1.PLEASPLEASEPLSEAE send me Request or just any asks PLEASEE
2. Please stop texting me to pay for ur stuff T-T
3.I do absoulutely not write for minors if i write abt underage ppl their aged up.(idk if that made sense)
what do i write?
i write smut, fluff and angst(idk if im missing some) if u ask me to write hard angst i will prob be a bit hesitant tho bc i just dont know if i can handle that T-T
characters🤍
i will write for characters i dont know and ill try my best to research them<3
Here are the characters i know and will write for<3
Harry potter- i will write for pretty much any caracter men and women
Stranger things all characters<3 again, men and women<3
Big mouth-all characters (kids are 18+) men and women<3
Hazbin hotel & helluva boss-all characters againnn men and women ofc<33
Marvel(including the avenger members, xmen and guardians of the galaxy= all characters againn men and women<3
(sorry im writing aloot T-T)
Pairings that i like (will still write for ones u like(i love rare pairs) aslong as they arent like illegeal lol🤍
steddie ofcc - steve harrington and eddie munson (stranger things)
Drarry couse why woudnt u - harry potter and draco malfoy (harry potter)
the twins x reader - george and fred weasley (harry potter)
stolitz- stolas and blitzø
I also write all of these x reader! + ofc x reader with all the other caracters
cw ⟢ smut, mdni +18, swearing, inexperienced!reader, lots of praise, teasing, oral (f&m rec) piv, insecurity about inexperience, shy!reader, fingering, lots of pet names
summary: you cant seem escape the pestering burn in the back of your mind that's itching for something, for more, to experience it all; or the isecurities that come along with it.
a/n: this took me too long to start bcs ive been dealing with migraines but its here at last!! a bit vulgar oh WELL not proofread x
A little discovery goes a long way.
Or at least you thought it would, since you essentially broke the seal between you and your very adoring boyfriends, there as been a lot of exporation, learning—mastering even. But it seems you’ve hit an unexpected blockade.
One that fixing seemed to be more complex than you’d imagined.
Now, there was nothing wrong by any means. According to Remus, you were becoming rather skillful with your lips, in a way that would make Sirius proud. And you were most definetely gaining insight into things; likes, dislikes, habits—kinks.
All sorts of interesting things; like how, out of all of them, James is particulary handsy, as if he cannot physically get enough of you—like he’s making up for lost time. Drinking in any and all skin on skin, somehow always touching you in one way or another.
Frequently stirring awake to feel his arm wrapped around your middle, lips pressing gentle kisses to your jaw, his voice hoarse and whispered when you crack open your eye with a small hum.
“g’morning,”
The sun had barely taken it’s place in the sky, and your early bird boyfriend has picked you as his victim today, though, you can hardly be angry when he’s so warm against you, smiling into your skin as he kisses his way up to your lips. Fingertips grasping at the flesh of your waist as he pulls you closer—using his free hand to brush the straggling hair out of your face as he pulls away.
Admiring your semi-awake face, pout slowing becoming more evident on your lips when you catch sight of the clock—head falling into his chest with a quiet grumble.
He can’t help but huff a chuckle as his hand trails down your spine, slipping under the fabric of Sirius’ shirt, lips once again finding the curve of your jaw. “m’sorry, pretty. I know it’s early,”
James really is devious, because he knows exactly how to pacify you—and it doesn’t take much, a few peppered kisses and some sweet words and he found that you’d become adorably agreeable. He’d been awake for a while, fighting—persuading himself that he shouldn’t be so selfish and should let you sleep, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were cuddled against him so sweetly.
You didn’t have much fight in you either, still sleepy as you melted into his touch, and after a few more kisses—suddenly being awake didn’t seem so bad. Mewls muffled by James’ lips when his hands slides down your back to the curve of your thigh, hitching your leg to rest on his hip.
The light rustle of fabric drew you away from each other, panting with flushed lips as James peeked over your shoulder—making sure you hadn’t disturbed Sirius and Remus. Tangled together in an unclear mass of sleeping limbs under the sheets.
