|8.2k| Summary: At the age of sixteen you and Steve made a pact that, if you were still both virgins by the age of twenty, you’d be each other’s firsts, just to get it out of the way.
Blood drips steadily from the cut on your forehead, warm and annoyingly persistent as you sit on the edge of Remus’s bathroom counter.
“It’s barely even deep,” you insist for the third time.
The crease between Remus’s brows doesn't let up from where he’s digging through the cabinet for bandages.
“You said that when your wrist was fractured.”
“In my defense, it only felt sprained.”
He shoots you a look over his shoulder—tired, unimpressed, and painfully fond.
Rain taps softly against the flat windows while the tiny bathroom fills with the sharp scent of antiseptic. Remus finally finds what he's looking for with a quiet hum before stepping back between your knees.
“Hold still.”
You try to. You really do.
But the second the disinfectant touches the cut, you hiss dramatically and jerk away.
Remus catches your jaw gently before you can move too far,
"Oh don't be ridiculous,” he mutters. “You’ve survived far worse than this.”
“That stings!”
“Yes,” He says dryly, dabbing at the cut again, “That tends to happen.”
You glare weekly while he works.
His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing faded scars along his forearms. His hair is still damp from the rain outside, curls messier than usual after dragging you both home in a rush.
He looks exhausted,
That familiar guilt twirls low in your stomach.
“You didn’t have to leave the meeting early for me,” you mumble.
That makes him pause.
Only for a second,
Then he continues carefully pressing gauze to your forehead.
“You were hurt.”
“It is quite literally just a cut.”
“You were bleeding.”
“As cuts usually do.” you quip back.
But the firmness in his voice catches you off guard.
Remus finally glances up, brown eyes darker than before.
“I don’t particularly enjoy seeing you hurt,” he says quietly.
Oh.
The bathroom suddenly feels much smaller.
You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very aware of how close he’s standing.
Remus seems to realize it too a second later because his expression shifts almost imperceptibly, like he regrets saying it out loud.
His attention snaps back to the bandage.
“There,” he says after a moment, smoothing the edges against your skin with frustrating gentleness. “All patched up.”
You don't move.
Neither does he.
His hands linger near your face for half a second too long.
Then—
“You’re staring,” Remus murmurs.
“You’re hovering.”
“I’m making sure you don't start bleeding again.”
“You already fixed it.”
“Hm.”
But he still doesn’t step away.
Outside, thunder rumbles softly through the storm.
Inside, Remus’s thumb brushes once against your cheekbone before he seems to catch himself.
His hand drops immediately.
“Try not to get injured again tomorrow,” he says, voice quieter now.
You smile slightly.
“No promises.”
That earns you the smallest, fondly exasperated look.
“Impossible,” he mutters before leaving you alone in the bathroom with a soft click of the door.
supposed to be taking an exam but i'm thinking of sirius and remus being secretly so envious of each other. sirius is so jealous that remus is able to care so much about school and apply himself and be regarded as a talented individual. remus wishes he could float through life with the same uncaring nonchalance and sociability sirius does. sirius doesn't know that remus can only apply himself because, if not a good student with prospects of a good career, he feels he is only a burden to his friends and a liability to the world. remus doesn't know sirius feels aimless and like he's wasting himself on mediocrity and only puts himself out there so much so that others don't look down upon his lack of initiative. UGHH. send me more requests i can't stop thinking of them.
A/N: This one is such a sweet request and I was planning on making it longer but I kind of decided to cut it short, think it turned out cuter that way!! Anyways, thank you to this anon for requesting!! Smooches <3
Warning(s): Fluff, George angst if you squint, Gryffindors being stereotypical to Slytherins, Reader is an absolute sweetheart and George is struggling.
Word count: 3.1k
Dividers by @strangergraphics!! ,
Hogwarts was filled with the usual hum of students scampering off to their morning classes—the chatter and easy breeze of the school at 9 am. George was in no hurry whatsoever, leaning against the wall outside the great hall with Fred. It was the usual easy conversation, mindlessly flowing between the twins.
“Oh. Eugh.” Fred groaned, looking down the now emptier hall. At first, George thought he was talking about Draco and his little posse of bullies cornering two Gryffindor first-year girls. It wasn’t surprising. Fred usually ignored it because it was never surprising.
“Bloody prefects think they’re so perfect.” Fred continued, making George’s attention snap to the figure walking up the hallway. You. Uniform so perfect it looked like it was taken straight off a mannequin, Hair proper, prefect badge sharp and glimmering on your robes.
Neither of the boys thought you’d do anything about the bullying. No Slytherin prefect ever did, not when it came to Draco and his little boyband. “Exhausting, isn’t it? The same people with them. Why do they even bother making Slytherin’s prefect?” George mumbled back to his brother.
But when you grabbed the back of Draco’s robes and yanked, both of them looked like they’d been electrocuted.
“Malfoy! Merlin’s sake, really?! This again? Do I need to write to your mother about your severe lack of manners?” You hissed, glaring down at the startled boy. The rest of his group stilled, looking at eachother in pure bewilderment; no one really stopped them. Usually, they’d be disregarded by everyone because Draco was a Malfoy.
Draco gaped, “Hey– You can’t– Don’t touch me!” He hissed, cheeks flushing red in humiliation. The two Gryffindor girls stood there like deer in headlights, unsure of whether to run or stay. “Draconis Lucius Malfoy, I will go straight to Snape and write to your mother representing Slytherin House as head of the house—”
“Okay!” He huffed, completely red with humiliation now, his friends staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “What—whatever.” He sputtered, pulling away and storming off. George and Fred looked gobsmacked. No one stood up to Malfoy—barely any teachers either. It was clear the boy wasn’t used to it either, with the way he practically tripped over his own tail rushing out.
You leaned closer to the two girls, who immediately rushed over to cling to your robes and bury their faces in your belly. You smiled, heart fluttering in pure adoration, placing your hands on their hair. “You two okay? He’s all bark, I promise.” You mumbled, coaxing the girls into telling you their names.
George was practically choking on air, Fred still like he’d been turned to stone. It was a majorly confusing encounter. “It’s unnatural.” He breathed, making Fred nod quickly. “This may be a moment in Slytherin history. They’re learning compassion.” The other mumbled back, crossing his arms. “Probably some stupid ploy to get people’s guards down.”
George nodded, but his mind was slowly drifting away to the way you took each girl’s hands in your own, guiding them to their, letting them chat your ear off. It was odd—unusual for a Slytherin to be so.. nice. He didn’t really pay attention to Slytherins at all, really, but actually seeing one be nice felt like catching your brother having sex; it was seeing something he didn’t want to see cause it changed the way you thought about them.
“What’s the point of being a prefect if you don’t give me the password for the special bathroom?!” Gilderoy scoffed, scowling. He sat on the floor of your dorm as you cut his long hair into the boyish hairstyle he wanted.
“For the last time, no. I’m not going to risk my position cause you want to take a bubblebath, Roy.” You grumbled, grabbing your wand to dispose of the scattered hair strands on your floor—gesturing for him to check out his new hairstyle. He grinned wider as he checked himself out, mumbling something about fake friends.
You sighed, getting up and nudging him on the back. “C’mon. Get dressed. I’ll go find Cedric to borrow a pair of his pants, leave your skirt on my bed.” You grumbled, slipping on your slippers. It was really early in the morning, all prefects were meant to get up early to give night round reports to the heads of their houses.
The massive common room was cold and silent, the only sound was the distant rush of the black lake above the ceilings of the dungeons. The air got crisper upon leaving the dungeons and entering the main hallway network of the school, the newfound warmth highly welcome in the early morning. You kept walking till you hit the Hufflepuff kitchens, awkwardly standing infront of the entrance to the common room before knocking on the wooden door. “Diggory?” You called out, shoving your hands in your pockets as you waited for the guy who, barely five seconds later, swung open the door and shoved the pants in your hands. “Yeah, yeah, here–one sec. I have a situation with these two bloody fourth years–”
The door slammed in your face, you rolled your eyes.
The walk back to the dungeons was more peaceful, quieter. You took the long route; you had the time anyway. You decided to report to Snape early, moving to his office—there’s a chance he wouldn’t be there, but that just meant you could quickly jot down a written report and not have to go through the trouble of actually talking to the man.
You passed his potions closet before stilling at a shuffle inside. You frowned. Turned.
“Professor Snape?” You said softly, the shuffling ceased completely.
Okay. Not Snape.
You frowned, reaching for the handle. “If this is a student, I’d recommend exiting the closet before I start deducting points in the hundreds.”
An empty threat, you’d never really do that. You didn’t like getting people in trouble for small stuff like curfews or restricted areas; they were harmless offences. It wasn’t worth the trouble, put it was a good threat to whatever third or fourth year you thought snuck in there on a dare.
So when a tall, ginger bloke slipped out with the most sheepish grin on his face, wearing striped pyjamas, stood infront of you, you stilled for a second. Frowned. Tilted your head.
