#so yeah that's my whinge for the night

[navree]

i tonya is always a movie i'm gonna be annoyed exists, not cuz i dislike it (it's fine, its' not great but it's adequate and it has its moments) but because i have a vision in my head of a movie about that whole mess that is never gonna come to fruition because there's already been a major motion picture about it

[dewitty1]

Saturday Six (Stuff)

Wowwww it's been a while. Can't say that much has been going on, but also it feels like a lot has been going on... That's life, though right?(。-ω-)ﾉ

I've been trying to work, but so far only had on project this month. It seems like I may have to resort to begging on FB A-Fricking-gain, which sometimes works, but not always. Instagram posts don't seem to do anything.(⑅ ‘﹃’ )

Speaking of Instagram, my food posts seem to do OK, but I'm not really gaining followers. Idk how to do that except to do action videos, and yeahhhh, that's just not my style.（’-’*)

Mainly what I've been doing is getting ready for the lesbian wedding in Wales that I'm going to in a few weeks! Much excite. I'm fixing to be very Sapphire aka Pantsuit Sapphic gay mom!“ψ(｀∇´)ψ

My parents are being wicked douchers again. So what's new? Only they're going out in public (dad with no mask) with full on Covid. Ughhhh. So gross. They're just lucky they didn't get us sick. Especially with my trip coming up. s(・｀ヘ´・;)ゞ

The rodeo is in town this weekend. And as usual there was the parade out in front of the house this morning. Yee frickin haw. (；-◞౪◟-)

[smolkooks]

incoming call... (part ii) - kenji sato

a/n: roughly 2k more words of kenji sato fluff! sequel to 'incoming call...' link to part i

ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚

“ouch!”

you snickered, “ken, i told you not to get too close! she doesn’t like strangers,” you leant down to scratch the little kitten’s cheeks, and because she knew you and you were undoubtedly her best friend, she purred in contentment, all the while giving kenji sato an irritated glare.

the nickname—ken—slipped off your tongue smoothly, the same way you’d been saying it for the past few months that you’d been spending around your highschool sweetheart. even though you’d been apart for so many years and hadn’t seen each other for so long, it had been easy to slip back into an old rhythm.

“fuck, i didn’t know she’d actually bite me, she looks so tiny,” he hissed, shaking his reddened finger.

“size means nothing when it comes to animals,” you retorted, and despite the way you rolled your eyes, you still handed him an ice pack from your freezer, “take this, big baby.”

he huffed but took it anyway, pressing it to his injury.

it had become a bit of a routine—after his games, he’d come over to your clinic to visit you while you handled the late-night clean ups. the rest of the vet team headed home at closing, but with no kids or family to care for, you often spent your evenings here, keeping the animals company and handling some of the extra paper work. 

“how’s emi doing, by the way?” you said as you refilled some of the water bowls. most of the animals were sleeping at this time, but you still liked to make sure they were all fed and watered. in fact, it was better to do it while they were asleep—less whinging from the little babies for treats.

“she’s doing well,” he said, and it was his turn to roll his eyes as he leant against the bench, “attitude and all, as always.”

“she’s a teenage girl,” you said with a laugh, “it’s so normal. i was one, so i can affirm.”

“mhm,” he said, eyes gleaming, “i remember.”

it was weird, toeing this line with kenji sato. so long ago, you’d been each other’s universes and after separating to go to university, the two of you had been sucked into different orbits—him going into baseball in the states, and you pursuing veterinary medicine in australia. it almost felt like fate nudging you, having the two of you run into each other—back in japan all these years later.

saving you from responding, his phone rang at that very moment. being around kenji all these weeks had gotten you used to his late night calls—how he’d have to run off to take care of the city. but this call seemed to come from one of his teammates, with the familiar way he addressed the person on the other side of the line.

he’d told you that at first he didn’t have any friends here, too busy to do anything but work. but now, he’d grown close to plenty of his teammates and of course, he had you.

“yeah well, i’m kinda busy right now actually...why?” you overheard him say as you busied yourself with some clean up and tried not to look like you were eavesdropping, “oh...oh! yeah uh—what?! what the...” his change in tone piqued your interest.

“...right, thanks for telling me, i’ll call you back later, yuta. thanks...” he hung up, and turned sharply to you, meeting your awaiting gaze, “the press caught you, uh, getting into my car.”

you frowned, confused at the problem with that, considering it wasn’t at all illegal for kenji to have friends.

“they’re blowing it up,” he said, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again, “i...i don’t mind, but i don’t want it to hurt you, that’s all.”

you waved his concerns off, “it’s whatever, to me. as long as it doesn’t harm your reputation, i don’t really have a public image to maintain. my patients don’t care who i date or don’t date.”

date? you felt flustered the moment those words left your lips. even though the two of you had been getting closer again and flirting and doing things that one would do while dating, neither of you had clarified the boundary yet.

kenji seemed equally as flustered and didn’t address what you’d said, not wanting to embarrass you, “you’re right,” he smiled crookedly, and you returned one back despite your racing heart.

***

the moment you stepped into your mum’s house, you were bombarded.

“what’s this about you dating kenji again!” she exclaimed, shutting the door behind you and ushering you into your childhood living room, “i haven’t seen that boy in decades. and since when were you—,”

“what, mum?” you cut her off sharply, even as she shoved you into a chair and poured you hot tea, sitting down opposite you eagerly, “i’m not dating him? plus, where’d you even—,”

she shoved the article in your face before you could even finish the question, her phone screen so bright that it took your eyes a second to adjust. “mum, your phone’s so bright, it can’t be good for your eyes.”

“not important, y/n,” she snapped hurriedly, “look at it.”

blinking your eyes to focus, you finally saw the image clearly. it really did look like you were dating. the window of kenji’s porsche was wound down, and you were leant over towards him, pressed so close to him in a way you didn’t remember doing, even though you knew that you’d only been reaching over to grab the gum from his glovebox. the way he was looking at you, though—you hadn’t noticed in the moment. it was really full of adoration, eyes glittering with a love you remembered so clearly from your highschool days, and his arm was reached out around you in a way you also hadn’t noticed before.

“explain,” your mum demanded, although she didn’t seem annoyed, she seemed...quite excited, the way her eyes were suspiciously bright, “i miss seeing that lovely boy around.”

embarrassed, especially as your eyes scanned over the headline—baseball star kenji sato’s new sweetheart?!—you stuttered, “uh, i ran into him a few weeks ago and we’ve been hanging out, you know, at the clinic.”

“well, then, what are you doing in his car?” she rushed, waving her phone around again, “doesn’t look like the clinic to me. and look—,” she scrolled down a bit further to another picture, this one even more incriminating.

it was you, tucked in the audience of one of kenji’s baseball games, dressed in his team colours, cheering amongst the other vip guests sitting amongst you—friends and family of the players.

“well—,”

“i’m not hearing it,” she cut you off, a grin breaking out, “you’re bringing him over! i can’t believe it—my daughter and kenji, reunited,” she sighed happily, “i was worried you would never settle down, you know.”

flustered, you didn’t even bother to object, sagging in your seat at her insistence.

***

“y/n, i’m really sorry, i didn’t think it’d be that bad,” he said hurriedly as he followed you up the stairs to your apartment, “i’m really sorry. i’m trying to get them to take it down but you know how—,”

you whirled around as you shut the door to your apartment after letting him in, “my mum wants to see you.”

“huh?”

you sighed, switching on the lights and throwing yourself onto your couch, “she saw the article and couldn’t stop going on about how i was finally settling down and how she needed to see you again.”

he ran a hand through his hair, “you...don’t mind?”

“kenji,” you sat up straight, beckoning him over, “i don’t mind. and i wouldn’t mind...”

the silence was loud, the only sound in the room the quiet humming of your lights and the traffic outside, as he sat down beside you, sinking into the cushions.

you knew you didn’t have to finish your sentence. kenji sato knew you too well. he met your eyes and pulled you close, hugging you to his chest. you breathed in his scent—clean, and a little tinted with fish. you’d found out that he often had to go fishing—diving, more like—for emi’s dinners, and that was why he was so often around your apartment block...to fish in the river like a weirdo.

“y/n...”

you hummed, waiting for him to continue as you pressed your face into his chest.

“i really meant it when i said i missed you, back when we first saw each other again,” he began, and you smiled into his skin, “i was so lonely. drained, and it was like fate—seeing you that day saved me, i swear. you were all i could think about. i couldn’t...i couldn’t imagine never seeing you again.”

“kenji,” you murmured, leaning back to look at him earnestly, “i missed you, too.”

“what i’m trying to say is,” he swallowed, looking down before looking up to meet your gaze again, “i...i wanna date you, y/n. if you’ll have me,” suddenly shy, he flushed a bit at his own words.

you smiled at how sweet it was, how shy he seemed and also how your stomach fluttered with butterflies, “ken, of course i’ll have you. you’re all i want.”

you’d barely finished your sentence when his lips met yours in a gentle, soft kiss. you couldn’t really put it into words, how it felt to kiss kenji again after all these years. it felt like coming home. it felt like taking all the colours of the sunset and smearing it across a canvas. it felt like drinking warm milk tea. you hummed into the kiss as he deepened it, pulling you closer by the nape of your neck, and you reached up to tangle your hands in his dark locks, pulling him down towards you at the same time.

you were so close to him you could feel his heartbeat—almost hear it, and you hoped he couldn’t hear how quickly yours was racing. he tasted of caramel, and you couldn’t help but sigh as his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as you broke apart from the kiss, curling into him in a hug.

“y/n,” he murmured, keeping his arms wrapped around you, “i really, really missed you.”

you’d missed him too. his little habits, his dishevelled hair—fish smell, and all. you’d missed him more than anything.

finally, you’d come home.

[wileys-russo]

Alessia Russo, at an event/party, “I can’t believe people think you’re so innocent and sweet”

a.russo II full of surprises

"you look beautiful." you smiled, chin resting on your girlfriends shoulder as you softly kissed her cheek. "its not too much?" alessia worried, biting the inside of her cheek and smoothing out the non existent creases in her dress.

"never. you're perfect." you promised, the blonde turning her head with a smile and pecking your lips. "you're perfect." she mumbled against them making you smile.

"less we can't." your hands fell to her shoulders pushing her away gently as you felt her tongue slip into your mouth and she turned grabbing your hips.

"we have a little time." the girl grinned cheekily making you shake your head, pushing her away again as she stepped closer. "nothing is ever a little with you my love." you smiled knowingly as she dismissed your statements with a wave.

"when you're in that dress i regret to inform you its actually illegal not to kiss your girlfriend." alessia stated with a formal tone making you laugh. "oh really?" you questioned with narrowed eyes as she nodded and hummed.

"well i wouldn't want to break the law." you sighed, arms wrapping around the taller girls neck. "really all of this is just for your best interest." alessia confirmed as the corners of your lips tugged upward.

"so you have no stakes in it, at all?" "nope, none whatsoever." "god you're just so selfless lessi." "i know, you're just so lucky aren't you?"

you hummed happily at that, leaning up and connecting your lips, hand on the back of her neck as hers squeezed your hips pulling your body even closer into yours.

you made a move first, tongue gliding into her mouth as the two of you battled to dominate the kiss, though interrupted by a fist banging loudly at the door.

"oi you two better be fully dressed and ready to go when i kick this door down in sixty seconds or we're gonna have problems!"

"told you we didn't have time, did you forget we have an audience?" you whispered, tugging on your girlfriends bottom lip with your teeth and a wink, stepping back as alessia groaned.

"you invited them over to get ready here less." "yeah in the spare room. we'll be down in two minutes leah do not kick my bedroom door in!"

~

"do you want another one baby?" you looked away from your conversation with lia at your girlfriends voice, nodding as she pecked your lips, grabbing your empty glass and disappearing away to the bar.

"what?" you blushed a little at the grin on the swiss womans face. "you two are very very cute." lia complimented as you rolled your eyes. "no don't do that! it is nice to see you so happy, you deserve it." lia promised softly, squeezing your arm.

"yeah and now we don't have to hear you moping and groaning and whinging about how everyone is so in love and the world is so cruel and so bleak and-" you elbowed leah in the stomach as she grunted and was cut off mid sentence.

"oi!" your national captain huffed, trying to wrangle you into a headlock. "leah if you spill that drink on my dress i'll smother you in your sleep i swear to god." you warned seriously at the beer in her right hand, the blonde letting you go and pinching you instead.

"ow! what are you four?" you scowled, the girl pulling a face and slipping out of the booth, the entire team out for a night of bonding. you'd all gone for dinner at one of your favorite restaurants first with some of the staff who then cleared off as the rest of you all headed for a local pub.

"babe leah pinched me." you complained to alessia as she returned and placed down your drink. "whose four now? tattle tail." lia teased as you gave her a look. "wally you're supposed to be on my side when she bullies me." you pouted feeling alessia settle in on your other side.

"she doesn't bully you, you provoke her. you have for years!" lia grinned, slipping away and heading off for another table. "i do not! liar." you called after her as she blew you a kiss, leah sticking her tongue out at you from her other side as you flipped her off.

"did you forget we go to camp next week? love unless you'd like to be doing death laps and hill sprints i suggest you refrain from winding up the captain." alessia pushed down your finger with a laugh, nudging your drink closer.

"what did you do this time?" alessia asked, smiling at you over the top of your glass, her other hand settling itself on your leg, thumb tracing circles against the skin. "me? why do you assume i'm the problem?" you accused raising an eyebrow.

"mm because i know you, very very well. i was your teammate for a lot longer than we've been dating, i know all your little tricks to getting under peoples skins." alessia smiled with amusement as you hummed.

"mine included." alessia added on, clinking her drink against yours.

"just a teammate? not even a friend? harsh." you tutted sipping at your drink as the blonde playfully rolled her eyes, both of you missing a few more of your teammates eyeballing you with happy smiles, your recent coupling up quite the hot topic.

"is it wrong i sort of miss when she was injured?" you mused catching leahs eye again as she made kissy faces at the pair of you, alessia giving you a look as you smiled innocently.

"only joking of course. but thank you for my drink, and the last one, and the one before that, and dinner." you recounted, the blonde refusing to let you pay for anything tonight.

"you're very welcome pretty girl." alessia grinned triumphantly, pecking your lips a few times and ignoring katie wolf whistling from a few feet away.

"we're going out for dinner on friday to that sushi place you like and i'm paying." you poked her as she waved you off. "we'll see." alessia hummed with a cheeky smile making you shake your head.

"but no more, for me or you." you started gesturing to your drinks, the striker giving you a curious look as you shuffled a little closer. "why? worried you might get a headache tomorrow? you used to be able to hold your drinks." alessia teased as you only smiled.

"no, we finish these and we're gonna say we're going to the bathroom. then we do a little irish goodbye and head back to your place where i'm gonna sleepover, so i can thank you properly for treating me so well tonight in anyway you want." you whispered in her ear, pulling away and grabbing your drink watching as red started to creep up the taller girls neck.

"i can’t believe people think you’re so innocent and sweet." alessia mumbled, smile ghosting her lips as you shrugged, sipping at your drink.

"butter wouldn't melt in my mouth." you grinned making your girlfriend laugh, your eyebrows raising as within seconds she'd necked her drink and grabbed your hand.

"alessia!" you laughed, barely swallowing the last mouthful of your drink before she was tugging you up and out of your seat with a cheeky grin and a familiar glint in her eyes.

"what? irish goodbyes are usually quick, no?"

[jamminvroomvroom]

helping hand.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re getting ready for a date and lando knows it’s a waste of time

back with more lando brainrot :D obsessed with best friend!lando atm, on a bit of a roll with the writing so send me your ideas! lemme know what you think! 🫶

songs to set the mood: kiss me more by doja cat, moth to a flame by the weeknd, i think by tyler, the creator, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! porn with plot, smut, fluff, angst if you squint? choking, biting like once, best friend!lando

2.9k words

a key turning in the lock made you jump, groaning when you realised who it was. lando had been home for a few days now, it was about time he showed up. he’d had a key since you moved in.

you know, for emergencies.

he’d already called you a few times that day, and you’d let it ring out each time. talking to lando while you were supposed to be getting ready for a date was never a good idea. it would be end up being his face you’d imagine sipping wine on the other side of the table, his face you’d picture when you fell messily into bed while someone else’s hands roamed your body, his face you would hope to see when your eyes fluttered open the next morning.

so, yeah. answering the phone was a recipe for disaster.

you scurried across the floor in the heels you were trying to break in, scavenging for your robe to cover your bare skin. by the time the door swung open, you’d managed to disappear into your bedroom, bare skin somewhat covered.

“why don’t you answer your phone?” you heard lando whinging down the hallway.

“i’m getting ready to go out, didn’t see your call.” you called back. it was a blatant lie but he didn’t need to know that.

“oooh, girls night out?” you could hear his footsteps getting closer and then he appeared in the doorway.

he looked cosy, bundled up in a thick jacket layered over a hoodie. a beanie covered most of his curls, a few hanging loose over his eyes. the cold weather had left him flushed, rubbing his hands together for warmth. you, on the other hand, were wearing much less, a silky robe covering soft pink lingerie. your makeup was half done, an outfit strewn together on your bed.

“nope. got a date.” you replied, grabbing your eyeshadow brush. you tried not to look at him too much, otherwise you’d never get out the door.

you couldn’t see the way he was looking at you, eyes half bulging out of his head. this was too much skin, too much much everything, the lingerie that was covering not a lot telling him information that made his stomach twist. he pulled it together, clearing his throat.

“not that finance guy again, surely.” lando teased, shedding his coat and hat at the end of your bed. your sigh confirmed that, yes, it was that finance guy again.

“i’m just trying to see where it goes. he’s not that bad.” you reasoned, dropping the brush back onto your vanity. your eyelids were shimmering under the light, but all you could focus on was the image of your best friend sprawled out on your bed, watching you watch him.

“trust me, sweetie, he seems it.” lando quipped, sarcastic sympathy spilling from his quirked up lips. “so are you going out like that?” he laughed, eyeing your half dressed body. in all your years of friendship, he’d seen a lot more of you, and that’s why you hadn’t kicked him out screaming, or shied away. you ignored the sick and twisted feeling that you wanted* him to see you like this

“no,” you drew the word out, slow, as if you were making fun of him. “actually, you’re laying all over my outfit.” you raised an eyebrow, still holding eye contact with him through the mirror.

“damn,” he breathed through his teeth. “someones tryna get laid.” lando picked up the sheer top in one hand, the mini skirt in the other, a knowing look on his smug, beautiful, evil face.

“shut up!” you threw an eye pencil at him, but he ducked successfully. “listen, some of us have needs, okay? we can’t all be super famous formula 1 drivers.”

“well, i’m just saying. you don’t need to waste your time on stock bro steve if all you need is a shag.” lando was smirking now, and you were blushing redder than a ferrari.

“be quiet, you.” you scoffed.

you tried to shake off his words, but you couldn’t quite help the way your thighs clenched at what he was implying.

“i mean it. you have other options.” lando was sat up now, resting against your headboard, intently watching the way you were fumbling through your makeup bag.

“if i had other options, lando, i would have explored them by now. trust me.” you sounded frustrated, and lando was beyond intrigued.

