’t shut up about Lily Evans — the boy who spent half his waking hours plotting ways to win her over. And yet, here he was, staring at you like you’d just descended from the heavens.

“Jamie,” you said softly, setting the tray down on the nearby table.

It was just one word, but the way you said it — warm, tender, and utterly unguarded — sent a jolt through Sirius.

Before he could process what was happening, James crossed the room in a few long strides and swept you into his arms. You squealed in surprise, and the sound was pure delight, echoing off the walls.

Sirius blinked, startled. The way James held you — hands firm on your waist, his head dipping into the crook of your neck — wasn’t friendly, not by a long shot. Sirius had known James since he was eleven years old, had seen him charm and flirt with half of Hogwarts, but he had never seen this.

“Missed me, Jamie?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his unruly hair with the kind of ease that spoke of years of familiarity.

“Always,” James murmured, so quietly Sirius barely caught it.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

He glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to explain this baffling scene, but it was just him, James, and you, wrapped up in some intimate little bubble that made Sirius feel like an intruder.

James murmured something into your shoulder — too soft for Sirius to catch — and you laughed, your voice light and unrestrained. The sound pulled James’ head up, and Sirius couldn’t miss the way his eyes traced your face with a kind of devotion Sirius had only read about in sappy romance novels.

It was then that the memories began to click into place. The scattered mentions over the years, the odd tone James always took when he talked about you. “She’s not like anyone else, Padfoot. She just gets it.” Or that one summer when James had come back to Hogwarts looking utterly miserable and wouldn’t explain why. Sirius had teased him about it for weeks, thinking it was Lily-related. But now, seeing the way James looked at you...

“Wait a minute,” Sirius blurted, his grin widening as realization dawned. “You’re the one. The one he’s always sneaking off to write letters to, the one he’s all secretive about.”

James shot him a glare, his cheeks burning bright red.

“Padfoot—”

“—the one who sent him that hideous scarf last Christmas!” Sirius continued, thoroughly enjoying himself now. “I knew there had to be someone. Prongs doesn’t just get that moony-eyed look over just anyone.”

You laughed again, covering your face with your hands, while James muttered something about strangling Sirius later.

Before Sirius could needle him further, the kitchen door creaked open, and Euphemia Potter swept into the room. She was radiant as always, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her dark hair streaked with silver. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw James.

“There’s my boy!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug before he could even attempt to protest.

“Hi, Mum,” James mumbled, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

Euphemia pulled back, cupping his face in her hands as though memorizing every detail. “It’s been too long, Jamie. Too long. You’re far too skinny — have you been eating properly at school? And what have you done with your hair?”

James groaned, though his smile was fond.

Then her eyes fell on Sirius, and the warmth in her expression grew tenfold.

“Sirius, my dear,” she said, moving toward him with open arms. “I’m so glad you’re home, too.”

Sirius froze for a moment, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to this — the genuine affection, the way Euphemia made him feel like he belonged.

When her arms wrapped around him, the embrace firm and filled with love, Sirius felt an odd lump form in his throat. He couldn’t help but think of his own mother’s cold, perfunctory hugs, her disdainful gaze, and the way her affection always felt like a transaction.

“You’ve grown even handsomer,” Euphemia said, pulling back to study him. “Fleamont’s going to be jealous.”

Sirius managed a crooked grin, the lump in his throat still stubbornly there. “That’s the goal, Mrs. Potter. Keep him on his toes.”

Euphemia laughed, her eyes twinkling, before cupping his cheek briefly. “You’re family now, Sirius. Never forget that.”

Satisfied, Euphemia turned her attention to you. Her face softened even more, and she reached out to squeeze your hands. “Oh, there you are, dear. I was wondering where my helper had gone. The mince pies won’t bake themselves, you know”

You shot James a quick, playful glance before following Euphemia toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit,” you said, your smile lingering.

As Mrs. Potter ushered you toward the door to finish the pies, Sirius remained rooted to the spot. The warmth from her hug lingered, and for a fleeting moment, he thought of how lucky James was to have parents like that — and how lucky he was to have stumbled into their lives.

James watched you leave, his gaze following you until you were out of sight. Sirius couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mate,” he said, clapping James on the shoulder. “You’re a goner.”

James huffed, shoving him away, but the goofy grin on his face was impossible to hide.

And Sirius? Sirius couldn’t wait to see how this played out.

July 2, 1973 My Love, Summer’s only just started, and I can’t wait to see you. Mum’s already planning another one of her “legendary” tea parties, which means she’ll fuss over you endlessly. You’ll smile politely and charm her like always, and she’ll end up spoiling you with biscuits to take back to Beauxbatons. I’ve got so much to tell you. Sirius and I found this secret passageway that leads straight to Hogsmeade. We’ve been practicing spells to make it even harder for Filch to find us. Remus is shaking his head, but I think he secretly loves our schemes. Oh, and Lily—she’s still brilliant. She’s got the most incredible laugh. But you, my love, I bet your laugh would still outshine hers any day.

Do you still walk in those Beauxbatons gardens at sunset? I can imagine you there, glowing in the soft light. It suits you. Write me back quickly, won’t you? The days are always better when I hear from you. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK HAD ALWAYS KNOWN JAMES POTTER WAS A TACTILE PERSON. James spoke fluently in the language of touch — claps on the back that lingered just a second too long, overly enthusiastic shoulder bumps that almost knocked you off your feet, and the occasional arm slung around your shoulders like he was staking a claim. But this? This was something else entirely.

It wasn’t just the way James touched you. It was the way he seemed to orbit you, like some lovesick moon drawn to its planet. Wherever you were, James was never far behind — hovering, grinning, completely and utterly besotted without even realizing it. And for someone so allegedly brilliant, he was astoundingly stupid about it.

Sirius noticed it within minutes of their arrival at the Potter cottage for the holidays. As the snow settled outside, so did James — right beside you, always beside you. If you were arranging the flowers Euphemia had insisted on, James was there offering suggestions like he’d suddenly become an expert on floral arrangements. If you were curled up in the drawing room with a book, James was sprawled across the nearest sofa, pretending to read but actually just watching you out of the corner of his eye like some hopeless romantic idiot in a badly written Muggle novel.

Sirius had been rolling his eyes so much, they were practically stuck in the back of his head.

THE SECOND MORNING WAS WHEN THINGS REALLY CLICKED. Sirius had woken up earlier than usual — a rare and uncomfortable event for him. He had no plans to do anything productive, of course, but the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway intrigued him. Padding out of his room, he peeked around the corner just in time to see James sneaking toward the kitchen.

Naturally, Sirius followed. He found James standing at the counter, sleeves rolled up like some kind of domestic god, arranging breakfast with the precision of someone preparing an offering to Merlin himself. There was a plate of toast with cream cheese and thinly sliced avocado, a bowl of berries that looked like they’d been picked by woodland elves, and a steaming cup of coffee. The smell alone was enough to make Sirius reconsider his usual disdain for mornings.

“Fancy,” Sirius said, leaning lazily against the doorframe, voice still scratchy from sleep.

James jumped slightly but recovered quickly, flashing Sirius a sheepish grin. “Morning, Pads. Coffee’s on the counter.”

Sirius eyed the tray suspiciously. “Is this for you, or is it for your favorite person in the world aka me?”

James’s ears turned pink. “It’s for her,” he admitted, almost bashfully, like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes crafting the most meticulous breakfast Sirius had ever seen.

“Of course it is,” Sirius muttered with a smirk, grabbing a mug for himself. “You realize this is bordering on embarrassing, yeah?”

James shot him a look, but before he could respond, you appeared in the doorway, still looking half-asleep. Your hair was mussed, and the oversized jumper you’d borrowed from James was slipping off one shoulder, but you somehow managed to look effortlessly radiant. Sirius rolled his eyes again.

“Morning, love,” James said, his voice soft and warm in a way Sirius had never heard before.

“Morning, Jamie,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you shuffled into the kitchen.

James practically tripped over himself to hand you the coffee. Sirius watched, amused, as James’s fingers brushed yours in the exchange, his entire face lighting up like someone had cast Lumos Maxima directly on it.

You took a long sip of the coffee, humming in contentment. “Perfect, as always,” you murmured, looking up at James with a sleepy smile that could have melted a Dementor.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Sirius nearly choked on his coffee. He wasn’t sure what was more painful — the nauseating sweetness of the moment or the fact that neither of you seemed to realize how completely ridiculous you were.

“Right, well, I’ll just... leave you two to it,” Sirius said, waving his mug in mock surrender as he backed out of the room. “Try not to get married while I’m gone.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” James called after him, but the way his voice wavered slightly betrayed his embarrassment.

By the time Sirius reached the living room, Euphemia and Fleamont were already seated by the fireplace, exchanging knowing glances like they’d seen this coming a mile away.

“Is he making her breakfast again?” Euphemia asked with a smile that was far too pleased for Sirius’s liking.

“Every detail,” Sirius confirmed, sinking into an armchair. “I’m starting to think he’s auditioning for Witch Weekly’s ‘Most Devoted Boyfriend’ feature.”

“Don’t tease him too much,” Euphemia said with a chuckle. “He’s just like his father was with me.”

“Merlin, it’s contagious,” Sirius groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “If I start acting like that, someone put me out of my misery.”

But even as he joked, Sirius couldn’t help but smile. Because for all his teasing, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that James was hopelessly gone for you. And judging by the way you looked at him, Sirius had a feeling the feeling was mutual — even if neither of you was bright enough to figure it out.

AND THEN THERE WERE THE SMALL, INTIMATE TOUCHES SIRIUS COULDN’T IGNORE, no matter how much he wanted to. James’s hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through a doorway, like you might somehow lose your way without him. The way his fingers traced lazy patterns on your knee under the dinner table, as though the contact grounded him. Or how he’d tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just long enough to make Sirius roll his eyes and fight back a gag.

It was maddening to watch, really. Not because Sirius minded the affection — no, James deserved a bit of softness in his life, and you were undeniably good for him. It was maddening because you were both so oblivious. James was a goner, sure, but you weren’t far behind. Every time you leaned into his touch, smiled up at him like he hung the stars, or called him Jamie in that soft, teasing tone, it was like watching two wizards tiptoe around a cauldron, waiting for it to explode.

One evening, as the three of you lounged in the living room, the dynamic was on full display. The Potters had insisted on a family movie night — Euphemia’s idea, of course, because family time was important. Sirius couldn’t say no to the fire roaring in the hearth, the massive bowl of popcorn, and the ridiculous Muggle Christmas film flickering on the screen. But as the minutes passed, he started to regret not escaping upstairs.

James had situated himself squarely in the middle of the sofa, with you tucked neatly under his arm. His hand played absently with the ends of your hair, fingers twisting the strands like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. You had your legs curled beneath you, leaning into him with the kind of comfort Sirius had only ever seen in old couples who had been together for decades. James pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring something Sirius couldn’t quite catch.

It was unbearable.

“Oi, lovebirds,” Sirius interrupted, launching a piece of popcorn at James. It hit him square in the forehead, a small but satisfying victory. “Some of us are trying to watch the movie without choking on all this sap.”

You burst into laughter, sitting up just enough to toss a handful of popcorn back at him. “You’re just jealous, Black.”

“Jealous? Me?” Sirius placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Of what, exactly? Watching James Potter transform into a human puddle before my very eyes? No thanks. I’ll pass.”

James didn’t even flinch. He just grinned, looking every bit the lovesick fool he was. “You’ll get it one day, Pads,” he said with infuriating calm.

Sirius snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. “Right. Because what I’m really missing in my life is the chance to turn into that.” He gestured at the two of you with a dramatic wave of his hand.

But despite his teasing, Sirius couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. James, the arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed, devil-may-care prankster he’d known all his life, was utterly, completely, hopelessly in love. And the worst — or perhaps best — part? He didn’t even seem to realize it.

BY THE END OF THESE COUPLE OF DAYS VACK AT THE POTTER COTTAGE, SIRIUS KNEW. James Potter wasn’t in love with Lily Evans — not really, not anymore and maybe not ever. He was in love with you. It wasn’t in the dramatic declarations Sirius had once teased James about making to Lily. No, this was quieter, deeper. It was in the way James’s gaze softened whenever you spoke, like he couldn’t believe you were real. In the way his hand always seemed to find yours, even when there was no need for it. And in the way his entire being lit up when you smiled at him.

And you? You weren’t much better. You laughed at his terrible jokes, poked fun at him with an ease Sirius envied, and looked at James like he was the center of the universe. It was so obvious it made Sirius want to scream.

“This isn’t normal, you know,” Sirius said later that night, cornering James in the kitchen as he made tea.

“What’s not normal?” James asked, far too casually for Sirius’s liking.

“You and her. You’re not just friends. Stop pretending you are.”

James frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “We are just friends. She’s my best mate, Pads. You know that.”

Sirius laughed, loud and sharp, shaking his head. “Oh, Prongsie. You’re an idiot.”

“Am not,” James shot back, but there was a flicker of doubt in his voice.

Sirius leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “If you’re just friends, then I’m a unicorn. Face it, Potter — you’re in love.”

James opened his mouth, probably to argue, but then you walked into the room, yawning and looking for all the world like you belonged there. James’s expression softened immediately, his gaze lingering on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Sirius didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.

Because James Potter was already lost, and for once, Sirius didn’t mind watching his best mate fall.

March 30, 1975

My Love, It’s been ages since your last letter, and I miss you like mad. Exams are coming up, and I’m hopeless at concentrating without your words to keep me sane. The Marauders are in full swing, though—our latest adventure involved sneaking a swamp into one of the corridors. Filch is still grumbling about it. I told you before how Lily has the most beautiful laugh, right? Well, I think she might finally be warming up to me. I’m playing it cool, but honestly, every time she looks at me, I feel like a kid with a new broomstick. And yet... you’re still the one I write to when I want to share everything. Funny, isn’t it? How’s the ballet going? I remember you mentioned your school recital. I wish I could see you dance. You’d be like a dream on stage, graceful and bright. Maybe one day. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WASN’T ONE TO BELIEVE IN LOVE — not the kind spun into poetry or whispered in secret corners of libraries. Sweet words, fleeting touches, long glances… all of it sounded like an elaborate prank. A fantasy created by people who hadn’t tasted the bitterness of the world.

How could anyone believe in love when raised in a house where affection was a weapon and the family motto might as well have been stab first, smile later? The Black family had given Sirius many things: wealth, privilege, and a last name dripping in infamy. But love? That was a foreign concept, spoken in a dialect he’d never been taught.

And yet, Sirius Black — child of darkness and rebellion — had found light. That light had a name: James Potter. From the moment James had barreled into Sirius’s life, grinning like the sun itself, everything had shifted. James had yanked him out of the shadows and dragged him into a world Sirius didn’t know existed — a world filled with warmth, laughter, and actual hugs.

It wasn’t just James, though. It was the whole bloody Potter family. Euphemia and Fleamont were like characters out of a Muggle holiday film. Euphemia, with her soft, unrelenting affection, had made it her personal mission to drown Sirius in love and sweaters. Fleamont’s laughter could fill a room, a deep, belly-shaking sound that warmed Sirius from the inside out. Together, they moved through the world as though their love was an unshakable force, a steady undercurrent in every shared look and word.

“Darling,” Fleamont would call from across the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a newspaper in hand.

“Yes, Fleamont?” Euphemia would reply, her smile soft and teasing as she stirred whatever heavenly dish she was making.

Never by name. Always darling.

Still, if love like that was rare, James bloody Potter seemed hell-bent on stumbling into it without even realizing.

James and you had been dancing around each other for years, so oblivious it was borderline painful. Sirius sometimes wondered if you two were practicing for a comedy sketch, the way you acted like best mates while exuding the kind of tension that could make a Dementor blush. If Sirius had a Galleon for every time James looked at you like you were the only person in the room, he could have bought his own Quidditch team by now. And he's only been watching you for a couple of days.

IT WAS THE FOURT DAY OF HIS CHRISTMAS STAY AT THE POTTER HOME, and the dynamic was impossible to ignore. You and James were practically inseparable, moving through the house like two planets caught in the same orbit. You helped Euphemia with the decorations while James carried boxes of ornaments up from the cellar, always hovering nearby like he was afraid you might vanish if he looked away.

“You know,” Sirius said, leaning casually against the doorway, “most people don’t need to supervise someone hanging tinsel.”

James didn’t even glance back. “She’s not most people, Pads.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For Merlin’s sake, just marry her already.”

James froze, an ornament dangling from his hand. “What are you on about? We’re just friends.”

“Sure, and I’m a Muggle,” Sirius shot back, rolling his eyes.

You, blissfully unaware of the conversation, turned from where you were perched on a stepstool. “What are you two arguing about now?”

“Nothing,” James said quickly, his cheeks tinged pink. “Sirius is just being Sirius.”

“That’s never good,” you teased, smirking at Sirius.

“Oi! I’ll have you know I’m delightful company.” Sirius crossed his arms, feigning offense. “But if you’re not careful, pretty, you’ll end up trapped in Potter’s web of undying devotion.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping down from the stool. “Potter’s web of what now?”

James shot Sirius a warning glare, but Sirius just grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just that James here is—”

“Hungry!” James interrupted, loudly and awkwardly. “Right, Pads? Didn’t you say you were starving?”

Sirius barked a laugh, shaking his head as James practically shoved him out of the room. “Subtle as ever, Prongs.”

From Sirius’s vantage point, it was painfully obvious. James was hopelessly, stupidly in love with you. And you? You weren’t much better. The way you smiled at him, teased him, trusted him without question — it was all the evidence Sirius needed. And yet, you were both blissfully, idiotically unaware.

One evening, as Sirius sprawled on the sofa in the Potters’ living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way you and James interacted. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, rifling through a box of Christmas decorations Euphemia had set out.

“Jamie, hand me the gold bauble,” you said, tossing him a quick glance over your shoulder.

James, who had been half-heartedly untangling a string of lights, immediately perked up. “Which one?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “The one in your hand, genius.”

James laughed, tossing it gently toward you. It missed entirely, landing with a soft thud on the carpet.

“Good aim, Prongs,” Sirius drawled from his spot on the couch. “Truly inspiring.”

“Shut it, Padfoot,” James shot back, but his grin never faltered. He turned to you, sheepish. “Sorry, love.”

Love. Sirius didn’t miss the way the word slipped out so naturally, like James had been saying it his whole life. And he definitely didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed as you ducked your head, pretending to focus on the decorations.

LATER THAT EVENING, SIRIUS FOUND HIMSELF LAYING ON THE SOFA IN THE LIVING ROOM AGAIN (it probably was his favorite place in the house by now), a book abandoned on his chest as he watched Euphemia and Fleamont dancing in the kitchen once, a slow, swaying movement that didn’t match the upbeat Muggle music crackling from the wireless. Euphemia had rested her head on Fleamont’s chest, his arms wrapped around her like it was the only place in the world she belonged. It wasn’t dramatic or flashy — just simple and unshakable. And it made Sirius ache in ways he didn’t understand.

And a moment later they were in the same kitchen, preparing tea and laughing softly as they worked.

“Darling, pass me the sugar, would you?” Fleamont said, his voice warm and affectionate.

Euphemia handed him the sugar bowl without looking up, her smile soft. “Here you go, darlin'.”

It was the kind of exchange that Sirius might have mocked once. But now, as he watched the way Fleamont leaned in to kiss Euphemia’s cheek, or how she swatted him away with a laugh when he tried to sneak a biscuit, he felt something unfamiliar tugging at his chest.

“They’re sickeningly sweet, aren’t they?”

Sirius turned to see you standing in the doorway, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.

“They are,” he admitted, sitting up and motioning for you to join him. “But it’s sort of... nice. In a vomit-inducing way.”

You laughed, settling beside him. “I think it’s lovely. They’re so in tune with each other, you know? Like they’ve been dancing to the same song for decades.”

Sirius tilted his head, watching you as you spoke. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want that? The whole ‘dancing to the same song’ thing?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug. “I don’t know. I suppose it would be nice, but... I’m not sure it’s in the cards for me.”

Sirius frowned. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. “Because my dance partner’s too busy tripping over his own feet to notice I’m right here.”

Sirius stared at you, his mind racing. Did you mean James? Surely you meant James. But before he could say anything, James walked in, ruffling his hair like he always did.

“Alright, what are you two plotting?”

“World domination,” Sirius replied without missing a beat. “Want in?”

James grinned, flopping onto the sofa and immediately throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Always.”

Sirius watched as you leaned into James, your head resting against his shoulder. James turned to look at you, his expression soft and unguarded.

And that’s when Sirius knew — again, because he seemed to be realizing this every ten minutes — just how much trouble you two were in.

DAYS LATER, SIRIUS WAS STANDING BY THE WINDOW OF THE POTTER COTTAGE, a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming his hands. The world outside was a vision of winter — snow blanketed the ground in pristine white, the trees bowed under its weight, and the air held a sharp, crystalline stillness. Inside, the house was alive with warmth: the crackle of the fire, the gentle hum of Euphemia’s humming, and Fleamont’s cheerful banter as he set up a chessboard by the hearth.

But Sirius wasn’t watching any of that. His attention was fixed on the two figures trudging down the snow-covered path just beyond the window.

You and James walked side by side, your mittened hands brushing against each other with the kind of unconscious familiarity that spoke volumes. The path ahead glittered in the weak afternoon sun, the frost catching the light like scattered diamonds. Clouds of breath curled into the frosty air as you laughed at something James said, the sound clear and bright, even from a distance.

Sirius couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He saw everything in the way James turned his head toward you, his face lit with the sort of joy that was impossible to fake.

Then it happened — your foot slipped on a patch of hidden ice. Sirius’s grip on his mug tightened for half a heartbeat, but James was already there. His hand shot out, steadying you before you could fall, as if the world might crumble if he didn’t catch you in time.

“Careful there, love,” James said, his voice carrying easily through the crisp winter air.

You laughed, brushing snow from your coat as your cheeks turned pink — not just from the cold, Sirius was sure. “You’d think I’d have learned how to walk by now.”

James grinned, tugging you a little closer to his side. “Good thing you’ve got me.”

“Good thing indeed,” you replied, your eyes crinkling at the corners, your voice soft and full of affection.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, James reached out to brush a stray snowflake from your hair. His fingers lingered for just a moment, his expression open and unguarded, filled with something so pure that Sirius had to look away for a second.

It wasn’t the first time Sirius had seen that look on James’s face. It was the same quiet, awestruck gaze he’d noticed a thousand times when James thought no one was watching. But seeing it now, against the backdrop of snow and laughter, it struck Sirius like a Bludger to the chest.

That’s how Fleamont looked at Euphemia, Sirius realized. He’d seen it that very morning, when Euphemia had walked into the kitchen with a sleepy smile and Fleamont had paused mid-sentence, his face lighting up as if she were the sunrise itself.

Sirius took a long sip of his hot chocolate, the sweetness of it sharp against the lump forming in his throat. He muttered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Never by name. Always love.”

“What are you smiling about, Sirius?” Euphemia’s voice broke the quiet, warm and curious. She stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

He turned, raising his mug in a mock toast. “Oh, nothing, Mrs. P. Just watching James make a right fool of himself in the snow. Again.”

Euphemia chuckled, stepping closer to peer out the window. Her gaze softened as she spotted you and James, now engaged in some sort of playful shoving match, James clearly letting you win.

“Hopeless,” Sirius added, shaking his head.

“Like father, like son,” Euphemia said with a knowing smile.

Sirius huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the scene outside. Sirius’s gaze lingered on James’s hand as it rested on your shoulder, the ease of the gesture speaking louder than words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sirius allowed himself to believe. Not just in the love he saw in James’s face or the easy affection between Fleamont and Euphemia. But in the idea that maybe—just maybe—love wasn’t the cruel, twisted thing his family had tried to make him believe.

Maybe love, real love, was something entirely different.

November 27, 1976

My Jamie, Winter has settled over Beauxbatons, and the mountains are kissed with snow. I wish you could see how the frost sparkles on the trees. I think of you often, imagining the mischief you’re up to at Hogwarts. I heard you’re Quidditch Captain now — congratulations! I can already picture you soaring through the air, the wind in your hair and that unstoppable grin. You were born to lead, Jamie, and I’m so proud of you. Your mum wrote me again last week. She’s sent another scarf, this one in Gryffindor colors. She says it’ll keep me close to you. It does, in a way — I wrap it around myself when I miss you most. Do you think of me as much as I think of you? You’re my constant, my warmth on the coldest days. Soon it’ll be Christmas, and we’ll have the stars and endless nights to talk about everything. Until then, stay safe, my Jamie. Forever yours, Love

THE CHRISTMAS CHAOS AT THE POTTER HOUSE STARTED BEFORE SIRIUS EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO GRUMBLE ABOUT THE HOUR. The sun wasn’t up yet, but Fleamont Potter most certainly was, barreling into James’s room with the energy of a man half his age. Before Sirius could properly complain — or hide under the covers — he and James were unceremoniously hauled to the garage. Their mission? Assembling the absurdly large Christmas table that Euphemia insisted on every year.

Sirius swore under his breath, wrestling with the oversized wooden monstrosity. “You know,” he grumbled, glaring at James, “if your parents had just gone for a nice, normal-sized table, we wouldn’t be out here freezing our—”

“Language, Sirius!” Fleamont interrupted cheerfully, though there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.