“George.” You said plainly, surprising him.
“How come not Fred, hm?” He huffed, making you shrug. “Your nose. A bit crooked. Longer.”
He huffed, rolling his eyes, slipped a small jar into his pocket. “Well, go ahead. Strip me of my points.” He muttered dryly, already expecting her to remove a ridiculous amount of points from his house. All Slytherin prefects did—almost like they had a personal vendetta against the Gryffidnors. This snake is no different.
“I’ll give you a warning; if I catch you again, it’s fifty points off.” You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the boy. “Please return to Gryffindor Tower.”
George stilled, frowning down at her, before grinning. He got away scott-free?
“And give me what you just put in your pocket.”
Okay, that’s unfair.
“It’s–it’s guy stuff.”
“It’s Leech juice.”
“No it’s Fluxweed.”
“So you did take something.”
Fuck.
You grinned, hands on your hips now. “C’mon, Weasley, hand it over now. I won’t make a big deal of this.” You mused, and George deflated, his guard slowly lowering at your easy demeanour. “Yeah, whatever..”
You took the jar from him, stepping into Snape’s ingredient closet to put the Fluxweed back before stepping out. “Steal when no one will find you.” You teased, making him scoff and cross his arms. “No one was supposed to! It’s bloody five and a half in the morning, prefects aren’t to wake until six!”
“Memorizing the schedule’s dedication. There was an update. We have to wake an hour early now because they’ll be imposing morning rounds.” You said softly, smiling up at him. It was clear he didn’t expect it, frowning at you in return, squirmy.
“Okay. I–I– Stop. Okay.” He muttered, looking away and scratching the back of his neck. You grinned wider, leaning forward. “You okay, Weasley? Your ears are going red.”
He scowled, looking away before scoffing. “Oh, you wish, don’t you? Find it fun? Making me uneasy?”
“Uneasy? I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re– You smiled!”
“My smile unsettled you? That’s just offensive, my smile’s lovely!”
“Oh, how humble, o mighty prefect.”
“Oh, nice one, are we not talking about how nice I was to not take away points even though I caught you stealing?!”
George huffed, pouted and leaned closer. “Borrowing! I’d replace it. I’m not evil, am I? Not like you and your unsettling smile.” You rolled your eyes, frowning. “Oh, is it? Is my smile unsettling? Scary? Spooky?”
You flashed him another smile purely out of spite, and he sputtered, covering his eyes. “God, it’s like staring at Medusa! You’ll turn me to stone, you gargoyle!”
“Gar–Gargoyle?!” You huffed, eyes wide as you swatted his shoulder. “I am a lady!”
He stuck out his tongue, swatting you back. “Stony, lumpy gargoyle–” You gasped again, smacking him harder. “Well– Well, you’re a troll! A big, bad troll! Stupid, lousy troll!”
He gave you a light, playful push, a smile growing on his lips. “A troll, now? Not very prefect-like, is it? Insulting a student? I should report that y’know.” He mused, making you snicker softly, tilting your head up at him. “Oh, try me, ginger.”
He lazily saluted before turning away and throwing up a hand as if to bid you adieu.
“Yeah, yeah. Bye, snakey.”
You could only giggle in response, waving despite the fact that he couldn’t see. “Bye, ginger!”
You didn’t think much about the interaction; you’re used to being nice to people, easily talking to people.
George, on the other hand, collapsed as soon as he turned the corner and practically began choking on his own spit as his face grew more and more red. It was all so unexpected. He was caught so off guard—that wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with you. He couldn’t let you make him like this, all flustered and unsteady. Slytherins were untrustworthy snakes. Sneaky, tricky, lying snakes.
He trudged his way back to his tower before dropping himself on Fred to tell him everything. His twin offered no solace, just groaned and reinforced his worst worries: snakes aren’t to be trusted, she’s playing with you, she’s evil, don’t fall for it.
George knew, he knew. But it felt too natural with you—he didn’t even realise you and him were borderline flirting till he walked away. So easy. Why was it easy? He wasn’t the suave one. Girls rushed to Fred more than they rushed to him. Of course, everyone usually felt the twins were interchangeable, and thus, it was the reason neither of them really dated. In fear of their girlfriend having a thing for their twin brother.
He refused to let himself get hurt, agreeing with Fred before slipping back into bed to sleep until class really started.
Willing himself not to think of you.
Today has been a busy day. You weren’t mad about it, though.
You’d put all your effort upon becoming a prefect to become a safe person for everyone, older or younger. It worked a little bit too well.
Every free minute you had was taken from you. Fifth years rushing to you after procrastinating a potions assignment, fourth years asking for help in charms, third years asking about rumours and gossip, second year boys asking you to end arguments and second year girls running to you in hysterics when they get their periods, first years running to you in tears after feeling homesick.
It was fulfilling; you took pride in it. Always helping people, always being constant.
People noticed; you shocked everyone. It was so un-Slytherin of you, to help more than what was required of you as a prefect. More than what was required of even the Head girl or boy.
George found it absolutely devastating—because just seeing you exist and act in a way that was seemingly normal made you plague his every thought. He couldn’t get you out of his head, his thoughts, his very being. He avoided you like the plague, but he still watched you from afar. It was like torturing himself, driving himself crazy.
It didn’t help that the entirety of Gryffindor House has an immense distaste for you; all the older kids brushed you off, regarding you as some Slytherin who finally learnt how to pretend to be likeable. George could only smile and mindlessly agree to a point. Then it became word vomit. A headache. Something he didn’t agree with to the point of physical recoil.
It didn’t help when you kept finding ways to bump into him. It wasn’t even intentional; you were just always everywhere. You were bound to spot him. Sweetheart that you were, you always tried to strike up a conversation as well. Always tried to talk to him.
Meanwhile, he’d be backing away like a feral animal with its leg caught in a trap. Not because he was worried people were right—but because they might be wrong. But they won’t accept that. George is smart enough to see through these things, to see stereotypes run deeper. They won;t accept that you’re a good person, not because they have proof otherwise, but because you’re a Slytherin. To them, it’s proof enough.
He didn’t want to go through the effort of having to hopelessly defend his totally not hopeless crush on you to everyone. It didn’t seem worth it, doing that over a girl he barely even knew. It begged the question: why did you enamour him so?
Maybe it was because you knew who he was from your very first interaction. Maybe it was because you didn’t bring up his twin whenever you two spoke—you spoke to him. Treated him like he’s his own person and not just someone’s twin. It seemed odd, feeling like the add-on twin, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t malice towards his brother; it was silent insecurity he refused to acknowledge. There were subtle differences in the twins that people subconsciously accepted. Fred was the name on everyone’s tongues. George was called Fred much more than Fred was called George.
Maybe that’s why he liked you. You didn’t mistake him for Fred, nor did you try to bring up Fred in any way. Not like you were actively avoiding it, but more so that you didn’t see the point in bringing up his brother when talking to him. It was something he hadn’t come across often. Someone who spoke to him. Not the twin part of him, but the individual part.
The way it made him feel lingered, affected him enough that your face was the first he searched for in every room.
So now, as he watched you crouch down and embrace some first-year Hufflepuff crying about missing his poodle back at home, his heart ached. Not for the boy, though it should, but because you felt like a dream he refused to let come true. Because that complicated things.
He lingered at the end of the hall, watched your seraphic form wipe the child’s tears and assured him his poodle could indeed read the letters he sent home, before taking him by the hand and walking him to his common room. He shuddered when you disappeared from view, slumped against the wall and dragged a hand down his face.
He was screwed, he knew it. You plagued his mind like no other, and even after relentlessly watching you for days and maybe even weeks to try and prove his housemates right, that you were evil. That this was just some mask—he couldn’t. It was simply who you were. It drew him in effortlessly.
Maybe it was the definitive understanding that everyone was wrong about you that helped him grow a backbone, or maybe the thoughts of you have finally bled from his mind to his physical actions. You were sitting at the edge of the black lake, under a sweater and the dim, moody glow of the late evening. It was Saturday, one of the only days you really got to spend on your own. You savoured it.
His feet had brought him here, mainly on their own. Of course, he knew this was your Saturday spot to hang out; he’d seen you whenever he and Lee wandered about on their own. He approached you like he would a frightened animal, slowly—hesitant.
You heard him before you saw him, turning your head before your lips curved into an easy, warm smile. “Ginger! Hi! Didn’t think you were the type to come out here.” You said with a soft tinge in your face, making his stomach flutter. He smiled, he couldn’t help but. “Hey, snakey. Mind if I sit?”
You quickly scooched to the side on your picnic basket, letting the taller boy move to your side, knees bumping into each other. You kept looking at him with that same sunshine-y grin, it nearly made him nauseous.
You didn’t talk, didn’t try and start a conversation. Mainly because it seemed like you were trying to let him soak in the peace around you, let him feel it, enter his bones. He let it, heard the swoosh of the wind and the rush of air around them, let it ground him. Calm his erratically racing heart.