“that bad, huh? how longs it been?” he was looking at you intently, craving an answer. the dim lighting couldn’t disguise the blush on your face and he was loving it.

“piss off.” you mumbled.

“you can tell me, sweetie. i don’t bite. unless you’re into that.”

another eyebrow pencil went flying in his direction.

“fuck you.”

“is that what you wanna do? i don’t have anywhere to be.” he was killing himself laughing at you, watching you squirm.

“a couple months.” you muttered.

“oh, honey.” lando cooed.

“why do you even care about this?” you whined, shaky hands fighting to unscrew your mascara.

“because i don’t like the idea of that dickhead touching you.” he said it so nonchalantly, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

“lando-“

“am i reading this wrong? because something tells me that he’s not the one you want touching you.”

you watched, bewildered, as he pushed himself off your mattress, stalking towards you. he shrugged his hoodie off, adding it to his pile of garments at the end of the bed.

“what are you doing?” you questioned, dropping the mascara onto the table, sitting up straighter in anticipation.

“tell me now that it’s him you want.” he was getting closer and closer.

“i- i dont-“

“c’mon, sweetheart, tell me, and i’ll let you get ready in peace.”

he was right behind you now, body heat radiating against your back, goose bumps littering your bare shoulder where your robe had slipped.

“i don’t want him.” you whispered.

“who do you want? did you miss me as much as i missed you?”

“i always miss you.” you whispered.

“and yet, you’re getting ready for another man to fuck you, honey, when i’m right here.”

“what do you- lando, what are you doing?” you rambled, hands flat on your vanity, as if you were trying to ground yourself. you were shaking.

“helping you. is that okay, honey? do you want me to help you?” he spoke so softly, you could feel your legs quivering.

“yes.” you breathed and the way his eyes darkened made your thighs clench even harder.

lando leaned over you, until his head rested in the crook of your neck, hands finding your waist. he pulled you up from your stool, kicking it along the floor so that nothing separated you. you were flush against him, his nose nuzzling against your cheek. and then he was kissing your skin, your neck exposed to his assault. he trailed his lips over the taut flesh, teeth scraping that spot just below your ear.

all you could do was stare, disbelief in your eyes as you watched him touch you, hands pulling your hips into his. you’d wondered, now and then, if this would ever happen, and now here you were, falling into his touch like it was made to be all over your body.

lando turned you around, dropping you on the vanity. he crouched down in front you, pulling your ankle into his hands. nimble fingers worked over the clasp, fiddling with the buckle while he kissed over the sensitive skin of your thighs. one shoe dropped to the floor, and he made quick work of the other, lips trailing further and further up your legs. the bastard had the nerve to keep eye contact the entire time, and you keened at his touch, jolting when he moved under the hem of your robe.

lando pulled away, despite your groan of protest. he tugged you off the dresser, spinning you back to face the mirror, one of his hands slipping down your legs and finding your knee, picking you up and planting it on the dresser. you were spread out for him, now, sprawled out in front of the mirror.

“let’s get this off, yeah?” he whispered, hands smoothing over the silky material of your robe. it slipped off easily, one tug at the tie and it was on the floor, leaving you clad in your set. “all for me, right?”

“do something.” you gasped out, one of your hands thrown back to thread through his curls.

“all for me, right?” he repeated, biting down on your neck.

“yes, god, please.” you whimpered, needier for him than the guy you’d spent all afternoon getting ready for, yet you couldn’t spare him a thought when lando was toying with you like this.

“‘m gonna fuck you like this, make you watch so that you learn your lesson.”

“what lesson?” you choked out.

“that i’m the only one that can satisfy you like this.” he mumbled, so matter of fact.

“prove it.”

he liked the challenge, it seemed, because his hand was inside your panties before you could breathe. you could see his fingers working over you, the skimpy lace doing nothing to hide his movements. you arched into him the second he found your clit, your fingers tightening in his hair. your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure eating away at you and your ability to control yourself.

“eyes open.”

you tried your hardest, but it was near impossible when he was working over your pussy like he’d done it a million times, like he already knew the ins and outs of your body, what made you tick. you cried out when he slipped a finger in you, the action simultaneous with his free hand finding a home at the base of your throat.

“no wonder you can’t find someone to get you off, no one’s ever fucked some manners into you.” he growled into your ear, and your eyes shot open. his grip tightened, a second finger sliding through your wetness. “you’re gonna listen to me from now on, baby, or you get nothing.”

“‘m trying.” you breathed, slurring your words already. if only you’d done this sooner.

“not hard enough, clearly.” he was grinding his fingers in harder, deeper, palm flat against your clit. you were panting out moans, heart beating so hard you could hear it in your ears, and now that you’d obeyed, eyes as wide as they could be, you couldn’t take them off his. he looked so smug, so pretty as he had his way with you, and you loved it, the way he was watching you sending an extra shot of heat to the pleasure pooling in your belly.

“is this what you needed, honey? do you think he could have done better? bet he couldn’t even make you come.” lando spat, fucking you even faster somehow. you felt drunk.

“no, lando. you’re so good.” you whined, pushing your ass back into him again.

you could feel how hard he was, taken aback at how filthy he was being, how dominant he was. you never could have imagined this, and honestly, you’d tried.

“you gonna come for me, sweetie? i can feel how bad you want it.” lando coaxed your orgasm out of you, your soft tummy tightening as you clamped down on his fingers. his thumb found your clit, circles left on the glistening flesh and all you could do was pray the hand wrapped around your neck would keep you upright.

one last flick of the wrist had you screaming, gushing all over his fingers. you could feel yourself dripping, your slick painting your inner thighs as you came, and he helped your through it. slow strokes brought you down from your high, and you slumped backwards into his arms.

“i’m not done yet.” he groaned, fingers dragged out of your panties and into his mouth. you watched the way his tongue licked over the digits, stomach fluttering at the sinful sight.

“good.” you replied, reaching behind you to search for the button of his jeans. he laughed lowly, batting your hands away.

“i’ll do the work, you deserve it.” his hand cupped your cheek, turning your head so that you were facing him, your body still facing the mirror.

you looked between his eyes and his lips, and he did the same, taking in your tired features, the lazy smile on your lips. you wanted him to kiss you, wanted to see if that drove you as crazy as everything else he’d done. you were quickly proved right. he slotted his lips over yours, your nose bumping his. a quiet moan sounded from the back of his throat and you shivered, deepening the kiss. his tongue moved with yours deliciously, sweet mint lingering in his mouth.

“need you.” you muttered against his lips, your words swallowed by the lingering kiss. he hummed in agreement, prying himself away from your swollen lips, his lack of self control making it harder than necessary. the faint trace of his lips made you delirious, and you feared you’d always crave more now that you’d had a taste.

“i’ve got you, honey. hands flat for me.”

you positioned yourself how he wanted, your palms flat against the vanity. he pushed your knee across the surface, makeup that you couldn’t care less about clattering to the ground. one of his hands snaked around your body, toying with the lace of your bra as he grabbed a handful of your breast. you watched the way his strong grip held you in place, breathing shakily when his free hand dipped between your thighs. you could see how wet you were when he tugged the flimsy lace aside, cupping your cunt one last time to spread your wetness around.

you heard the zip of his jeans, the rustle of clothing, your eyes rolling back as he kissed behind your ear. he slid into your slowly, feeling every part of him as he went deeper and deeper. the stretch made your tear up, the way he was filling you up scratching a itch that you hadn’t been able to satisfy in far too long.

“oh.” you gasped, clenching around him. he hissed at the sensation, grip tightening on your chest.

“that is the tightest fucking thing.” he moaned, thick neck on display as he bottomed out. “no one’s fucked you properly, have they, baby?”

“need it, lando.” you tried to push your hips back, tried to feel him even deeper somehow, but he held you down.

he moved slow, feeling you out, looking for a rhythm. you couldn’t breathe, watching the way he could barely keep his eyes open. you were obsessed, never so thankful for him barging into your apartment uninvited.

as fucking good as it felt, you needed more, just a bit more, desperate to not be able to walk after. you grabbed his hand, guiding it up your body, meeting his eyes in the mirror as you placed it at the base of your throat. a look was exchanged, one of pleading, and trust, and maybe even a little bit of something else, and everything in him changed.

your back collided with his front, the pressure on your neck and the power of his thrust making you dizzy. the pace was rapid, hips hitting yours with a point to prove. you mouth hung open, unable to take your eyes off the way his body rolled against yours. this was addictive, so far clear of any sex you’d ever had, maybe even of any you’d have again.

“so good for me. not gonna be able to forget those pretty eyes watching me.” he slurred, breathing heavily into your ear.

you nodded frantically, begs for more, please, more tumbling from your lips.

“no more dates. no more of these little boys trying to get you off. it’s gonna be me from now on.”

“better be.” you choked out, your head falling into the crook of his neck.

“that’s right, baby. gonna watch me make you come?” he crooned into your ear.

and you did, eyes locked with his once again as he finished you off. you were slick with sweat, trying to catch your breath.

“good?” he pressed a kiss to your hairline, slowly untangling himself from you.

“very.”

“let’s get you cleaned up, honey.”

lando helped you off the vanity, carrying you back over to your bed and placing you on the end. you watched him look around for some clothes, but you stole his hoodie, the one he’d left on the end of the bed. his scent surrounded you as you slipped it over your head, spicy and sweet.

you heard your phone buzzing, reaching around for it blindly but lando got to it first. the shit eating grin he wore made you sweat, eyes widening in horror when it dawned on you.

“stock market steve’s wondering where you are. think i should set him straight.” he teased.

“lando, don’t-“ you couldn’t even stop him, your body aching too much.

“hello?” lando sing songed down the line and you hid your face in your hands. “as much as i just know she’d love to hear you talk about how many watches you have and then finish in six seconds, she’s occupied.” and with that, he put the phone down.

“you are so lucky i can’t walk right now.” you threatened, flopping back onto your bed. he was quickly hovering over you, resting above you on his forearms.

“care to make it worse?” he grinned mischievously, and you knew that you were well and truly done for, ruined for anybody else.

“do your best.”

lord knows, he did.

-

hehe

-

taglist

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removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed 🫶

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Helpless in Her Hold

//The Drow twins' proposition of Tav surfaces some insecurities for Astaron. Hurt/Comfort, angst but happy ending. CW: Unhealthy relationship to sex/sexuality, identity issues. Not edited... Song Rec: Supposed to Be (Acoustic) By Icon for Hire//

Astarion x f!Tav, Canonish, Act 3

2.1k

Astarion watched, helpless, with his dead heart in his throat as the drow twins propositioned Tav. His Tav. He want to growl it and glower until no one else in this pleasure den deigned to offer their services.

Why did she have to be such a lure for elven whores?

Astarion leaned back against the wall, hardly resisting the urge to fold his arms and sulk in plain view of the whole party. He wasn’t a child whose toy was being played with—and yet, the brightness of her eyes and the laugh on her lips had him wanting to pout and whinge like a toddler.

“I appreciate the offer, I do, but I must decline.” Tav shook her head. Though personally the vampire thought she could be a little more rude in her rejection.

Because the damn twins were were still giving her looks that were far too inviting. Not that Tav saw, because her eyes had landed back on him, and Astarion was just thanking his lucky stars he’d perfected the mask he wore.

“Is that your partner?” The female drow asked, her smile making disgust creep up his spine—it was easy to see where this was going. “We’d be happy to have you both.”

“My dear, I’m afraid you’d be the one parting with your gold.” A high laugh slipped from Astarion’s lips. “And, I do doubt you could afford me.”

He saw the twins’ mirrored expressions of bewilderment turn to glee for only a flash before Tav was excusing herself from them. Swiftly stepping over to him with—that damnable look on her face.

Oh he knew those eyes, so drawn with her concern and on the verge of pity. Tav looked like that when she was about to do something so dreadfully kind it might make him wretch.

And he could not be the broken toy when she was being offered two shiny new ones.

“Astarion—” Tav began in that tone, and he had to preempt her.

“I know pet, tempting as it is, I simply must decline.”

“Yeah?” Tav utterly confounded him with that lifted smile. “That’s good.”

“Good..?” Astarion asked, his mind trying to race ahead. Find the traps and disarm them before they sprung.

She’d preached to him over and over again about his choice, and what he wanted and how that mattered to her for some reason.

Only for him to make a decision about the drow for her.

Shit.

It was a test. It had to be. She respected his choices, now he was expected to reciprocate.

“Ah I see.” Astarion inclined his head to her, a salacious smile on his lips. “You haven’t had much attention lately…it has been a while for us.”

Tav blinked, and then those bright eyes were on his, searching him out. The pale elf would cling to the façade by the skin of his fangs, if it meant he could keep her.

She turned, and Astarion prepared for the feeling of a stake through his heart.

“Well, if my partner isn’t interested, neither am I.” Tav brushed off the twins’ advances with as much grace as one could muster. Until they finally had the tact to move to other potential patrons.

She was already leading the way out of Sharess’ Caress before Astarion had recovered from his shock.

The cold night air near Baulder’s Gate finally woke him.

“You could have gone with them, you know.” He blurted, wondering why in the Hells she hadn’t. It wasn’t like he was satiating her hungers.

Astarion felt Tav shrug her shoulder through their linked hands. “I’m not interested in any little tryst if it’s at your expense.”

She said it so simple, so easy, as if it were hardly worth a second thought.

Astarion’s mind was still reeling, but he put on a smirk. “Stop being so kind to me; it almost makes me want to return the favor.” 

As if it were a debt he could ever repay her.

…

Hours later, Tav lay in her darkened room, sleep evading her. The soft click of a lock being picked made her tense, hand instinctively grasping the dagger beneath her pillow. But the familiar silhouette slipping through the door made her relax.

"Hello, my darling," Astarion purred as he approached, her darkvision letting her see how his ruby eyes glinted. “Haven’t you gotten accustom to me creeping into your bed?”

"It has been a moment since you came looking for a cuddle?" Tav teased softly, tilting her head. His appearance at this hour had her wondering. The dark of night and hushed voices already strummed tension in the air between them.

“I do seek…something akin to that.”

Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, long fingers skimming up her bare arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Despite all her thoughts trying to tame her reaction, for now.

"I merely wished to express my gratitude, my sweet. For standing by me, even knowing what I am. What I've done. And what I haven’t."

“What you…haven’t?” Her half-awake mind might be jumping to conclusions, surely. Twining their fingers together, Tav brought his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "You never have to thank me for that."

Astarion's eyes shimmered suspiciously in the darkness before he blinked it away, his trademark smirk back in place. "I want to thank you," he purred, “Won’t you, let me?”

He moved then, pressing her back into the soft pillow she’d been having trouble sleeping on after so many nights spent in the dirt.

Though the familiar weight of him was already making the bed more appealing. Now, just like every time he fed from her, he cradled her skull and tilted her head back so tenderly. It was comforting, it was an intimate moment she was happy to share with him.

His eyes didn’t meet hers as he ducked his head. Usually he lingered, to make sure Tav was alright before his fangs pierced her flesh. So why did she feel lips caressing her neck?

Her fingers slid into his hair, trying to get a grip on herself as much as she was on his curls.

“Star, what’s going on?”

The chuckle he gave was at the base of her neck, lips and tongue teasing at her collarbones in a way that made her skin tingle.

“Returning the favor.” He purred. “You deserve it.”

Tav swallowed under his clever mouth, trying to hear what her mind was screaming at her before it could be drowned out by the sweet words and sweeter lips.

Suddenly his face was swimming before hers, still not letting her catch his eye as he cupped her cheek. “So very few people get what they deserve—you, as always, should be the exception.”

Astation, with his ethereal beauty and perfect words, had her stunned. It wasn’t until he lowered his mouth to hers that her mind caught up.

“I don’t deserve anything you don’t wish to give.” Tav managed against his mouth, giving a gentle tug to his hair to get him to pull back.

“My sweet…I very much wish to give.”

That silver tongue slipped right past her protesting lips.

…

The elf was certain he had her when those hands slipped from his hair to cup his face in her palms. Her thumbs stroked over his high cheekbones.

“Astarion, wait.” Tav breathed.

He stilled, pulling back, fear flickering over his features as he was sure he’d somehow hurt her—when he saw it.

That damnable look in her eyes.

“Wait—we’ve done nothing but the waiting.” He snapped.

And Tav, damn her, gave a softer look still. “I’m willing to wait longer, as long as it takes.”

Astarion's posture stiffened, his back becoming an iron rod as he sat upright. "Is that how you see me then?" He couldn't keep the defensive edge from seeping into his voice. Drawing it like a blade when he felt his throat was bared.

"All shattered on the inside? Some broken doll you no longer play with? Am I to be put on a shelf and never touched again?"

“Astarion, you aren’t—” She moved to touch him, but he rose abruptly, evading her reach.

He didn’t even know why he did it. But the way her hand fell back to the bed, dejected, hurt him just as the pain he saw on her face.

"I know you aren’t fragile," Tav said with conviction, eyes pleading for him to understand.

“Then what? Am I some charity case to you? Is that what you get off on?”

Astarion hated it the moment he said it. But, the fangs showed whenever vulnerability crept up on him.

She stayed silent, and he had to fill that void before it consumed him.

“I’m not some delicate boy with a broken heart. I have wants. And I can see that you have them too. So, why not?”

“Is that what you want?” Tav smothered his outrage like a blanket over a campfire.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of his uncertainty.

“I don’t know.” The words barely escaped his lips before they broke apart into whispers of self-doubt. “Gods, I don’t know how to do any of this.” A frustrated hand raked through his white curls.

He wanted her. He wanted to see her looks of want and he wanted to be the one to fulfill her desires.

He wanted to keep her.

She sat up, legs hanging off the bed. And his eyes were drawn to the bare skin of her thighs exposed by her loose sleep clothes.

“Astarion, what do you want?”

He stared down at her, red eyes probing for a hint of the right answer. What did she want him to say? He would say it.

But Tav held without giving an inch.

“Why do you always ask the most difficult things?”

"I’m sorry." she whispered back.

"Don’t. I want—no, I need to know that I am still wanted by you." The confession fell from his lips like a plea. "You who’ve given me so much and seen broken I am. You who’ve made me wonder if I do indeed have any pieces left of my own soul…” The words were on his tongue, but his throat constricted around baring his neck one last time. “Do you still want me?”

“I will always want you.” Tav’s reply came without hesitation or doubt.

Either he had gotten to sloppy to see it—or there was simply no guile in her.

Tav reached out, her hand finding his where he stood frozen. He could feel the tension coursing through him—an all too familiar vulnerability that he constantly tried to suppress.

“Then let me give you something in return.” He dropped to his knees before her, desperation etched into every feature. .“Please, Tav.”

She lifted the hand she held, cupping it in both of hers, before she pressed his touch against her chest. And he had a moment to hope, that maybe, she would just let him give a fraction of what she’d given him.

“You’ve given me everything already, my heart.”

A scornful snort burst from him, everything in him prepared to banish her romanticized drivel with a dose of reality.

“This,” Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt over his chest. “Past the petty armor you wear. Beneath the pretty face and clever tongue,” She yanked him close before he could quip back.“That is what you give me; parts of you that you’ve given to no one else.”

When he looked at her then, he had no idea what she might see, even if he could use a mirror.

“Your kindness, your hurt, your wants. The truth of you. That’s what I want.”