When his gaze flickered back to you, he wasted no time reconnecting your lips, kissing you deeper—tongue swiping against the seam of your lips, swallowing each small noise. You really were trying to be quiet, mindful of your sleeping partners just an arms length away—but it was getting harder and harder to keep your focus on stay quiet. Especially when James’ hand was trailing under the waistband of your shorts and his honeyed tone filled your ears.
“just wanted a bit of you before i left, love,”
His lips against your skin becoming more insistent, smirking into it at the sound of your shuddering breath. Pulling away to get a glimpse of your expression—teeth pressed into your bottom, failing to dull your escaping whine, brows pinching further with each sink of his fingers into you core.
Curling and curving into your walls and it had you squirming into his hold.
A sharp gasp leaving your lips when James nipped at the thin skin below your ear, freezing for a moment at the small sound of shuffling sheets behind you. But to your misfortune, James just continues to push into you at a faster pace—murmuring against you just before his lips capture yours, “Shhhh, stay quiet f’me pretty girl,”
Squeezing your eyes shut as you clenched around his digits—your hands gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, bucking into his palm as your high washed over you. And James just hummed lowly into the kiss, muttering as he trailed his lips down your neck, “fuck, so perfect—thank you,”
You were still shuddering as he slipped his hands out of your shorts, chest rising in uneven patterns as James brought his slick coated fingers to his lips, a smirk twitching at the corners. His other hand was running up and down you spine while your breath leveled.
But before you could fully recalibrate your brain, he was pressing a firm kiss to your lips and whispering about something about being back later. Quietly slipping out of the sheets, and padding towards the bathroom, before your protests had the opportunity to leave your tongue.
He was gone.
And even if your tried, you couldn’t to miss the clear tent of his boxers.
Another wave of sleep tempted you, you couldn’t help but wonder—a small creeping thought making its way to the forefront of your mind. Subdueing all faint hints of potential slumber with its invasive nature.
Again was all you could think.
It was becoming an increasing common occurance. They always indulged, took care of—doted on you. Not that you were complaining.
But before you could even think about approaching the subject of you returning anything, they were gone.
Granted, it was all uncharted grounds, but it was starting to feel like you were the only one paying attention to the elephant in the room. There was a seperation, almost like it was you and them.
And you hear them sometimes in the house, James and Sirius showering together—their moans and mewls ringing above the sound of cascading water and bouncing off the porcelain walls. You’ve seen it even, stumbling across a door left ajar and seeing Sirius on his knees infront of Remus—hand tangled into his locks, small gasps filling the room.
There was a balance, a give and take—and with you?
Well, it felt like you were just taking.
And though you were well aware of the fact that you didn’t know how to give, it was really starting to gnaw at you—because you wanted to try, wanted more—wanted to make them feel good.
But there was no real right way to go about the subject, at least not one that didn’t make you wish the earth would split open and swallow you whole.
Even as you sat at the dining table, forking at the lunch James had so kindly prepared for you all. You couldn’t focus, mind spiralling out of control, each thought more ridiculous and less plausible than the last.
‘You don’t even know what to do—you wouldn’t be able to make them feel good.’
Suddenly it was much harder to swallow the bit of toast you’d been chewing for far too long—forcing it down as a small frown crept its way onto your lips. Letting your fork rest on the edge of your plate, nails subconsciously starting to pick a the skin around your nails.
Brows furrowing just slightly as you pennied the irrational thoughts that whirled every corner of your mind—internally conflicted. Because you knew they loved you, no matter what, outside of everything else—there was no doubt in your mind.
And you were enough, you knew your worth didn’t depend on your ability to please.
So why did it suddenly feel like the be all and end all of everything?
Plagueing every thought, making you read into every interaction, every passing touch that was meant to be comforting—now had you second guessing everything.
Gods, it was making you feel so pathetic.
You were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t heard Sirius calling you, even after the third time—still staring at your plate absentmindedly. And when his hand made contact with yours, you all but jumped out of your skin, feeling all the eyes in the room on you.
“Woah—you alright, love?”