“So,” he finally began, voice breaking embarrassingly on the word. “You—You have a boyfriend?”
You blinked at him, not expecting that question out of everything. “Uhm, no.” You murmured, making him nod his head quickly. You studied his face, looking intently enough to see the furrow of his brows and the slight downturn of his lips.
“Would you.. Like to go to Hogsmeade with me some time—any time.” He said hastily, but you caught it anyway. The smile that grew on your lips was immediate; you leaned forward to get a better look at his face. “Are you.. Asking me on a date, George?”
He couldn’t look at you—couldn’t respond, currently in a life-or-death staring contest with the picnic blanket. His ears were completely red, and his cheeks were flushed. His hands gripped the blanket beneath him. You found it hopelessly endearing.
Easily, you leaned over and placed a hand over his clenched one, and gave him a smile when he shot his head up in surprise. “When can we go out on that date, then?” You said softly, eliciting a small smile from him now. He scoffed, shaking his head.
This was probably a bad idea—his housemates, his own brother, his siblings and his friends. They’d all have something to say; bitter things. Defending you’d be exhausting repetition; he’d be so judged throughout it all.
But right now? Looking at that impossibly soft look on your face that never really seemed to quite leave? He couldn’t care less if people stared. All he could think about is that damn date, and there’s no way he’s giving up a chance to have you for himself.
Remus has a crush on his smart, beautiful, snappy Slytherin potions partner but doesn't know how to make her really notice him. As far as he knows he’s one of the nerdier people in his year, he isn’t a quidditch player, and doesn’t know anyone in your house. Overestimating the amount of cred Sirius has with the Slytherins, Remus begins to try to copy some of his look and behavior in the hopes you might find him cool.
“What would you do, pads?”
“I dunno. Whenever I skip I get loads of attention from the girls at my table the next day, always asking me why I was gone.”
“I’m not sure,” he trails off.
“C’mon moony, it's one class. Maybe she’ll swoon over your nonchalant demeanor.”
“You can’t spell nonchalant.”
That day you’re sat waiting for Remus to show up before starting the assignment. He never ran as late as this. Twenty minutes in you begin the assignment on your own in a huff. When he shows up five minutes late the next day you side eye him as he settles in next to you.
“Did your dorm explode?” You asked, still facing the front of the room.
“What?”
“Did your dorm explode?” You say again, turning slightly to him. When his puzzled expression doesn’t change you explain, “you never miss a class, Remus. I think I’ve seen you in all states of disrepair yet you always show up to class. Before it begins, might I add.”
Remus tries to remind himself to be cool, “I, uh, just wasn’t feeling like it.” He sees an incredulous expression take over your face as you copy down the recipe on the blackboard.
“Oh, how cool you are,” you draw sarcastically, “Yesterday I had to make Alihotsy Draught for the first time, by myself, and it was the one day the only competent Gryffindor in the school decided to not show up.” You turn to pull a piece of parchment out of your bag and set it on the table in front of him. A detailed report on the brewing of Alihotsy Draught with your name on the top and an empty space for Remus’s name right under. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Remus didn’t know what to assess first. You saved the assignment so that he could still get credit with you and turn it in as partners. And did you just call him the only competent Gryffindor in the school? Was that a compliment? “Umm,” looking up from the parchment he sees you already looking at him, “thank y-”
“Is that…gel in your hair?” You look at his hair as if it was covered in slugs. He’s never had as much of your undivided focus. He can only nod. “Don’t do that to yourself again?” Remus deflates.
“Doesn’t look good?” Why did he say that? Of course it doesn’t look good you just looked at his hair like it slapped you. He makes a note to scream into his pillow when he gets back to the dorms.
“You look fine. You just look as greasy as that imbecile friend of yours, Black.” You went back to writing on your parchment.
“Ouch,” he hears Sirius say from the table in front of his.
“Mind your business, Black.” You mutter, not even sparing him a glance.
“Plus, your natural hair” you begin, reaching over Remus to grab an herb from his side of the desk. He can smell the cherry perfume you wear every day. And he’s never seen you this close, the curve of your nose looks even more beautiful and your eyelashes look even more enchanting from this proximity. “when it doesn’t look like a cow’s licked your head,” you side eyed the gel again, “is a much more charming look on you.” Remus turned to hide the rush of blood to his cheeks.
He is never skipping class again and will never let Sirius touch his hair.
Note: George, Remus, and Sirius are on my mind pls send me your thoughts
saw that you asked for requests so I have one for george weasley! I was wondering if you’d do one for him x whimsical!ravenclaw!reader, I feel like they’d be really cute together. readers definitely soft spoken and sooo kind, definitely friends w/ luna and neville.
I wasn’t planning on writing so soon but getting this request made me so excited I just sat down and wrote a lil something real quick. Thank you for the request! I hope you like it 🫶
|1.86k| Summary: When you and George come across a crying Neville Longbottom, he uses your shared expertise to formulate a defense plan. Lovegood!Ravenclaw!Reader
Fred Weasley
Remus Lupin
“Is that…gel in your hair?”
Drabble: Remus has a crush on his smart, beautiful, snappy Slytherin potions partner and takes to Sirius for advice on how to get her to notice him.
Request: saw that you asked for requests so I have one for george weasley! I was wondering if you’d do one for him x whimsical!ravenclaw!reader, I feel like they’d be really cute together. readers definitely soft spoken and sooo kind, definitely friends w/ luna and neville.
Summary: When you and George come across a crying Neville Longbottom, he uses your shared expertise to formulate a defense plan.
Pairing: George Weasley x Lovegood!Ravenclaw!Reader
Word Count: 1.86k short lil thang
Warnings: Bullying?, a little corny?
My Masterlist
Notes: This was the first fic I’ve written in the last 3/4 years I think…damn. For sure a little rusty, for sure a little cheesy but I do love the idea of George with a ravenclaw. I ended up making her related to Luna and tried to emulate the Lovegood vibe accurately. Pls I am hungry for requests so feel free to send more!! Happy reading!
Your steps fell in unison with George’s as you walked through the nearly empty halls. The weight of his arm rested around your waist. Having finished your divination assignment early together, you got to spend the final twenty minutes of the class time roaming the castle arm in arm.
“My uncle’s been discussing having me assist him in editing over the summer. He’s still firm in his assumptions, but I’ve managed to convince him that the addition of an academic mind may strengthen the appeal of the magazine.”
“Perhaps you could suggest an advertisement to a certain prospective joke shop,” his elbow lightly nudged your side as you approached the end of the hall.
“I doubt I’ll be of authority to make those suggestions any time soon,” you giggled. Red hair swayed as he gave a quick glance down the hall to make sure you two weren’t being followed before whisking you into a hidden corner. Before you could react, hands slid down the small of your back, pulling you gently against him as he leaned down to meet your lips. You gasped into the kiss, holding onto his toned arms for stability.
“Maybe,” a peck, “I could mention it to my uncle,” you say through sigh.
“That easy to convince you, huh?” A squeeze to your hips. “I swear woman, you just use me for my body,” George turned his head in mock offense.
“That is absolutely the case. What was your name again?”
He scoffed before taking a step and pushing your back to the wall. You felt the fabric of his shirt bunch as you pushed your arms into his robes, sliding your hands to hold the broad expanse of his back.
“Odd, I recall you saying my name a few nights ago in a particular setting.” His nose bumped yours at the close proximity as he pinched your sides, earning a shy laugh from your lips.
“Weasley!” You gave his shoulder a soft smack at the implication.
“There it is,” he said quietly, staring down at your lips looking so inviting. You reached up for him, but right before your lips could touch you turned your head to the side, eyes looking up to the ceiling.
“What’s-,”
“Shhh,” you whispered gently, pondering for a second before returning his gaze.
“Someone near is hurting,” you whisper somberly. Without another moment’s notice, the soft echoes of sniffling traveled throughout the corridor. He felt your hand lightly grip his as you turned toward the sound and began walking swiftly. Turning the corner, you found the source of the sniffling, a younger student sitting alone on a windowsill.
“Is that…Neville Longbottom? He’s one of Ron’s friends.” He was one of Luna’s friends, too. Luna and you shared the same kind-hearted strangeness that came with your family’s name. But she, in her own gentle aloofness, made you worry for how she would be treated by others. She mentioned Neville being someone she felt akin to and your heart ached at the thought of his tender heart hurting.
“You know him?” You look up at him hopeful.
“I mean, I’ve met him once or twice. He’s in my house.”
“Good,” you muttered before pulling him with you as we walked even faster.
Neville wiped his eyes and opened them to find one of Ron’s older brothers and a familiar looking Ravenclaw approaching him. He quickly wiped his palms on his robes and grabbed his bag, preparing to escape.
“Neville?” He stopped in his tracks at your silvery voice reaching out to him.