Sirius rolled his eyes but complied, though only because Euphemia’s kitchen smelled like heaven, and he was determined to earn his way to a plate of whatever was roasting in the oven.

Inside, the house was a picture of festive perfection: holly strung along the bannisters, twinkling fairy lights glowing softly in the corners, and a wireless by the fireplace playing carols just loud enough to make Sirius hum along when no one was listening. Euphemia’s soft laughter echoed from the kitchen, mingling with yours as the two of you prepared a feast fit for kings — or in this case, a house full of Marauders.

And James? Well, James wasn’t himself.

Sirius noticed it almost immediately. His best mate was usually a hurricane of enthusiasm during the holidays, cracking jokes, sneaking sweets from the kitchen, and generally making a nuisance of himself. But today, James kept glancing toward the kitchen like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home.

The idiot was besotted.

Every time your laughter drifted into the room, James’s head whipped around like he was under some sort of spell. If you so much as said his name, he’d stop mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up like the Christmas tree in the corner. Sirius would’ve teased him mercilessly if it weren’t so... obvious. Painfully, ridiculously obvious.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, WHEN JAMES AND FLEAMONT HAD VANISHED TO THE GARAGE — probably to charm something they had no business charming — Sirius found himself tasked with tidying up James’s room. He grumbled the whole time, of course. Cleaning wasn’t his style, and James’s room was a disaster zone: Quidditch magazines spilling off the desk, parchment crumpled in corners, and socks scattered in ways that defied the laws of physics.

“Honestly, Prongs,” Sirius muttered, holding up a suspiciously stiff sock with the tips of his fingers. “How are you supposed to woo Evans — or anyone, for that matter — when your room smells like the wrong end of a hippogriff?”

As he moved to clear a particularly cluttered shelf, a box caught his eye. It was tucked in the far corner, partially hidden behind an old textbook. Sirius raised an eyebrow. Anything stashed away like that was bound to be interesting. With a mischievous grin, he reached for it, only for the entire thing to tumble off the shelf, spilling its contents across the floor.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, crouching to pick up the mess. His hand froze mid-reach when he realized what had fallen out: letters. Dozens of them, bundled in ribbons of various colors.

Sirius sat back on his heels, eyeing the pile. His curiosity, as always, got the better of him. With a glance at the door to ensure James wasn’t about to barge in, he grabbed the nearest stack and plopped himself onto the bed, cross-legged and grinning like a kid about to open a box of Zonko’s best tricks.

The first letter he unfolded smelled faintly of vanilla. Your scent, Sirius realized, and his grin faltered for just a moment.

October 7, 1971 Beauxbatons is so different from Hogwarts. The professors here are so strict, James, sometimes it feels like I’m being watched all the time! I miss the feeling of freedom you must have at Hogwarts, even if you’re always getting into trouble with Sirius. Do you ever just wish you could escape the rules and run wild?

Sirius chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the elegant handwriting. “Trouble? Me? Never,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

But as he reread the letter, a strange tightness settled in his chest. The way you wrote about Hogwarts — it wasn’t just about the school. It was about James. Even miles away, you saw him as something larger than life, as the embodiment of freedom and adventure.

And James? The idiot probably thought you were just being polite.

February 21, 1971 Sirius sounds like a bit of a handful, but I bet he’s hilarious. I think I’d like him, even if he does cause chaos. You all sound like you’re constantly up to something, but I imagine you get into trouble a lot, don’t you? Anyway, I’d love to hear more about his pranks— I’m sure you and him must make a great team!

Sirius barked a laugh. “A handful? Pretty, you have no idea.”

Still, the words struck a chord. He could see it so clearly now: the way you’d woven yourself into James’s world with every playful question and teasing remark. You weren’t just curious about his adventures; you wanted to be a part of them, to understand the boy behind the Quidditch bravado and the wild schemes.

Then came the letters about Lily.

March 25, 1973 James, you always talk about Lily, and I think it’s sweet that you have such admiration for her. I bet she doesn’t even know how much you like her. She sounds like she’d be really hard to win over, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just don’t forget to have fun along the way, yeah?

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin’s saggy pants, Prongs, how thick can you be?”

He could almost picture you writing those words, the careful balance between encouragement and self-sacrifice. Even as you pushed James toward Lily, your letters were saturated with love — pure, unguarded, and heartbreakingly unspoken.

It was infuriating. How could two people so obviously meant for each other be so oblivious?

By the time Sirius reached the later letters, the humor had drained from his face.

December 5, 1974 Your mum sent me another gift! She’s so sweet, and I can’t believe how kind she is to me. It always makes me feel so loved. You know, when I’m away from you, it’s like I’m missing something... like the best part of my day. I never want to take our friendship for granted.

The parchment crinkled slightly as Sirius’s grip tightened. That wasn’t just gratitude — it was devotion, raw and aching. The kind of love that didn’t need fireworks or grand declarations because it was already woven into every moment, every memory.

And James? Sirius shook his head, a pang of frustration mixing with pity. James had spent years chasing the idea of love, blind to the fact that he already had it.

The final letter undid him.

December 12, 1975 I was thinking about you today, and how you’ve always been there for me — whether it was listening to me complain about the Beauxbatons professors or laughing with me when I’m in a bad mood. You’re always there, and I think that’s why I trust you more than anyone else. You’ll never know how much that means to me, Jamie.

Sirius closed his eyes, letting the words sink in. You didn’t just see James; you knew him. The real James — the boy who laughed too loudly, who lived for Quidditch, who couldn’t resist a good prank. You loved James, not the idealized version he tried to be for Lily or anyone else.

Sirius exhaled sharply, folding the letter with a reverence he didn’t usually bother with. His heart ached — not for himself, but for you, for James, for the years you’d both spent dancing around the truth.

“Merlin, you’re both idiots,” he muttered, though his voice was softer now.

Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it further into disarray, his mind replaying what he’d just uncovered. The letters — those bloody letters — had been the key. Now everything fell into place: James’s barely-there smiles over the past few days, the way his gaze lingered when you entered the room, the softness in his laugh when you said something clever. James Potter, his brash, unrelenting, wildfire of a best friend, was utterly transformed around you.

Balanced. Grounded. Sincere.

It was unbearably obvious now, as if someone had pulled back the curtain.

And yet, the idiot still had Lily Evans’s picture on his bedside table in his dorm.

Sirius’s gaze fell on the stack of letters once more, neatly tied with a ribbons that seemed far too delicate for James’s usual chaos. He could have left it alone, let James figure things out in his own thick-headed way — but that wasn’t Sirius Black’s style. If there was one thing he’d learned from years of pranks, broken curfews, and bending the rules until they snapped, it was this: sometimes people needed a push, even if it stung a little.

Sirius exhaled and leaned back against the headboard, the letters still in hand. "You're a fucking idiot," he muttered under his breath.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. Oh, the look on James’s face when he confronted him — it would be priceless. Sirius wasn’t one for sentiment, but for you? For James? Maybe, just maybe, he’d make an exception.

The door creaked open, and James stumbled into the room, his steps heavy with exhaustion. Sirius watched as his best friend all but collapsed into the armchair by the bookcase, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looked like he’d been wrestling dragons all day — or, more likely, his dad’s endless list of chores.

But there was something else, too. A tension in his jaw, a restless energy that practically vibrated off him. Sirius could see it plain as day: James hadn’t seen her all day, and it was driving him mad. She was so close — just a staircase or two away — and yet untouchable.

Sirius cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, Prongs, is this why you’ve been obsessing over the owl schedule for years? Didn’t peg you as the secret pen-pal type.”

James’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes narrowing in confusion. They darted to the bed, where the stack of letters lay exposed, and then to the shelf where the box had clearly been moved. He froze for a second before letting out a long, resigned sigh.

“Pads,” James said, his voice low and uneven, heavy with an edge Sirius rarely heard. “It’s not cool to read someone else’s letters.”

The room seemed to still, the words settling into the air like dust, soft but laden with weight. James’s eyes — those unmistakable hazel orbs that always held a spark of mischief — were guarded now, a flicker of something raw and unspoken behind them.

Sirius leaned forward, a grin stretching across his face like the blade of a knife, sharp and unapologetic. “Not cool,” he echoed, his voice laced with mockery, “is keeping this from me for six bloody years. Care to explain, or should I guess?”

James flinched, the tension in his shoulders visible even through the soft knit of his jumper. He moved toward the bed with the slow, deliberate steps of someone walking a tightrope, balancing the fragile threads of anger and restraint. The dim light of the room cast long shadows over his frame, making him seem taller, older — more vulnerable.

He reached for one of the letters, his hand hesitating for the briefest moment before his fingers curled around the parchment. His thumb brushed over the faded ink, tracing the loops of her handwriting like a blind man reading Braille. The edges of the letter were frayed, softened by years of touch, and as he lifted it to his face, Sirius caught the faintest smile tugging at James’s lips.

It was a small, private thing, that smile. Reverent. It wasn’t the boyish grin Sirius knew so well, the one James wielded like a weapon to charm or disarm. No, this was different — softer, as though the mere act of holding the letter in his hand brought James closer to something sacred.

Sirius felt his chest tighten. He’d seen James in every possible state — triumphant on the Quidditch pitch, livid after a prank gone wrong, devastated when the world seemed too heavy — but this? This was new. This was James Potter unguarded.

“She’s different, isn’t she?” Sirius said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.

James didn’t look up. He sat on the edge of the bed, sorting the letters with a precision that bordered on ritual. Each movement was deliberate, his fingers careful not to smudge the ink or crease the paper. Sirius had never seen him handle anything with such care — not his broomstick, not his glasses, not even the Marauder’s Map.

“It’s not what you think,” James murmured, but the words lacked conviction, as though he knew they’d crumble under scrutiny.

Sirius scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated snort. “Not what I think? Mate, I think you’re in love with her and too much of an idiot to admit it. Am I wrong?”

James froze mid-motion, the ribbon he was tying slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t move — just stared at the letters as if they might answer for him.

“She’s…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible. “She’s different, Pads. She’s… everything.”

There it was. The confession, raw and trembling in the space between them. Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his expression unusually serious.

“Yeah,” Sirius said softly. “She is. And that’s exactly why you’re a bloody idiot for pretending she’s not.”

James let out a bitter laugh, the sound low and fractured. He raked a hand through his already-messy hair, his movements frenetic, as though he were trying to shake off the weight of the moment.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s not that simple.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Sirius shot back, his tone sharp but not cruel. “I’ve watched you for years, Prongs. You talk about Evans like she’s some kind of bloody trophy, but her? You look at her like she’s the air you breathe. Like without her, you’d suffocate. And you’re sitting here telling me it’s complicated?”

James’s laugh turned hollow, empty. “Lily’s… safe. She’s who I’m supposed to want. She’s not my bloody childhood best friend.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Sirius said nothing. Then, he barked out a laugh, loud and biting.

“Safe?” he repeated, incredulous. “Since when have you ever played it safe, James Potter? Love’s not supposed to be safe. It’s messy, terrifying, and completely bloody worth it. Or are you seriously telling me you’d rather be ‘safe’ than happy?”

James looked up at him then, and Sirius’s breath caught. His best friend’s hazel eyes, usually so full of fire and mischief, were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.

“Do you think…” James’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “Do you think she feels the same?”

Sirius’s grin returned, slow and wolfish. “Mate, judging by these letters? She’s just as much of an idiot in love as you are.”

For a moment, James didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. And then, like a dam breaking, he laughed — a shaky, unsteady sound that grew louder, freer, until it filled the room.

“What do I do?” James asked, his voice raw and trembling with vulnerability.

Sirius stood, crossing the room to clap a hand on James’s shoulder. “You start by telling her everything. No more hiding. No more pretending. You owe her — and yourself — more than that.”

James nodded slowly, the faintest glimmer of determination flickering in his eyes. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Sirius said, smirking. “I’m always right.”

As James reached for the letters, carefully tucking them back into their box, Sirius watched him with a rare sense of pride. This wasn’t just James Potter, the fearless Quidditch captain, the prankster extraordinaire. This was James Potter, a boy on the cusp of something extraordinary.

And for once, Sirius Black wasn’t just causing chaos — he was helping someone find their way through it.

THE SNOW OUTSIDE FELL IN HEAVY, DELIBERATE FLAKES, BLANKETING THE WORLD IN A SOFT, UNBROKEN QUIET. Sirius stood on the second-floor landing of the Potter home, a mug of hot coffee cradled in his hands. The rich aroma mingled with the faint scent of pine and cinnamon wafting from the decorated tree below. The whole house seemed to hum with a kind of warmth that Sirius rarely allowed himself to imagine, let alone experience.