Sirius’ voice was light, laced with that same teasing lilt—lips curled at the corners in mild amusement, thumb tracing small circles into your skin. You let out small sigh through your nose as you pushed everything you were thinking about into the back of your mind—forcing your lips to match the curve of Sirius’ as you spoke.
“Oh—sorry, yeah. Just a bit tired,”
You also failed to notice James behind you and closing in—pressing a firm peck to the mark he’d left earlier that morning. Walking over to the sink with a stack of plates in his hand as he cooed playfully, “Sorry about that, love.”
Sirius was watching you more intently that you’d realised—if your barely touched plate wasn’t an indication of anything, then the tight lipped smile you gave him in combination with your previous statement did nothing to convince him.
He let his eyes flicker over to Remus, who was also looking at you, brows arched in curiosity at James’ words—waiting for you to expand. Parted your lips as you took in air to fuel your words, before stuttering out the start of several words—feeling heat rise under your cheeks when your lips eventually clamped shut.
James snicker when he turned around, leaning against the sink as he dried his hands—the smirk on his face becoming more smug by the second as your gaze darted around the room. He was so casual, so candid with his words and you had no idea what to do with it.
“Showed our girl a little love before I went on my run, that’s all,”
The tips of your ears were burning under the pressure of his gaze, and as he stalked over—leaning to take your plate of cold food away, his hand soothing over the curve of your neck. You all but frozen, spine tensing up, goosebumps spreading over the surface of your skin from the heat of his palms, feeling very much like a deer caught in headlights.
Remus didn’t say much, just hummed lowly with a nod far too knowing for your liking and all you wanted to do was shrink away from the attention.
Slipping your hand out from under Sirius’ as you reach for your glass of water, James had already made this way around, perching himself recklessly on the kitchen counter as he continued to speak with Remus.
Sirius on the other hand, was still watching you from the corner of his eyes—as you tried to sneak away after washing your glass—he waited a few moments before trailing after you.
Leaning against the door frame of the living room—watching as you sat in your corner seat of the sofa—a book open and forgotten on your lap, staring out the window. He waited a few more long moments before settling into the seat beside you, arm instinctively slinging around your shoulder.
When you turned to him, he had an expectant look on his face—as if he was waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to spill your guts to him, and it made your pulse pick up slightly. Praying to the Gods that he wouldn’t pry, just let you get over whatever was swarming your mind, taking your attention.
“I can see the cogs turning, sweetheart. Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”
Obviously, Sirius saw right through you, and it probably didn’t help that you were doing such a bad job at hiding the small turmoil that was building in you. Accidently confirming his suspicious when you tensed under his touch, body still as stiff as a board next to him.
You just hummed, tearing your gaze away from his and back down to you book—fingers fiddling with the hem of your sleeve as you spoke, “Hmm? Nothing’s on my mind, Siri. Just tire—”
“Tired?”
Sirius cut you off, finishing your poor excuse for you, watching as your lips pursed together for a second—fighting the urge to knaw into the flesh. He was still watching you so intently, eyes boring into your profile, feeling the way your shoulder sunk slightly before you looked him again.
Taking a second to let your eyes scan over his face, you knew he didn’t believe you. But there really was no way you were going to let this extend any further than yourself, instead you just doubled down, leaning into his chest, forcing your body to relax—willing away the tension as your closed your eyes, murmuring again that you were just tired.
His hand soothed over the the skin of your arm, Sirius knew better than to force it out of you—he was by no means going to let it go, but he’d give you at least a day or two to prove to him that it really was just lack of sleep.
You failed.
It has been three days since Sirius first noticed you being ‘tired’. Truthfully, he didn’t know what else to call it—he’d also noticed how in those three days, you’d withdrawn a bit. Coming to bed the latest, sleeping turned away and slipping out at random times in the night—and you hadn’t so much as given any of them a peck since that first morning.
Whatever it was, he’d had enough ****of it stealing you away.
Sirius was no where near as tentative as Remus, and suprisingly more vigilant than James—but the pair hadn’t made any move to pry. And well, Sirius just wasn’t patient enough.