“Uhhh,” he turned to you both, “hello…” he trailed off looking at George, an evident struggle in his expression as he tried to remember how Ron told them to distinguish his brothers.
“George.”
“Of course,” he bashfully looked down, then back up at you.
“Y/n. I’m Luna’s cousin. You’re a friend of hers?” He nodded at you with wide, glossy eyes. “Why are you crying?” You pulled George to sit with you on the long windowsill. His hand still held yours.
“A couple slytherins in my year. They’re just having it out for me, as usual,” he sniffled as his emotions began to take over once again. “Sometimes I feel I can’t even get out of the common room without having to look out for them. Sorry, I know I shouldn’t be crying.”
“Hiding sorrow will never make you less sorrowful. You must release the emotions so the universe can accept it and hear your call,” you placed a hand on his shoulder. Neville simply nodded, albeit a bit confused.
“You talking about that nit Malfoy?” George scoffed, eyebrows set in a harsh line. You gave his hand a squeeze.
“Yeah. I’m sure Ron’s complained of him before,” he swiped at his nose, beginning to compose himself with your comfort.
George’s gaze focused on your concerned face. The delicate curve of your pouted lips. His heart leapt at the protective care you showed for the younger boy. How lucky he was to call your kind heart his.
“Don’t worry about it, Neville. Fred n’ I’ll talk to the git.” He gave a sure look to Neville.
“Are you sure that won’t just make him take it out harder on me?” There was a slight quiver in his voice.
“Nah, we’ll get it figured out. I swear it.” You gave him a thankful smile.
“We were just about to walk back to the Gryffindor common room. Would you like to join us? A good walk can prevent the mind from running.” You nod, encouraging him. Something about your warm presence and the familiar odd Lovegood energy about you compelled him to put aside his embarrassment.
“I’d appreciate that,” Neville muttered quietly, packing up his things.
-
The rain pattered against the window to your left. Your hand held a quill but you gazed out the window toward the shores of the black lake, imagination conjuring images of the creatures lurking under the tide. George, astonishingly, was reading a book. His eyebrows furrowed as he let out a huff.
“You’d think for someone who creates prank potions I’d be better at, you know, brewing potions?” The book fell from his hands to the table as he leaned back in his seat, his neck displayed as he looked toward the ceiling.
“What’s frustrating you, sunshine?” He couldn’t help but smile at the name you reserved for him.
“If you had a potion that, when set off, affected an area, how could you get it to follow someone once they leave the area?”
“I don’t quite understand, love. What exactly are you trying to conjure?” Your head tilted to the side.
“Well, hypothetically, you could set off a dungbomb to foul the room someone is in. But what if you wanted to turn someone into a walking dungbomb?”
“Merlin, Georgie,” your eyebrows tilted up.
“You asked, love,” he chuckled. “Soooo?”
You sighed, “Well, I suppose you’d need to either have to strap it to them, but that would be too obvious as I assume this person is supposed to be an unwilling participant.” You tapped your finger to your chin as you looked through the mental cabinets of knowledge on potions. “You could try to find a binding agent that doesn’t disrupt the harmony of the original recipe.”
“I don’t suppose you know a binding agent that can mix with a dungbomb?”
“I thought the dungbomb was just a hypothetical?” You narrowed your eyes at him.
“It is! A binding agent that, hypothetically, could mix with a dungbomb.” He raised his arms in innocence. Humming, you let your eyes close and lifted your palm to your forehead, what he came to recognize as your thinking ritual. He had seen you do it in class since your second year, a peculiar habit he’d learn about more after he’d worked up the courage to ask you hogsmeade the following year. You were in complete focus, he could watch you forever.
“Knotgrass,” you broke him out of his daze. “Binding, and won’t disrupt the…desired aroma.”
A smile broke out on George’s face, it almost made you forget how heinous the idea of a binding dungbomb sounded. The heavy wooden chair scraped against the floor as he stood and walked around the table to your side. Behind you, he placed his arms around your shoulders, leaning down to leave an exaggerated kiss on your cheek.
“You are utterly brilliant, my love. Have I told you that?”
“Quite often,” you teased, entwining your arms with his. “What exactly do you intend to do with this hypothetical weapon and can I talk you out of it?” you questioned, leaning your head against his. This was the usual routine. George was more considerate and collected than his brother, but he was still a Weasley twin. He got to encourage your strange and whimsical mind while you got to cool his mischievous fire.
“Fred and I saw Malfoy cornering Neville and Luna again after a lesson yesterday. If we’re gonna subject others to the stench of a dungbomb he should be the only one unable to escape it.”
“I can show you where to get the knotgrass.”
-
Malfoy scowled as he stormed through the courtyard. His shoulders tensed as they bumped against the arm of a tall ginger, perhaps with a bit more force coming from the taller boy. The sight of a Weasley twin only fueled his anger.
“You,” he seethed, venom laced in his voice.
“Merlin’s beard, Malfoy,” George yelled, pinching his nose.
“I knew Malfoys stink, but you’d think they’d have the coin to find a healer for that. Eh, Georgie?” Fred chimed in a little louder, drawing in the attention of those not already looking for the source of the stench. Draco’s ears felt hot as the murmurs from the other students in the courtyard grew.
“Now there’s no need to be rude, boys,” you played into chastising your boyfriend and his brother. You turned your attention to Malfoy, “it seems your body is changing and that’s completely natural. But, you really should get a cure sorted out, for the decency of others.” George could not recall a time you have ever spoken as loudly.
“Oh shut it, looney Lovegood. Don’t think my father won’t hear about your involvement in this lunacy,” he spat, nearly heaving.
“I do hope he can give you some fatherly advice on your hygiene habits, Draco,” your voice was like silk as you feigned a kind smile.
“Bugger off, you daft bitch,” he shouted. His head whipped around as he heard the muted laughs of the surrounding crowd.
“Do be careful, Draco. The universe has its ways of punishing cruelty. And really, perhaps a bath,” you stared him down. You were truly a kind soul, but George had never seen such sourness in your gaze. You felt the familiar brush of his arm against yours as he gently began pulling you away. Out of the corner of your eye you found Neville in a corner of the courtyard with Hermione and Harry, joining in on the laughter. George couldn’t help but stop to admire the most beautiful, smug smile that lit up your face.
might start writing again after I graduate soon…but what to write. I’m probably a little rusty since its been a hot hot minute since writing literally anything but if I have some suggestions I may be compelled to practiceeee😁
particularly in the mood for hpu especially the twins and marauders era but i also need to get back into my marvel brain. pls any requests or suggestions are welcome i need ideas
🏳️🌈 Ruth Ellis (1899 - 2000) was the daughter of former slaves. She came out as a lesbian when she was 16-years-old to the complete acceptance of her family. In 1937, Ruth and her longtime partner moved to Detroit from their hometown of Springfield, Illinois for the promise of higher wages. There, she became the first woman in Michigan to run her own printing business. She printed fliers, posters, and stationary in the front room of her home, which also quickly became a hotspot for Black LGBTQ social life. Before long, Ruth was helping those who came around in any way she could, including by paying for college tuitions. After the Stonewall uprising, 70-year-old Ruth began giving speeches in support of gay and lesbian rights all across the country. She remained an activist for the rest of her long life and even spent her 100th birthday leading the San Francisco Dyke March. At the time of her death at 101, she was recognized as the oldest out lesbian in the US. She is the subject of the documentary "Living With Pride: Ruth C. Ellis @ 100" and is the namesake of the Ruth Ellis Center, a shelter for homeless and at-risk LGBTQ youth in Detroit.
hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!
thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡
—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem
You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow.
Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside.
No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin.
Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots.
If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go.
Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again.
Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them.
Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code.
Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost?
You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home.
A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him.
“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.”
“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.”
You freeze up.
The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.”
Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.”
“Come have some breakfast.”
“I'll write her again.”
“After breakfast.”
“What if she doesn't come?”
“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.”
“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters.
Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue.
You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different.
Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house.
“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.”
“What?” Arthur asks.
“Who?” a younger voice says.
A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.”
“Mum,” one whines.
“Come on now.”
The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded.
You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles.
“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea.
The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.
Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone.
Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.
“Come in, then,” Remus says.
“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.”
A startle of silverware against china.
Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.
Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you.
“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.”
You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them.
So. It's a relief to be home.
You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly.
“I'm fine. I am.”
He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.
You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it?
Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?”
Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius.
“Don't be upset,” he pleads.
“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.”
He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?”
“Not just give up.”
“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.”
You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think.
“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.”
“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up.
It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.
You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.
“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath.
“I left you all alone,” you repeat.
“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm.
Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.”
“I miss you too,” he says.
You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown.
I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay.
But Lily–
Everyone's going to be fine. I promise.
“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does.
“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh.
You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists.
“What?” His eyes are dark.
“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?”
“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?”
“I don't know anyone. I've been away.”
He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.”
“I don't.”
“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes.
You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes.
“You're still beautiful.”