From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the living room below. The fire in the hearth crackled gently, casting golden shadows across the walls. Mr. Potter sat on the sofa with an arm draped around Mrs. Potter, the two of them cocooned under a soft plaid blanket. A book rested on Fleamont’s lap as he read aloud, his voice low and steady. Euphemia’s head rested against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed in serene contentment. Every so often, she’d smile at something he read or reach up to adjust her husband’s glasses, her touch so light and familiar it made Sirius’s chest ache with longing — not jealousy, but something softer. A wistfulness for this kind of unshakable bond.

But his gaze didn’t linger on the Potters for long. It drifted to the corner of the room, where the Christmas tree’s twinkling lights bathed two figures in a kaleidoscope of warm colors. You and James sat on the floor amidst the chaos of torn wrapping paper and open boxes. The morning’s gifts had already been exchanged, but it seemed James had saved something special for last.

Even from here, Sirius could see the faint nervousness in his best friend’s posture. James wasn’t one to fidget, yet his hands moved restlessly, smoothing invisible creases on his trousers, brushing imaginary dust from the tree skirt. His eyes, though, were unwavering as they watched you. You were cross-legged on the fluffy white rug, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulder as you picked idly at a ribbon. Sirius noticed how your gaze lingered on James, curious and full of quiet affection.

James leaned closer, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable lilt of mischief. “One of the owls was late,” he said, holding up a slightly weathered envelope. The parchment looked a little worse for wear, its edges crumpled as if it had been handled too often. “It dropped this off this morning… asked me to give it to the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you reached for the envelope. “Still using that line, are you, Potter?”

“Can you blame me? It’s worked wonders so far.” His grin was cocky, but Sirius saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he handed it over.

You rolled your eyes, but the way you bit your lip betrayed your own anticipation. Turning the envelope over in your hands, you ran your fingers along the black-inked scrawl of your name before carefully breaking the seal. Sirius leaned forward slightly, his coffee forgotten as he watched the scene unfold.

The moment the letter emerged, the air seemed to shift. Your eyes darted across the page, your expression softening with each word. Sirius could see the precise moment the meaning settled in — the way your lips parted in surprise, the way your shoulders tensed, then relaxed, as if letting the weight of something long unspoken sink in. James’s hand rested on your knee, his thumb moving in small, nervous circles.

“Love?” James’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual bravado stripped away. He was watching you as though the world rested on your reaction, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around yours. “You’re awfully quiet. Should I be worried? Say something. Anything.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your eyes stayed fixed on the page, even as a tear slipped down your cheek, catching the light like a tiny diamond. James froze, his face paling slightly.

“Hey, hey, no…” His voice cracked. “Don’t cry. If it’s rubbish, just say so and we can forget it. Burn it, even.” He laughed nervously, though it sounded forced. “I’ll… I’ll pretend it never happened.”

That’s when you looked up, meeting his gaze with eyes so full of emotion it made Sirius’s breath hitch even from across the room. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, cupping James’s face in your hands. He stilled under your touch, his wide-eyed surprise melting into something softer as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss Sirius might have teased him about — not fiery or impulsive. It was quiet, deliberate, and full of a tenderness that made Sirius feel like an intruder, even though he couldn’t look away. James’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as though you might slip away if he let go.

Sirius smiled to himself, feeling a rare swell of pride. James had always been the heart of their little group, the one who wore his feelings openly. And now, here he was, finding a kind of love that Sirius knew would anchor him forever.

A sharp click shattered the moment, and both of you turned your heads to find Sirius standing at the bottom of the stairs, a wide grin plastered across his face as he waved a freshly developed photo in the air.

“Perfect!” he announced, shaking the picture. “This one’s going in the family album. And when my godchildren ask how their parents got together, I’ll tell them Uncle Sirius orchestrated the whole thing.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against James’s shoulder, while James groaned, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “You’re a menace, Pads,” he said, though his voice held no bite.

“A charming menace,” Sirius replied, retreating toward the couch where the elder Potters were watching the scene unfold with amused smiles.

“Everything alright, dear?” Euphemia asked, her eyes twinkling with affection as she glanced between you and James.

James nodded, his hand still firmly clasping yours. “Yeah, Mum. Everything’s perfect.”

Mrs. Potter’s smile widened, and she reached over to pat your hand. “Welcome to the family, my dear. Though, truth be told, you’ve always been part of it.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion.

THE REST OF THE DAY PASSED IN A GOLDEN HAZE OF LAUGHTER AND WARMTH. Euphemia roped you into helping her in the kitchen, insisting you learn the secret to her mulled wine. Sirius watched from the doorway, sipping his coffee and grinning as you tried to follow her directions, only for James to sneak in and steal a taste from the pot, earning himself a playful swat on the arm.

By evening, the fire burned low, and the snow outside had blanketed the world in an even deeper hush. Sirius sat in his favorite armchair, a blanket draped over his legs as he watched the scene before him. You and James were curled up together on the rug, a cozy tangle of limbs as you whispered to each other, your laughter soft and unguarded. The Potters sat nearby, sharing quiet conversation, their hands intertwined.

For a moment, Sirius closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the room and the sounds of contentment wash over him. He thought of his own childhood Christmases — cold, sterile affairs devoid of joy. And then he thought of this… the home James had built, not just for himself but for everyone he cared about. It was the kind of love Sirius had always believed was out of reach. Until now.

“Merry Christmas, Prongs,” he murmured, raising his empty mug in a toast to his best friend.

James glanced up, catching his eye. “Merry Christmas, Pads,” he replied, his grin soft but unmistakably James.

James had turned to you, his hand cradling your cheek as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm.

"Merry Christmas, love," James murmured, his voice low and filled with a tenderness that made Sirius’s chest tighten.

"Merry Christmas, Jamie," you replied, resting your forehead against his.

Sirius chuckled, settling back into his chair, the warmth of the moment settling deep in his bones. The world outside might be cold and uncertain, but here, in this house, surrounded by love and laughter, everything felt exactly as it should be.

He thought about how James Potter had once given him the home and warmth he never had. And now, it seemed, Sirius Black had helped his best friend find his way home, too.

FROM THE ARCHIVE OF SIRIUS BLACK:

To my future, undoubtedly brilliant, devilishly handsome, and wildly talented nephews,

Listen up, you little rascals. You don’t know me yet, but let me make one thing very clear: I’m the reason you even exist. That’s right, your ridiculously perfect Uncle Sirius is the mastermind behind it all. Without my charm, wit, and expert meddling, your parents might still be doing the whole "will-they-won't-they" nonsense.

So, when you’re out there ruling the world, remember to thank yours truly. The coolest, suavest, and most humble uncle you'll ever have — Sirius Black. You're welcome.

December 25, 1976 My Love, It’s Christmas, and the house is quiet now, the soft hum of the tree lights the only sound. I’ve been sitting here for hours, staring at this parchment, trying to find words big enough for what I feel, but they don’t exist. Still, I need to try. Love, I see it now—what I’ve been too blind to see all along. I’ve always thought of myself as brave, fearless even. But when it came to you, I was a coward. I didn’t want to risk losing you. You, who have been the brightest part of my life since the moment we met. You, who’ve filled every corner of my world with warmth and light, even when we were miles apart. Every summer, when you stepped into my life again, it was like the sun breaking through a storm. You’d sit by the lake with that book you never quite finished because I was always distracting you. You’d laugh at my terrible jokes, your nose crinkling just so. And you’d hum when you thought no one was listening, always off-key but somehow more perfect than any melody I’ve ever heard. I thought I was looking for the kind of love my parents have — their unshakable bond, the way they look at each other like the world begins and ends with them. And all this time, it was right here, under my nose. You were under my nose. I think I was afraid, love. Afraid that if I let myself feel what’s always been there, I’d ruin us. That I’d lose the only person who’s ever truly known me, the only one who can look past the pranks, the bravado, and see me—the real me. But Sirius, being Sirius, knocked some sense into me. He said I’ve been acting like a fool, and for once, he’s right. Rereading our letters with him was like seeing my life laid out before me, and every line, every word pointed to you. Even when you were far away, you were my everything. The letters you sent were more than ink on parchment; they were lifelines. When Hogwarts felt too big, too chaotic, you were the quiet in the storm. When I felt lost, you reminded me who I am. Do you know how many times I reread your words, just to feel close to you? I kept your letters in my trunk, hidden from the others like a secret treasure. Because that’s what you’ve always been — my treasure. How could I have been so blind? How could I have wasted so much time thinking it was Lily I wanted when it’s always been you? I’ve spent so long chasing a dream when the real thing was right in front of me. I see it now, clearer than I’ve ever seen anything. You are my stars, my moon, my sun. You’re the laugh that makes everything brighter, the voice that feels like home.

I love you. I love the way your handwriting gets messier when you’re excited. I love the way you argue with me over the silliest things just to see me smile. I love the way you hum when you’re nervous and how you always know exactly what to say to pull me out of my worst days. I love you. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I hope with everything in me that you do. And if you don’t, I’ll understand. Because having you in my life, even just as my friend, has been the greatest gift I could ever ask for. But if there’s even the smallest chance you might love me too, then I promise to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you. Merry Christmas, my love. You’ve been my greatest gift every day since I met you. Forever yours, Jamie

thankx for reading <3

god, this is my biggest work and I was so afraid to publish it, cause it seems to me that no one reads such long fics (I myself adore long fics).

and if you've finished reading this, thank u and I love you so much! I hope you enjoyed every part of it and I will be very glad if you leave a comment, because it seems to me that I have left all of myself in this work!

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox. btw my requests are open so… make a wish :3

p.s. if you liked this work i’d really appreciate if you go and read more of my works in my masterlist and give it your opinion. i’m very proud of my latest work ‘muse’ and hope you’ll like it just as much as ‘obviously blind’

– your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfiction #bsf!james potter #james potter x fem!reader

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trafficpan-ic · 1 year ago

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Tbh the holidays all are all about playing board games of any kind!!!

#me seeing on so much socials that they are playing games and Its so the best thing #like ofcourse what are you gonna do? talk a whole evening or night with your family #like could Not be me #i talk with them and then play a game #and Its the most fun there is #like a board game is something else #like oh what are we doing this night? you cant watch every night tv so lets play a board game together #best thing ever and there are so many #i really thought i knew all of them and my Belgen had like 10 with him that i didnt know #anyway we played a zoo game and it was just building a zoo and Its my new favorite board game #board games #board game night #board game review #holidays

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with-my-calamitous-love · 2 months ago

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if you love me right then who knows? ✧.*

bnha various x pop star! reader

ya! pro-hero characters (teacher! izuku for his section), a little nsfw but mostly cute/fluff headcanons, as always please read responsibly🤍 i love you ms carpenter

song (album, technically): short n’ sweet

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

- katsuki at the height of his career, may possibly be the most famous person in the country. men and women alike adore him, and its rare he can go out without cameras in his face and people asking for autographs. he, of course, doesn’t filter any of his annoyance. his pr team works overtime for him. he’s learned that being famous is fickle and fleeting. he’s made up his mind that if the world only gives him 15 minutes, he’d light it up so bright no one could forget it. its who he is ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

- he’s already very popular. so when the news of pro-hero dynamite and rising star [y/n] [l/n] had allegedly begun seeing each other? they freak out.

- he doesn’t bother to hide it, anyway. you meet at some fancy gala. you’re both there for publicity, and by the time you run into him, he’s ready to go home. but there’s something about your voice, the way everyone seems to adore you, that reels him in. somehow, he finds himself in your good graces, and now he’s thought of you every night since then.

- before you, he’d only listen to hard rock, and was kind of an asshole about it. that doesn’t change, but now when he hits shuffle one of your glittery girly songs will play. and yes, he listens all the way through. ꕥ

- theres video compilations of him bringing you up during interviews. its second nature to him, being wrapped around your finger. but he’s also quick to bite anyone who even thinks of talking bad about you. he’s yours, and wants the whole world to know it. he’d never admit this, but he’s scared of messing up. he doesn’t want to give you reasons to him, or to be a motherfucker that embarrasses you. if he can help out, he never wants to be the reason for your next breakup album.

- he’s your biggest supporter. he often gets fed up with the paparazzi and their invasiveness, especially when all he wants to do is watch his partner perform. however, he has a soft spot for your fans, the ones who have supported you and gotten you all the love you deserve. he claims friendship bracelets and hats are dumb but doesn’t hesitate to receive bracelets your fans make at concerts. most of the time, its brightly coloured beads with song lyrics or little inside jokes from your fandom. he once got a bracelet that was dynamite-themed and he keeps it on his dresser. he loves being accepted by you and the people that love you.

- he has 100 reasons to be cocky, and the fact that theres songs you’ve written about him is one of them. you’re out here singing about good bed chem and making tongue paintings and everyone knows he’s what inspired it. makes sense when you look at him.