“I can’t give—“ Astarion couldn’t get this damn silver tongue of his around a his words. “I don’t know what that is…who I am.”

“Then we can both find out. That’s all I ask of you.”

He swallowed hard as her words left him parched and speechless. The notion that he might still have something to offer, a piece of himself that was untouched.

Astarion found himself staring at her, wonder and disbelief battling for dominance in his gaze.

A gentleness tugged at Tav's lips. And for a fleeting moment, Astarion dared to believe that perhaps he could have this.

He moved up, but only to wrap his arms around her. To engulf her in his embrace. Just as that night when she wrapped her arms around him, and first showed him that there was affection, there was closeness, without the expectation of more.

Astarion would be just fine if he was helpless in her arms.

[luveline]

roan’s excitement and confusion when she finds reader in eddies bed the first morning reader stays over

dad!eddie would absolutely sneak you in cos he knows if roan wakes up and sees you she won't share (i don't this is necessarily the first time but its ok) fem!reader

It's nice to wake up next to Eddie. You haven't quite mastered sharing a bed with him, having started the night with your face in his chest where now he's on his side with your arm draped over his, your hand limp against his naked chest.

You sigh and stretch with an awful clicking sound. The bed creaks with your movements as you hug him properly and drop your face into the nape of his neck. Nose flat to his skin, you breathe in his smell, stroking the stretch of his chest with your hand.

He doesn't rouse. You don't want him to, content to be close to him and steal all of his body heat until he wakes. You're missing your jeans because denims not meant for sleeping but have otherwise retained your clothes. Everything aches and you're cold. Eddie's selfish with the blanket. Still, it's worth it to wake up next to him.

Eddie had called late and whispered down the line. "Hear me out," he'd said sheepishly. "Would you come over? I can't sleep, and I'm so tired it doesn't make sense. I- I miss you."

And while you'd already turned your gaze to the hallway in search of your shoes, you'd messed with him. "I don't know, handsome. It's really late."

"Just to sleep," he'd promised.

So you'd only slept. Eddie had kissed you, sluggish and sloven and slow, his lips leaving warmth over every bit of skin he could reach as you'd laid out on his chest and mumbled about your day, and then he'd fallen asleep and left you to stare at him in the dim light.

He's a pretty sleeper, even the morning after.

You would stare at him for hours but you really need to use the bathroom. You sit up and try not to wake him, groaning as you curl in on yourself. Your back whinges.

You turn this way and that, trying to release the tightness that's latched between your shoulders when suddenly small footsteps sound from the wall adjoining Roan's. Her bedroom door opens, a quiet squeal made loud from the trailer's relative silence. She only has to take a few steps before she's outside Eddie's room.

You pull the sheets over your naked legs just as she pushes the door open.

"Daddy," she says, rubbing her tired eyes with both fists, "can we have breakfast?"

You smooth down your hair uselessly and smile, trying to hide your nerves at having been found here. You're not sure how she's going to react.

Roan drops her hands and blinks at you, slow as a cat.

"I can make you breakfast," you say softly. Trying to earn her favour.

She doesn't react at all, really. She steps around your discarded jeans and grabs the mattress in small hands, trying to pull herself up into the bed with not much success. You help her instinctively, hands under her armpits because you're terrified of hurting her arms. You're expecting her to let you go of you as soon as she's on the bed, but she doesn't. Roan climbs straight into your lap and looks at you.

"You're here," she says hoarsely.

"Yeah, baby." You can't work out her mood.

She starts laughing and huffing, finally exicted to see you. It's a relief — you'd worried she didn't want you here from her lack of reaction.

"I was lonely in my house," you tell her, laughing too.

She nods, and then turns to you in her young wisdom and says, "I get lonely without daddy too."

"You do?"

"'Cos I miss him."

"When do you miss him? When you're at daycare?"

"Yes," she says, the 's' sound dragging. She's still dragging it when she drops her head into your chest, arms curling around your sides. "I miss you but you're here."

It sounds very profound, but she's just lacking the language skills to express herself. Luckily, you know what she means. She misses you but she doesn't have to right now, because you're actually here. Which implies...

"Roan, you miss me when you don't see me?" you ask. You probably shouldn't ask her. You're feeling self-indulgent.

"Yes. Daddy says it's okay."

"It's okay," you second, turning to look at your sleeping boyfriend with wide eyes. This is something they've talked about.

Eddie's not the only Munson who misses you when you're not around.

You wrap your arms around Roan's back and tug her up until her messy curls are tickling your neck. You tame her flyaways with your hand gently, a smile tugging at your lips.

"I miss you when I don't see you, too."

Roan lifts her head. She looks so much like Eddie if Eddie had a lovely pert nose. They both have those puppy brown eyes, pretty pink lips. You try to wipe some of the sleep out of her lashes and she moves away.

"You have a sleepy in your eye," you explain.

"Oh," she says. She giggles and lets herself back into your reach.

Roan let's you scratch the sleep out of the corners of her eyes. You pretend to wipe them in Eddie's back, to her amusement, and then slouch down onto your own back with a sigh. You leave space for her to lay between you and her dad and pat it encouragingly. She ignores you and lies flat on your torso instead.

She yawns wide. You catch it and yawn yourself, turning your face so she can't see your open mouth. Neck bared, Roan takes it as an opportunity to push her head into the gap and nuzzle you with her face.

Your chest starts to feel weird in the best way. Content. You place your hand over her back and trace a line up and down the tiny suggestions of her spine.

"What did you want for breakfast, princess?" you ask quietly.

"Um... maybe waffles with the syrup."

"Yeah? Golden or maple?"

"I don't know," she says, like you're being ridiculous.

"What one does dad usually put on it?"

"Just syrup."

You laugh with your lips pressed together, a hum. Everytime you breathe in one of her flyaways gets sucked toward your face, tickling your nose.

"They make strawberry syrup. Have you tried that?"

Roan yawns again, hot against your neck. "No... Grape syrup?"

"I don't think they make grape syrup. Maybe you can have grape jelly."

She makes a thoughtful sound and then grows silent. Weirdly, you think she weighs more once she falls asleep again, limp and languid over your chest, little hands pressed loosely to your sides. You neaten up her matching pajamas and loll your head to look at Eddie. He doesn't seem like he's going to wake up anytime soon. You've effectively trapped yourself.

You still need to pee.

It's not the worst fate in the world. You let Roan use you as a mattress and think of helpful things, like the Sahara dessert. Eventually, you doze.

Eddie turns onto his back to find his two favourite girls cuddling. It's the worst thing that's ever happened to him because he doesn't have a camera and he's also absurdly jealous. He can imagine how the situation came to pass quite easily; you and Roan adore one another.

Though he's still surprised. After all, it's mid-afternoon. By now Roan would've dragged him out of bed for cereal and the morning cartoons.

He pokes your cheek. You don't look very peaceful, less when you wake.

"Hey," he murmurs.

You move your bleary gaze to him and seem as though you're looking straight through him.

"How'd you get her to sleep in?" he asks. "She never let's me."

"She loves me more," you mumble, deadpan. You scrunch your eyes closed and then force them open, a real struggle that makes him feel very sorry for you, until you say, "Oh my god, I need to pee so badly."

"Pass her over," Eddie says.

You look down at the 'her' in question. "She's the cutest thing ever."

"She'll still be cute in five minutes, swears. I kept expecting her to get less cute, but no such luck."

"Yeah, you're super unlucky."

"Sarcasm," — he kisses your temple — "is the lowest form of wit. Now give me the girl."

You pass her over. Eddie tucks her into his chest and pats her back very carefully to stop her from waking up though she absolutely should be awake by now. The mattress springs whine as you curl onto your side and stand, stretching tall.

He won't lie and say he doesn't watch you leave but when you walk blindly into the doorframe he pretends not to see it, averting his gaze to the sleeping girl in his arms instead.

Your sarcasm might've been well-founded. After all, he feels pretty lucky. It's not everyday you have two pretty girls sleeping in your bed.

[fandomwritingbit]

William Afton x fem reader

Babysitter

A/N: This is a second stab at the babysitter trope because it’s just delightfully filthy, it’s not at all connected to the go I had before (which you can find - here). Also this is my first time writing somnophilia so I hope it’s good. 

Synop: Reader is a regular babysitter for William, one night she stays the night as he is working a late shift. He comes home annoyed and the sight of her asleep is just too tempting.

Warnings: smut, non/dub con, somnophilia, age gap, inappropriate relationship.

You pull the duvet cover up over one of the children you’re babysitting, her voice catching your attention with its whiny tone. “I can’t believe you’re making us go to bed this early.” 

You smile at her and shake your head. “Lizzie, it’s half nine on a school night. You know the rules.” She pouts looking at you with pleading eyes. You know that she just wants to stay up and spend some time with you, it’s not surprising, with two brothers it’s no wonder she wants some time with another girl. She looks up to you and as sweet as it is, you know better than to delay her bed time. 

“Pleease, y/n.” She tries again and you chuckle as you turn on her nightlight then her big light off, coming back over to prop her pillows up. 

“Nope.” You say through a grin, “Now lie down if you want tucking in.” She does, though her dissatisfied expression doesn’t shift. And so, bringing the duvet up under her chin you tuck it tight at her sides, just how she likes, knowing that despite the whinging she’ll be asleep in 10 minutes tops. You stand up and head for her door, stopping just before you leave, “Night night, Lizzie. Remember the quicker you get to sleep the sooner we can make breakfast in the morning.” The little lass smiles and you notice the sleepiness of it even in the low light of the room. 

~

Elizabeth is asleep before you can gather your stuff and lock up downstairs, just as you thought. So you go about checking on Evan asleep in his room as of an hour or so ago, happy to find him still settled. They’re good kids, never any trouble really. You’ve babysat for the Afton kids many times, as a local young lass with a liking for extra pocket money it was a handy job. You would pick the two youngest up from school, take them home and cook dinner, help with homework, all the good stuff. Their dad worked long shifts at his restaurant, so usually you’d stay and put the children to bed, getting yourself home once he’d come back. But tonight was different, Mr Afton had told you he won’t be back til the middle of the night and offered you to spend the night in the spare room; which you took him up on. 

The room is probably the smallest one in the house, not that you mind, it is a double bed with an end table and a chest of drawers. You put your bag on top of it, taking out your wash bag and heading to the bathroom, where you then ready yourself for bed. As it’s only one night you didn’t bring any pjs, only your clothes for the morning, so you strip down to your panties, take off your bra and keep the shirt you’ve been wearing today on, thinking that that should be good enough to sleep in. Yes, it’s revealing but if you need to tend to the kids you can always put your trousers back on. 

You don’t notice your discarded bra, abandoned on the bathroom floor.

Once in bed you set your alarm for seven in the morning, knowing you’ll have to help Mr Afton with the school run tomorrow. Again you don’t mind and you’re paid well for your time. And you like Mr Afton. God, how can you not? Such a handsome bloke, lean and sharp. Smart as anything too, you’ve listened to him talk on the phone, all business, shrewd and confident. Yeah, you like him alright. 

~

William gets home in the early hours, some time after 3am and the happy silence of his home isn’t enough to quell his silent anger. An incident at the restaurant has left him with paperwork up to his nose and a tonne of wasted stock, and with rent and utility on the way he was stressed to all hell. Even after staying nearly all night, there was still some much to do when he went back in tomorrow afternoon, and lord knows Henry won’t be helping much. 

He moves through his house as quiet as he can, careful not to wake anyone up even with his terrible mood. Poking his head in on his children, he smiles in satisfaction at your work. You’re such a good little lass, looking after them so well, you’re more than worth what he pays you. Honestly, the kids love you, even Michael isn’t annoyed by your presence and he couldn’t ask for a prettier thing to be milling around his house. He chuckles at that thought, you’re a damned tease even if you don’t realise it. What with all your tight jeans and shirts that pull away when you bend down, it’s hard for him not to look at you, but so far that’s all he’s done. That and a bit of harmless flirting. 

He pops into the bathroom to wash his face, hoping that will help clear away the stress of the day, except he doesn’t make it as far as the sink. Stopping still at the sight of your bra left on the floor. It’s a surprise to say the least, you’ve never struck him as the black lacy type, least of all when looking after his kids. And especially so given you’re not a careless individual. He grins as he picks it up, rubbing his thumb over the peak of the cup where your nipple would harden at such an action. The image goes straight to his cock, he’d wager you are much too inexperienced to wear such an article.

It would be a shame to just leave it there all night, so he keeps it in his clasp as he leaves the room, a naughty idea crossing his mind. 

But as he passes the spare room that he notices you’ve left the door cracked open. He’s not delusional, he knows it’ll be to hear the kids if they need you, but a very persuasive part of him wonders if you could have left it open for him. After leaving your bra in the bathroom it doesn’t seem outlandish, rather like you’ve left him a trail to follow and he wouldn’t dream of denying that invitation. 

The light from the hall cuts through the room as he cracks it open, his eyes quickly finding your sleeping frame laid on the bed and an almost sinister smirk creeps across his face. Such a lovely girl just laid there, having no clue that he was taking in the sight of you. Whether you did do this on purpose or not is irrelevant to him, there is only so much teasing a man can take.

He stands there in the doorway for a moment listening to the tickly feeling in his chest of doing something he knows he shouldn’t, his silhouette casting a large shadow into the room. It’s a familiar feeling but one that just never dulls. 

Still careful to be silent, William slowly enters the room, reaching behind himself to close the door, the room remaining dimly lit due to a lamppost outside the window. His hands move automatically to the buttons of his shirt, still unsure of what he was going to do even as he took it off, dropping it down to the floor. His belt was harder to take off without the suspect clinking noise but he manages it and his trousers follow suit. Standing over you there with his cock rock hard behind his boxers, he feels like some all powerful monster and it’s just delicious. 

The bed dips as he gets in beside you, lifting the duvet up and scooching in until his chest is pressed against your back, your warmth utterly intoxicating. You stir, a soft sleepy moan leaving your lips that makes his dick twitch. This is wrong in so many ways but he doesn't care, especially when his cold hand finds your leg, tracing up to the soft skin of your thigh and groaning when he feels the fabric of your panties. Though he skims over them for now, eager to feel more of you. It’s so easy for him to reach up under that shirt, trailing up over your stomach whilst softly grinding his stiffness into your behind, the knowledge of no bra making precum coat the tip of his cock. 

A cold hand grabs your breast, gently squeezing your flesh before taking your nipple between his fingers and tugging it lightly, it hardens instantly which makes him grin wolfishly. You again stir, arching your back into him, your behind rubbing against his erection. Your body subconsciously leans into the touch so he can’t help but give you what you want, largely because it’s what he needs.

So he shifts position, lifting your leg forwards to gain access to the part of you that was calling for him. He traces over your clothed pussy, brushing over your clit a few times and feeling your body tense with the slight stimulation.  

“Is that what you like, sweetheart huh?” He whispers, his breath spreading goosebumps along your skin, it doesn’t wake you but it’s close to. The throbbing of his cock makes him want you to notice. From there he slides his fingers under the fabric, immediately finding your core slick and gooey, he glides them through your folds, gradually becoming more risky with how he grinds his hips into you. The stimulation makes you moan, your eyes fluttering open and body instinctively trying to pull away, but he holds you firm, his other arms sliding under you to clamp over your mouth, disguising the sounds that tear from your throat. 

He shushes you repeatedly, his voice low in your ear, “Shush, sweetheart. It’s alright.” You’re ravaged by confusion, unable to tell if this was real, the fingers coated in your slick teasing your entrance and rubbing your clit felt achingly so, but how could this happen- it couldn't possibly be happening. 

You groan something into his hand and he briefly pulls it away enough to hear you, prompting you to say it again with a hum. Your brows are knitted as you speak, still trying to pull yourself away from him and the growing feeling building in your core. “...Mr Afton?” He grins into the back of your neck when you say his name like that.

“Yes, lovely.” 

You moan as his fingers find a perfect rhythm on your clit rubbing it vigorously and making the coil in your stomach tighter by the minute. “What… what are you doing?” It’s hard to speak, you’re so shocked that he’s doing this, that you’re living through it right now and that it feels so good. 

He doesn’t answer you, just chuckles into your skin, you aren’t riving away from him anymore but rather grabbing at the quilt now sticking to your sweaty skin, unable to decide if you want all this to stop or if you need him to continue. Your lower stomach is riddled with knots that are just begging to snap, the sensation completely overwhelming. You’re moaning pathetically, causing him to shush you again, you sound so good right now he’s dying to relieve himself somehow and just rubbing against you isn’t enough anymore, not when he knows how sweet and wet you are for him. And just, just as you’re screwing your eyes up ready to slam into your climax he stops, leaving your pussy twitching on the brink of your end. 

“Mr Aftonnn.” You whine, devastated that ecstasy was ripped from your tongue and desperate to feel it again. He moves behind you, pulling down his boxers enough to let his cock out, hissing as he strokes himself. You feel him pressing against your behind, then the stickiness of his precum smearing on your skin. 

“You gonna let me fuck that sweet little pussy?” The sound of his voice is so insanely dirty it has your head spinning, you nod, not remembering that he can’t see you. “Huh?” He prompts again, sliding his cock between your legs, the head notching against your entrance in such a way that it almost makes you jump.  

“Yes. Please.” You manage your voice hazy with tiredness and arousal, he doesn’t wait a moment, pressing himself inside the size of him stretching you to accommodate him. You whimper before he even gets to the hilt, your hands balled up in the sheets. 

He groans, sniggering slightly at how good you feel around him and unable to resist he starts fucking you. It’s an earth-shatteringly slow pace that has his tip pressing flush into your sweet spot, each time feeling like he was stealing the air from your lungs. The bed creaks with the movement, though he only just notices over the pretty sounds you’re making. You can’t help it, your orgasm is raising its head almost immediately and you want it so bad that you’re begging incoherently, grabbing at his hand which has found itself squeezing your breasts. And despite trying to keep the noise down his pace grows faster and more needy, the lewd sound of your wet cunt taking him in becoming more frequent. He’s muttering the dirtiest of things in your ear, mixed in with praise for how good you feel and how well you’re doing.  And it’s too much. Shuddering you hit your climax hard, muscles tensing as your wall clamp down around him and fluttering in the most perfect way. 

He grunts, fucking you more selfishly as your tightness begs him to cum. His pace wavers before he does shoving himself as deep as possible as he bursts inside you, filling you up without thinking. You gasp a little, still reeling from your orgasm but still aware enough to feel the sensation of his cum leaking out of you as he pulls out, leaving your cunt twitching. 

“Such a good girl.” 

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (see full series list here)

1994

I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

That's what Harry had written in his note to you and Sirius — and also in notes to Ron and Hermione too.

The pair of you had been livid, of course — "this is what happens when he's left alone with those people!" — and three days later, you stand on the doorstep to Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging with a group of other Order members.

"Alohomora," you say, pushing the door open. You make your way into the hallway, all the lights turned off.

Tonks lets out a whistle at a stack of antique decorative plates on a table beside her. "Wow, look at these plates, they're proper fancy! Just look — "

She immediately drops it with a crash.

"Oops," she says, repairing it with a wave of her wand.

You make your way up the stairs, unlocking the door with your wand while the others wait at the bottom of the stairs. Harry slowly emerges from the room, poking his head out the door, wand clutched tightly in his hand.