“Mm. You can't even see me.”
“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.”
You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?”
He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–”
You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.”
“I have stuff to do to make it right.”
“Then we'll do it.”
“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?”
I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay.
“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?”
“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen.
“Not like that,” you laugh.
He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.”
You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.”
“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.”
I agree with how you said by seasons 7-8 it becomes formulaic. I’m rewatching the show and I’m on season 9 and last night while I was watching I was like “this is just the same thing over and over again and the solve of the case is just too convenient” but I still watch it because I love my characters 😭
it unfortunately gets to te point where when anyone says "we need to give the profile 😠" I start laughing
No literally 😭 and like they learn a convenient detail and all of the sudden Reid or Blake is like “I know why they’re doing this. As a child, when their parents-” and ITS ALWAYS A TRAUMATIC PAST BEING REJECTED BY THEIR PARENTS
Hi idk if u have already written this if u have pls igonore but what about the first time bombshell reader calls Spencer beautiful?
fem, 1k
“Gideon has a new prodigy.”
Your head rises of its own accord. “Yeah?”
“He's younger than you. Twenty three, I think Hotch said. Fresh out of college, two degrees and working on a third? Or maybe he was getting his doctorate? I couldn't keep up.” Morgan shakes his head in disapproval. “Overeducated and under-experienced. He failed his physicals. The ones he took, anyways.”
“Ooh, ouch. A baby on the team before me,” you joke with a smile. “Genius baby, but a baby.”
Morgan smiles when you smile, he's too nice not to, but he picks up soon enough, crossing his arms where he's stood and wrinkling what was once a finely steamed suit jacket. “I don't know what Gideon's thinking.”
“Does anyone ever know what he's thinking? What's Hotch say about it all?”
Morgan reads what you're typing from over your shoulder and corrects a mistake. One day you won't need his help, but for now you take as much of it as you can get. You're not too proud to acknowledge when you mess up, you're a realist. Super sensible (in mind if not action).
“Hotch lets Gideon do what he wants, mostly. What can you do when he's one of the originals?” Morgan leans heavily onto his desk by the forearms and shrugs. You’re similar in this regard; complain, move on. You're similar in other ways, too. That's why you get along.
“Well, I want to meet this guy,” you say. “We'll be teammates just as soon as Strauss stops hating me. I'm one strategic boxed bouquet from a full pardon.” He laughs and touches your arm like he believes you. “Is he around?”
“Here they are now.”
You spin in Morgan's desk chair slowly. Jason Gideon is stalking through the office with his head in the contents of a manilla envelope, while a new face follows behind him talking a mile a minute.
“Obviously,” you hear Gideon interrupt as they get close enough. “Agent Morgan can explain that to you. Don't overthink it, Spencer, just try to get through it.”
He doesn't acknowledge you nor Morgan as he leaves Spencer and hurries up the steps leading to his and Hotch's offices. You aren't expecting much else from him. What little Gideon knows about you he doesn't like. If you ever get over the Strauss hurdle, it's him you'd have to convince next. You don't watch him cross the landing, your gaze focused on the man making his timid way toward you. Your lips part briefly, and then quirk into an overjoyed smile.
“Oh, you're beautiful,” you say without thinking.
He frowns at you.
“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, “This is Y/N L/N. She works in the sex crimes division. As you can imagine, we get a lot of crossover.” You stand, holding out your hand. “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid.”
“I don't shake. Sorry.”
You press your hand to your chest. “Oh, that's okay. I shouldn't assume…” Your voice melds into a silkiness that has his shapely brows furrowing further, “It's nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. You're really pretty, do you know that?”
Spencer peeks at Morgan quickly, who laughs good-naturedly. “She's serious, Reid. She's not making fun of you.”
“You'd know,” Spencer says. It isn't malicious, but it isn't exactly friendly, either.
You twist to frown at Morgan deeply. “Morgan, you're not being nice to him?”
“I'm being plenty nice, sweetheart, but this is how it works. I gotta haze him a little.”
“No, you don't.” You tip your cheek toward your shoulder to look at Spencer through your lashes. “He pretends to be worse than he is, I promise. But don't let him neg you, okay? You're smarter than he is–”
“Hey.”
“–and he's used to being the office pretty boy. It's jealousy, nothing else,” you finish. Spencer really is gorgeous now you're close enough to see his eyes. A brown like caramelised sugar tented by dark, dark eyelashes. When he smiles, the very slightest hint of teeth shows, and it makes him even prettier. You endeavour to make him smile again. “Sorry if I'm coming off a little strong. It's not my intention.”
“She's just nervous. You have everything she wants,” Morgan says.
You sigh forlornly. “Oh, doesn't he?” Spencer's confused pout is even cuter than his smile. “Getting into the BAU is about as easy as walking on water.”
“For a human,” Spencer says. “Easier if you're smaller. Like a water strider.”
There's a silence. Morgan is aghast, you think. You're in love.
“Yeah?” you ask, stars in your eyes as his own spark to life.
“Because water strider's can transfer their weight, but also due to their hydrofuge hairpiles. Their microhairs.” He catches himself, measuring your expression carefully. “Did you really wanna know?”
“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee and tell me about it?” you ask.
His lips part as yours had when you first saw him.
He's prevented from answering as Hotch's office door opens and the man himself walks out near the railing. “Good, you’re here. I have something to talk to you about.”
You grin at him. “I'd love to chat, Agent Hotchner, but I'm getting to know your new protégé.”
“I see.” He waits.
You would ignore him —Hotch has a soft spot for you (or rather, he likes you enough to put up with you, which is more than can be said about other members of his division) and he'd shrug off your dismissal— but you're really keen to hear what he has to say. Perhaps Strauss has changed her mind about your proposed trail basis with the team.
“I'm so sorry,” you say to Spencer, immediately re-dazzled by his pretty, lovely face. “It was really nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. Maybe next time you can tell me more about it.”
You give Morgan a quick thank you for the help with your paperwork and trust him to log out of your emails. In your rush up the stairs, you hear a wisp of conversation.
Warnings: face sitting (duh), motorboating kinda, fingering, two switches talking to each other, needy sangyeon wants you real bad 🫦
Word Count: 2.9k
A/N: if someone held a gun to my head and said “write a fic under 1k” I’d get shot
-
Something was up with Sangyeon.
The Boyz’s latest comeback had just ended promotions so he had a few weeks to rest. By rest that meant working, but he got extra breaks here and there. Making the most of the extra time you two had together, you enjoyed a picnic near the Han river in the morning and planned to stay in and watch a movie afterward.
The first time it happened you weren’t focused on it. You were laying down on your picnic blanket, your sundress riding up to show the bottom of your thighs. Sangyeon sat next to you. Eyes closed, you felt his hand rubbing circles over your knee. You were caught off guard when the circles rose higher and higher on your thighs, the tips of his fingers quickly sliding under the hem of your dress. Your eyes shot open. Sangyeon looked as if he was in a trance, staring at the plush skin his hands exposed.
“Sangyeon,” you called to him. His hand stopped but stayed in its place. Your voice drew him back to reality. He looked at you completely unaware of how odd he was acting, especially being out in public during a busy time. He was never one for PDA, so his bold touches in a place as bustling as the Han river surprised you. “What are you doing?” Sangyeon looked down at his hand, reacting as if he had no idea how it got there.
“Oh.” Sangyeon shook out whatever thoughts he had lingering in his head. “Sorry,” he said with a shy giggle. You looked suspiciously at his crescent eyes, wondering what was going on in his brain. You closed your eyes again. It would probably come up again sometime later.
Later was now. Sangyeon’s head rested above your heart as you laid in bed watching a movie. It was clear Sangyeon wasn’t paying attention, his eyes were focused on your neck, eyes moving around to switch to your jaw, then your collarbones, then your face. That's when he finally noticed you staring back at him. His eyes widened at being caught staring.
“You good there?” Your hand came up to pet his hair. Sangyeon’s mouth opened to answer but nothing came out. After a moment you giggled and he buried his face in your neck trying to hide his blush.
“Don’t hide from me,” you said in between giggles. Your fingers lightly pinched the top of his ears. “These are red, you know?” He just pushed his head in deeper, giggling with you as he nuzzled his face against your jaw. His head shifted until it was in the crease between your neck and your shoulder. He continued nuzzling into the space. You almost expected him to start purring with how much he was rubbing his face against your skin, but you just brushed it off as him trying to recover from his embarrassment.
His head was back on your chest, you refocused on the movie. Sangyeon started fidgeting, distracting you from what was happening on the screen. His body curled into yours, his head shifting down to rest on your boob. Feeling the soft flesh move under his head, he bought a hand up, fondling your other breast. You tried not to pay it much mind, Sangyeon had used your boobs as stress balls many times before. However, something about tonight made his toying around feel extra needy. Maybe it was the way the whole day he had kept rubbing hands over any part of your body he could get to. Maybe it was the way buried his face in your neck, and now your boobs.