- oh, and speaking of concerts? he can’t be there every time- hero work is demanding- but for you? he’s flexible. watching you perform makes his entire week. he’ll watch from the wings, nodding along with the beat, his heart swelling when he hears you belt and hold the note. the best part is what the audience doesn’t get to see- him catching you as you run to him, kissing your head and spinning you around, telling you how proud he is.

“i’m glad you made it.” you gleam, almost forgetting to turn your mic off so no one else gets to hear. he wipes a little sweat off your head, almost a little envious at how good you can look after a 2 hour show.

“of course, idiot.” he smirks. “wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

- that night, he gives you 8 inches and 3 new song ideas ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

SHOUTO TODOROKI

- fun fact: shouto is voted most handsome pro-hero of the year, right after hawks ᢉ𐭩

- despite his massive popularity, he’s the most private on this list. he knows what its like to have to smile for the cameras, to keep things looking neat and pretty, all for an act. so as much as possible, he tries to keep the good in his life to himself. he’s never seen an ugly truth that couldn’t be bent into something that looks better.

- he worries he’s making it hard for you to love him. you’re always patient, saying you can take it, that you also want something very private. but god, do you make it hard for him. even when the rumours of your relationship swirl, he’s tempted to just come out and confirm it so he doesn’t have to feel the uncertainty.

- all of his worries wash away, however, when he hears lyrics about him. it makes his heart ache, even when it’s something simple, that you want him to miss you or want him to think of you when he holds someone else (not that he’d be holding anyone other than you). people can speculate who you’re writing about, but its little gift to him that he’s privy to it.

- he will not miss a single award show with you. because you two are so private, the fans go crazy or even small interactions between you two. theres grainy footage of you two talking and holding hands with everyone crashing out in the comment section (😭)

- his siblings loveeeeee your music. them, living more normal, less famous lives, have the privilege of seeing your concerts without being bothered or questioned. fuyumi streams your album’s religiously and drags natsuo and his girlfriend along as well. you tossed her a guitarl pick once and she hasn’t emotionally recovered from it, let alone the fact that her little brother is dating you ৻ꪆ

- he takes it as a blessing everyday that he gets to see your process. he specifically loves creating album covers with you. you asked him if, hypothetically, he wanted to be on the cover for the deluxe version and he blanked out. you have to remind him that he’s literally the entire package, that he fits perfectly, and that you can’t resist that face of his, and that you both arrive at the same time.

- like katsuki, he also enjoys attending your concerts. he happily embraces you, knowing that while the audience got you for an entire show, he gets to have you for as long as you’ll love him. he makes sure to hold you on his right side in case you’re overheating from the performance.

“here, let me grab these for you.” he says, helping you undo your performance outfits, unzipping the chunky glitters and fluorescent fabrics. he thinks that there isn’t a single colour that looks bad on you, but can’t imagine what its like to wear these for hours at a time.

“thanks, shouto.” you hum happily, already looking at the tweets.

[randomfan1]: guys i swear i saw shouto at [y/n]’s show tonight

IZUKU MIDORIYA

- unlike the other two on this list, he’s not famous. he’s spent a few years now teaching, and its a job he’s learned to love. its humble, and quiet, but he can’t help but feel like some part of it is missing. he started to entertain the idea that he’d end this life alone.

- he meets you at a party. you’re a friend of a friend, and he still can’t believe that he has a real, breathing famous singer in front of him. not only that, but you notice him in a room of other celebrities. he was bound to fall for you the moment your eyes made contact.

- much like shouto, he keeps it private. even if he did, he wouldn’t have very many people to tell. his friends were the reason he even met you. his mom adores you. who does that leave, his students? he’s humble, even when he’s dating the most gorgeous and talented person to ever breathe.

- he loves being in the studio with you. it started out with just little sessions, kissing while talking, watching you tune your guitar and play little notes on your piano. then he became the first person to hear your demos and rough drafts. now? he has song writing credits in your newest album ❤︎₊ ⊹

- his ideas give you so much more than just butterflies. he has this way of finishing your sentences, knowing and feeling the exact vision you had for a piece. every now and then, he’ll flick through your notebook and find verses that sound awfully familiar. he wonders if he’s the guy who’s “jacked and kind” and who “talks sweet when you’re doing bad things.” he won’t say anything at first, but he’ll nestle his head between your legs and give you more things to write about.

- he’s an empath. he knows how exhausting it is sometimes, having all your moves watched and studies and scrutinized. he sees you always acting, always trying to be beautiful, and it kills him that its such a natural part of fame. for that reason, he makes sure his apartment is a safe house for you, and that his bed is a secret oasis. he’d do anything for you. ❦.

- he attends when he has the time, standing in the crowd alongside your other fans. he always feels a rush to his cheeks when he hears you belting those lines, knowing their for him. its a secret he loves having, and one that he’d love to talk about when you’re ready. he always puts you first.

“stuck?” he asks, wrapping his arm around you, watching you as you tap your pen against the paper.

“yeah, i keep thinking of you instead of the song.” you groan, laying your head back on his bicep. he just laughs.

“i thought i inspired you?” he kisses your cheek. while normally nervous around others, you bring out the side of that’s comfortable teasing and playing with you.

“you do inspire me.” you smile. “but its not helping right now.”

he cups your face in his calloused, lips ghosting over yours. “maybe i need to give you better ideas, then.” he says, before kissing you deeply.

“yeah, maybe.”

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sturnlsstuff · 9 months ago

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MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x fem reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #smut #dealer chris

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staylovesmiley · 16 days ago

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stray kids everywhere all around the world

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Han Jisung x fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; a one shot about stay!reader unknowingly booking the same hotel as skz until a fateful trip for late night snacks has unexpected outcomes

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; mild cursing, han is a chill guy, flirty Han??, in no way do I ever think something like this would be a reality but it’s fun to pretend yeah?? Also there are 7 ss total but some inner dialogue from reader in between so don’t just click on them to read as you’ll miss little bits in between

PT.II

You padded down the long hotel hallway on slipper-clad feet, the pant legs of your much too large fuzzy pajama pants dragging slightly along the carpeted floor where they were too long for your legs. As you made it to the location of the vending machines about halfway down from where your room was located, your fingers barely peeked out from the sleeves of the black slipknot hoodie you wore to tap at your lips while you looked over the selection in front of you. You barely knew anything about the band, in fact the hoodie wasn’t even yours but instead belonged to your friend. You just couldn’t help but snag it from their suitcase before heading out on your mission to retrieve snacks for yourself and your roommates as the way it was worn out perfectly and draped on you in such an oversized fashion was both comfortable and hid the fact that you had decided to go braless for your expected short trip down the hall. Your hair was still slightly damp from your shower just moments before when you had emerged from the bathroom to your friends deciding who would be the one to make the walk down to the vending machines for a late night snack. “I’ll go-“ you volunteered with a shrug before taking down everyone’s requests in the notes app on your phone.

Now you were stood in front of the machine, its fluorescent lighting reflecting back onto your bare face as you began selecting the items requested while cross-referencing the list you had been given. It wasn’t until you came to the time to make your own choice of refreshments that you paused. You could be so damn indecisive sometimes- going back and forth between the sweet options first knowing the same bout of indecisiveness would be repeated when you went to choose something salty as well as a drink from the vending machine to your left. A voice suddenly sounded to your right, causing you to jump and nearly drop your friend’s snacks you had cradled in the crook of your left arm. “If I were you I’d definitely go for the skittles. You look like you enjoy colorful things.” The voice was slightly accented and you turned to face the voice with wide eyes as it was one you would recognize anywhere.

Standing beside you, though slightly further out in the hall as you stood in the little alcove that housed the vending machines, stood Han Jisung of the very band you were in town to see. You noticed he was gesturing towards your bright pink zebra striped pajama bottoms with little flecks of rainbow colors scattered across. “Oh- um…yeah, I do-“ you stammered out causing him to chuckle a bit. “I just can never decide on anything- what if I get the skittles but then regret it and wish I had gotten Reese’s cups instead? Or like- what if I get a snickers but then later crave something fruity and don’t want it anymore and wish I had gotten something else?” The rapper shook his head, once again letting out a chuckle at your rambled explanation of your dilemma. “So get something chocolatey and something fruity? Then which ever you don’t eat you can save for later.” Your eyes widened once again. Oh- you hadn’t even thought of that. “Right- that’s a good idea! I guess I was overthinking things too much, huh?” You couldn’t help but let out an awkward laugh, quickly making a selection for both a Twix and the skittles before moving on to selecting a bag of plain potato chips just to play it safe. “Thanks Han-“ you said, not really meaning to let his name slip out as you would have rather taken it to the grave that you knew who he was for fear of making the idol uncomfortable he was sharing a hotel floor with fans unknowingly. “Oh, so you’re stay?” He said so nonchalantly, so casual you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you as you had been mentally preparing for accusations of you being a stalker to come from his mouth instead. “Y-Yeah…” you spoke hesitantly, clutching your snacks closer to your chest as you contemplated running away back to your room or continuing on with purchasing your drink. Jisung moved to stand in front of the machine you had previously occupied while you side stepped towards the other, the both of you now side to side as you stared at him dumbfounded while he himself now looked over the options for his own late night snack. “So I assume you’ll be at the show tomorrow night? Did you get good seats?” He was….making small talk? Gosh- your mouth felt dry as your brain worked so hard to formulate words you were sure smoke was coming out of your ears. “Um..yeah- I’ll be there. The seats are pretty good I think? In the hundreds so not super close to the stage but not too far either…isle seats so we can hopefully not get stuck in too much of a crowd when leaving-“ You weren’t sure why you were giving him such a detailed description of your seats but he smirked a bit, punching in a few buttons on the machine before waiting for his snacks to drop. “that’s cool! I think those seats are some times the best, honestly. I’ll have to convince the guys we should go up into the stands then so I can say hi.” Your thought eyes couldn’t possibly widen any more but sure enough they did when he said that. “Oh uh- you don’t have to go through the trouble! Really- it’ll be an amazing time just getting to see you all perform.” The rapper shook his head, moving over to swipe his own card on the drink machine before motioning for you to make a selection for yourself. “It’s not any trouble- uh..may I ask for your name?”

You paused a bit, staring at him in confusion before your brain finally processed his request. “Oh! Yeah um, my name is y/n..” The last part of your words were so soft from the shyness you were feeling that you were worried he wouldn’t be able to hear you. “That’s a lovely name, y/n. Please, it’s on me!” He gestured rather excitedly towards the drink machine clearly offering to pay for your drink after he had swiped his card earlier. In a slight panic your instinct was to decline and insist that it wasn’t necessary for him to do something so kind for a stranger but you couldn’t help the excitement beaming in his eyes guiding you to make a selection and let him pay for your beverage. “Oh um- thank you! That’s so kind of you-“

Quickly grabbing your drink from the machine, you shoved it in the front pocket of your hoodie along with some of the snacks and drinks for your friends that wouldn’t fit in your arms. “Don’t mention it, it’s my pleasure.” Han got a drink of his own before turning to face you with his back leaning against the cool glass of the machine just as you were about to head back to your room. “So uh- you can totally say no if you want, please don’t feel pressured because you’re a fan-“ His words completely stopped you in your tracks. oh god- what was he going to ask?? You felt your heart rate sky rocketing. “Hm?” You replied, turning back to him hesitantly. “Could I maybe get your number? Again- totally cool if you’re not comfortable with that! Just- you seem cool and I’d like to get to know you more…” You blinked a few times, confusion probably clear as day on your face before you nodded slowly. “Yeah- I mean…I don’t see why not? I’d think I should be the one worried about making you uncomfortable by having your number-“ you blurted out without thinking, head whipping up with wide eyes once more after it slipped from your lips. Jisung laughed a bit at it though, calming your nerves some as he took out his phone. “Yeah, probably. But sometimes being a little reckless pays off-“ He gave you a wink as he held the phone for you to enter your number with your free hand. With fingers trembling slightly, both from the nerves you were feeling and from the struggle it took trying to keep your hold on the mountain of snacks still held in your other arm, you entered your number before taking a step back and offering him a shy smile. “Um- thanks again for the drink? And the help with the snack decision-“ The idol grinned widely and nodded his head to you, glancing down at his phone to make sure the number was saved before waving to you while you began walking backwards away from him. “You’re welcome! Also, I’ll shoot you a text once I get back to my room so you have my number?” You nodded back to him, giving a small wave before turning and practically sprinting down the hall to your room. The girls were not going to believe this…

With your free hand you began knocking as quickly as you could at the door, your fist moving so repetitively that you almost knocked on your friend’s face when you hadn’t noticed that she had opened the door already. “Yikes y/n- you look like you’ve seen a ghost! There wasn’t some creep driving you trouble was there?!” Your friend, Samantha, balled her hands into fists at her sides as she attempted to push past you and supposedly defend your honor against whoever had put you so on edge. “No no no get in here and close the door! I have to tell you something-“ You took hold of her arm and pulled her back into the room, slamming the door behind you before making your way further into the room and unloading all the snacks you held onto the bed. Your other friend, Marianne, immediately hopped off the other bed in the room and dove for the snack pile to grab the ones she had requested. “Thank you~” She said with a sing-song tone as she began opening her pack of mini powdered donuts. “Okay what is it you have to tell me? You are literally shaking!” Samantha said as she sat on the bed you both would be sharing for the night and opened her bag of mini fudge stripe cookies. You took a deep breath, sitting on the corner of the bed facing them both. “Okay I’m gonna tell you but you have to promise you will stay calm and not tell anyone! This never leaves this room, got it?” Both girls nodded, eyes wide at your sudden seriousness. “Okay…Stray kids is staying at this hotel, on this floor, and I ran into Han while I was at the vending machine-“ For a moment the room was silent before Marianne’s face filled with dread. “Oh my god I think I’m gonna be sick- are you being for real right now?” You nodded so fast you thought your head was gonna snap off. “One hundred percent dead ass! He- oh my god he paid for my drink and asked me for my number!” Samantha scoffed, rolling her eyes a bit. “Okay you’ve gotta be kidding. It’s one thing to claim you ran into an idol but that was too far- your pranks won’t work on me that easily.” You whined, grabbing your chosen snacks and piling them in your lap before opening the bag of skittles. “I’m telling the truth! He even helped me decide what snacks to get-“ Marianne and Samantha both shared a look before the later rolled her eyes. “You read too much fanfiction, I swear…just eat your snacks so we can go to bed? We gotta be up early tomorrow.” You sighed, already having guessed they would think you were trying to mess with them. Just as you were settling beside Samantha with your back resting against the headboard so you could continue watching ghost adventures on the tv like you all had been the second you got settled into your room, your phone lit up with a text notification from an unknown number.