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," Moody growls.

Harry doesn't lower his wand. "Professor Moody?"

"I don't know so much about 'Professor'. Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry still doesn't move, clearly wary of your party.

"It's alright, Harry," you say gently. "We've come to take you away."

"P-professor?" he says disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" Tonks says. "Lumos."

The tip of Tonks's wand flares, illuminating the hall with light. You beam at the sight of your godson, already looking older than when you last seen him.

You stride forward and wrap him in a tight hug, beaming. "Good to see you, Harry."

"Yeah, you too..."

"Ooh, he looks just like I thought he would," Tonks says excitedly. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," Kingsley Shacklebolt says from the back. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," Dedalus Diggle wheezes. "Lily's eyes."

Moody squints suspiciously at Harry, his magical eye pointed towards him searchingly. "Are you quite sure it's him? It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater personating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your patronus take?" Remus asks.

"A stag," Harry answers nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye."

Harry descends the stairs, still looking a bit confused, stowing his wand in the back pocket of his jeans as he goes.

"Don't put your wand there, boy!" Moody roars immediately. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost a buttocks, you know!"

"Who do you know that's lost a buttock?" Tonks asks curiously

"Never you mind, just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" he barks, hobbling off to the kitchen. "Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore..."

Wow, how many times did you hear that during your training?

"And I saw that," Moody adds irritably as you roll your eyes at the ceiling.

Remus holds out his hand and shakes Harry's. "How are you?"

"Fine..." Harry replies, looking as though he's still in shock at what's going on.

"I'm — you're really lucky the Dursleys are out..." he mumbles.

"Lucky, ha!" Tonks exclaims, grinning. "It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now...or so they think."

She winks at you and you smile back, remembering the side-splitting laughter that had infected you as the two of you cooked up that idea a few nights previous.

"We are leaving, aren't we?" Harry asks. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," Remus says. "We're just waiting for the all-clear."

"Where are we going? The Burrow?" Harry asks hopefully.

You shake your head. "No, not the Burrow." You follow Moody into the kitchen, the group of Order members walking in after you. "Too risky. We're set up headquarters somewhere else, somewhere undetectable."

Moody sits at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, taking in the many electrical appliances in the Dursleys' kitchen.

"This is Alastor Moody, Harry," Remus tells, pointing toward him.

"Yeah, I know."

"And this is Nymphadora — "

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," Tonks says with a shudder. "It's Tonks."

" — Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Remus finishes, glancing at Tonks.

She folds her arms. "So would you if your fool of a mother called you Nymphadora."

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Remus continues. "Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle — "

"We've met before," squeaks Diggle, dropping his top hat excitedly.

" — Emmeline Vance — Sturgis Podmore — and Hestia Jones."

Harry nods awkwardly at each of them in turn.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come get you," Remus says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," Moody says darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," Remus explains, glancing out the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?" Tonks says as she looks around the kitchen with heat interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?"

"Uh — yeah," says Harry, turning to you. "What's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol — ?"

Several of the witch and wizards make odd hissing noises and Moody growls, "Shut up!"

"What?"

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," Moody explains, looking around him warily with his magical eye.

"We can talk about it once we're back at headquarters," you say.

"How're we getting there?"

"Brooms," Remus replies. "Only way. You're too young to apparate, they'll be watching the Floor Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey."

"She says you're a good flier," Kingsley says, gesturing to you.

"He's excellent," you reply proudly, smiling at Harry.

Remus glances down at his watch. "You better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," Tonks says brightly, following Harry upstairs to his bedroom.

Remus pulls an envelope and piece of parchment out of his pocket, bending over the kitchen table to start scribbling something down. You walk around the room, looking at different photos of the Dursleys.

Baby Dudley, with a proud Petunia and Vernon standing over him; Petunia and Vernon on their wedding day; several more photos of Dudley growing up — there's an obvious absence of Harry. If a stranger were to walk into this room without knowing anything about the Dursleys beforehand, they would never know Harry even exists.

"What a strange device!" Podmore exclaims, curiously opening and closing the kitchen microwave while Kingsley stands behind him. He waves you over. "What does it do?"

Because of your Muggle father, you are often questioned on Muggle items and customs — though usually by Arthur Weasley.

"It cooks food," you reply. "It's called a microwave."

"A microwave..." Kingsley repeats thoughtfully, opening the door and peering inside with immense interest.

Nearby, Hestia laughs at a potato peeler that she came across in one of the drawers. You give her a look, confused as to what could possibly be so humourous about a potato peeler, but she just continues to snicker and giggle as she turns it over in her hands.

"Excellent," Remus says when Harry and Tonks return, Harry's trunk bobbing along in the air behind them. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a note telling your aunt and uncle not to worry — "

"They won't," says Harry.

"That you're safe — "

"That'll just depress them."

" — and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?"

Remus smiles but doesn't answer.

"Come here, boy," Moody says gruffly, beckoning Harry towards him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

Harry's brows knit nervously. "You need to what?"

"Disillusionment Charm," Moody replies, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go — "

He raps Harry hard on the top of his head and Harry's body takes on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind him, like some sort of human chameleon.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," Tonks says appreciatively, and Harry looks down in surprise, spinning in place as he surveys his new look.

"Come on," Moody says, moving towards the back door and unlocking it with his wand.

You all step out onto the Dursleys' impeccably well-kept lawn. It looks practically untouched — a contender for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition indeed.

"Clear night," Moody grumbles, peering up into the dark sky above. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barks at Harry, pointing his finger at him, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed — "

"Is that likely?" Harry asks apprehensively, but Moody ignores him. When he turns his worried eyes to yours you shake your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Moody's grimness.

" — the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," says Tonks as she straps Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.

"I'm just telling the boy the plan," Moody growls. "Our job's to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt — "

"No one's going to die," you say calmly, receiving a doubtful grumble from Moody in the process.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" Remus says sharply, pointing into the sky at the shower of bright red sparks flaring high above you.

You swing your leg over your broom — your dusty old Cleansweep Seven that you've had since you were fifteen and that has seen more of the inside of your garden shed than the open air — and wrap your hands around the flaking handle. You're a pretty average flier — nothing compared to James, of course...but who could ever compare to him?

"Second signal, let's go!" Remus says loudly, as this time green sparks explode into the air far above you.

You kick off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushes into you as you rise higher into the air, the houses and buildings of Little Whinging becoming smaller and smaller as your group ascends. Looking up, the sky is vast and clear, revealing the billions of gleaming stars twinkling above. You can't help the small rush of giddiness that sparks in you at the sight of it.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" Moody shouts over the wind, and your circling group follows Tonks as she swerves, Harry close behind. "We need more height...give it another quarter of a mile!"

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" calls Moody.

"We're not going through clouds!" Tonks shouts angrily. "We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

You're glad to hear this, your fingers turning numb around the handle of your broom in the chill.

You alter your course every now and then according to Moody's instructions, you and the rest of the guard circling Harry and Tonks as you move.

"We ought to double back for a bit, to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody shouts.

"Don't be mad! We're nearly there now!" You yell, recognising the streets hurtling past below. "If we keep going off course, we won't have to worry about being followed because Harry'll have died from hypothermia by then!"

"Time to start the descent!" Remus orders. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

You dive, flying lower and lower until you touch down on a quiet street with several less-than-welcoming houses lining it.

"Where are we?" Harry asks.

"In a minute," Remus says quietly, looking at Moody expectantly as he rummages around in his cloak.

"Got it," he mutters, pulling out Dumbledore's trusty Deluminator and clicking it. The nearest streetlamp goes out with a pop. Moody clicks the Deluminator again and one by one each lamp on the street distinguishes, leaving the faint glow of lit rooms behind curtains the only source of light on the street.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody explains to Harry, pocketing the Deluminator once more. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out the window, see? Now, come on, quick."

Together, your group makes it towards houses Number 11 and Number 13. Even though he's been Disillusioned, you can still see Harry's form shivering with the cold, and you make a slow sweeping motion down the length of his body with your wand, muttering a quiet warming spell under your breath. You hear him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

Remus tuts quietly under his breath. "No spell for the rest of us, then?"

You smile. "You're not my godson."

Even in the dark, you can see him rolling his eyes at you.

"Here," Moody says, thrusting a piece of paper towards Harry. "Read quickly and memorise."

"What's the Order of the — ?"

"Not here, boy!" Moody snarls immediately, his eyes wide. "Wait 'til we're inside!"

He snatches the parchment out of Harry's hand and lights it on fire, dropping it to the ground, the edges curling in the flame.

"But where's — ?"

"Think about what you've just memorised," Remus says quietly.

After a moment, the run-down door of the Black house emerges in the space between 11 and 13, followed soon by grimy walls and windows.

"Come on, hurry," Moody growls, prodding Harry in the back.

You tap the door with your wand. Loud metallic clicks and squeaks sound behind the door before it creaks open, revealing the darkened hallway beyond. "Get in quick, Harry. But don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

You shuffle into the hallway behind Harry, casting a wary eye to the curtained portrait at the end of the hall, waiting for Moody to finish returning the light to the streetlamps before closing the door behind him.

"Here." Moody raps Harry hard over the head with his wand, lifting the Disillusionment Charm and returning Harry to his usual, visible state. Probably could've been a bit more gentle with it, but whatever.

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light around here," Moody says quietly. With a soft hissing noise, the old-fashioned gas lamps flicker to life, illuminating the depressingly drab hallway you're standing in.

Hurried footsteps alert you to Mrs Weasley's entrance, emerging from the basement door with a smile on her face as she makes her way toward you.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispers, pulling Harry into a tight hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid..."

She turns to you and the rest of the Order members and whispers urgently, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started..."

Everyone starts to make their way through the door, and Harry moves to follow Remus when you gently hold him back, a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Harry. Order members only. We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Ron and Hermione are waiting upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over, and then we'll all have dinner," Mrs Weasley whispers to him. "And keep your voice down in the hall."

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up."

"What d'you — ?"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting — I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

You give Harry and Mrs Weasley a wave before heading down into the basement, opening the door as quietly as possible and slipping into your usual spot beside Sirius at the table while Dumbledore speaks to Remus and Moody about Harry. You listen as Dumbledore outlines plans and guard duty: looks like you're on tomorrow night. Brilliant.

Snape sits across from you, and when your eyes meet he gives you a near-imperceptible head shake. Nothing on Wormtail yet. Then his eyes shift to hatred as he wrinkles his nose at Sirius beside you, and you notice that your husband is currently pretending to scratch his nose with just his middle finger extended, directly in Snape's eyeline.

Of course.

When the meeting is finally over, most of the Order members file out of the kitchen and upstairs, speaking in hushed voices as they enter the hall. You pull one of the scrolls of parchment from the middle of the table into your hands, skimming your eyes over a plan of the Department of Mysteries, exits and entrances marked in red.

Just then, you hear a clatter and a great, thankfully muffled, screeching starts from the hall. You sigh, rubbing your temples, and move to stand up and deal with your darling mother-in-law when Sirius gently pushes you back into your chair, standing up.

"I'll handle it."

Bill and Mr Weasley sit close by, heads pressed together as they mull over parchment and documents. After a minute or two, the screaming stops and Sirius reopens the door, Harry following close behind with Remus and the rest of the kids.

Mrs Weasley clears her throat and Mr Weasley jumps to his feet, hurrying over to give Harry's hand a shake. "Harry! Good to see you!"

Bill starts to try and roll up the scrolls and you move to help him, handing him the plan of the Department of Mysteries.

"Journey all right, Harry?" he asks. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, did he?"

"He tried," Tonks says, striding over to help you and immediately knocking over a candle, sending the wax spilling onto the parchment. "Oh, no — sorry — "

"Here," you say, waving your wand and muttering a spell to repair the parchment. In the light your wand casts, you spy Harry trying to catch a glimpse of what's written on the parchment.

Mrs Weasley sees him too, and clicks her tongue disapprovingly, snatching up the scrolls and shoving them into Bill's arms. "This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings."

She sweeps off towards a dresser to start unloading dinner plates and you grab a cloth and wipe down the table for dinner.

"Sit down, Harry," Sirius says, retaking his usual spot at the table. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

Mundungus, who has been snoring away at the end of the table, stirs and jolts awake. "Someone say m' name? I agree with Sirius..."

He raises his hand in the air as though voting, and you snort.

"Meeting's over, Dung," you say with a smile, giving his back a poke as you pass by with more plates. "Harry's arrived."

"Eh?" He peers at Harry before his face lights in recognition. "Blimey, so 'e 'as! Yeah...you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah."

Mundungus fumbles in his pockets and produces his trusty black pipe, lighting the tip with his wand and taking a long pull from it. A cloud of green smoke thickens the air around him instantly.

"Owe you an apology," he grunts.

"For the last time, Mundungus," calls Mrs Weasley in frustration, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah. Right, sorry, Molly."

He stuffs the pipe back into his pocket, with slight reluctance.

Soon, a series of heavy knives are chopping meat and vegetables on their own, supervised by Mr Weasley, while Mrs Weasley stirs a cauldron dangling over the fire. Mundungus, Sirius, and Harry are talking at the table, and from the few snippets you overhear you can tell Sirius is complaining about being stuck inside with nothing to do — which you don't blame him for.

"At least you've known what's been going on," Harry says bracingly.

"Oh, yeah," Sirius says sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time...asking me how the cleaning's going — "

"What cleaning?" Harry asks.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," Sirius replies, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in years — "

"Sirius?" Mundungus pipes up, eyes focused on a silver goblet in his hands, examining it with immense interest. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," he answers, surveying the goblet with obvious distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come off, though," Mundungus mutters thoughtfully, scrubbing the crest with his cuff.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs Weasley shrieks.

Fred and George have bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, to hurtle through the air towards the table. Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus leap away, just in time to avoid the pot of stew that skids the length of the table before stopping at the end, the flagon of butterbeer that falls with a crash and spills over the surface, dripping onto the floor, and the sharp knife that slips from the breadboard and sticks in the table where Sirius' hand had been moments before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs Weasley screams, face red with fury. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred says, hurrying forward and wrenching the knife out of the table. "Sorry, Sirius, mate — didn't mean to — "

Harry and Sirius are laughing, and you turn your face away to hide your laughter from the furious Mrs Weasley. Mundungus struggles to his feet, swearing and muttering under his breath.

"Boys," Mr Weasley steps in, lifting the stew pot back into the middle of the table. "Your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you've come of age — "

"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs Weasley snaps at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table while you clean away the mess from the previous with your wand. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy — "

She stops dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband. Mentions of Percy are not particularly welcomed in the house at the moment, after Percy and Mr Weasley had an especially heated argument and Percy chose his job at the Ministry over his own family.

"Let's eat," Bill says quickly.

For a few minutes, there is silence in the room but for the scraping of plates and cutlery and the creak of chairs as everyone settles down for the meal. You sit beside Sirius, who smiles and pulls your chair closer to his as you eat.

He tugs on the sleeve of your jumper, rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "I like this, it suits you. You look very pretty."

You scoff, giving him a smile. "Of course you like it, Sirius, it's yours. Anyways, I'm thinking of going back home soon just to collect a few things," you say. "Is there anything you want? I am seriously missing my telescope here — "

A loud burst of laughter drowns out the rest of your words, as Fred, George, Ron, and Mundungus roll around in their chairs.

"...and then," chokes Mundungus, tears running down his face, "and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'Dung, where did ya get all them toads from? 'Cause some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back off me for twice what 'e paid in the first place — "

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings thank you very much, Mundungus," Mrs Weasley says sharply.

"Beg pardon, Molly," he answers at once, wiping his face and winking at Harry. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em of Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing anything wrong — "

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seemed to have missed a few crucial lessons," Mrs Weasley says coldly, before shooting a particularly nasty look at Sirius and standing up to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for dessert.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Mundungus is certainly not the most law-abiding man, but he has his uses.

"Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus," Sirius says quietly to Harry.

"How come he's in the Order?"

"He's useful," Sirius mutters. "Knows all the crooks — "

"Well, he would, seeing as he is one himself," you add, taking a sip from your wine.

Sirius nods. "He's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you."

Several helpings of crumble later, the air in the room moves to a relaxed laziness as you finish telling the story of Remus's first time getting drunk at Hogwarts to Tonks, who giggles and laughs while Remus shakes his head and becomes increasingly interested in his goblet. Sirius's hand rests on your hip, idly drawing circles with his finger.

"I don't — uh — I don't remember that," Remus says, cheeks crimson as he glances at Tonks to see her reaction.

You hum, smiling at him. "Well, I certainly do. "

Tonks smiles appreciatively at Remus, yawning loudly.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs Weasley says, yawning too.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius says, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The change in the atmosphere is rapid: Mrs Weasley sits bolt upright, her fists clenched; Remus lowers his goblet warily, eyes meeting yours.

"I did!" Harry says indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so — "

"And they're quite right," Mrs Weasley says firmly. "You're too young."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen — "

"Hang on!" George interrupts loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" says Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!"

"You're too young, you're not in the Order," Fred says in a high-pitched imitation of his mother. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's been doing," Sirius says calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand — "

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs Weasley says sharply, a dangerous look on her face. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" His tone is polite, but you spot the familiar tense in his jaw and know that this calmness won't last long.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," Mrs Weasley replies stonily.

Everyone else in the room is dead silent, their eyes flitting between Sirius and Mrs Weasley as though watching a tennis match. You meet Remus's eyes across the table, subtly shaking your head.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," says Sirius. "But he was the one who saw Voldemort come back. He has more right than most to — "

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs Weasley snaps. "He's only fifteen — "

"And he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some — "

"No one's denying what he's done!" Mrs Weasley's voice rises, her fists trembling with anger. "But he's still — "

"He's not a child!" Sirius says impatiently.

"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

Sirius stares back at Mrs Weasley, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. His voice is ice. "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs Weasley says hotly. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" says Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" Sirius demands, his voice rising.

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly — "

"Enough," you say loudly, stopping the two. You inhale deeply. "Harry deserves to know a certain amount. He has been left in the dark for a month, and I have no doubt that he's used this time to come up with a few interesting theories of what's been going on. Don't you think he deserves to know what is true, from us, rather than a muddled version from...others?"

You don't doubt that a few of Fred and George's Extendable Ears have survived Mrs Weasley's purge.

Mrs Weasley looks back at you, breathing deeply. "Well..." she looks around the table for support, but receives none. "Well...I can see that I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart — "

"He's not your son," Sirius says quietly.

"He's as good as!" Mrs Weasley snaps back fiercely. Great, just when you thought the argument had come to an end. "Who else has he got?"

You pause, hoping you misheard her.

"He's got us!" Sirius snaps back, gesturing between you and him.

"Yes. The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Immediately, you feel your anger flare and you glare daggers back at her. "It's not like he had a choice, Molly!" You snap defensively. "How could you say something like that — "

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," Remus says sharply. "Sirius, sit down."

Sirius, who had begun to rise from his chair, sinks slowly back into his seat, face white.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Remus continues calmly. "He's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry says at once.

Mrs Weasley looks at him for a moment, swallowing harshly. "Very well. Ginny — Hermione — Ron — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

Instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George cry together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron shouts.