You were sitting in the living room alone—James and Remus lounging in the bedroom. This time, you were actually reading, comfortable in the silence that surrounded you, barely sparing Sirius a glance as he plopped onto the sofa beside you—unnecessarily close, practically on your lap.
Your tone was deceivingly light when you spoke, “What’s up, Siri?”
He shifted to angle his body closer to you, plucking the book from you lap and placing it face down on the arm of the sofa, raising a brow skeptically and letting his gaze linger on your face.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
It was only a fraction of a second, but Sirius saw the way your face dropped at his questioning before you sighed, bitelessly rolling your eyes, automatically spouting out that you’re fine. That wasn’t enough though. And he wasn’t going to let it go.
Practically staring into your soul as he frowned at you, voice just as soft as his touch over your arm. And as he spoke he saw it again, the faltering in your expression, a small crack as you averted your gaze.
"You're doin’ that thing again," he murmured.
Blinking at him, a little too slow, head tilted just enough to feign curiosity. "What thing?"
He sighed, a sound that came more from his chest than his throat, all weight and low thunder. “The thing where you pretend you’re here with us but your head’s off somewhere chewing itself up.”
There was no response, not right away. A small silence filing the room, you weren’t sure if you had the words—or worse, you were afraid you did, and they’d make everything real if you said them aloud.
Sirius shifted closer, until his thigh was flush against yours and the scent of leather and warm oak and his specific brand of recklessness filled your senses. Still, you said nothing. Quietly loud and sharp and unnatural, like the absence of static in a too-quiet room. It made his chest ache.
“Alright,” he said, voice low, brushing his fingers beneath your chin and tilting your head just slightly toward him. “Time to talk, sweetheart.”
You froze—for barely a fraction of a second. But somehow just long enough for him to catch it. Then, you forced a breath through your nose, lashes lowering as if the floor might offer escape.
“Sirius, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He huffed a dry, humorless laugh, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.
Watching you for a long moment in silence, as you unravel in micro-expressions, cataloguing each one like clues to a puzzle he’d already decided he was going to solve. The kind of silence that felt heavier than normal. Expectant. And you felt it—crawling over your skin, settling in your stomach. Like he was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
When you still didn’t say anything, he leaned in closer, voice softer now. “You think we haven’t noticed? The late nights, the cold shoulders, the way you can’t even look at us for more than five seconds?”
You shifted, discomfort flickering in your eyes — and still, you said nothing. He waited anyway.
“You know,” he started slowly, stretching out along the couch, his head tipping back lazily against the cushion, “you’re really shit at pretending.”
Your eyes didn’t leave your lap as you spoke, “I’m not pretending anything.”
That made you finally glance at him, startled and caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone, the softness beneath the teasing. Sirius’ brow arched slightly as you opened your mouth—and then closed it again.
He waited.
You looked away.
“I just…I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime.”
You let out a quiet snort, despite yourself.
He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You’ve been pulling away.”
“I haven’t—”
“You have.” There was no accusation in his tone, just quiet certainty. “We notice, you know. Me. James. Remus.” Tilting his head to eye you sideways, “You flinched when I brushed your hand this morning. Jumped when James kissed your shoulder. I’ve seen ghosts more relaxed than you’ve been lately.”
Sirius shifted beside you, a little closer, but still careful. Just enough to make his presence known.
Shame pinched in the pits of your stomach as you swallowed. “It feels like I’m the only one who’s… not giving. Like I’m just taking and taking and I want to—I want to give, to make you feel good too. But I don't even know how. And I don't want to make it awkward, or ruin anything, or mess up what we already have—"
“Stop,” he cut in gently, not unkindly. “You haven’t ruined anything. There’s nothing to ruin. You know that, right?”
You bit your lip, hard. “It feels like there is. Like I’m…I don’t know. Like I’m some kind of charity case you’re all doting on because I’m clueless and eager and always ready to melt for you. And I know it’s stupid—”
“It’s not,” he interrupted, voice firm. “Don’t do that.”
Sirius blinked, eyebrows drawing together. “Is that seriously what you think?”
You didn’t trust your voice to answer, throat too tight—just shrugging dismissively.