You were so nervous texting him, so unsure of what to say that you worried you were coming off too cold.

Oh no- the question you were secretly dreading that he would ask…

author’s note; I got this idea partially from two separate dreams I’ve had recently but also somewhat inspired by this prompt I got a while ago~ I know this left off on a cliffhanger so pls lmk if you guys would want a part two of what happens next at the concert (and maybe after~)

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids han #Han Jisung #han jisung x y/n #han jisung fake texts #han jisung x reader #han jisung oneshot #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshots #skz smau #stray kids smau #han jisung smau

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grotesquevi · 6 days ago

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cw # 18+ mdni, jock!vi x ballerina!reader, gay situationship, yearning, public sex, babyagnst, spit, fingering, oral sex, based on a nonnie ask, long headcannons? dont know what the hell this is. wc: 3k

jock!vi who's giving you hell of a rough time lately after she admitted the fact she's not ready for anything serious, making you cut any tie that linked you back to her cause a heartbreak is nothing but a pain in the ass. tossing yourself to an exhausting routine you've been following religiously.

jock!vi who spends the first two weeks — or is it a month? keeping herself busy, cause she cannot afford being sentimental, admit that she needs you back, that she's actually scared of feeling anything else more than this anger that dictates her movements, something that will get her away from her comfort life.

"practice is closed to public," she deserves the coldness in your voice, the way your gaze is so quick to find hers through the mirrors and look away, still in that fucking uniform she loves—. "you can't be here."

ballerina!reader who's always wrapped in pink. pink uniform. pink nails. pink ribbon holding your hair there in a bun as vi once again find herself looking after her boxing practice. matches so damn good with her own hair it's almost a joke to remember how devastating you are in her eyes.

how did she get there anyway? when did her mind played tricks on her long enough to make her change the path to her bike all the way up to the ballet studio? like she already belonged there after all the times sneaking out the weight room to see you practice. she made fun of you at first, but now? fuck, it's so hot when you mention some movement's name in remarkable italian, making her big hands hold your waist when you're spinning in one leg and vi's mesmerized by the grace of it, the delicacy, how you seem to be everything she's lacking.

"no, don't go" the pink haired begs as she notices how you were already gathering your stuff, tossing your shoes to the gym bag still in your pointe shoes "don't go. i need to talk to you... please."

her mind drift away as she speaks, can't help it cause see you again is much like breathing a deadly flower. you're so quick to settle back in her system, ready to live under her skin if asked. you're sweaty, heavy breathing cause hell, you always push yourself harder than the rest, you always stay there an hour of two cause you can't stand disappointment, being less than you force yourself to be even when vi's repeating again how good you are every single time she's there looking, on a sleek suit (and a huge bruise in the right eye) making everybody stand up when you're up on the stage, nervous as ever when you pick up her bouquet of flowers in the end, holding it tightly against your chest.

"five minutes. you just have five minutes and i’ll leave. got better things to do."

fine, whatever. she can actually do it in fucking three.

jock!vi who thinks she's not going to be that pathetic for the first fifty seconds until her tongue takes over and she's spitting truth after truth without any filter at all: maybe she's tired, maybe practice leaves her dry and unable to think for herself, maybe you're the one who has that crazy spell over her, wrapped around your finger even when she tried so hard to avoid it.

"i miss you so much," the words came out of her mouth since her brain can fuck off right now, her own body making decisions on its own — "i'm so tired of pushing you away, of trying to turn off my feelings for you cause i like to pretend i don't really understand them. and i'm so fucking sorry for it."

"no more bullshit, promise to me" you state, and vi can see the tension still lingering on your shoulders, making you stiff and constantly stressed. "if you make me mad i will dump you-"

jock!vi who takes your words as an invitation when she's pulling on that little transparent skirt wrapped around your waist she don't understand at all, one that covers nothing, but its enough to get you closer, to make you shut up, give you time even, to pull away if you wanted to.

and her kisses are messy like everything she does, cause vi has no control over her necessity over you, on how it makes her hands shake almost of the withdrawal of medication, her mouth's all over — invading like a battle of the middle age, your knight who’s taking until you're out of breath and she can see how swollen your lips are, how your gloss rest now in her skin too.

"don't get any weird ideas, vi. not here."

"yes, whatever you say. now come here you fucking tease," she tries to be funny for a damn second, tries to be cool even when her tone is fileld with desperation, tossing her boxing gloves and her own gym bag to the floor. "won't do nothing weird, just need a few kisses."

her arms wrap around you like you're something sacred, a victim of her good intentions overshadowed by a layer of bad behavior, can't think of consequences or anything else more than how good you fit against her, how you keep her warm, complete.

"i can't stop thinking about you," vi's breathing against your neck before pressing soft kisses against the side of it, gentle bites cause she lacks of force now that she's sore and tired after practice, letting her own desires speak for their own, her mouth betraying her own brain — "i can't stop thinking about this, about us and what we have."

"and what do we have huh? i'm not really aware."

"i dunno. you tell me."

ballerina!reader who stumbles over her own words, nervous as ever cause vi's too close, too cocky, too confident for her own good. her teeth pull on the skin of your neck, and you're openly whining about your next presentation being close to the weekend and how you cannot be suffering from her hungry hickies.

"behave," you almost beg her, but it's too late for that already when she's nodding at your words and you know how it works: when she's giving you the reason but she's not capable of stopping herself from taking what she wants, when you cant remove yourself from her either since you have poorer self control as well. that would've explain why she's all over you still, why her hands are so quickly to grab your ass in response, roughly squeezing both cheeks only to get you closer to her.

"i am behaving," vi replies convinced she has it under control—. "you'd be in much more trouble if i weren't behaving."

"vi-"

"please, don't you think i've suffered enough already? that i've missed you long enough?" it's almost a plea, ready to beg if you wanted so. "there's no one around but you and me- don't make me beg, practice's over, this is my time and you're taking it away from me..."

how can you ever deny her special needs?

jock!vi who's touch get more and more demanding by the seconds, almost forgetting where she is still, like the mirrors don't replicate the image of her groping on all the right places, touching and enjoying the curves of your body, the smell you've been reeking after been jumping around, twirling and dancing your guts out.

"it’s the damn uniform" the boxer admits, almost ashamed of having to admit her lack of jurisdiction— "the fucking uniform-- s'making me think a lot."

“i can't change it, pretty sure its mandatory.”

"i'm not complaining. the designers here- really onto something. makes me think pretty nasty stuff when i see you," its a new confession when she's making sure to coax as close as possible, until there’s no more space and she’s all you can breathe. "stuff that would make you remember me we're in public and not in my dorm room in that voice of yours when you're mad" — "pulling a restraining order on me."

jock!vi who has trouble in not messing with you: how is she supposed to not pull the soft ribbon holding your hair only to watch it fall against your shoulders? you're furrowing your brows together but you cannot be mad at her when she's stealing a new kiss in response, not like this anyway.

"don't give me that look, it was already falling. sides i'm keeping it" doesn't matter how sweaty you are, how you scrunch your nose when her fingers get under the tight grip of your leotard that got vi mentally thanking on how summer makes you not wear those sheer pantyhoses you use in winter, cause your underwear's thin enough to be good as damn nothing and it gives vi enough access to touch — "i missed you. shit- i missed you so much."

tightening the grip in your waist, she's cornering you against the wooden ballet barre, almost making you see the tattoos on her back since she's wearing this damn tank top and hell; the mirror gives access to every detail, every muscle: if she's doing that on purpose? her success is imminent.

jock!vi who's turned on by the adrenaline rush, who's muscles burn after a rough session of training, after eternal minutes of running under the sun. vocal already cause fuck: this is medicine for the soul.

"gonna fuck you here so everyone knows who you belong to" she states, making your head spin, "if someone comes in, well they better be thanking me for keeping their star dancer in peak cardio shape. you're damn welcome too."

"interesting. are you always this horny after practice?"

ballerina!reader who contrary to all beliefs, it's actually very bad at remembering why it's a bad idea all sudden, when the cold mirror makes you shiver at the unexpected contact, the perfect excuse on why you’re experiencing goosebumps everywhere the jock's touching.

"ten minutes," vi promises already fond of the mirrors, of both of your figures mixing up in the image that repeated all over again in a room with such a rich space, so much that made it felt crowded even when there’s only two people there. "i promise, just ten minutes. no one has to even know."

"if i don't cum in ten minutes, we are finishing this in my room."

"the showers."

"i said. my damn room, needy mess."

"well. ten minutes it's actually a lot in situations like this. generous even."

jock!vi who's dropping to her knees seconds after, not as sign submission but devotion, of the love that flourished when she's making you rest your leg right against her shoulder. her hand push your waist against the mirror, and you have to hold the barrer cause vi catches you flying low, hella low when it makes your legs shake in nothing but the expectancy of it.

"amazes me how you stand there and have the audacity to call me needy when i'm not even touching you," you'd reply, sassy, intelligent as ever cause even when you're turned on, you can think still, at least until she's using a hand to spread you open, using the wet of her mouth to lick over the fabric of your ballet uniform until it latches to your cunt after, make it stick to your skin like's not there and you're too invested into looking to say anything at all — on how you need that leotard for tomorrow, how you should've accept her shower idea.

"you're needier than me, if that doesn't made it clear" you're mumbling something about needing her to shut up, however, vi's not playing around when her spit mixes up with your own arousal, covering her chin, landing on her tongue when spreading you apart with the skilled muscle of her mouth. just a few touches and its enough to pay special attention to your clit, to make your hips move slowly against her face.

so good. she's making the fabric of the spandex to the side and before you can say something about how she's testing her limits, she's coating two fingers with your own need, lubricating them to push them against your entrance.

ballerina!reader who keeps eye contact like a damn champion when vi admitted one time how much it turns her on, how her blue orbs stare at yours while eating you, her fingers slowly pushing inside until she's knuckles deep. she’s kind, nice even giving you time to adjust, to savor the moment as you cunt seems to squeeze her digits as a warm welcome, as a way of driving them deeper, somehow rougher.

"oh good fuck," vi moans when she has the perfect look of your pussy opening up for her fingers "fuck- this is so hot. so hot sucking my fingers until there's no space.”

"no fucking-"

"no fucking" she promises, lies lies lies—. "i don't see how this could be considered fucking. we'd call it quick fun from now on."

and the boxer's entranced by the smell of you right over her nose, how you move right against her face, looking down, burning holes in her skin through the reflection. vi’s her knees are sore, puffy lips, she's always been messy in general, but today? today it takes the fucking cake when vi's unaware of her own shirt being stained but the combination of fluids, a testament to the comeback, to the need of being one.

jock!vi who likes to make you watch. makes you entranced to the way her arm flex every time she thrusted her fingers inside, how the flesh disappeared and the room's filled instead with a wet, lewd sound that seemed to travel in space. she's having no damn mercy when her digits curve all the way in, when she forgets about the barrier of layers of your leotard and she becomes pussydrunk instead, starved and hallucinating on whatever hallucinogen you carried on your sweat.