"Mum, I want to!" Ginny wails.

"NO!" shouts Mrs Weasley, her chest heaving as she stands. "I absolutely forbid — "

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr Weasley says wearily. "They are of age."

"They're still at school — "

"But they're legally adults now."

"I — alright, fine, Fred and George can stay, but Ron — "

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron says heatedly. "Won't — won't you?" He adds uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

"'Course I will."

Ron and Hermione beam.

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley shouts. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

You hear Ginny stomping and raging at her mother all the way up the stairs, awakening Walburga's portrait when she reaches the hall. You sigh, hurrying off to force the curtains shut over the crazy woman with immense effort. You return, shutting the door to the stairs behind you, and fall back into your seat with a heavy sigh.

"Okay, Harry...what do you want to know?" Sirius speaks.

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news," Harry asks immediately, "and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything — "

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," says Sirius. "Not as far as we know, anyway...and we do know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," Remus adds.

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asks.

"He doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment," you answer. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't quite come off the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Remus says with a satisfied smile.

"How?" Harry questions, perplexed.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" Sirius says. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters were supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," says Remus. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?"

"Are you kidding?" Bill says incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix the day Voldemort returned," says Sirius.

"So what's the Order been doing?" asks Harry, looking around the table at everyone.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," Sirius answers.

"How do you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," says Remus, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," says Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," you say.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," Bill tells. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Why?"

"Because the Ministry is still in denial," you say with a sigh. "You saw Fudge after Voldemort came back, Harry — he hasn't changed his mind at all. He's completely refusing to believe it."

"But why?" Harry asks desperately. "Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore — "

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," says Mr Weasley with a wry smile. "Dumbledore."

"Fudge is frightened of him," you say.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" Harry says incredulously.

"Frightened of what he's up to," says Mr Weasley. "You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want — "

"Of course he doesn't," Mr Weasley speaks, adjusting his spectacles. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

Remus clears his throat. "Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice. But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" Harry says angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," Sirius says bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him."

"Ignorance is bliss," you say sardonically.

"You see the problem," Remus says. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they don't really want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's 'rumourmongering', so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" says Harry, looking around the table. "You're letting people know he's back?"

You smile humourlessly.

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" Sirius says grimly.

"And people don't exactly find the wife of said criminal the most trustworthy either," you say bleakly, shrugging.

"I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," Remus tells. "Occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," Sirius explains, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a few people though," Mr Weasley says optimistically. "Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you is putting the news out that Voldemort is back — " Harry begins, but Sirius stops him.

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore is in so much trouble?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asks.

"They're trying to discredit him," Remus explains. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," Bill chimes in, grinning.

"It's no laughing matter," Mr Weasley says shortly. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asks quickly.

You exchange a glance with Sirius before he says, "Stuff he can only get by stealth."

Harry stays looking confused, and Sirius continues, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" Harry asks. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ? "

"That's enough."

From the shadows beside the door, Mrs Weasley stands, her expression furious. "I want you in bed, now. All of you."

"You can't boss us — " Fred begins.

"Watch me," she snarls, before turning her unapproving gaze on Sirius. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straight away."

"Why not?" Harry says. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight — "

"No."

This time, it's not Mrs Weasley who speaks, it's Remus.

"The Order is comprised of overage wizards," he says.

"Wizards who have left school," you add quickly, seeing the twins open their mouths. You sigh, pushing your chair away from the table, patting Sirius's arm softly. "Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough. I think it's time everyone got some rest."

He gives a half-shrug but doesn't argue, waiting as Mrs Weasley leads her children and Harry upstairs to their bedrooms.

Later, you yawn around your toothbrush, facing the mirror in the dimly-lit ensuite off Sirius's bedroom.

"She can't seriously think leaving Harry in the dark about all this is the better option," Sirius muses testily, idly fiddling with your jewellery on the nightstand as he talks. "He's not a child. He's deserves to know what's going on."

"I agree."

"And the way she brought up James — as if I can't tell the difference between my best friend and my godson," he continues in frustration. "I know he's not James, of course I know that — "

You spit into the sink, pulling the tap to rinse it out. "She didn't know James. She doesn't know how difficult it is to stop yourself from looking at Harry and seeing him. How hard it is to not look for him and Lily in everything."

"No," Sirius says after a moment. "She doesn't."

You run your hands down your face, sighing. "I can't believe she said that thing about you in Azkaban. I can't believe she would stoop that low, as if you had any fucking choice to be in there."

"She hates me," he says. "Do you see the looks she gives me?"

"She doesn't hate you," you tell him wearily, flicking off the light and closing the bathroom door behind you. You lean against the doorframe, folding your arms. "She's scared and worried about Harry, that's all. She's stressed."

"She's not the only one."

"No, she's not," you say softly, making your way over to where he sits on the bed, gently taking his face in your hands. "Look, forget about it now. What's done is done, there's no use dwelling on it now."

He sighs, leaning into your touch with a small sigh. "You really are the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"I try."

He kisses your knuckles one by one, then presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "And clever."

You hum, watching as his lips slowly travel up your arm, arriving at your neck, where he lingers for several moments to kiss every inch of exposed skin he can reach. "And beautiful."

He pulls you toward him so you're straddling his legs, and he grins. "So very beautiful indeed."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter twenty-seven here!

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[matchavellichor]

Can I request a Seb x f!Reader where either MC is super tired or Seb is super tired and the other helps them relax. Like by running a hot bath, then giving a really sensual massage? It doesn’t have to become NSFW or it can. Completely up to you! But I just cannot get the idea out of my head!

You’re writing is to die for btw!

A/N: I loved this idea sm!! I hope I did it justice and that you enjoy!

Long Night

Sebastian x f!MC - NSFW/Fluff - 3.6k words - ao3

Tags: Pre-Established Relationship, Protective Seb, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Care/Comfort

Summary: Sebastian helps you wind down after a long night.

It was half past two in the morning when you finally staggered your way back to Hogwarts, having spent the better part of your evening decimating Ashwinder camps around the outskirts of Hogsmeade. As you slip through the common room door, Sebastian rouses from the wingback chair he had fallen asleep on while waiting up for you.

“Please, no lecture tonight,” You intercept as soon as you spot him, raising a hand to your mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’m far too exhausted for this.” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but disgruntledly closes it at the sight of your half-lidded eyes, the weary slouch of your shoulders. 

He brings a hand up to thumb at the smear of ash on your chin, a faint look of understanding. “I’ll save the scolding for tomorrow. You look like you’ve been roughed up enough for one night.” 

You give him a satisfied smile as you sink back against one of the plush couches. “You think I’m roughed up? Should’ve—” You wince at the contact of the cushions with the abrasions and cuts under your clothes. “Seen the other guy.” 

He looks unconvinced. “Yeah, yeah,” He outstretches a hand in front of you, rubbing the sleep from his own eyes with the back of his knuckles. “Come on, up.” 

“Do I have to?” You close your eyes, tilting your head back onto the backrest of the couch.

“Yes . You’re a mess,” He tugs you to your feet despite your groans, interlacing his fingers with yours. “You’re taking a bath then I’m putting you in a bed. No more passing out on the common room couch.” 

“Yes, mum.” You quip, your muscles too sore to physically protest, but not compliant enough to go without a fair amount of whinging.

He locks the door behind him as soon as he gets you inside the Prefect’s Lavatory, flicking the lights on with a swish of a wand. A set of firm hands on your waist lifts you up on the counter so he can better tend to you. You grimace from the press of his fingers against your injuries and concern washes over his expression.

“May I see?” He asks, fingers paused on the laces of your bodice. You nod. 

He unties the latticework of laces with a deftness that only comes from practice, beginning on the buttons of your blouse next. He slips the garment  off your shoulders with a tenderness that contrasts so starkly to the usual hasty manner he tears it off you in isolated alcoves in the Restricted Section, or under the drawn curtains of four-poster beds.

“Lift your arms, love.” 

He pulls the chemise over your head, yet doesn’t linger too long on the sight of your bare chest when he notices the purple contuses scattered over your ribs. He frowns in disapproval, tsks as his fingers trace the bruises with feather-light touches. His gaze snaps back up to meet yours. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

You give him a sheepish smile. “Would you believe me if I told you I tripped on my way to Charms?” 

He looks entirely unamused.

“Worth a shot.” 

“Merlin’s sake, the things you get up to...” He parts to rummage through a first-aid kit that he pulled from one of the cabinets, a frustration in his movements. He’s upset, but not at you. “It’s a miracle you’ve never gotten detention. Or honestly right out expelled. You’ve broken so many Hogwarts ordinances I’m surprised you’re still—”

“Since when did you start caring about the rules?”

He sighs as he pauses in front of you with a tin of dittany salve in hand. “Since I started caring about you.”

You roll your eyes, even though his words make you feel warm and you have to bite back a smile at the preposterous idea of Sebastian Sallow caring about someone other than himself. If someone had told you this a few months ago you would’ve fell into laughing hysterics.

“What was it this time?” He pops open the lid of the balm and begins to rub a generous amount on your bruises, careful not to apply too much pressure.

“A pack of angry Mooncalves. Vicious beasts, really.”

He scoffs. “Oh, terrifying.”

You nod solemnly. “My life flashed before my eyes.”

He rolls his eyes, once again intensely unamused. He finishes smearing the last of the paste over your sores, tucking the salve away in its kit. 

“So do I get to know what creature has actually battered up my girlfriend?” 

“I am not battered.” You protest. “It was just a few Ashwinder camps. No big deal. I handled it.”

“A few,” He mutters to himself in disbelief, shaking his head as he closes up the healing kit and slides it back into the cabinet. He turns back to you and you can’t help but find his face of disapproval devastatingly adorable, feeling a bit inclined to defy him more often.

He takes your jaw in his hand, tilting your head for him to study. His eyebrows knit together as he eyes the cut just under your cheekbone, concern etched into his expression. “Yeah, I can see how well you handled it.”

“Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying.”

“Yes, you are, I can see it on your face.” You tilt your head, amused. “You kind of look like Ominis.”

“You wound me.” He drops your chin. 

He turns to open the faucets in the bathtub and you watch as he holds a hand under the water to make sure the temperature is just right, runs his fingers through the lavender-scented suds beginning to form on the surface.

You hook your fingers into the belt loops of his trousers to pull him closer when he finally makes his way back over to you, spreading your legs to situate him in the space just between your thighs. 

“I’m fine, alright?” You trail your hands over his chest demonstratively. “Got all four limbs. I’d call that a major success in my books.”

“Your definition of success genuinely perturbs me.” 

He braces himself against the ledge of the counter when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss him lazily. 

His mouth is warm and sweet, the taste of mint on his tongue where it meets yours.

He indulges you for a moment, a hand coming up to hold your jaw. A thumb brushing against your cheek, lips moving against yours with a syrupy kind of softness that makes your toes curl. He holds his other hand to the small of your back, fingers spreading warm and broad over your bare skin. Tender. Careful. 

You want to just melt into him, your muscles loose and jelly-like from exhaustion. You groan, pettish and frustrated, when he finally pulls away. He smiles.

“Stop trying to seduce me and get in the bathtub.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you,” You scoff, your legs wrapping around the backs of his calves to keep him close to you, feeling the stiffness pressed hot against your stomach. You smile

back. “I’ve clearly already done so.” 

“I have a gorgeous, half-naked witch kissing me, you can’t expect me to maintain total composure.” He steps away from you and holds out a hand for you to take. “Now get in the tub before you whittle away the little moral principle I still do possess.” 

“Oh, stop it,” You jeer as you let him help you down from the counter. “Corroding each other’s moral compasses is our favorite pastime and you know it.”

“The only pastime I’m interested in right now is getting you clean and in bed.” 

“Such a bore.”

“You are such a brat.”

“You like it.”

“I do.”

He slips off the rest of your clothes with gentle fingers, mindful of every bruise and abrasion as if he’s already memorized their locations. You sigh contentedly when you finally sink into the warm water, your head falling back against the porcelain. He kneels down beside you, brushing back the hair from your cheeks and forehead.

“Feel nice?

Your answer is a murmured mnhgmm. He chuckles and casts a stasis charm to keep the water at that temperature. He watches you for a moment, fingers dipping under the water to rub soft little circles over your arm. 

He slips a hand under the nape of your neck. “Tilt your head back, darling.” 

You oblige even though your muscles feel too limp to move, letting him run his fingers through your hair and dampen it in the water.

He works in some sickly floral-scented shampoo, the kind that you find far too sweet for your own preferences but that you know he absolutely adores smelling on you. You can’t find it in you to protest because the feeling of his firm hands massaging your scalp makes you too lax to form any coherent thoughts.

“Fuck.” You mutter when he kneads at a particularly sensitive spot at the nape of your neck. “I’m going to marry you.”

He breathes out a laugh, focusing on that spot until you’re practically melting into his palm, shoulders sinking further into the water. “That easy?”

“I’m a simple woman.”

“You’re very much not.”

“You like it.”

He smiles fondly. “I do.”

He takes advantage of your drowsy state to lean over the rim of the tub and steal as many kisses as he wants, tilts your chin up with a wet hand to give himself better access to your lips. He moves you around like a ragdoll, placing kisses down your wrists, on your knuckles, while he runs a loofah up and down your arms.

“You look pretty like this.”

“What? Covered in the blood of half a dozen different poachers? You’re sounding like Poppy.” 

You chance a look at him through one half-opened eye. He’s watching you intently, arms crossed over the side of the porcelain basin, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

“While admittedly strangely erotic ,” He confesses,  rubs at a lingering speck of scarlet on your neck. “I meant...all sapless and drowsy. It’s cute.”

“Shut up.”

When he’s finally content that he’s gotten every ounce of blood and soot from your body, he helps you out of the water with one of your arms slung around his shoulder, wrapping you in a towel that’s big enough for you to drown in.

Sufficiently dried and smelling like a floral abomination, he takes you back to your room and lets you sink back against the pillows while he rummages through your chest for pajamas. 

He manages to procure the tiniest set you owned, a sleek negligée with a babydoll neckline and a ditsy floral pattern all over, little pink roses with green stems adorning the fabric. It’s ridiculously short and leaves absurdly little to the imagination.

He holds it out to you curiously, dangled precariously over his finger by one of the thin straps. “How come I’ve never seen you in this?”

“Because that thing can barely be considered clothing.”

He helps you sit up on the edge of the bed. “You’re not doing a very good job of selling me off it.”

“I’ll indulge you in your utterly impractical sleepwear choices just this once.”

He slips the gown over your head, smoothing down the fabric at your waist. His hand stretches broad and warm where he’s settled it over your hip. When he pulls away to tuck the matching frilly floral undergarments back into your chest, you raise an eyebrow.

“Am I not allowed any knickers?”

“Nope,” He pushes you back against the bed and you sink into the covers. “Doctor’s orders.”

You shift onto your stomach, hitching a leg over one of your pillows tucked between your thighs as you get comfortable. You murmur through a yawn, “I’d like to see this guy’s medical license.”

Sebastian eyes the way your dress rides up over your bottom, the silk bunching up at your cinched waist. If he were a weaker man, he’d be tugging the flimsy fabric the rest of the way up over your hips and fucking you into the mattress until you were truly sore and exhausted. 

However, he has principles. Sort of.

He kneels beside you at the edge of your bed and tugs the hem down before you can properly give him a heart attack. You’re blissfully unaware of any unintentional indecencies.

He lets his hand linger a little too long, running down your sides and reveling in how warm and pliable you feel under his touch.

“You’re a little tense,” He remarks, even though you’re certainly anything but tense. You currently feel like you’ve dissolved into a puddle of warm sensations and you’re surprised you haven’t seeped into the mattress by now. 

His hands are kneading at your back before you can form even a semblance of a protest though, and you soon forget why you would ever want to. 

He smooths his fingers over the silk, feels your warmth seeping through the fabric and it’s enough to make him lose his mind. Before long he’s slipping his hands under the hem of your dress, chasing the feeling of skin-on-skin. 

He massages the space between your shoulder blades, down your spine, over your sides, smiling to himself at the little satisfied sighs you let out from the sensation. 

“Fucking hell,” You moan when he presses his knuckles into a particularly knotted spot at the small of your back. “I think I’m in love with you.”

He spews out a laugh, sounding utterly delighted with this information. “And all it took was a measly little massage for you to come to this realization?”

“Among other things...” You murmur contentedly into the pillow.

“Give me a comprehensive list when you get a chance,” He leans over you to place a kiss to your shoulder, runs his hands south to knead at the soft flesh at your hips. “I need to know what I’ve been doing right.”

“Well, first on the list, —whatever magic you’re doing with your hands right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Next up…mmhm, that one thing you do with your tongue.”

You pause, thighs squeezing together at the memory of the many times his head has been between your thighs. “Actually, that might be number one.”

“Might be?” He scoffs. “Well clearly I haven’t been doing it nearly as good as I should have. Simply unacceptable.” He enunciates his indignation by flipping you onto your back, amusing himself with the drowsy giggle you let out.

He kisses you slow and languid, cupping your jaw in his hand and rubbing your cheek with his thumb as if in appreciation for getting to touch something so precious. He peppers kisses down your neck, inhaling deeply, “Gods, you smell amazing.”

“I smell ridiculous.”

He licks a stripe down your throat in exemplary approval. “Ridiculously delicious. It's absurd, really.”

He dips his head to trail kisses over your collarbone, down your sternum, around your navel, over your hip bones. His hands bunch up the fabric of your dress, tugs it over your waist and gropes tenderly at the expanse of exposed skin.

He takes his time, as if he’s at an altar in solemn devotion. You let out soft, drowsy sighs as he drags his tongue down your midriff, across your hip, as if he needs to taste every part of you.

He looks up at you when he finally dips his head between your thighs, clearly satisfied with the way your head is sunken back against the pillow and your hands have balled up the comforter in little fists, consumed by anticipation.

He hooks an arm under one of your thighs and pulls it over his shoulder, keeping the other pinned to the mattress. He revels in how pliable you are, a weak, loose-limbed little mess spread out before him, barely even able to keep your own eyes open. He can’t help but watch you, truly study you in the state you’re in.

You huff after a full minute of him hovering over your center, his warm breath lighting your nerves on fire. “I thought I was supposed to be going to bed?” 

“I’m just helping you wind down,” He murmurs and places a kiss to your mound just to appease your impatient whines. Your stomach swirls at the long-awaited contact and the mewl you let out would’ve been mortifying if Sebastian’s returning groan wasn’t just as needy . 

He licks a single broad stroke through your folds with the flat of his tongue and you can feel his smirk against your skin when your hips squirm from the contact.

“Look at you,” He coos, taunting, rubbing your slickness in with the pad of a finger. “You’re clearly too worked up to sleep at the moment.” 

You’re too drained to argue for your obvious lack of energy and Sebastian’s ministrations certainly aren’t helping.

You’re half-asleep, half-kept-awake by the soft kitten licks he devotes to your cunt, slow and measured, the same way one would lap at an ice-cream cone they really, really wanted to savor. Patience was never a virtue Sebastian possessed,  yet he was managing to exude it with every brush of his tongue, infuriatingly calm and stoical.

“Oh, god—” Your gasp is strangled when he finally wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. He does it knowing full well it’d make your hips jerk, make you push futilely at his head with weak hands and tired muscles.