There was a pause, before his hand reached for yours, warm and comforting as his fingers laced through yours.
“I’m going to tell you something,” he said, voice lower now. Earnest—real. “We love taking care of you. Love watching you unravel. Love the way you trust us, how open you are—how you light up when you feel good.”
He tipped his head to meet your gaze. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t want you. All of you. Your pleasure, yeah, but your desire, too. The messy, fumbling, sweet little things you want to try, even if you don’t get them right the first time.”
Heat crept its sway from your collar upwards, settling beneath your ears, but that familiar, magneticness that spilled from him held your gaze—and suddenly it feel like you were trying hard not to lean into him.
“And you don’t need to know what you’re doing,” he added, thumb brushing over the back of your knuckles, “that’s the fun part. Discovering it together. Letting us teach you. Letting us feel and learn you, when you’re the one touching, or tasting, or wanting.”
It had your pulse stuttering beneath your chest, heat spreading from your ears to skin of your cheeks.
“You want to try?” Sirius asked, quieter now. A murmur between just the two of you. “You wanna learn how to make us fall apart the way you do?”
All at once the air in the room felt a bit thinner, even as you nodded, slowly as first—than firmer, more eager.
“Good,” he murmured, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Because we want that, too.”
You exhaled shakily, something intoxicating about his words, his tone, how his breath fanned over you and the way the proximity felt much less than before—as a sense of relief, warmth and a strange little bubble of excitement rose beneath your skin.
It’s so subtle, so smooth, that at first you barely register the shift—just the warmth of his body folding closer, the brush of his knee against yours, the scent of something familiar and faintly woodsy curling around your senses like smoke.
Then his lips are at your ear, breath curling soft and hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Could show you right now, if you want.”
Every muscle locks up, spine straight, breath caught halfway to your lungs—freezing. His voice is honeyed, velvet and enticing, every word dipped in a promise that hums through you like static. Lips ghosting over your jaw, a breath away from touching. Almost. Not quite.
You only nod.
It’s barely a motion—more instinct than thought—but he pulls back slowly, and there’s a look on his face like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His smirk is small, private but the glint in his eyes makes your stomach tighten and twist in anticipation.
“Wait here, lovely,” he says, voice low and threaded with something dark and pleased.
Then Sirius is standing—disappearing down the hallway, and slips into the bedroom.
There’s only the small sound of a whining hinge as the door creaked open. Muffled voices— hushed, indistinct murmurs. And it makes your hair stand on end. Something electric crackles at the base of your spine, and you fidget, fingers restless on your knees, heart beating too loud in the quiet that follows.
You barely have time to get your bearings before Sirius reappears.
He standing there for a moment, in the doorway, watching you. His gaze is heavy—dark and unwavering—and it pins you in place as surely as if he’d put hands on you, reaching out to you with a hand.
There a short beat before you take i, and he pulls you up, wordless, walking you backwards in slow, deliberate steps. His eyes never leave yours, and the air around you feels thicker and harder to move though when you arrive at the door. Because you can see them.
Remus and James.
They’re sitting on the bed—quiet, composed, eyes lifted to meet yours. There’s something unreadable in their expressions, something that flickers between curiosity and heat and something deeper.
James watches from the far side of the bed, one leg propped casually beneath him, elbow resting on his knee like he’s settling in for something he already knows is going to unfold slowly — deliberately. Gaze steady and flicking between you and Sirius with the faintest curl of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Observantly waiting—amused.
Remus shifts at the edge of the bed, legs parting slightly as he scoots forward, hands resting loose on his thighs.
His expression is softer, warmer. Familiar. When his eyes meet yours, he gives you a small, easy smile — like you’ve just walked into the common room instead of… this.
“Hey, dove,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.
You’re standing just behind Sirius, slightly to the side, his shoulder brushing yours. The room feels heavier now — not suffocating, but thick with heat and expectation. Your pulse is a roar in your ears, a steady drumbeat that drowns everything out until Sirius tilts his head, leaning in again.
“I told you I’d show you,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Gonna show you on Remus.”