"do you see that?" vi asks, voice rough, strings of saliva still connecting her lips to your swollen cunt—. "gonna fuck you in front of mirrors all the time now. see those pretty tits bouncing, the dumb expression in your face- mhm we're definitely fucking in front of the mirror in your dorm."

jock!vi who's a pervert every single time. who's panties dampen while impatiently trying to rub her legs together, soothe the ache. she's such a visual learner she gets off at the sight of you, from your erratic movements, the way she's using actual force to keep you standing, leaning against the mirror and not crumbling in her arms.

you try to be silent and it's so damn nice to see you like this, to know how she's reducing you to pieces when your biting your lower lip hard to muffle the sound of your moans, how you cunt suck her fingers until they're fully in, open, warm and inviting, vi’s ready to cum from the sight only.

you're so in control all the time, snarky comments, sarcastic as fuck, you always have something to say until she's turning your world to misery, until she’s tormenting you, consuming every thought, every inch of your being, installed in your lungs.

"c'mon stay on your feet," vi says, blushing at her own words cause she's supposed to be the one who's able to carry you around, used to always move you around at her needs — "m'tired too baby. do it for me."

her words slur together, her mouth's getting tired, her muscles burn now as they keep moving, keep fucking you against the soreness installing on her body after the adrenaline's already settled.

"yes-" you reply trying to be of help, pulling on vi's hair cause it's so long now you can actually play with it, tug it and wrap it around your digits. “i’m trying i promise, i’m trying.”

good girl. she'd try to vocally praise you, but vi's too invested in making a feast out of you, on have you making the most delicious sounds as she's pulling the leotard entirely to the side and her tongue finally swipes from all the way to your abused hole back to your clit, face-deep in your folds cause no. it’s simply not enough.

ballerina!reader who can't help but be loud when peaking. who's clumsy when falling, unable to hold her weight anymore. who got vi closer than ever when you finally cum, pushing her closer, rougher than before. half lidded eyes, drool on the corners of your mouth: that's the look vi wants to see on your face every day, the look of being throughly spend, used.

she's working you through it like it wasn't already enough. like she isn't pushing on your boundaries enough as she overstimulates you. insatiable, ravenous, eternally greedy when it comes to you.

"sweet fuck," you breathe out, tangled limbs, sticky and damn dirty at this point—. "do you think anyone saw?"

"no" she replies, but in reality, vi doesn't care about been seen "we were quick. pretty sure it was less then ten minutes also."

both of you're unaware of the camera hidden in the right corner of the room at least until next practice when your soul's leaving your body:

camera. she ate you out in front of the security camera.

so vi heard it multiple times already when she’s wrapping the pink lace of your hair now in her favorite boxing gloves: she has such good intentions, but she's a victim, as usual, of her bad behavior.

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kurooh · 9 months ago

Text

☆ ， SATIVA ! — takami keigo, todoroki toya

⊹₊˚. a simple sesh with your two closest friends in the league of villains—hawks & dabi—quickly turns into something else once you start smoking too.

word count ★ 4.4k

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, smoking weed, mfm threesome, very subtle dabihawks, unprotected sex, oral [f&m giving/receiving], creampies, hawks has a crush on you, wing play, spitroast, squirting, hawks is a lil submissive

xoxo, juno ★ created because of this ask! i had so much fun writing & i spent forever trying to do this idea justice and i seriously hope i did. first ever ‘long’ fic so i pray this doesn’t flop hahaha please give me some feedback and rb/comment if you liked it <33

the sun sinks low in the sky, peeking over the horizon and casting orange rays of light through the torn curtains hanging over the hallway windows. finally being off the clock and done with patrols is always rewarding in its own way, but this is different — you’ve been invited to hang out in one of the more private rooms in the villa.

dabi and hawks had always proved to be an interesting duo: one a hero, the other a villain. as if their positions in society weren’t enough to stop them from becoming friends of some kind, they shared very different interests, tastes, and quirks.

however, the only thing they could seem to agree on was you — the three of you were inseparable, spending time together often, despite having very opposite personalities.

“hawks?” your voice is hushed, awkward as you push open a dusty door, unsure of its location. “dabi? you guys are in here, right? you better not be fucking with—”

“oh relax.”

“we’re right here, dove,” hawks’ sugary sweet voice draws a loud gag from dabi, mustered from the very depths of his soul.

you huff, stepping in and slamming the door.

“it stinks in here, what the hell is that?”

“lock the door,” dabi vaguely gestures behind you, lifting one of his legs over the other as he leans against the bottom of the beat up couch. in his lap sits a copy of the hardcover hawks can’t seem to stop reading, the meta liberation army book. his darkened fingers carefully sprinkle a smelly substance into a rolling paper, and his eyebrows furrow as he focuses.

hawks sees the confusion on your face. “dabi’s making magic over there.”

“you owe me, hawks. damn fiend.”

“i am not a fiend!” the blonde snaps his head to the side, crossing his legs tightly. “you suggested it and i agreed. i’ll chip in for your efforts, though.”

dabi cackles, sealing his creation with a delicate swipe of his tongue against the paper. vermillion wings ruffle in shameless interest, gold eyes locked onto dabi’s hands. not wanting to be the only one standing, you take a seat on the old couch, both of them on either side on the floor below you.

with no encouragement necessary, dabi pushes what looks like a thick cigarette between his lips and lifts a finger to light it.

“what is that?” you ask curiously, gesturing towards his lips.

“‘s a joint,” he mumbles in reply, lighting the end of it with a small blue flame.

“don’t disintegrate it now, dabi.”

“fuck off, bird brain. as if i can’t control my quirk.”

dabi inhales deeply, taking a long drag on the joint before pulling it from his lips and passing it to the man on the other side of you. curiously, you watch as hawks takes a small inhale, then hands it back to dabi.

“pacing yourself this time? that’s new for you.” dabi remarks, sharp teeth gleaming as he smiles. hawks scoffs, staying quiet although he looks away awkwardly.

“you know what weed does?” dabi rolls the joint back and forth between his lips, looking up at you from his spot on the floor.

“i-i’m not sure, i’ve never tried it before,” your voice falters and you clear your throat, fidgeting with your fingers. “what does it do?”

“it’ll get you high,” hawks offers simply.

“it does way more than that,“ dabi shoots him a glare and shakes his head. “it’s relaxing. it’ll make you feel different, in a good way.”

he turns to the side and exhales smoke, then offers you the joint. “come on, princess,” you’re watching the wisps of smoke dissipate in the air behind him before your attention snaps back to dabi. “i, for one, think you’ll come to like it.”

“aw, don’t pressure her, dabi.” hawks takes the joint from dabi with a mild glare, and shakes his head as he slips it between his lips. crimson wings flutter as he takes a deep, long hit and fills his lungs with smoke. dabi watches with a smirk, unable to hold in his laughter when his body trembles and he starts to cough, spewing smoke from his nose and mouth.

“you’re only talking like that cause you’re not all that experienced either,” he scoffs, reaching to the side to grab a bottle of water, then tosses it to the other side of the couch.

tears from the intense coughing cascade down hawks’ flushed face as he sucks down the water, clearly embarrassed. truthfully, he’d been trying to show off a little, as well as unwind from a long day.

you take the joint from hawks before he drops it onto the carpet, then you hand it back to dabi, who shrugs. “if you really don’t want to, that’s fine, doll.”

you’re nervous, heart racing at the prospect of smoking with them. drinking liquor was always rare for you, and even when you did, you didn’t get anything more than tipsy. oftentimes you’d be wrangling hawks out of the sky and reminding him that smashing into a building while flying drunk would be a very bad look for him as a hero. he never seemed to care, though, and dabi didn’t either; he’d be equally drunk but less stupid, standing behind you and just laughing.

what if you took too much? what would you say? more importantly, what would you do?

dabi’s husky voice snaps you out of your thoughts. he offers you a smile full of faux sympathy, eyes pink and just a little shiny from the high.

“you’re just missing out.”

missing out? something about his words makes you squirm, thighs clenching. if you were to say no and leave, you’d miss seeing these two high. drunk was one thing, but high was another; you’d heard a few stories, here and there, about what weed could do. in most cases, people tend to stay the same as they usually are, although they may become a little more giggly. occasionally, weed could cause serious arousal. not to mention the date for the paranormal liberation war: it’s coming up, and hawks’ fate has been weighing heavily on your mind.

the definition of magnetic, you weren’t the first to gravitate to him; but you definitely ended up being one of the only people he actually spent the most time with. well, and dabi. closer than most friends, neither of you could even think about pulling away: what if this was one of the last times you could spend time together?

part of you feels like you’ll regret this, but you bite the bullet anyway, stammering, “uh, okay. yeah, i’ll try it.”

proudly, dabi scoots closer and hands you the joint. the smell is strong, and your nose crinkles as you lift it to your lips.

“be careful, you have to inhale a certain way—”hawks starts to say, seemingly recovered from his coughing fit, but dabi rolls his eyes at the hero’s concern. he fake gags once again, then sets his rough palm on your knee, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the hero.

“i’ll show you how, doll. i taught this dumbass but clearly he does indeed have a bird brain.”

“fuck off,” hawks grunts, leaning over to hit him lightly with a wing before slouching back to watch, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“bring it to your lips—right, just like that. so, you’ll need to inhale slowly because the smoke can be a bit overwhelming at first..”

you follow dabi’s instructions, closing your eyes as you take the smoke into your mouth, letting it pass through your windpipe and coil in your lungs for a moment.

“wait a second, then slowly blow it out through your mouth.”

your eyes open, and you look at the tendrils dissipating in front of you. beside you, hawks offers the half full bottle of water.

“good girl,” dabi chuckles, leaning his head back against the edge of the couch. dark, spiky hair sticks out in all directions, and hooded turquoise eyes observe you thoughtfully. “you’ll want to repeat that a few more times, alright? make sure you stop when you’re feeling it, it kicks in pretty quickly. don’t wanna overdo it, you’ll end up puking. i’m sure hawks can tell you all about that, huh?”

“dabi, seriously!” the vomiter in question whines, feathers puffing out as his blush darkens. “she doesn’t need to know about all that shit.”

it starts as a giggle, slips from your lips before you can stop it. then it’s a few, all at once. before you know it, you’re curling up and laughing so hard tears run down your face. from the corner of your eye, you notice hawks’ bewildered stare, which only makes you laugh harder.

“she’s definitely high,” dabi clicks his tongue, finding it difficult not to join in with you. hawks continues to stare, shifting in his spot on the floor as he takes in your laughter and smiling face.

maybe it’s the haze that’s taken over your brain, or the fog that’s settled in every corner of your body, but you find yourself slowly coming down from all the laughter, sliding down to the floor between them, joint between your fingers.

“you alright?” dabi pulls the joint from your grasp, sticks it into a nearby ashtray.

“my throat’s a little dry,” you rasp, overwhelmed by all the new sensations.

again, hawks hands you the water bottle, but this time he presses it into your hand. rather abruptly, you twist to the side and lean in, kissing dabi.

he makes absolutely no effort to stop you, parting his lips and letting your impatient tongue into his mouth while his rough hands wander beneath the hem of your shirt, palms dragging against your skin and only moving higher.

by the time you’re pulling away to breathe, he’s panting, eyes cast downwards at the carpet; just before his eyes meet yours, he remembers that the two of you aren’t alone.

heavy wings rustle behind you, the noise likely unintentional. when you turn back, hawks is watching, still cross-legged but now shamelessly pitching a tent in his pants.

”hawks,” you pant, body burning hot. eagerly, you beckon him over; there’s no hesitation crossing over his face when he slides towards you, squishing you between himself and dabi.

dabi watches quietly as you pull the hero into a kiss by the chin, insistent and everything but gentle. you’ve got him breathless against your lips, his wheezes pitched and clearly overwhelmed.

“alright, princess,” dabi scoffs, tugging you off the hero by your shirt and into his lap. “that’s not fair.”

he feels like he’s melting a little when your face falls, your expression becoming pathetic and sad in a way that’s utterly filthy.

“but, i-i want both of you.”

the two men look towards each other, sharing an unreadable look. hawks swallows nervously, “at the same time?”

“same hole?” dabi jokes, eyebrows shooting up when you nod to both of their questions. “well, shit. you heard her, bird brain.”

“on the couch,” hawks murmurs, patting a worn out cushion. on trembling legs, you stand and take a seat.

“nuh uh, on your knees,” dabi grunts, pushing you into position and settling behind your clothed ass.

meanwhile, hawks sits in front of you and pulls his clothes off, stripping down to his boxers. the outline of his thick cock is obvious, as is the shift of his hips as he awaits your touch.

saliva pools inside your mouth at the thought of having his cock down your throat, stretching it out and filling it up.

“off,” one simple word and his whole lower half is already fully naked.