Oh, he was now burying his face in your boobs.
Sangyeon had a hand on each one, squeezing as his face nuzzled in between them. The way he did it seemed almost instinctual, like he needed it. His face was blissed as if he were in another world. Your hand came down to rub his back and he groaned. Your other hand rose to brush his hair from his forehead. For the second time today he looked up at you with that trance-like expression.
“What’s gotten into you, Sang?” you asked softly. Sangyeon studied your face, questioning whether to be truthful or make up some generic answer. He was halfway done with some excuse when you cut off his train of thought. “What's going on in that pretty little head, hmm?”
Fuck.
“Can I go down on you?” Sangyeon asked simply. He wasn’t technically lying about his thoughts.
What? That was it? That was what had turned Sangeyon into some feral cat all day?
“That's it?” Your eyebrows furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” you paused, “you’ve been all up on me today. That was all you wanted?”
There was a beat of silence before Sangyeon quietly murmured.
“Well, it wasn’t just that.” He avoided eye contact. When he looked back up you were smirking down at him, you had won.
“What else is there?” You kept rubbing his back, coaxing the truth out of him.
Sangyeon’s eyes went down, looking at your neck, or the straps of your cami, or anything but you as he spoke.
“I want you,” he paused.
“Yessss?”
“I want you to…sit…on my face.” He finished. His hands raised to motion towards his face, as if a visual of what he meant would have helped at all. You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you just heard what you heard.
“Sang?”
“Y/n.”
“I’d break your neck.” You said matter-of-factly.
“No you wouldn’t,” he shot back, looking at you with a face that said really?
“I would suffocate you with my thighs,” you added.
“Honestly,” it didn’t even take him a second to counter, “it’d be a good way to go.” You stared at him, doubt written all over your face.
“Sang-”
“You want to know what's been on my mind all day? Ever since you wore that fucking dress this morning I wanted to flip it up and bury my face in your pussy.” Your eyes widened. His blunt words shot straight to your core. “When I was touching your thighs in the park earlier all I could think about was having them wrapped around my head. I’ve been thinking about it all goddamn day and it's driving me crazy. I don’t care if you suffocate me with your thighs, that's kinda the point.” He finished his rant with a sigh. It felt like a switch flipped up in your head.
Sangyeon started again, softer this time, “Listen, we don’t have to if you don’t w-”
“I want to,” you cut him off. It was his turn to look surprised. He was unsure of what to do next. He hadn’t expected to get this far, he hadn’t even expected to tell you about this fantasy of his. “Sangyeon,” you snapped him out again, “kiss me.”
He wasted no time lifting his body to meet you in a kiss. Within seconds you were already breathing hard into each others’ mouths. Your teeth clashed as the kiss grew messy. You reached down, tugging at his shirt. He tore his lips from yours, panting as he spoke, “Clothes off. Now.” There was a deep hunger in his voice. Sangyeon got his shirt off quickly, turning to you and helping you pull your panties down. You were laying on the bed, elbows holding you up.
Sangyeon’s hands stroked the tops of your thighs, his right hand slid to your inner thigh. Your pussy clenched as his hand got closer to it. He pushed your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart, he groaned at your glistening pussy.
“Fuck,” he continued stroking your inner thighs. “So pretty for me, baby.”
Sangyeon was on his knees, sitting up straight on his heels. His arms wrapped around your thighs, you watched them flex as he pulled your body closer to him, blankets bunching up around you. He spread his legs apart just enough for him to lay each of your thighs over his. In this position you could see how hard he was in his sweatpants. Your hands itched to touch him, but when you reached for him he brushed your hand away.
“Not now, pretty. Right now’s about you.” His left hand was caressing the curve of your ass, his right hand moved up to your aching cunt. You let out a moan as his thumb pressed over your clit, his fingers splayed over your navel. His thumb began to move in circles, finally relieving some of the tension your body had built up. His hand shifted. His thumb turned the other way as his fingers moved from your mound to your folds, his middle finger prodding at your entrance.
“Don’t tease, Sang,” you huffed. He looked up to your face with a smirk. Leaning forward, his hand that was on your ass took hold of one of yours. He guided your hand to your breasts, squeezing them. It was an effective distraction as he slipped his finger into you. You hummed at the feeling, your pussy squeezing his finger as it slowly went in and out of you. He didn’t wait long before slipping another finger in, curling them towards himself, basking in the sounds it pulled from you. He moved his right hand to your stomach, feeling your heavy breathing moving up and down.
Your eyes were on the ceiling, focusing on the pressure building in your pelvis. Sangyeon’s fingers slipped out of you, his hand leaving you completely. You looked down at him, whining at the loss of contact.
“On your knees.” He helped lift you up, lying on his back once you were there. His head was just inches from the headboard, offering you a grip for stability. He tapped the side of his thigh, beckoning you to him.
Slowly, you shuffled your body to his. You held the headboard as you swung a leg over his body. You were hovering over his chest, your timidness rising. Sangyeon attempted to sooth your nerves, his hands rubbing the backs of your thighs.
“You look so beautiful from down here, jagi, you know that? Don’t worry about me, just come a little closer. I’ll take care of you.” His hands rose to your ass, massaging the soft skin before gently pushing your body closer to his face.
Sangyeon lifted his chin, his tongue coming out to lick at the wetness that had gathered at your entrance. You gasped, clinging on to the headboard for support. His tongue slid up, circling your clit before taking it into his mouth and sucking. All this as his hands continued to massage your ass, pulling you down harder onto his face. He released your clit with a pop and began lapping at your folds.
Sangyeon was in heaven. He pulled your knees forward, forcing you to drop yourself lower to reach his mouth. This new position allowed him to hold the sides of your thighs and push them closer together. His brain went empty with pleasure as your thighs squeezed him. There was you and your thighs all around him and your sweet pussy on his mouth and nothing else existed. His tongue slid into you, the muscle pushing its way in as far as it could go. When he hit a particularly sweet spot your body jerked over his mouth. You looked down and gasped.
“Fuck, I’m sorry baby, didn’t mean to- ah, didn’t mean to do that.” You spoke in between moans, Sangyeon didn’t stop. Your hips jerked again, you looked down apologetically. You were about to protest and tell him to stop, to tell him you couldn’t control your body on top of him like this, when he slightly lifted your pussy from his mouth.
He gasped in a breath, it sounded like the first breath he had taken in a while. “Keep-” A deep breath, “Keep doing that. Fuck, please keep doing that.” He was practically begging.
Like a starving man, he brought you back down onto him. This time his hands were pushing and pulling you back and forth, up and down. You could feel your body start to take over, the pleasure feeling too good, too inviting. Your hips seemed to move on their own as they started grinding against his mouth. Sangyeon let out a moan, the vibration flowed through your pussy. You looked down to see him gently blink up at you. He looked strangely innocent despite half of his face being buried in your cunt. His eyes were glassy, his pupils dilated as he watched you hump his face. You had half a mind to keep going but you released him for a moment to give him a breath. He continued licking at you as he caught his breath.
“Keep going baby. I want you to use me.” He turned to kiss your inner thigh. “Use my mouth, make yourself come all over my face.” Pulling you back to him, he laid his tongue out flat. He moved his head in a nodding motion over your clit. Your head fell back, your hips taking over once again. You released a hand from the headboard and brought it down to his hair, your fingers carding through the strands. Your hand tugged on his hair as your hips ground over him, first lightly, then harder. Sangyeon moaned at the feeling.
His hands squeezed your ass. His left hand raised and came down hard against your cheek in a slap, immediately rubbing it to soothe the sting. Your pussy contracted around nothing, the pleasure traveled up your body and ran to your shoulders, your arms, your fingertips. You were now fully riding his face and he was loving every second of it.
Sangyeon’s hips were lifting from the bed, searching for any kind of friction. He had half a mind to touch himself, but he couldn’t keep his hands off you. You were addicting. He needed this, he never wanted it to end. His cock was painfully hard, it was straining against his sweats and Sangyeon could bet there was already a wet spot of precum. But he couldn’t look down to check, he could only look up to see you above him. Looking down, he would only see your pretty pussy, your hips grinding it down on his tongue. Looking back up he would see your hand gripping the headboard like a vice. Your head was thrown back, tossing side to side as you tried to chase the feeling growing in your stomach. Your tits bounced as you moved up and down on him, Sangyeon lifted his hand to squeeze one of them. Fuck he was close. He didn’t think he could manage without some sort of touch, but his balls were tightening as he tried to control the jerking of his hips.
“Sang, I’m so close,” you cried. The pleasure was becoming too much but you couldn’t stop. Sangyeon’s arm wrapped under your thighs, securing you down on him. He was a moaning mess under you, only spurring you on more. He began moving his head in a circular motion, his tongue sliding deliciously over your clit. “Fuck, Sang- ah, I’m gonna come.”