Air catches in your throat—a soft, unintentional squeak of surprise slipping out before you can stop it. Eyes darting between the two boys on the bed, wide and unsure, a question trembling on your lips you don’t quite know how to ask.
“I—” Your voice stutters, coming out too small. “You don’t have to—I mean, I don’t want to take you away from what you were doing—”
Sirius huffs a soft laugh, the sound rumbling low in his chest, smug and fond all at once. He glances at Remus, who quirks a brow but doesn’t correct him. “Trust me, love,” Sirius says, eyes glinting. “Moony’d much rather have us on our knees than finish that book.”
And with no ceremony at all, Sirius sinks to his knees in front of him.
Your breath stalls completely.
He looks up at you from the floor, dark hair tumbling into his face, his smirk lazy and wicked—patting the carpetted space beside him—not demanding, just expectant.
You’re frozen for a beat. Maybe two.
Then your knees give the smallest wobble as you follow. Sinking down beside him slowly, heart fluttering wildly, eyes flicking up toward Remus—who sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, tongue darting out to wet his lips. There’s a quietness to his gaze that had your heartbeat quickening in your ears.
You press into the soft carpet, the fibers unfamiliar beneath your skin, grounding you in the moment as everything else floats just out of reach. Sirius shifts slightly beside you, the heat of his body brushing against yours, subtle but deliberate — an anchor. His thigh nudges yours gently, the pressure reassuring, coaxing. Your breath is shallow, eyes flicking upward again.
Remus hasn’t looked away.
He’s still watching you with that quiet intensity, like he’s trying to memorize the exact shade of your hesitation. His mouth curves at the corners — not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. Just… soft. Expectant.
“Doing good, love,” Sirius murmurs next to you, voice low and velvet-smooth. You swear you feel the words ripple through your spine. He doesn't look at you — he says it like he’s talking to himself, but it still lands square in your chest.
You’re still aware of James on the bed, leaning his chin into his palm, his elbow propped up on his knee. Observing. Not intruding. Just…amused, dark-eyed and humming with quiet interest. He doesn’t speak, but there’s something in the way his gaze lingers on your mouth, then dips lower, that makes your breath stutter.
“Rem,” Sirius says, still kneeling. His voice is almost teasing. “Tell her what you want.”
Remus tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly like he’s assessing you—peeling back layers without ever touching you. “I want you to show her,” he says, voice calm, level. He leans back on his hands, spreading his knees just a little wider on the edge of the mattress. “Thought that was the plan.”
The air around you all but froze,not urgency, not yet. But anticipation. The kind that prickles down your arms and settles in your gut like a coil waiting to snap.
Sirius shifts forward on his knees until his thighs bracket one of Remus’ legs, his back a straight line of calm control. And then, suddenly, he turns his head—not enough to break the moment with Remus, but enough to glance at you. His eyes flick down, then up, deliberate.
“You watching?” he murmurs.
Slowly, you nod—words caught in your throat.
Sirius smiles again, all teeth this time, and turns back toward Remus, hands trailing up Remus’ thighs with confident familiarity. And still—your gaze is locked in place. The sounds, the movement, the steady rise and fall of breath. The way Remus' jaw tightens when Sirius’ fingers dig in a little.
“You’re shaking,” Remus says suddenly, and you snap your gaze up to meet his. “Nervous?”
Your lips part slightly—to say yes, maybe, or no—but you don’t get the chance. Sirius speaks for you. “She’s excited,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that makes your cheeks burn even hotter.
“Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Your mouth feels too dry to voice words, clearing your throat and humming quietly with a nod.
Sirius shifts again—not to do anything yet, not quite. Just closer, just a little deeper into the space between Remus’ thighs. And his hand finds yours without looking, fingers brushing against your knuckles. “Come closer,” he says, not to Remus—to you.
And so you do. Shuffling forward, inch by slow, painstaking inch, until you’re beside him, eyes wide and breath held.
Remus leans forward, just a little, and his hand reaches out—just barely skimming along the curve of your jaw. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice adopting a warmer cadance—you nod again.
And Sirius, still knelt beside you, presses his lips to your shoulder. A small kiss, silent comfort.