“I know, angel,” He pushes you back down against the mattress, folds his forearm over your stomach to keep your hips pinned down. “Relax, it’s alright. Let me make you feel good.”

He tongues at you, slow and deliberate, for what feels like hours, until there’s a wet spot in the linen sheets underneath you and you’re whining his name through breathless pants. He seems content with spending eternity with his head between your legs and dangling you on the precipice of your orgasm with soft, feather-light kisses.

“Please, please...” 

Your hands have long fallen limp over your stomach, too listless to thread your fingers through his hair. You’re a languid mess and he seems to like you like this, dwindling between the lines of consciousness and only kept awake by your desperate desire to come. 

“My pretty baby. So sleepy, hm? Poor thing.” He hums against your skin, and you’re so close it hurts. You’re too limp to press his lips to your cunt with your hands, to rock your hips and chase your orgasm the way you normally would. You just let your head loll back against the pillow and whimper his name like it’s a prayer. 

“You’re so beautiful like this. Just a little longer.”

Only when there’s tired tears pricking at your eyes and the knot below your navel is wound so tight that you feel like your entire body might snap, does he finally push you over the edge.

It’s not the violent, body-wrecking kind of climax he’s pulled from you so many times, not the freefall from the height of a staggering cliff. It’s more of a smooth descent, the drop-off on a rollercoaster that makes your stomach swoop. The kind that starts high and ends low, seeps through your entire body like sticky-hot molasses.

He manages to make it just as slow and drawn-out as the process it took to get you there. He keeps your legs open with his palm spread over your thigh, even as you try to fold into yourself. He groans at the sensation of you cumming against his mouth, his hips rutting mindlessly against the mattress. He blissfully laps at you and rides you through it until you dissolve into a puddle of shallow, shuddering pants.

He places kisses to the inside of your thighs while you tremble, murmurs praises against your skin, “Beautiful. Love watching you come apart for me.”

When he crawls up your body and finally presses his mouth to yours, you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

It’s soft and tender, and his chin is sticky, and it’s all just so good that you feel as if you’ve died and gone to heaven. He smiles against your lips when he realizes you’re too drowsy to even kiss him back properly, beyond pleased with your lethargy.

“Good?”

You’re too incoherent for words, but the lazy little hum of agreement you let out is just as satisfactory. 

He breathes out a laugh. “You’re the most precious thing in the world to me, do you realize that?” 

He kisses you once more before he pulls back to take in the state of your flushed cheeks and tear-damp lashes, still fluttering in their weak attempts to stay open. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight.

“It’s alright,” He murmurs through a kiss pressed to your forehead. “Sleep.”

He rights your rumpled camisole that’s been bunched up at your waist and smooths back the stray hairs sticking to your cheeks. You let him adjust you how he sees fit and fluff up the pillows around you until you’re properly swaddled to his liking.

He leans in to nose at your jaw, reveling in how warm you are and stealing as many kisses as he pleases. He leaves whispered promises that he knows you won’t hear, traces vows with his fingertips over the soft expanse of your skin. 

Only after your breathing’s finally steadied out and you’re curled into yourself does he pick himself up from his spot on the edge of your bed. He allows himself a final chaste kiss to the soft patch of skin on your shoulder that’s peeking out from under the covers, before he slips out the door silently. 

In the quiet of the empty hallway, his skin still buzzing from your touch, he makes his way back to his room with a soft, pleasure-drunk smile tugging at his lips.

[valtsv]

need the tsv finale to come out so i can write my self indulgent "everybody survives (though not necessarily in one piece) and is doing their best to rebuild in paige's rebel commune" au where VAL knocks on shrue's tent one night and is like i heard you beat up carson. yeah he wouldn't stop whingeing about it in my ear afterwards. anyway do you want to go for round two, mx. "words can't help you". no holds barred just two terrible people in a field cutting loose on each other. and then they beat each other up cathartically (and lowkey sadomasochistically) a bit before collapsing in two bloody heaps beside one another and agreeing that they've paid their debts to one another and can tolerate and perhaps even grow to enjoy each other's presence now.

[ilyasorokinn]

can i request anything with dad!sways?

GRANOLA BARS

kids + post game media will always be my weakness

THE "SWINGING WITH THE SWAYMANS" MASTERLIST

tw: children/kids

jeremy was on a high. the bruins won, and although it wasn't a shutout game, the bruins had won by a pretty significant number, and it was all thanks to his good luck charms: you, eli, and winnie.

it was winnie's first game, so it was special game for him. during warmups, he saw you down on the ice, and couldn't contain his smile when he saw winnie's beanie.

it was the first thing jeremy had given to you when you found out you were pregnant with eli, but eli had long since grown out of the hat. it had been in storage so you decided to bring it out and surprise jeremy.

during intermission, he briefly checked his phone and saw the photos you sent him from the bruins social media account. the bruins photographer managed to catch a sweet moment of the four of you. you were sitting in a seat with eli was standing in between your legs and winnie standing on your legs. jeremy standing behind the glass with the biggest smile on his face.

the photo was caught right as winnie had noticed her dad on the other side of the glass. he took off his mask halfway so she knew it was him, but she was a smart girl, so she knew it was him.

eli and winnie both smiled as jeremy tossed pucks over the glass for them, which were caught by a kind man. winnie excitedly slapped her hands on the glass as jeremy smiled at her.

before having kids, he didn't understand what people talked about when they talked about "dad strength", but now, after having kids, he totally understood it. going into the 3rd period, after having seen those pictures, he was on fire. not one goal was let in the entire period.

after the game, all he wanted to do was go home and spend the rest of the night with you and the kids, but because he did so well, post-game media was on the list of things he had to do before he could leave.

“jeremy, going into the 3rd period, what was going through your mind because something changed between the second and third."

jeremy couldn't help but smile, "yeah, i got a text from my fiance. i don't know if you've seen them yet, but it was pictures from warmups. it's my daughter's first game, and we got some pictures taken."

he heard some commotion from the door of the locker room, and looked up just in time to see eli running in. jeremy smiled as eli pushed through the crowd of reporters and stood in front of his dad, waiting to be picked up.

he smiled, bending down and picking eli up. he fixed the hat on eli's head before turning back to the reporters, answering a couple more questions.

"...obviously, a shootout game would've been nice, but..." eli interrupted jeremy by whinging and pointing to the granola bar in his stall, "sorry." he smiled awkwardly, grabbing the granola bar and opening it for eli, "where was i?" he paused for a moment before regaining his train of thought, "... right, yeah..." he continued on with his answer before turning to the next reporter.

mid question, eli reached up and held out a piece of the granola bar, offering it to jeremy, who smiled and took the piece in his mouth. he nodded along as the reporter continued, eating the granola bar eli kept offering him.

he finished press and had eaten half a granola bar by the end of it. with eli's help, he got his stuff packed up and followed eli out to where you were waiting, winnie was asleep in the baby carrier attached to you.

"hi." you smiled brightly when you saw him, setting your phone aside, and giving him your attention, "i tried to stop him, but he's fast and he was on a mission."

jeremy laughed, "he is fast." jeremy looked down the hallway, watching eli running down the hall, talking to himself. he looked back over to you, raising a brow.

"he had a bit of candy." you shrugged, pursing your lips when he cocked his head at you, "we were on highway temper tantrum, exit full meltdown," you explained.

"hmm." jeremy hummed, setting his bags down and snatching eli up when he ran down the hall, "oof, i got you."eli giggled loudly, before letting out a tired yawn, dropping his head onto jeremy's shoulder, "let's go home." he slugn his bag over the other shoulder before grabbing your hand.

requests are open :)

[y0urm4m]

Just for fun?

(Based off the song but with some diff stuff)

what will happen when a famous player and a clueless innocent girl meet?

Warnings:smut, p in v, hair pulling, creampie, swearing, consumption of alcohol.

╔═.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.═╗

╰┈➤ ❝𝐌𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 '𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 '𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.”

——————————-

Y/N pov:

I huffed staring at my outfit in the mirror. “Libs do I really have to wear this outfit?” I said turning to look at her. “Duh, you look hot,” She replied applying the last bit of lipstick on her lips and spinning to look at me. “Now hurry the Uber is almost here.” She squealed, I rolled my eyes slipping my shoes on, heading out the door.

Matt pov:

I looked over at the girl next to me. Asleep, perfect I slowly put my clothes on and walked towards her bedroom door. “Matty, where are you going?” She whined. “I told you this was a one time thing anyways I’ve got a party to be at.” I replied. Rolling my eyes at the nickname, I quickly left before she started whingeing for me to stay.

Y/N pov:

I finally made it to the party, as soon as I stepped out the car I got a massive whiff of alcohol. “Libs I honestly can’t believe you made me agree to come here.”I said looking at her, she just smiled grabbing my hand rushing inside. As we entered the house i began to feel nervous, I wasn’t much of a party person I was more of a stay at home watching a film or reading a book girl. Libby on the other hand.. I was usually the one holding her hair for her or getting her aspirin. All of a sudden my thought were interrupted by a drink being shoved in my hands. “That should calm your nerves.” Libby said smiling. How’d she know? I just sighed looking at the clear liquid in my cup. It’s only one night i should be fine. I quickly swallowed the drink cringing at the feeling of my throat burning. But before I could tell Libby how gross the drink was she was gone, I rushed away from my spot trying to find her before I bumped into someone. “Fuck, sorry I didn’t mean to bump into you.”I said looking up at the man. He was pretty cute. Brunette with blue eyes. “It’s alright sweetheart.” He replied. Sweetheart? The way he said it could replay in my head on repeat all day, then I came to the realisation that I was supposed to be looking for my friend. “Sorry, I need to get going I’m trying to find my friend.”I spoke walking away as fast as I could.

I grabbed a red solo cup of random alcohol before I eventually found her dancing. If I’m here I might as well take advantage of it and have some fun, I said to myself before joining Libby where everyone was dancing. “Hey libs!”I shouted so she could hear over the music. “There you are y/n, you finally decided to loosen up a bit?” She replied. “Yeah, I decided why not have some fun for once.” I smiled dancing with her, the whole time me and her was dancing I felt as if someone was staring at me. I looked to my left when I saw the person from earlier, he just smirked before walking over. “Hey.” He said. “Hi.”I said sheepishly. “Wanna dance?” He asked looking from me to Libby who hadn’t taken any notice in the interaction. “Why not!” I said.

We moved to a less crowded area, before he slithered his hands around my waist. My hips swayed side to side as the boy behind me signalled how to move. “Hey I never got your name, I’m y/n?” I spoke looking over my shoulder up at him. He removed a hand from round my waist moving my hair to the side. “My names Matt.” He whispered, he’s hand finding its way back to my waist. The way he whispered sent shivers down my spine And caused my stomach to flip. I turned to look at him as we continued to dance, the only thing I could think about was him whispering in my ear, the thought of it made me thighs slightly squeeze together which he seemed to take notice of. “What you thinking about?” He asked looking at me. I felt a rush of confidence run through my body. “Maybe we should take this to the bathroom?” I said looking up at him. He smiled leading me away from the crowded room.

Matt pov:

After finally making my way inside the house and saying hello to the influencers who invited me, I decided to go straight and get a drink but on my way to the drinks I bumped into someone, I’d never met her before but she was hot. That skimpy outfit what a tease. But then she spoke, she seemed so innocent, perfect. I decided to flirt with her a bit, it was going perfectly until the conversation got cut short so she could go find her friend. Usually I’d just go flirt with a different girl but something was telling me to follow her. I watched the way her ass swayed as she walked away before watching her speak to someone. I guess that was the friend she was talking about, I recognised her friend from the last party I was at she was super drunk and was flirting with everyone who crossed her path. But what happened next caught my attention the way the girl moved her hips it was mesmerising. I had to go over and that’s exactly what I did.

Y/N pov:

We eventually made our way to the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed Matt grabbed my face pulling me in our tongues becoming entwined together. His hands rubbing the sides of my waist, as my hand brushed through his hair. I pulled away for air but as soon as I pulled away he turned me around.

I was leant against the bathroom sink looking at matt’s reflection in the mirror as me caressed my ass cheeks before slapping my left ass cheek in which made me jolt forward and bite my lip to contain my moan. “Don’t do that, lemme hear your sounds” He said, giving my other ass cheek a slap but this time I moaned. Matt felt his pants tighten even more a the sounds coming from my mouth. He quickly pulled my skirt up my blue lacy thong now visible, Matt groaned at the sight. He then pushed my undies to the side, teasing my clit with his fingers— I whimpered at the cold new feeling. “Fuck Matt” I moaned out, as he slipped a finger inside of me pumping it in and out a few times before adding in another one.“Holy shit.”i whimpered. He then began curling his fingers. “You like that?”he asked smirking at me in the mirror. I nodded. “Words y/n..”he said speeding up. I felt my stomach tightening, “fuck.. yea-.. yeah I do Matt” I muttered, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as the band in my stomach felt like it was a bout to snap, but that feeling was gone when Matt quickly removed his fingers from inside me. “You’re not cumming unless it’s on my dick.”he spoke, undoing his belt taking it off as well as his jeans and boxers. My eyes widened at the sight of his dick, not super big but bigger than I’ve ever had. He pumped his dick a few times before entering me with no warning the stretch made me whimper. With one hand on my waist, he grabbed my hair making a pony tail pulling my head back as he thrusted his hips into mine.

The sound of skin slapping, moans and groans filled the room. The whole time Matt’s eyes never left mine in the mirror, the same smirk from when he saw me dancing on his face. “Fuck your so tight”he groaned. Gradually speeding up, the knot in my stomach forming. “Matt..I’m go.. I’m gonna cum.” I moaned out. His pace becoming sloppy. “Fuck.. y/n cum with me”he groaned. His hips snapped into mine one more time before we both came. Our chests heaving rapidly. He slowly pulled out getting some tissue to wipe away any leftover mess. We both got redressed. “I’m gonna go”he said looking at me before turning around, but before he could leave I grabbed his wrist. “Are we gonna speak again?” I asked, he turned back around to face me slightly smiling.“Sweetheart do you even know who I am?”he replied. I shook my head, in response he sighed. “Mathew Sturniolo, the famous player.” He said straight faced. “What?” I said in shock, I’d heard of Mathew Sturniolo but i never thought the Matt I met not even hours ago could be him. “So was this just for fun?” I asked. He shrugged walking out the door leaving me in the bathroom all by myself.

——————————

A/N: 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚙.2 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚢𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!

[reds-writings]

okay so you begging for more old rust prompts has timed really well with my need for old rust fics and the last two you wrote (and also joni mitchell’s music being put back on spotify, thank god) but i was wondering if you could potentially write something along the lines of prompt #8 on the fluff pt 2 prompt list (sharing a kiss while cleaning a wound — potentially after the beer fail lol) but yeah the lyrics from the chorus of case of you really just made me think of our reader and old rust despite it all:

Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine You taste so bitter and so sweet Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling And I would still be on my feet Oh, I would still be on my feet

i love joni mitchell oh my goodnes. you are a genius anon!!

 By the following morning, it turned out Rust did indeed manage to agitate his stitches with his late-night tumble. The line of your brow was set hard in concentration as you prodded at the gash with as much gingerly precision as you could conjure. He tried his damnedest not to flinch given you’d already fallen into enough of a tizzy over the whole ordeal and didn’t need your nerves driven up the wall any further. He loathed the feeling of being any sort of burden towards you but after the stern talking to you laid out on him he had no choice but to sit without another self-deprecating word. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day I swear it.” You huffed out a breath as you wiped away any remnants of dried blood clean from his skin. 

He tried not to bristle visibly at the remark, reminding himself that you didn’t really mean it in the literal sense. Though, with his severe lack of desire for taking care of himself and your incessant need to make sure he didn’t succeed in giving up once and for all there had been plenty of close calls over the years where his brashness could’ve taken you out for good. Another factoid in the sea of many that he tortured himself with time and time again.

The dulcet tones of Joni Mitchell came from the older-than-dirt record player you hadn’t had the heart to ever get rid of after all this time as you carried out your worry-warting on the Texan. You remember you used to joke about the lyrics of Case of You eerily pertaining to Rust’s presence in your life way back then. He didn’t think himself anything close to holy but that was beside the point. No matter where he went off to, a piece of his soul had undoubtedly been melded with yours to the point of no possible undoing. There was no scrubbing him clean from the recesses of your mind or the deep-set cracks of your weary heart. 

God knows you tried with all you had when everything went to shit. 

You’d have to throw the sheets in the laundry once you were done but it was more than likely a lost cause with the array of staining from his soiled bandages that had taken residence throughout the night. You could run out in a bit to get some new ones in town. That or you’d have to test if he could finally make it up the stairs to your room without being too winded. 

Satisfied with your work, you stood to your full height and finished wrapping up a clean set of bandages around his torso. Not much had changed about him physically, maybe he was a little softer around the edges but that did nothing to smother the fire his presence lit in you without fail. Marty could whinge on and on about how Rust looked now but he was just as tragically beautiful to you as he’d always been. Your eyes met and you couldn’t help but melt a little. He was here. He was okay. You just had to keep reminding yourself. 

Bringing up a hand to tuck some hair behind his ear you leaned in to press your lips to his. First, shortly then with the second press, you deepened it a bit more. A large palm came to grip loosely at the back of your neck in reciprocation and you could’ve seeped through the floor then and there. Your kisses transferred to stamp themselves beneath his eye, then his cheekbone, making their way up to his hairline so you could embrace him for a moment longer. 

With a shuddering exhale, his body released any remaining tension it had as he let himself bask in the warmth of your affection. You leaned back to look at him once more,

“I gotta hop to town real quick. Getcha some new sheets and a couple of other things. Think you can steer from bein' accident-prone for an hour or two?” 

Rust tsked and shook his head slightly, “Can’t say.”

“Does that mean you wanna try makin’ it to the truck today? Would probably do you good to get some air and actual sunshine. Pallid don’t suit you none-” You dodged his incoming pinch. His predictable knee-jerk response to your playful ribbing was as old as time. It never truly annoyed him as much as he played it up. He'd selfishly rather have you this way and happy than keeping yourself at a distance forever.

“I’d be inclined to try should you be quiet.” He half-snarked and you scoffed in mock offense. 

“I’m a delight. Ask anyone-"

“Mhm.” 

“You’re being quite rude to the woman nursing you back to health and that I can’t abide. Lest you wanna try gettin’ dressed on your own without topplin' over.” You started to take some steps away, an empty threat of leaving him in his place.

No other snipe followed, just an outstretched hand after a stubborn moment or two. You snickered as you helped him off the kitchen counter and to his room so that you could set out for the day’s endeavors. 

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

Such Effort VI

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi x f!Reader

W/c: 5k (a vast departure from where we started)

Warnings: Talk of alcohol, a bit suggestive, swearing, Kakashi trying to talk about his feelings, long as fuck

Summary Post 🔮🔮 Masterlist

Previous Part

You fucking dolt.

Why'd you tell him that you're a virgin? That's the perfect way to scare a man away.

There was no saving you, your liquored tongue or your lapse of judgement. All you could do was wish those words back into your mouth, and for Kakashi's mind to be wiped of this night entirely.