Your orgasm tore into you. Your whole body shook. Your body fell forward, your head leaning against the wall for support. Sangeon didn’t stop. He kept licking over you and into you as your juices spread all over his mouth and chin. His own orgasm hit him as he felt your body shaking over him. His hips stuttered as he came in his sweats, a wet spot forming at the crotch.
You came down from your high. You looked down, Sangyeon was kissing your thighs. Slowly, you got off of him, your hips and thighs sore as you finally registered feeling in them. He pulled you down to lay next to him. He gave you a sweet kiss, it was chaste despite being able to taste yourself on him.
“Give me a sec, baby.” Sangyeon walked to the bathroom. You could hear the faucet running for a bit before he came back, face clean and holding a small, damp towel. He wiped you down, the towel felt warm and soothing. As he was cleaning you, you noticed the wet spot on his sweats.
“Is that- did you?” You pointed at him. He looked down and let out a shy giggle.
“Yeah…you don’t know how long I wanted that. I’m not surprised you made me come,” he shrugged.
“Wait, I did that?” Sangyeon let out another laugh, shaking his head at how cute you could be sometimes. He left for a moment to toss the towel in the sink before coming back to bed. He wrapped you in his arms and pulled the covers over your bare bodies.
“Thank you, baby,” he whispered. You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips. “I love you,” he hummed as he left a peck on your lips. You held his hand and let your head drop to his chest. The both of you turned back to the TV as Sangyeon grabbed the remote and restarted the movie you had planned to watch. Now you two could focus.
A/N: thank you for reading this far! I hope yall like this one. Feel free to send requests and thoughts!
A/N2: would anyone be interested in me making a taglist for kinktober?
OMG HELLOOOOOO the way this made me SCREAM!!!! when i tell you face riding is literally one of my biggest kinks ever and with THE LOML SANGYEON?!?!?!?!? GOD ALEXA PLAY GIMME GIMME MOREEEEE 😩😩😩 pls i absolutely love the way you wrote this whole fic!! your writing style is absolutely ✨chefs kiss✨i will now have to go binge your other works fs!! ❤️
SYNOPSIS. You both thought that having no rules with a fuck buddy would make things simple, because it was just sex. But it was all conflicting when no one compares to each other after sleeping with someone else.
WARNING. angst if you squint, contains smut! MINORS DNI. fingering, handjob, creampie, unprotected sex. 4k words.
FORTY EIGHT HOURS LATER
You woke with pure feelings of guilt and regret, watching the boy leave with the scent of you. It’s dumb, you didn’t meant to sleep with him. Well, you did, but you had a hard time admitting it.
Heeseung texted you two days ago that he slept with someone else, so you did the same.
Your fuck buddy Heeseung was on vacation for three weeks, which was the longest time you’ve been away from each other. Although you used each other for sex or it was more so, a friends with benefits situation, there were no set rules.
Meaning, that you weren’t exclusive, which also meant that seeing other people wasn’t a problem.
When Heeseung texted you that he fucked someone else, you were surprisingly shocked. The information caused a weird feeling in your chest. It was the first time either of you had slept with someone else, but it wasn’t a problem, right?
It wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself. And so, if Heeseung can sleep with someone who wasn’t you, you were allowed to do the same. You slept with your friend, Jay, who also happened to be Heeseung’s best friend.
It wasn’t supposed to happen, but Jay came over last night and one thing led to another. He spent the night and slept in your bed — in the same spot that Heeseung usually does, and left this morning smelling like you.
You both agreed that it was a one time thing, and you heavily emphasized that it was because Jay usually wasn’t someone you turn to for sex.
Heeseung returned from his vacation trip today and wanted to come over tonight to see you. Of course you accepted his self invitation, since it’s been three weeks from being apart. But you were anxious to see him, the inner dilemma in your head haunting you since last night.
You debated on whether or not, telling him that you slept with Jay. Heeseung needed to know you thought, because he admitted to also fucking someone else. It was all confusing though, he didn’t need to tell you. Did he think that you deserved to know? You weren’t exclusive after all.
You made a rational decision. If the topic of other people was brought up in conversation then you were going to tell him. There are no rules when it comes to you both so it’s not important.
“Hi,” says the boy outside your apartment, leaning on the door with a smug look on his face.
The sight of him leaves you instinctively smiling. His hair grew out a bit, a strand of hair fell to his forehead, and his skin was now close to honey. He looked so pretty and the smile on his face that you so missed caused your heart to swell.
“Can I come inside?” He interrupted your thoughts as he chuckled.
You repeatedly nodded as you let the boy in before watching him take distinct steps closer.
“I missed you,” he says. You feel his hot breath fan on your face as you return his long stare, all while contemplating your next move. Suddenly, you pull him even closer and attack his lips, feeling both of his hands cupping your entire face.
Everything happens so fast when you’re dragging him inside your bedroom. Your arms were hooked and wrapped tightly around Heeseung’s neck before he slips a hand underneath your pants and inside your panties, feeling how wet you were.
“My pretty girl missed me this much?” Heeseung teases his fingers along your entrance, locking his dark and lustful eyes into yours.
All you could do was let out a groan, unable to control the way your body reacted to him. He begins to push a finger inside you and kiss your burning cheeks, watching your face contort with pleasure and your lips parting in a silent moan.
“Baby, you are quiet today,” Heeseung says before adding another finger and curving them to hit the sweet spot inside you. He’s just starting to touch you, but you feel yourself already close. You also notice his own arousal physically growing.
“I need you, Hee,” you slipped a hand inside his sweatpants to feel his tent. “I need you too,” he whined, starting to pump his fingers in and out of you until his movements shortly become more erratic when he’s circling your clit.
You reach inside his boxers and wrap your hand around his hard cock to stroke him, feeling his precum leaking out. Heeseung’s mouth quickly opens to let out a moan when you’re moving your hand up and down. His cock soon twitches after rubbing his slit with your thumb.
The air began to feel heavy as you both touched each other, missing how each other felt. It was a matter of a few seconds until you could feel your release, and it was becoming a bit overwhelming when Heeseung starts to kiss your neck.
He continues to place his mouth on your skin until you feel him stop and completely pull away.
“Who’s this from?” He says and you freeze, pursing your lips while following his hands that were on your neck. You shrugged in silence for a moment, realizing that Heeseung is rubbing the hickey that Jay left on your neck last night.
“It’s from someone,” you hesitated to say while feeling conflicted, until you made the decision to admit who it was specifically from. “It’s from Jay.”
Confusion crossed his face, “Jay?” He questioned as he removed his stare at the fresh mark on your skin before meeting your eyes with a hard blink.
“He was just being a good friend.”
Heeseung scoffed, “A friend like me?” A cunning smile adorned his lips. “Did you sleep with him because of what I did?”
“What? No,” you shook your head and Heeseung didn't speak, but met you in silence. A dry laugh escaped your lips which quickly died out as you took a deep breath. “I mean, it was difficult waiting for you to come back so Jay was there. It seems like it was hard for you to wait too, no?”
Heeseung relaxed his tense shoulders, “Yeah. Since we’re not exclusive,” he pointed out.
“Exactly,” you tried to smile.
The tension in the air thickened and instead of acknowledging it, you nudged your nose against his before kissing him softly. “I missed you a lot,” your voice was laced with lust and desire.
“I know,” he replies while hovering over you until you lied flat, “Let me make you feel good.”
“Let me be on top,” you demanded as you grabbed the hem of his shirt to remove it.
Heeseung shakes his head and lets out a deep laugh, “You don’t deserve it.”
“Why not?” You question before pausing. You were in the middle of removing your shirt and unclasping your bra until you halted due to his response. “Because I fucked someone else?”
“I didn’t even mention anything about that.”
You scoffed hard, “You’re thinking it.”
"And you're ruining the mood," He sneered before grabbing your breast to hungrily leave kisses, the feeling causing a loud groan to leave your lips. Your sounds encourage him to place his tongue to your nipple before he sucks hard with his mouth.
Heeseung wastes no time grabbing your whole body with an arm so that you're faced down with your ass up, feeling how hard he is when you're pressed against him. “I’m gonna fuck you first then you can do whatever you want to me.”
You bury yourself into your bedsheets, impatiently waiting after giving a nod of approval. Heeseung plants a kiss on your back before grabbing the band of your panties to quickly slip them off and to spread your wetness.
“Take out your cock already,” you urged, feeling Heeseung’s clothed cock that you just jerked off a few moments ago, pressed up behind you as he begins to rub slow circles onto your clit.
“Don’t be a brat or I’ll treat you like one,” he says, starting to strip off his sweatpants by untying the strings, his boxers followed by it — making your head turn back at the sight of how hard he is.
He takes his throbbing length in his hand that dripped with precum and began to stroke himself watching as you were the view in front of him. You watched the corners of Heeseung’s lips twitch upwards when he notices the way your legs were spreading wider.
“Hee, I can’t wait any longer,” you whined out.