“Then watch closely, love,” he says, voice dark with purpose. “Because this is just the beginning.”
His presence beside you was magnetic—all controlled heat and focused intent—but what strikes you most is how steady he is—eveything silently screaming that he’s done this before. He’s led before. But right now, he’s doing it with you, and something about that felt almost sacred.
Remus leans back again, propping himself up with one hand now, the other resting loosely on his own thigh. His eyes are on you again. But this time, there’s no teasing. Just warmth. Just patience. A quiet welcome, like he’s holding a door open for you and waiting for you to cross the threshold in your own time.
“You don’t have to do anything yet,” he says gently, voice barely more than a breath. “Just stay. Just watch me.”
Too much to say and no air to say it with—you swallow thickly and straighten your back, mumbling a small okay. Sirius hums in approval, the sound vibrating low in his throat, and you feel it more than you hear it. His hand drifts up your back, fingers trailing lightly along your spine. Goosebumps rise in their wake.
He doesn’t rush—none of them do. That’s what makes it worse. Or better. Or unbearable.
Because it means every second stretches longer. Every glance, every brush of skin feels deliberate. Designed. Like they’re building something out of you—sculpting the moment with nothing but touch and breath and proximity.
Sirius finally leans up towards Remus, lips ghosting across his throat, his jaw, like a slow exhale of reverence. Remus lets his head tip back just a fraction—an invitation that Sirius gladly took, latching his lips to the skin with a hum.
And you’re still watching.
Still feeling everything—the drag of Remus’ breath when Sirius’ mouth reaches his collarbone, the subtle shift of Sirius’ hand as shifts on Remus’ thigh, curling and curving upwards, gripping at the flesh. But more than that…you feel them both waiting—for you.
Sirius turns to you again, hand drifting over to yours. He threads his fingers with yours this time, and something about that small act—so simple, yet so intimate—and it makes something tighten in your chest. Raising your joined hands slowly, deliberately, to Remus’ knee, pressing your palm against the warm line of his leg.
Your eyes dart up when you hear another hitching breath from above you, Remus’ adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, gaze locked on your hands—the heat spreading through the thin fabric that seperates you.
Sirius was bold—smirking at both yours and Remus’ reactions, sliding the hand that was pawing at Remus’ thigh and inching it up towards the hem of his shirt, baring the skin.
The pads of his fingers dimpled the flesh as he leaned closer—pressing his lips into the skin of his hips—earning him a low hum of approval from Remus. And you watched as he smirked against him. Following Sirius’ movements in a wave of confidence, you scooted closer—letting your hand trail up from his knee joining Sirius’ in the tugging of Remus’ shirt and you felt him shudder beneath your palm.
Resting your head slightly on his knee as your eyes followed Sirius, observing every move he made and the reactions they earned.
There was a clear tent in Remus’ trousers now, accompanied with a light flush on the tops of his cheekbones, and you couldn’t help but admire him—and as Sirius palmed at his bulge—forcing a groan from his throat. The object of your watchful gaze changed quickly.
Sirius’ fingers were hooked under the waist band of his trousers, waiting a moment—just letting his fingertips brush over the skin beneath it before he detatched his lips from Remus’ stomach.
Eyes dark and on you—watching as you stared at his palm that covered Remus’ middle.
He huffed a chuckled through his nose, licking his lips as he leaning in closer to you—breath fanning over the curve of your neck when he spoke, “Shall we get these off him, love?”
The sound of his voice tore your gaze away from his hand, taking your bottom lip into your mouth as you hummed back to him. And by the time his trousers pooled by his ankles, Sirius had a positively wolfish grin on his face—almost preening at your reaction.
Because not only did Remus hiss slightly at the feeling of the cold air, but your eyes visibly widened when his length slapped up towards his abdomen—pupils blowing right before Sirius’ eyes.
It’s not like you’d never felt Remus before, pressed against you, usually clad under clothing—but for some reason, you’d assumed it was smaller. Or maybe just not this big. Almost intimidatingly long and pretty—tip matching the blush of his cheeks.