"No shame in that," he hummed, though he had had a clear physical reaction to your confession. The way he tensed, how long he blinked, the stutter in his breath- cripes, you were so stupid, and he was trying to console you about it.

You shook your head and sped up your pace, though it was probably just to Kakashi's regular speed. "Au contraire; lots and lots."

"That's silly." Fuck, is he as drunk as me? You thought at the liberty in his cadence, Fujita's going to kill me. "So, is it that you never-"

"Man, who said that was a conversation point," you whinged immediately, hiding your face behind your hands. "I just... cripes, I guess you got your juicier detail, huh?"

Kakashi chuckled lowly, which relaxed you. You peeked at him from behind your fingers, which only made the deep rumble pick up to a proper laugh. Feeling like he was laughing at you, though not maliciously, you put your hands down and shoved him lightly on the shoulder. It barely budged him, but Kakashi swayed for your sake.

"Say something else," you commanded him with a grin. "I'm wallowing in embarrassment right now."

"Alright," Kakashi purred, taking a step closer to you as the two of you made your way down the main road. "What do you want to talk about, if not your virginity isn't-"

"Shut up, shut up!" Laughing, you grabbed Kakashi's bicep, and shook him with all your might. He laughed as he let you move him, head drifting back and forth. You huffed, holding onto him from the exertion of trying to shake the mountain of a man, "Anything but that..." Then you sighed, tightening your grip and leaning on him as you walked. "Let's talk about... fuck, let's talk about what you're doing in a pub, after I give you bedrest."

Dropping your grasp of his arm, you took a step to the side, creating a small chasm of space between you, and looked at Kakashi accusatorily. He, in all of his nonchalance, just snickered happily and leaned back as he walked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You said you'd be there, so how could I resist?" He replied quaintly.

Rolling your eyes a little, you remarked, "I didn't invite you."

"I know, and it broke my heart," Kakashi grinned, not looking the least bit heartbroken. Then his smiley cadence faltered when he added, "Watching you dance with someone who wasn't me was... terrible, something I never want to see again."

"Can you dance, Kakashi?" You asked.

Kakashi lead you around the corner of his street, off the main road, and then took a step in front of you, turning to face you and block the way. He put out his hands and smirked, "Assuredly, better than Raido."

"Mm, I dunno," you hummed, taking Kakashi's hands lightly. "Raido and I have been dancing together for years - he knows my flow better than-"

"Yeah, but my flow compliments your flow, so everything pans out." 

There was no arguing with Kakashi as he brought your hands up, then down, taking a smooth step back as he did. The movement pulled you both in a dancer's bow, and you giggled at how seriously he was taking this.

Then, Kakashi drew both of you up and released your left hand, letting his right arm drop to encircle your waist and pull you close. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden proximity, being able to fully feel the radiating heat from Kakashi's body.

He looked down at you with kind, half-lidded eyes as he started to lead you in a very fast dance.

It wasn't what you were expecting.

His citrus scent beguiled you as he swayed you to an invisible beat. Still, Kakashi's sheer rhythm infected you; it made you smile so wide that your cheeks hurt, and had you feeling all hot and syrupy inside.

"This is not a three step," you laughed as he twirled you and pulled you close again.

Starting on a sequence of double-steps backward, so intricate that you had to look down at your feet as you copied him, Kakashi chuckled, "Can't keep up?"

"Watch it, grandad," you hissed, looking up for a second. "I'm just surprised a man of your age has such slick moves."

"A man of my age?" Kakashi laughed loudly, spinning you both in a circle in a three step that more closely resembled a six step. "Just you wait, girly- the second you're past twenty, I'll tell you how decrepit you are."

"Why I oughta- fuck-" Kakashi slung you away, then back into his arm, making you seethe, "You-"

"Yeah, alright," he grinned, squeezing your waist with his large, warm hands. You bit back a whimper, but Kakashi's ears were too sharp. Immediately, he groaned, "Fuckin' tell me Raido doesn't get that kind of reaction out of you."

All you could do was squeak a no as Kakashi began to twirl you, fast. Once, then twice, then thrice-

"Fuck, fuck, okay, okay, you're the best dancer ever, Kakashi," you cried out with a laugh, slipping your hand from his and collapsing to his chest, pushing him all the way to the nearest wall.

The world was spinning, and you were entirely aware of that fact in that moment.

"Kakashi?" He repeated. Your head snapped up, and eyebrows furrowed, but Kakashi just chuckled, shaking his head, "Mm-mm, no one by that name here."

"Oh, stop-"

"Serious," Kakashi purred, only making that syrupy feeling spread across your body.

Getting your bearings back, you figured, what the Hell, so you played along. You tried pulling away from Kakashi's chest, but he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place against the wall. Huffing and puffing, you squirmed, which only made Kakashi's chuckle return as his arms tightened.

"So, who are you?" You grumbled, trying to wiggle out of his hold. "I don't wanna just be out, on the street, with some guy-"

"Oh, baby, y'breakin' my heart tonight," he crooned. Fuck, his voice was so rich, so fucking delicious. Your mouth started to water, but Kakashi squeezed your hips, bringing you back to reality.

"'m sorry, pretty boy," you sighed. "That's the last thing I wanna do."

"And we're back in business." You raised your eyebrows, and Kakashi partially let go of you, only to start walking again with his arm slung over your shoulders. He leaned on you, and sighed happily, "My girl is mine, again, after all."

"I was never- nevermind."

"No, no, say what you were gonna say."

Your cheeks flamed red. You weren't going to make the same mistake of revealing yourself twice. Not so close in succession. "No, fuck you." 

As you said it, you ducked from under his arm and started to run away. You didn't get so much as five good steps in before Kakashi's other arm was hooked around your waist, pulling you back immediately. 

"Tell me." His tone was so friendly that you thought it almost didn't match the conversation. Sliding his arm around your waist, Kakashi rested his hand on your hip with a porcelain grip, as he hummed, "Or would you rather I go first?"

"Beg your pardon?" First? Okay, he really got you with that one, you hadn't the foggiest clue what he was talking about.

Sensing your utter confusion, Kakashi chuckled lowly, and looked at you. His eye found yours easily, capturing them, and giving them nothing else to see. Exhaling deeply, you felt a smile creep onto your face, and you did nothing to stop it.

"Okay, fine, but I've never done this before," Kakashi sighed. Something he's never done? Creator above only knew- "Okay, okay, I can't fuck this up, let me collect my thoughts here."

"You're starting to scare me, sweetheart," you admitted, though your smile didn't falter. 

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, then tore his gaze from you. Quietly, almost as if he didn't want you to hear him, Kakashi mumbled, "I'm scaring myself."

"Alright, then let me go first," you offered, not wanting Kakashi to put any undue strain on himself, though still not knowing what you were jumping the line for. Turning his head to look at you amusedly, Kakashi nodded toward you, eye glinting in the moonlight. Oh, yeah. First for what? 

You could do a cartwheel... or rhyme off the Hidden Villages of each Land, in alphabetical order... list ten carcinogens found in household items... was this a secret talent showcase, or something? You wished you had Gerald with you, then; he could jump into your sleeve and climb to your shoulder vertically, spin, do mazes made of books...

"Yeah, nevermind," you laughed lowly, shaking your head and looking away. "I don't know what's going on- I might've had a gin tonic too many."

"Gin?" He repeated, nose scrunching up.

You nodded vigorously, licking your lips. "Yes! Dry, not Old Tom, for sure."

"Eugh." Kakashi shuttered around you, making you laugh as he asked, "Everything alright in the home?"

"Cripes, no, which is why I have a bottle of Navy Strength on my dresser," you told him, wiping a faux tear from your eye. "And gin is not eugh, it's so yum."

"Whatever you say, crazy lady-"

"Hey, hey, you get to be pretty boy, and I'm slapped with crazy lady?" You quipped, seeing Kakashi's apartment complex coming up and feeling dread rising in your throat.

Holding you so tightly to him that you threw your arm around his waist, Kakashi hummed, "I'm sorry, my sweet, darling girl, light of my days."

"That's more like it, thank you." You weren't even the one who demanded the pet names in the first place, but they did make that syrupy feeling turn into a strange, full-body heartbeat, which you quite enjoyed. Melting into Kakashi's side, you asked absentmindedly, "Do you really like me that much?"

You just sounded so stupid- holy shit. What a beggar. A compliment-fisher. 

Before you could distract him from your stupidity, Kakashi stated, "I like you so much." You looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he sighed, "Like, so much. More than I can describe."

The Sunken Cost fallacy occurred to you, and you figured you were very much in the hole already; why not press on?

"Try it," you shrugged. Kakashi looked at you with a similarly quirked brow, which made you giggle, "Let the gods take the reins, and you'll surely come to come adequate description."

With a small smile blooming behind his mask, the silver haired man took a deep breath, then said, "Okay, fuck it, here goes."

Maybe, just maybe, he was operating under the same fallacy.

Abruptly, just before Kakashi's building, he moved the two of you to the edge of the sidewalk and came in front of you, taking your hands in his again, but this time not to dance. 

With another deep breath, Kakashi's revealed eye traced over your connected hands, then up your right arm. He moved across your chest, stopping at your mother's sparkling brooch, before trailing up your neck and over your face. 

Mercifully, his eye connected with yours, and a glint caught your attention. You could see a sheen of sweat collect on his temple, and your worry took over.

"What is wrong, sweet boy?" You asked, concern lacing your tone. Taking your left hand and bringing the back of it to the exposed, right side of his face, you clicked your tongue and remarked, "Tch. You're burning up."

"Nothing is wrong," he assured you, taking your hand back in his and bringing it down. "Everything is so right, and that's why I've been... pussified."

"Pussified?" You laughed. Kakashi's smile deepened impossibly and he looked down to your hands again. "The scariest shinobi, in all the land, has been pussified? What ever could have this power?"

"You think I'm scary?" Kakashi asked, sounding nervous and granting himself a brief glimpse of your face.

You smiled, shaking your head, "Nah, you don't scare me, not anymore."

Kakashi nodded a nod that had his hair bouncing. He looked back at your hands as his thumb traced over your knuckles. "Good," he mumbled. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I scared you."

"I've got quite the affect on you, huh?" You teased, knowing damn-well that he affected you so much more.

"Indeed, you do, you gorgeous woman," Kakashi answered, like it was obvious. Then, he sighed, "You affect me more than you know 'cause you're... so different... you're the kind of girl that fits in with my world, and I... I just... need you-" Then he started speaking so fast, he started to trip over his own tongue, "-I need to tell you how... how much I like you, and how much I wanna- want to love you, and hold you, 'n' kiss you, 'n'-"

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down." 

Fuck, you could've jumped for joy if Kakashi wasn't right in front of you.

"I'm sorry," he immediately said, squeezing your hands harshly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't've-"

"Eh, eh, no take-backs," you interrupted. Kakashi's eye jumped to your face, full of a certain flavour of fright. You chuckled lowly, and smiled broadly, which did nothing to relax the silver haired shinobi in front of you. With a breath, you told him, "I... feel the same way."

Narrowing his eye, Kakashi leaned his head back and asked, "Do you, now?"

"Hey, I've been into you since you pulled me over, way back in October, so I don't wanna hear it-"

"You have?" He seemed genuinely shocked by that revelation.

You scoffed, "You say that like you don't own a mirror." Stretching your neck out a little, you added, "No, seriously, I was totally enamored with you-"

"Was?" 

"Am," you corrected begrudgingly. "Are you going to question every single thing I tell you, or are you going to kiss me? Because, it's looking like-"

In an instant, Kakashi let go of your hands. One of his hands cupped your cheek, while the other came to the bridge of his nose. He brought you close, and you could smell... tequila? Only for a split second, before he pulled the fabric from his face and pressed his lips to yours before you could admire him for even a breath.

Oh, definitely tequila. His lips were so fucking warm, and so fucking soft. You hummed into the kiss, unable to withhold it, and Kakashi's arm came around your waist, bring you infinitely closer as his tongue ran along your bottom lip.

A shiver ran up your spine, and you could feel fireworks within your chest. Your head started spinning, and you stopped being able to feel the ground beneath your feet.

You pulled away and immediately ducked your head into Kakashi's shoulder. You wanted to scream, and jump, and cry, all at the same time, and all for joy.

"That wasn't your first kiss, was it?" Kakashi asked, pulling you into a hug. All you could do was shake your head, feeling a swell of some strange, unnamable emotion. You'd mull it over later; for now, you pushed it aside as Kakashi sighed, "Ah, I could only be so lucky."

"So- so- so- so, what... what are we doing?" You asked, bringing your hand to your lips and feeling the lingering tingle of his.

Kakashi pulled you away from him, and smiled. You could see his lips pull up, and the way his smile lines defined his face. You could see his smile, and you never wanted to stop seeing his smile. As your eyes roamed his face, his revealed eye did the same to yours.

A little while passed, and you felt no need to move. Not until you got your answer, at least, and this was a great pastime.

With a shallow breath, Kakashi broke the silence, and said, "We're doing whatever you want to do."

"Terrible idea, I'm demanding as fuck," you joked warmly.

"I've never seen you demand a thing," Kakashi countered swiftly, the corner of his lip quirking as he spoke. "And if you've just been hiding that from me, I'll give you anything, everything - if you want things."

"I don't want things... just you."

"Then, you have me."

You narrowed your eyes, sucking on the inside of your cheek. Cautiously, you asked, "So... are we going steady, then?"

"Do you want to go steady?"

Fucking stars, man, you just wanted an answer. "Obviously, I do - do you?"

"Yeah," he hummed contently. "Exclusive, right?"

"Is that not the point of going steady?"

Putting his hands up in mock-defense, smiling broadly, Kakashi chuckled, "Just making sure Raido doesn't have a chance with my girl."

"None at all, and I fear you may have ruined my dancing with him," you replied with a laugh, feeling lighter than air as the circumstance set in. You were talking to your boyfriend, now. You were spoken for, now. 

"Oh, no," he quipped, feigning worry. "How ever will I live with myself, if my lover can't dance with other men?"

Feeling a bit shameful, you rolled your eyes and scoffed, "Bugger off."

"I was going to propose quite the opposite, actually." Cripes, why did he have to be so suave? Your attention was piqued, and Kakashi noticed, basking in your questioning gaze for a moment before he grinned, "We should pop up to my apartment, have a couple cookies, and get to know each other, outside of our files."

"How untoward," you teased.

Without his mask, you could see how clearly Kakashi displayed his emotions with his mouth. The smile fell from his lips in an instant, and he said, "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Oh, take a joke, boyfriend," you laughed, hooking your arm around his and moving the two of you toward his complex. "Besides, just 'cause I'm a pure, naive, little virgin doesn't mean I have any objection to pre-marital acts... I just don't... haven't ever enjoyed the company of a man so much, before."

"Awe, are you saying I'm the Chosen One?" Kakashi cooed, at some point having put his mask back on, moving up the steps to his building's front door. 

"Well, if we were characters in some fantasy story, sure," you shrugged with a smile as you ran up the stairs. Reaching the top first, you pulled open the door and bowed deeply, motioning Kakashi into his own building like he was a daimyo. "My liege."

"The Hell are you doing?" He chuckled as he walked past you and stopped, waiting for you to join his side. 

You did, gently closing the door behind you as you answered, "Doesn't the Chosen One deserve kingly treatment for being the hero of the story?"

"Mm, he only ever gets it from the Lover at the very end of the tale, and we're only at the beginning."

"And what the Hell am I in the story, then? Fuckin' Igor?" Getting into the staircase, Kakashi laughed loudly, shaking his head and trying to tamp it down. The vibrations bounced around the walls so beautifully, letting Kakashi's melodic laugh last longer than he let it. With a sigh, you added, "Don't you think that's a crime, anyway? The Chosen One not getting an ounce of love until the end of the story?"

Kakashi shrugged as he climbed the stairs, "He wouldn't be much of a character, without any trial or tribulation."

"Yeah, but too much hardship turns the Chosen One into the Villain," you argued. Making it past the second floor, you huffed, "And too many fucking stairs turn this Igor into a shaking mess- how you do these stairs every day, I do not know."

Making it to a landing, Kakashi stopped and turned to you, waiting for you to join him on the landing. You were grateful for the break, until it turned out to not be a break.

Sweeping you into his arms, in a bridal hold, Kakashi started climbing the stairs again as if nothing had happened.

"Are you not... man, I'm heavy, you're gonna-"

"You're as heavy to me as a cat is to a bear, Lover," he told you, voice firm and unwavering. He didn't sound very taxed, or even a little winded. "If it weren't for my side, I'd be able to carry you with one arm, and a tuba in the other."

"Now you're just trying to impress me," you laughed, shifting your weight to the side you knew was unaffected.

Not denying you, Kakashi hummed, "Is it working?"

"Very much so, but I'll need to see some proof."

"You just let me know when you get your hands on a tuba, darling."

How did conversation flow so naturally between you and Kakashi? There were very few people you routinely talked to that seemed to be able to stand you, but he seemed to do much more than just tolerate you. It seemed to you that you had finally found someone who could you could play off of, and you were shocked by how easy it actually was to speak to him.

Slowly, but surely, the remaining hours of night bled into the early hours of morning, while the two of you sat on Kakashi's bed. His mask was left abandoned, around his neck, the second the two of you were in the privacy of Kakashi's apartment. Over the night, you two shared an innumerable amount of tea, and cleaned off the plate of sugar cookies that you had brought over earlier, while talking.

And talking. And talking. And talking.

Neither of you could stop the flow of conversation, even if you tried. There was always something to say. Your topics ranged, from the gossip you'd picked up from Genma's friends, to traumas, to completely theoretical, philosophical problems surrounding the undue bloodiness of the life of a ninja.

You divulged every inch of your backstory; your parents' deaths during the attack, and your consequential clinging to Genma; how you would throw up at the thought of harming someone else, but were given the goriest patients in your early apprenticeship, because you had the strongest stomach; even down to the one other boyfriend you'd ever had, Kamizuki Izumo. You were only fourteen, but you thought you really did like him. You didn't - not if liking someone was supposed to feel how you felt now, with Kakashi.

In turn, Kakashi pulled back all the redaction that you had been previous affronted with in his file. He told you about his mother, then his father, and all the shame. Then, he told you about his Genin team... and the events that surrounded them, which only piled more shame onto Kakashi's shoulders. The shame then became attached to his will to prove himself a valuable member of society within the Leaf, he told you, which pushed him into the ANBU. He told you about the Nine Tails attack, from the perspective of Lord Fourth's lead guard, and then the following guilt he held. He told you about his current position in the specialized force, but couldn't give you anything further.

"I'm sorry, it's just for-"

"Hey, man, I had to enter into an NDA with the medical corps, too, don't worry," you assured him, clutching you tea close enough to your face that the steam was making you sweat a little. "Confidentiality is such a fucking thing in this village; all anyone cares about are secrets."

"Too true," Kakashi agreed, dunking one of the final cookies into his tea. You wondered how the sencha would do with the biscuit, and watched Kakashi's reaction. He bit it, then scoffed, "Fuck, we should have been doing this the whole time."

"It's that good, huh?" You followed suit before Kakashi hummed his affirmation, dunking the last half of cookie into your tea and biting it. It fell apart in your mouth, and the bitter undercut of the tea really did work well with the fullness of the kinako powder. You nodded, "Can't believe I haven't tried that before."