“suck him off,” dabi’s arms wrap around your waist as he unbuttons your shorts and yanks them down to your knees. “and don’t you dare stop, or i will too.”

hawks guides his cock into your mouth, rising to his knees and cupping the back of your head. his face crumbles in pleasure, and he’s only pushing past your lips. “oh my god— fuck, your mouth’s perfect.”

his wings spread out behind him, crimson feathers quivering out of his control. “show off,” dabi mutters, pulling your panties down next. he watches your cunt closely, glossy strings of wetness stretching as your panties slide down your thighs.

“so fucking pretty, christ.” your pussy clenches from his words, his hot breath fanning over you and only adding to your anticipation. hawks stares, gold eyes honing in on rough hands and the way they grasp your plush skin.

“deeper,” hawks murmurs, head falling back as he pushes your head down further.

at the same time, dabi experimentally licks a long stripe down your pussy, the tip of his tongue dipping between your folds. the light stimulation combined with the sight and sound of hawks’ pleasure has your hips thrashing, bucking backwards for more.

“she’s real needy, huh?” dabi spits onto your cunt, a glob trailing down and dripping a little from your clit.

“looks like it,” hawks chuckles, lips moving into a pleased smile at the needy sounds you can’t stop making on his cock.

the air in the room is hot, thick with the scent of smoked weed and sex, heavy with shameless arousal. your head is cloudy, only full of thoughts of hawks and dabi. it’s like being shocked with electricity when your face is pressed into thick thighs, hawks’ cock pushing deep and causing you to choke. he grunts and starts to fuck your mouth, his thrusts carelessly deep. as if that wasn’t enough, dabi’s fingers push inside you and he attaches his lips to your clit.

“mmm,” he groans deeply, roughly tugging you backwards and into his face for more.

“does she taste good?” hawks huffs, his chest heaving. against your tongue, his cock throbs.

dabi smacks his lips behind you, then gifts your ass with a harsh slap. the sudden sting makes you moan, and he smirks.

“oh yeah. she’s so fuckin’ sweet, hawks.”

“tell me about it,” the hero gulps, his lower lip wobbling as he only grows closer to the bliss he’s been dreaming about.

“well, she’s real tight inside. sucked my fingers right in, didn’t you, princess?” to prove his point, dabi nudges two other fingers against your dripping entrance and you clench, greedy pussy begging to be stuffed full.

hawks nods, waiting for more.

“oh my god, i couldn’t even describe the taste,” dabi curls his fingers inside you, rubs your clit in methodic circles with the pad of his thumb. “‘s sweet, for sure. definitely a little sour.”

turquoise meets gold, and dabi watches hawks’ eyes roll back, wings spreading out and straining behind him, like an angel.

“you’ll have to taste it yourself, bird brain. i’m sure she’s more than willing.”

that’s all it takes to push the both of you over the edge — with a choked moan, hawks spills into your mouth, hips stuttering but still jerking forward sporadically. dabi pays close attention to the way you shake, pushing towards him for more but practically running away the second he touches your swollen clit.

dabi blames the heat in his cheeks on the weed.

“o-oh,” hawks fights back a whimper as he pulls his cock from your mouth, too sensitive to even speak.

“it’s so hot in here,” you whine, sitting up to pull your shirt and bra off. the bounce of your tits and perkiness of your nipples has dabi groaning, painfully hard.

“get the hell back on your knees.”

hawks sits and observes dabi, eyes focused on the way his fingertips run down your back and pause at your asscheeks, gripping the skin in an effort to ground himself.

he races to take his pants off, tossing them and his boxers to the floor in a hurry. he’s shaking when he lines his cock up with your entrance and shoves in, falling against your back with a loud hiss.

“holy shit,” he gasps, startled when he feels like cumming already. in a flash, hawks is in front of you again, stroking his fingers over the nape of your neck and shushing your pathetic whining.

hawks would be lying if he said he wouldn’t fuck you harder and make you sob.

“you can take it,” dabi grunts, clearing his throat to keep his voice from faltering. “it’s not you’ll be getting any breaks, doll.”

“that’s mean,” hawks says with a pout, fully hard and waiting for attention.

“shut it, bird brain. fuck her mouth again, why don’t you?”

“you heard him,” hawks shrugs, seemingly apologetic although he definitely isn’t. “open up, dove.”

his wings rustle and he groans as he pushes his cock into your mouth once again. dabi’s pace doesn’t falter, and he tugs you up a little to fuck his cock deeper.

“dabi!” you sob, his name muffled but still audible to both men, “right there, pleasepleaseplease—”

heavy balls smack into your clit with each thrust that you can feel in your lungs. even as dabi pulls you impossibly closer, it still isn’t enough to be fully satiating — what if you all shared each other like this on the regular?

“g-gonna cum soon,” you whimper, a few tears rolling down your face and forcefully falling from your jaw with every hard shove of hawks’ cock into your mouth.

electricity races through your entire body, shooting through your veins in stinging shocks as the pressure in your pelvis increases. then you feel rough skin and hot breath at the nape of your neck, along with a strong hand wrapping around your throat.

“what’s that, princess? you’re gonna cum?”

“yes, y-yes, ‘m gonna—”

“greedy, aren’t you? go ahead and wait for us.”

“i-i can’t,” you moan, eyes rolling back when dabi’s fingers dig into the sides of your neck, “i’m so fucking close, dabi, please—”

he pulls back, but before he returns to fucking you as he did before, he shoves your head down hard, only letting go once he hears you choke.

the room fills with needy groans and the hushed whimpers you keep letting out as you struggle to do as he’d asked. it’s as though hawks is facing the same predicament, a nervous hand tangled deep in blonde strands and tugging to keep himself grounded.

after what feels like an eternity, dabi finally keels over with a drawn out groan. “shit, i’m gonna cum,” the pace of his hips starts to falter and you’re less than a moment away from cumming yourself. “i’m gonna fucking—”

he cuts himself off by biting into your shoulder hard, just before you feel him gushing inside you, filling you to the brim. hawks pulls out of your mouth to take in the scene, and commit every detail to memory.

you fall over the edge with a mewl, gummy walls squeezing dabi’s cock and absolutely draining him. all you can do is moan beneath him, trembling from the strength of your second orgasm of the night.

it’s frustrating that he’s throbbing against your cervix and then pulling out immediately after, beckoning for hawks to come over. entirely spent, you collapse onto your belly, heart racing and breath coming in heavy puffs.

“god,” hawks all but groans at the sight of the mess between your legs — cum pouring from your cunt and smeared around your clit thanks to dabi. then, almost as though he’s hungry, “looks so fucking good.”

“hey now, turn over.” dabi offers you the half full bottle of water from earlier and chuckles at how quickly you open it and begin to chug. it’s gone in seconds, and the bottle falls to the ground with a crinkling sound. you sigh, exhausted and still high as hell — for a moment, you close your eyes.

“round three,” is all you hear before your legs are being spread open. your hole flutters at the prospect of some more, and you’re startled that you’re even considering it.

“i just came twice, hawks,” you cry, lower lip wobbling. a third round will most certainly break you.

with the pad of his thumb, dabi sweeps away a stray tear on your face. “let him fuck you once, yeah? god knows how damn long he’s been wanting to.”

“dabi,” the blonde whines, flushing pink. “stop it.”

with a sigh, he lifts his arms and pulls his shirt off for this final round, exposing the rest of his body. his nipples are a light pink, and he’s got a defined chest and abs with lines that look sharp enough to cut stone. he wiggles his eyebrows, eyes creasing at the corners once he notices you checking him out.

“like what you see?”

behind you, dabi rolls his eyes, but you spread your legs wider with a playful expression. “absolutely.”

thoughts of nothing besides fucking you full of his cum and making you his flare in his mind as he gathers dabi’s cum on the tip of his cock and pushes it inside you.

“o-oh,” hawks gulps down a whimper once he pushes inside, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a bruising kiss. as he pulls back, lips dragging against your cheek, you swear you hear him say something like feels better than i could’ve ever imagined.

“want me to mess around with your tits or use your mouth?” dabi rasps, cupping your chin and tilting your head to make you look up at him.

“do what you’d like to me,” your back arches off the couch after an experimentally deep thrust from the hero, your tits bouncing nicely from the movement. he takes one into his hands, squeezing the soft flesh but mostly focusing on the pebbled nipples.

with a tinkling sound, hawks’ gold chain bounces wildly at his neck. noticing your distraction, dabi slips his fingers beneath your chin and turns your head to face him.

“how’s it feel to be fucked like a slut?” he questions, pinching your nipple harshly; you moan loudly, tilting your head to the side, tongue lolling out of your mouth. dabi thinks the twisted expression of bliss on your face is so fucking hot.

“f-feels so fucking good—” you cut yourself off with a needy, pitched moan, bucking towards hawks and wrapping your legs around his waist. “fill me up, please, i need it.”

the hero chews on his lower lip, closing his eyes and choosing to lose himself in this perfect moment. behind his eyes, he feels the hot prickle of tears; is he really about to cry right now? out of bliss and in front of dabi? but the thought is whisked away the second he focuses on the sound of his balls smacking into your swollen clit.

it’s a mess between your spread legs, cum and spit and slick smeared across your skin and dripping onto the couch.

“fuck, you’ve got no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this,” he grits his teeth, wings spreading out and beating the air hard, sending icy wind straight into your face and dabi’s. “b-been waiting to make you fall apart on my cock.”

“not to interrupt, but you’re blowing the mood out like a candle,” dabi bites, rising from his spot on the couch and stepping around crimson wings.

“don’t fucking start— dabi,” he gasps when he feels hot hands pulling his wings back into their usual resting position at his back. they tremble in his grip, stray feathers falling to the floor.

“sensitive there?” he roughly prods a finger between the feathers.

hawks ignores him although the answer is definitely yes, bending forward to wrap his arms around you and pull you as close as he can. the gold chain bumps against your sternum, and hawks buries his face in your shoulder with an embarrassing moan.

“i-i’m so close— dabi, rub her clit for me,” it takes a lot of strength not to stutter when his brain’s melting like this.

with a grunt of acknowledgement, dabi’s hand slips between your sweaty bodies, fingers pushing through your pubic hair as he searches for your clit.

“right here, doll?” he pinches the swollen bud and rolls it between two fingers.

“fuck yes,” you moan, hips jolting towards him.

he’s got a hand wrist deep in feathers, scratching lightly at the skin beneath, and the other sandwiched between you and hawks as he rubs your clit furiously.

“just like that,” you whimper, eyes meeting dabi’s, whose pupils are blown. against your neck, hawks chants your name like a prayer, lips dragging against your cheek when he pulls away for a moment.

“i’m gonna—” he groans loudly, eyes rolling back and hips stuttering against your own, “take it, take it all, fuck..” his voice nearly cracks as he finally lets go, pushing deep and shooting ropes of cum from his swollen cock.

hawks shudders, wings fanning out and pushing against dabi, who groans as he takes in the whole scene.

“cum hard for me, doll,” dabi urges, his sticky fingers maintaining the rough pace he’s had this whole time; a unique tightness swells in your pelvis, begging to be released. despite having been fucked dumb, you manage to register that something big is about to happen.

“dabi, d-dabi,” you sob, legs trembling and heels pushing hawks closer. “‘s coming, ‘s coming..”

dabi’s hand slips into blonde hair, and he yanks hard, pulling hawks’ head up so he can watch you fall apart.

it happens fast; you clench down on hawks’ cock, squeezing out a moan from deep within his chest. liquid sprays from your spasming cunt, soaking hawks’ pelvis and dabi’s fingers.

“‘s too much,” you cry out, a tear racing down your cheek when you feel dabi’s fingers dragging against your overly sensitive clit again.

“why don’t we see how fucking sloppy she is?” he groans, watching closely as hawks pulls out.

you can only whimper when cum gushes from your swollen cunt and someone’s fingers push it back in. you watch as the two men rise to their feet, still on your back and panting.

“t-this was perfect,” hawks tries to catch his breath, choking when his back is slapped. “minus you ripping my hair out and slapping me just now, damn it.”

“all for good reason,” dabi snickers, helping you to sit up. “you alright? that was a lot, heh.”

“i need to take a shower so bad.”

“let’s just relax before anyone leaves,” hawks says with a sigh, plopping down beside you.

“don’t tell me you get all soft after sex,” dabi stretches and pops his neck before he sits down on the other side of you.

“better than being hard,” he mutters in reply, gesturing to dabi’s boner.

the comment only makes him spread his legs and wrap an unbothered arm around you, knuckles brushing against hawks’ face.

“gotta do this again sometime,” you say, eyelids feeling heavy. “just like earlier, both of you at the same time.”

“same hole?” they both ask at once, more serious than they’d been before.

you wink at them, not so tired anymore.

“most definitely.”

#kurooh #pls don’t flop #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks x you #hawks x dabi #dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x you

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