Heeseung acknowledged the patience that you didn’t have. He took his cock to your folds and mixed your wetness and his precum, making you clench when he wasn't inside you yet. He gives you no warning when he inserts himself, the harsh sting of the stretch was something that you missed over the past three weeks.
He slips his length out and slams inside once more, a loud moan leaving both of your mouths at the sensation. “You’re tight,” he murmurs in a deep tone, “Did he not stretch you out enough?”
You grip the sheets tightly, having a bit of trouble speaking due to the adjustment of his big cock. “S-Stop talking about him,” you plead.
He laughs at your response before gripping your waist with a hand to help himself slam in and out of your cunt, causing you to whimper at the intense feeling. You manage to compose yourself as he’s setting a fast pace, and you turn around to see his eyes closed and his head thrown back.
The sight of the smirk on his face with hair loosely falling onto his forehead causes you to uncontrollably clench and he curses your name.
Heeseung begins to roll his hips sensually and you take it as a sign to move yourself against him, so you quickly match his pace until he’s hitting your cervix. "Fuck, my cock was made to be inside you,” he lets out with a loud whimper.
“You have the best pussy,” Heeseung continues, the only sounds coming out of your room is your skin slapping against his and the moans from your lips. "Y-Your cock is the fucking best,” you cry out, causing him to twitch at your words.
“Shit- that’s right,” he mutters, tightening his grip on your hips when feeling your orgasm approaching before slipping out of you. The action causes you to turn your head, staring at the soft expression on his face with confusion.
Heeseung takes your hand and pulls you towards him until you were sitting on his lap. He inserts himself in you once again, leaving both of your mouths wide open with a deep exhale let out.
“Fuck me,” he begs with his deep round eyes burning into you with desire, “Show me how much you missed me before you cum.”
Your cheeks were flushed as he begged, and you soon attacked his lips to start fulfilling his demands. He helped your body to move in and out of his cock before allowing you to take over. With your fingers tangled in his hair, you begin to roll your hips slowly before increasing the pace.
“Go faster,” Heeseung pleaded with his hands on your hips, holding himself back from thrusting upwards. You shake your head, continuing the same pace you were previously moving at.
“Let me fuck you how I want, Hee,” You whined. “I-I’ll make you cum soon, just be patient for me.”
You start to move your hips in slow languid circles as Heeseung nods, his hands moving up to fondle your breasts and graze your hard nipples.
You then start to bounce up and down on him, making Heeseung breathe heavily. This was a chance to show how much your body was made for him, the chance to prove that there is no one else for him, you thought.
Your movements are increasingly becoming faster, giving the pleasure that he impatiently begged for as you feel his cock twitch inside you. The sound of your skin slapping against his thighs arouse you even more, helping you to chase your end. You desperately wanted to cum.
“You’re fucking me well,” Heeseung lets out, feeling your walls clamp around him, watching your face scrunch up and unable to hold it in any longer. With his grip on your waist, you manage not to fall and collapse on his chest.
You weren’t sure if you were going to last as long as he wanted. The pleasure was overwhelming and more than anything that you have ever felt before, but it felt so good — he felt so good.
“Heeseung, oh my- fuck," you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching hard, his warm touch helping you to quickly release on him.
Heeseung lets out an airy chuckle before moving his hips upward to thrust deep and hard as if a bruise would be there tomorrow. He’s enjoying the sensation until a loud moan leaves his mouth when he releases inside, his cum filling up your insides and quickly leaking out.
He rides his orgasm for a moment before you shortly raise your body so that he could pull out of you. You watched as his cum mixed with yours dripped out, the sight was something you also missed during these past three weeks.
Shortly, you both do the same routine after sex — catching your breaths, cleaning up, not expecting Heeseung to stay. Sometimes, you would wake up the next morning and he would be gone, but tonight, he decided to stay and sleep over.
You turn your body to exhaustingly lay on the bed after cleaning up, Heeseung then joins you to lay in his spot of your bed.
“You’re thinking about something,” Heeseung cuts the silence with his words, noticing you in deep thought as you stare at the ceiling.
There is something obviously bottling inside your head, but you choose to ignore it. You turn to look at him, and all he gives you is a pleading look.
“Just say it,” he urges.
A deep exhale was let out as you think about the outcome of your next words. What you’re thinking could possibly fuck things up, but you cautiously choose to let it out anyways.
“How did you feel when fucking that girl? Did it feel like you were with me?” Your voice anxiously rang, hoping he wasn’t going to get up and leave.
“No,” he laughs, “I regret it so much.”
Your face lit up in shock, “Why?”
“Because I was too busy thinking about you.”
Your mouth slightly parted, truly speechless as you felt your chest ache. And it wasn’t supposed to, since this is just your fuck buddy. But his words were all you needed before popping the question. It was something that you’ve been meaning to ask all along, but you were too afraid of stepping over unspoken boundaries and giving him the wrong idea that you weren’t even sure was entirely wrong anymore.
“Do you want to try being exclusive?” You quickly let out, “We can try for a little while and if you get bored, you can see other girls.”
As you wait for a response, Heeseung just smiles before speaking out. “I think we can do that.”
Warnings: oral (m. receiving), vocal hee, kinda sappy hee just a lil bit
Word Count: 800
A/N: was able to keep it short this time 😀
-
Heeseung thanked God that nobody was home. It was one thing for the guys to hear him making you come but it was another for them to hear his moaning echo throughout the dorm. Even if the guys weren’t home, he was sure there would be a noise complaint from some offended elderly lady, or some pissed off neighbor jealous that they weren’t getting any. Heeseung just hoped that the noise complaint would come after he did. Not that he could pay that any mind at the moment with how you ran your hands up and down his thighs as you tried to take as much of him as you could.
“Oh my god, y/n, fuck.” His head fell back against the wall with a thump. You couldn’t tell if the groan he let out was because of you or his head, but the way his dick twitched on your tongue gave you a pretty good guess. He reluctantly lifted his head. As much as he would've loved to close his eyes and focus on the feeling, he couldn’t stop his urge to look.
You had been on your knees for a while. Your legs had spread apart a bit to distribute some pressure off your knees. All Heeseung could focus on was your thighs to each side of you, jiggling as your body moved your head back and forth over him.
His eyes flicked up and then shut tightly as he felt his tip slide against the ribbed top of your mouth. His fingers scraped the wall behind him as he tried to grip something, anything, fighting to hold on longer. His eyes opened. He swallowed when he saw your face, your hair a mess as the short baby hairs kept moving in the way of your eyes and sticking to your forehead.
Heesung’s hand shook as he lifted it to slide the hair from your forehead. He kept his hand there, moving the hair gave him a perfect view of your face. She looks so pretty like this.
“Shit, y/n. You’re killing me.” He let out a heavy huff, his stomach jumping as he struggled to breath steady. “You’re so pretty, you know that." His gaze locked in with yours. "So beautiful. So so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” His thumb stroked your forehead.
You took the base of his shaft that you couldn’t fit in your mouth and pumped it, squeezing him in pulses. Heeseung let out a cracked moan. You couldn’t help but think it sounded a bit like he was singing. Show off.
“Fuck, just like that. Please- ah, y/n. Please, keep- keep going. God, that’s so nice.”
Heeseung was gone. He was lost in the feeling. His head shook side to side, his body trying to handle the pressure building in his abdomen and chest, but his eyes kept going back to you.
“You know,” he groaned, “I didn’t just ask you out back then cause I thought you were beautiful.” He locked eyes with you, looking at you like you hung the stars in his sky. He let out a pained chuckle. “But, fuck, you are so beautiful.” You stuck your tongue out and rubbed his cock over it, giving him a small smile. You sucked the tip into your mouth, just enough for him to feel you hum around him.
Your fist grew slacker, giving you enough slip to stroke him faster. Your tongue stuck out, your mouth open and waiting. You let his tip sit on top of your tongue, circling it and taking every drop of precum he gave you.
Heeseung grit his teeth. His shoulders pushed against the wall trying to brace from the attack.
“Baby, fuck, I can’t.” His eyes shut tight as he took a shaky inhale. “Ah- feels so good. Baby, that feels so fucking good.” He rambled through staggered breaths. He opened his eyes and looked back down to you frantically as if he were begging you to save him from this. “Fuck, baby please don’t stop. I’m so close.” His moans heightened in pitch as he continued to lose his hold.
Heeseung’s hips jerked forward. His body shuddered as he finally let go of the rubber band stretching in his abdomen.
Your name flowed from his lips in moans so strained you could barely tell what was being said. Ropes of cum shot out into your mouth onto your tongue. You looked up at his face as you continued to pump him through his high.
His face was contorted in what could have looked like pain in any other context. His eyebrows furrowed and lifted, his jaw dropped open as sounds of pleasure left his throat. You looked up at him in awe.
He looks so pretty like this.
-
A/N: thank you for reading this far! My asks and requests are open! Let me know if you want to be tagged for any future kinktober posts.
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