"Well, there are a few things I can't believe you haven't tried," your boyfriend remarked with a teasing smirk. Before you could respond, Kakashi's air turned anxious and he asked, "Anyway... do you want to know about my... previous engagements, or...?"

"Honestly, no." Your answer seemed to relieve both of you, but Kakashi still raised a brow in question as he finished the cookie. With a small, bashful smile, you explained, "The idea of you being with someone else kinda makes me... sick? Nauseated, that's for sure."

"I hear that," Kakashi chuckled as you popped the last bit of your biscuit in your mouth. He drank the last bit of tea in his cup before leaning to put it on the ground, then asked, "Are you jealous, or is it something else?"

"Oh, fuckin' right I'm jealous," you admitted, sipping your tea. Kakashi laughed lowly, and you shrugged, "I want you so bad, and it's gutting to know that other people have had you already." Your nose twitched, and you couldn't stop yourself from adding, "Especially when one of those people is my best friend."

That wiped the smile right off of Kakashi's face. Even you could feel a small pang in your chest, feeling the weight of your words on your tongue. It finally occurred to you that Kasumi would find out about your evolved relationship to Kakashi, either by the grapevine, or your own mouth, and she would certainly not be a happy camper, either way - no matter how many promises of permission she made.

"I meant what I said at the izakaya, as mean as it was," Kakashi mumbled, making you purse your lips and look down at your tea cup. "Though I meant it more like... if I had known you were there, waiting for me... I would have waited for you."

"Waiting sucks, man, you wouldn't have fucked with it," you joked, to Kakashi's surprise. Still, after the initial shock wore off, his smile crept back into his face as you said, "But I'm glad I did... my first time would have been wasted on someone I didn't really like."

"You really like me?" Kakashi asked, in a test of the teasing variety.

You nodded and looked at him with a grin. "I really, really like you."

"Take that, double it; that's how much I like you."

"Not a chance, Lance Romance - you can't even conceptualize how much I like you."

"Peanuts," he dismissed with a grin. "You know the universe?"

Feigning a moment of ignorance, you tapped your chin and asked, "The infinite one?"

"That's the one," Kakashi nodded, reaching out to bop your nose with his index finger. "My like for you is bigger than the infinite universe, tenfold."

"What a sap," you chortled, finishing your cup of tea and setting it on the ground before you laid back, onto Kakashi's crossed legs. With your head in his lap, Kakashi tensed for a second, before settling more comfortably and brushing the hair out of your face. 

"So very sappy, for you," he hummed, fingers trailing down your cheek to cup your face on either side.

"Then how's about a kiss? My lips are awfully cold," you offered, still feeling a bit novel at all this.

Kakashi's fingers encircled the underside of your jaw as his eye traced your facial features slowly. He hummed, contemplating his answer, and taking his time. So much time that you got anxious, and started biting your lip.

With his index finger, Kakashi pulled your lip down and looked at the glistening of spit for a second before he leaned down without a word. You angled your head up to meet him, but you were in a strange position, so there wasn't much you could do.

It was an odd kiss, that felt almost funny, but still sent wild electric shocks through your body. It was the upside-down-factor, but that didn't stop you from giggling against Kakashi's lip. He pulled up with a smile, looking down at you in your joy. "Don't tell me you're laughing at me."

"'Course not," you grinned, sitting up to be on your knees. "It just felt weird to have your nose tickle my chin."

As his eye darted between your lips and eyes, you got Kakashi's message and leaning forward with a smile, for another kiss. Your lips met his so kindly that you almost groaned at the contact.

Pulling you onto his lap without breaking the kiss, Kakashi's arms encircled your hips loosely. You were tired, your liver was crying, and your pussy throbbed - so, when Kakashi shimmied you both into a more prone position on his bed, you were game for anything.

You pulled up as his kiss got a bit slower. And you looked at him. 

The yellow light from his light fixture gave his skin a wonderful glow, and you wondered for a moment if Kakashi spent any time in the sun. He was a man made for the night, you figured, the light in his eye held far too many stars to not be.

Without a word, you rose from his chest and padded over to the light. You pulled the chain till it clicked, then washed the room in darkness. 

Strips of the sunrise peered through the curtains, and you could hear mourning doves if you tried hard enough. The faint buzz of Kakashi's fridge and his soft breaths were the only sounds that filled the room, which left you the room to breathe. A feeling of peace came over you, being surrounded by Kakashi's fresh citrus scent.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Kakashi called softly from the bed. "How's about a cuddle? I'm feeling a chill."

So, with a small, contented smile, you strode over to the bed and climbed in beside Kakashi. He tucked you under his arm, and held you to his chest. Ripples of heat came off of him still, and you put your hand and head to his chest to see if his heart was beating irregularly.

"Relax," Kakashi mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You'll be able to check me out properly in... three hours, so we better rest up now."

Turning your head up, you caught Kakashi's lips again. The kiss was lazy, and so very slow, but it felt so right, and soothing to both souls. It lingered, as you laid your head on his shoulder and Kakashi craned his neck, but, soon, the throws of sleep began to call to you both.

Gentle as a kiss, a tear drop, or a star's twinkle, you two drifted to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace; finally, having left nothing unsaid.

A/n: how do we feel? did we fw this?

[neetily]

↳ EVENT 45. Sebastian (Jealousy Sex & Incest)

— ✧ warnings: Jealousy Issues, jealousy sex, Incest, stepcest, Pseudo-Incest, Manipulation, clueless!reader, dubcon, Cheating, Creampie — ✧ word count: 3,197

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

There are many perks that come with being the eldest sibling. For one, his word is final. Always has been, really. Even when you were half his size and sporting those baby fat chubby little cheeks, cute little pout on your lips; didn't matter what he said, he knew you would always listen to him regardless. Because that's what little sisters do, right? They listen well to their big brothers, always relying on him to know exactly what you should do at any given moment.

It's not his fault that you're gullible to a T.

Another benefit is that he's always right too. So even if you whinge and complain at his bossing around, he knows just how easy you are to tire out, because you know just how right he really is. He hasn't failed you yet, has he? No matter the circumstances, you can trust him to be right when it comes to you. No you shouldn't wear that skirt to that party, promise I'm not looking at you any kind of way, you should probably pick up some more panties now that we're out. Always, always, Sebastian is right. Like he always says to you: Big brothers intuition. And you never seem to fight him too hard on it, which is good. It's preferred. It's easier that way, for you too, right? There's no need to use that empty little head of yours when he's around!

Perhaps his favourite perk of being your big brother, however, is how much he's trusted with you. Not just from how much trust you personally put in him, though to know that you depend on him for daily life things is sweet enough as it is. It's even better when his mom and your dad leave you all alone with him for an extended weekend, as is usually the case at least once a month. Date night or whatever, he never cared too much for the reasons, too focused on the fact that he has free reign access to you completely for a few days. Yeah, yeah. I'll babysit her— even in your adulthood. Ignorant to his real intentions, all involved remain blissfully unaware of just how degenerate he truly is— especially when it comes to you.

If they did, he'd never be allowed near you again.

He'd hoped to have waited a little bit longer, though. Sweetened you up some more, have you perched right on the edge of confession before enacting his perverted fantasies upon you; and yet here you are, laying under him so pliantly, submissively sniffing up at him as he lines his red hot leaking tip up to your sopping little hole as if it were natural to do so, and not some forced plotline from the plenty incest pornos he's watched. If only y'hadn't brought your boyfriend over last night, yeah? Taking the prime opportunity your parents have offered you and running with it— a free house, of course you had to invite him over. You might be dumb, but you're not stupid, he expected as much. Encouraged it, even. Wanted you to enjoy yourself before charming you for a night, letting you mess around before making you all his. What you didn't have to do was get plowed by your boyfriend so hard all night long, and keep your loving, doting, wanting brother awake with a fist pumping away frantically at his rock hard cock, listening intently to the forced moans you let out from your locked room.

That, might make you stupid.

Don't you think he deserves a go, too? After all, he's your big brother. You should be wanting to offer him up some hole too, yeah?

It's not difficult to see just how jealous he is deep down. He's not trying to hide it very well, his muscles tight as he looms above, eyes squinting down at you. Sure, he knew that you had a boyfriend, but that's just a little play time, right? Deep down, you know exactly who you belong to. You should have known better than to disrespect him in his house by moaning so prettily for another man, so it's only fair that you suffer some consequences. Don't you know just how long he's been waiting, planning, scheming to make you his? He doesn't so much mind that you aren't a virgin, but rather than you chose to fuck some other guy in his house. Makes his tummy turn with upset.

"Um... You're like, absolutely sure that this isn't cheating, Sebby?" Your body quivers with your shaky words, batting your eyelashes up at him so prettily like that, he's forced to take a moment to collect himself before giving you an answer. Poor baby, is big brother being mean to you? He's only giving you what you deserve, afterall.

With his cock head still slipping between your folds, smearing precum all over your puffy little sister clit, he offers you a faux sweet sigh of relief. "Promise, silly," He lightly scolds you, flashing you a playful smile to hopefully break you in, wear you down enough so that it's easier for you to give him what he wants. It's all he has to do at the end of the day, dupe you onto his side. "I'm your big brother, right? We're just playing. That's all! You aren't doing anything wrong, okay?"

It takes you a moment to fully comprehend his words, but the meek little nod up at his lies fills him with so much joy immediately, lust pooling in his tummy upon earning your coerced consent. Bad big brother, isn't he? Taking advantage of your innocence, letting his tip drool precum all over your cute little sister cunt with corrupting intent; fuck, such a pretty pussy you've got, it's a shame he's had to wait so long to fuck it.

"If big brother says so..."

"'Zactly, you got it," He coos down at you softly, extending a hand to help fluff up the pillow under your head for you to be as comfortable as possible, his chest tight at the sound of your cute giggled thanks to contrast the way that his cock still twitches against your slit. Just playing, just a little play time with your beloved big bro, that's all! "You trust me, don't you?" he preys on your people pleasing tendencies, fist squeezing tight at the base of his cock just to tap his tip against your clit a few times. An action that earns a gasp from you, and himself at the heated connection, precum string keeping him connected to you as he sucks in some air through his teeth. "Don't you love me?"

Rotten to the core, he figures that he'd never be able to express to you just how much he adores that look of absolute worry on your pretty face, flustering to reassure him that yes, you do love him! yes, you do trust him! After all, he's taken such good care of you thus far, right? It's just— there's that big brother itch, y'know? Forever gnawing at him, body begging for him to indulge, to satisfy you better than your boyfriend could ever, to have you relying him for even this. God, he can imagine it even now as he hovers above you, one hand lightly stroking at his cock, the other stabilising himself next to your head. Images of having you wander into his room late at night, tugging sheepishly at your shirt, rubbing your legs together with blushy cheeks. Can you help me, big brother? That's the fucking dream, y'know?

"Then, you want to play too, right?" He cocks his head at you, clearly seeking an obvious answer; of which you give almost immediately with a quick head nod, shyly chewing on your bottom lip as he smiles down at you lovingly. You're so easy to manipulate, he thinks. Serving yourself up on a silver platter for his selfish desires. Dirty wants, lewd wishes. So pretty when you're being such a shy baby too, his shy little sister, on her back for him with your legs hiked up to allow him space between them. You're prettiest when you're unwittingly submitting to him, he thinks.

And it's nice to know that this was all your idea, right? Wasn't it? He could have swore...

Sighing deeply, he lets his cock drag down to your hole instinctively, tip catching on it slowly, showing you restraint only because he doesn't want to scare you off too much. If he had it his way, he'd have you folded in half already, turning you into some sort of squeaky toy from how many hiccups he'd like to fuck outta ya. But alas, he genuinely treasures you too— even if he has a funny way of showing it. Giving you a quick plain look once he's properly situated between your legs, an eyebrow raised at the way you immediately tense up under his gaze, but the glassy eyes and trembling lips that greet him back provide enough consent for him to just— push. Just a little, popping his tip into your tight little sister cunt for the first time ever and God, he— "Fuck me," He whispers to himself, voice all trembly and caught in his throat at the sheer tightness of your cunt, jealousy burrowing deeper in his tummy at the way he can finally feel that your boyfriend hasn't been fucking you right; so not only have you been messing around with someone unworthy behind his back, but the guy hasn't even been taking care of you properly? Dummy, big brother was here the whole time— He'll just have to fuck you well enough to force you into requiring his dirty touch instead, yeah? Get you away from your pathetic play thing and back into big brothers loving arms and twitching cock, leaking precum to collect at your hole, can you feel the way it gushes out around his cock as he pushes further in? Unable to keep holding back for you, driven to claim you as his own by the way your face scrunches up cutely as he makes you feel the burn of every. Single. Inch.

"Tight cunt, shit—" He heaves above you, not missing the way you mewl and whine pitifully for him, struggling to accept the stretch his fat cock offers you, but doing so well, doing your best to impress big brother, aren't you? "Shh, it's okay. Gonna look after you, like always, yeah?" He hushes your feeble sounds, little baby babbles that only make his cock harder, to be honest. "Jus' gotta trust big brother, all y'gotta do is sit there and look pretty— easy."

And though he's doing his best to reassure you, pushing his hips all the way until they rest against your ass, balls deep in the one hole he's supposed to avoid, he can't help but to shiver himself at the amount of hedonistic pleasure that comes with taking you like this. Under false pretence, soothing his own self indulgent jealousy by way of letting his precum stain your insides sticky, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your cunt is so warm and soft for him, walls squirming around his fat cock so nicely, like your body just knows how much better he can treat you as compared to your boyfriend.

Pinned under him, at the mercy of his restraint, he gives you a barely audible "Gonna move now, kay?" through gritted teeth. Doesn't even wait for your response before moving, far too lost in the reality of dragging his hips back, only to push them back gently inside of his baby sister, into your little cunt, gasping loudly at the way she squelches for him, fuckin' soaked for big brother, yeah? Pretty body is just begging for him to look after you, sucking his cock off so well already— better than anything he's ever experienced before; which is why you're his little sister, right? It makes sense, he thinks, settling into a comfortable enough pace to have you gripping at his arms for grounding, his eyes glued to your pretty tits as they bounce with every easy thrust of his hips; nice and easy, for now. You're his sister, so you're made perfect for him, yeah? Cock slotting inside of your cute cunt so easily, wrapped around him so tightly that it's almost a little winding if he's honest. But that's a good thing, huffing above you with furrowed brows at the subtle sounds he rocks out of you, every thrust intent on winning you over, back where you belong— on the end of his cock. A squirming, moaning, little sister mess for him to fully enjoy in the privacy of the empty house.

Which is disgusting, right? How much he yearns for you, deciding himself who you belong to, simply because he can. Gross how every single thrust of his pervert cock into your squishy little cunt is purposeful, precise as he picks up the pace as soon as you're settled, stroking himself off as if you were his favourite onahole, dirtying your insides like it was a practiced routine, a natural conclusion to his relationship with you. And you look so cute taking your big brothers cock, you can't expect him to resist those soft sounds, right? Coaxing him into fucking you harder with the pretty pout you give him, convincing him to grip one hand at your waist to help bounce you back down his cock with tandem movements, a sly smirk tugging on his lips at the increased volume of your moans, breaking out into breathless laughter above you when you arch your back into his touch.

"Feelin' good?" He slurs for you, balls slapping against your ass with the quicker pace he humps you into, wet skin on skin echoing in his room to match the sweet suck of your cunt, gushing slick around the base of his cock every time he bullies his way to the hilt. Tiny fucking cunt, making him feel so good, shivering into you with every heavy fuck forward, trembling with you every time he drags your cunt back down his length. He'll fuck you into his shape if it's the last thing he ever does, completely and utterly in love with how good you make him feel, and you aren't even doing any of the work. "C'mon, tell big brother how it feels— fuck, got s'tight baby," He breaks out into a genuine smile, immediately clocking on to the fact that you're getting off to hearing his voice, like a fucking degenerate. Just like him, yeah? Two peas in a filthy, perverted, cock dribbling, cunt squirming, sibling fucking pod. "Better than your boyfriend, right? S'okay, y'can be— shit, please be honest with me—" He can't help but to want to hear you stroke his ego, pounding you into his bed sheets like it was any other normal weekend. The springs in his bed squeaking under his fast fucks, you should be thankful that he's pinning you in place, effectively locked you in under him as he ruts against you unfairly, hand on your hip as your legs cling to has waist for dear life.

And it's difficult to hear you through the babbled moans he fucks out of you, high pitched sobs of enjoyment for his cock to twitch at, cute little cunt clenching around him every time he tugs you down his girth. And then when he buries himself aaaall the way inside, tip kissing against your sweet spot almost on purpose as if to make the act of talking itself difficult for you, your words get cut off with a pretty silent gasp. He can't help himself, you're just too cute when you're acting so helpless for him. "It's— Seb—! Better, promise— so good." You eventually choke out, interrupted by sweet hiccups and sniffles, doing so well not only by taking his cock, but by calming his unjust jealousy with such simple words. Because he fucking believes you when you say it too, how can he not? The bright blush you wear on your cheeks, eyes squeezed tightly shut as your back arches so prettily for him, voice all strained and interrupted by whines and sighs with every little jerk of his cock deep inside of you. He knew he could fuck you better, because big brothers are always right, remember?

"Bigger too, yeah? Fuckin' you so deep, feel that?" He urges you, hand on your tummy to apply the smallest amount of pressure, but it's enough to have you fucking sobbing on his cock. Little cunt gripping him so tightly that he can barely move for a second or two, in awe of how pretty you look when creaming his cock for the first time ever as your hole starts to convulse around the base of it, and he's caught unaware. Like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide open and blown black with lust, trying to imprint in his mind the cute face of bliss you wear when jerking his cock off with your orgasm for use later tonight, he's never felt so honestly good before; it's so fucking unfair.

He'd liked to have fucked you for longer, fold you in half like he's always wanted to. But as he's quickly following suit, triggered by your intense wave of pleasure, his own orgasm takes hold of him and he's gripping your waist with both hands so harshly. Digging his nails into your soft skin, bucking sloppily, messy little sounds reaching his ears as you writhe and whine for him, your name falling from his lips in a soft sigh of sheer desperation. Still yet fucking you full as he shoots his big brother cum into your tiny cunt, wincing at the way his load seeps out around his cock to stain his sheets all sticky; just like your insides.

And he doesn't stop fucking you, only slows down. Even when he's done and fully milked, he continues to rut into you, trying to prolong how good he feels in a vain effort to quell the bubbling jealousy in his heart.

Because even now, after he's fucked you thoroughly, promised you that he'd take care of you, he can't help but to indulge a little further. You've yet to answer his question, so like a good big brother, he reminds you of it while you catch your breath.

"Bigger too, right?" He laughs without pause, head hanging low to try and collecting himself after exerting so much energy into making you cum on his cock, trying to reconcile with how fucking pretty you looked just moments ago, and how he just knows (big brother intuition) that you've ruined him for anyone else now. "Should jus' start using me instead—" He heaves, cringing as he inevitably has to pull out of your warm little cunt and some of his seed spills down your ass with him. But fuck if it isn't the prettiest thing he's ever seen either, all sloppy with seed, so cute.

"Promise I'll always be there to help y'out always. Like a good big brother."