Sirius only snickered lightly, leaning in—tongue already peaking out from his lips as he licked a strip from the bottom of his shaft, all the way up. And you watched as Remus’ hands twitched by his side, sucking in sharp breath as his brows pinched on his forehead. Your hands unconsiously gripped at the flesh of his thighs, eyeing Sirius’ movements with purpose.
When he pulled away, Remus’ length glistened just as much as Sirius’ lips—and you swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth with a thick gulp the moment Sirius’ voice met your ears, low and candied.
“Doesn’t Rem look pretty?”
His smirk was dangerous as you nodded, words sending shivers down your spine as he whispered, just for you to hear—”Why don’t you tell him yourself, love?”
Remus was looking down at you both with half-lidded eyes, chest rising at a slightly faster pace than normal, hyper aware of the way your hand was curled around his thigh—trying his hardest to stay composed.
If the way you looked up at him, bleary and innocent, wasn’t enough to make his composure crack—the soft and sweet tone of your voice as it reached his ears was going to send him over the edge.
“Think you look so pretty, Rem,”
A low groan filled the air and his length physically jumped in Sirius’ hold—you noticed it straight away, eyes widening at the sight—staring at his middle intently.
Sirius was enjoying this all far too much, barely containing his delight as he caught your gaze, whispering “watch,” under his breath before he leaned in—taking Remus’ tip in his mouth while his hand worked small fists around the base.
And Remus’ eyes immediately screwed shut, voice trembling as he hissed out, “Fuck, Sirius,” hands fisting the sheets beside him when Sirius hummed around his length, taking more into his mouth.
You leaning in closer, eyes focused on each small motion that he made, each bob of his head, each moan that sounded from Remus.
He pulled his lips off with a satisfying pop—grinning at the way Remus shuddered against him, hand still twisting and pumping steadily around him.
Sirius had already diverted his attention to you—lips brushing against the curve of your jaw, his words ringing in your ears over and over. “Do you wanna try, sweetheart? Make Rem feel good?”
Your eyes scanned his face when he pulled back, nodding before you would really compute what it meant—before Sirius was shifting to the side, making space for you between Remus’ legs.
And it had your breath catching in your throat—Remus cracked an eye open at the rustling beneath him and his lips parted when your hand wrapped around his base.
Eyes flicker between Sirius and your hand. And you could feel the heat radiating off his length—when you twisted your hand upwards experimentally, he throbbed in your hand undeniably, gasping slightly.
Sirius all but preened at the reaction, leaning in and whispering a set on instruction into your ear, hand sliding down the curve of your spine in silent encouragement—to which you nodded to. Shifting your gaze back to Remus.
His self-control was fraying by the second, trying to be as still as possible, but having you between his legs, looking up at him with blown wide eyes—his resolve felt weak, and heat pooled in the pits of his stomach—sending all blood south.
Your palm was still dragging up his length in slow, tentative pumps—taking your time and trying not to think about it too hard. Sirius had made it look so easy, already having Remus breathless before he’d even touched him.
He could feel heat of your breath fanning over his length as you neared, gaze flitting up and down as you spoke softly, just barely above a whisper—but Remus heard it, like it was only for him.
“Can I?”
Gods, you were going to be the death of him. Nodding eagerly, words rushed and pinched; “Fuck—yes, dove,”
Careful and hesitantly, you leaned forward—tounge peaking out as you pressed it flush against the tip—eliciting a sharp shuddering gasp from Remus. And he used every cell in his brain to keep his eyes open, desperately wanting to be catch the moment your pretty lips wrapped around him.
Remus mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! when you finally do, tounge swirling and just barely sucking at the tip—and he squirmed in his seat when your head dipped lower, taking more of him in.
He wouldn’t dare tear his eyes away from the sight.
And when you pulled off of him, breathless, lips glistening, small strings of spit still connecting you—a small whispered Merlin sounded from beside you before you spoke, “s’that okay, Rem?”
Remus’ lips were stil parted, drinking in air greedily to fuel is racing pulse, palms sweaty and fidgetting at his side was he gulped, words breathy on an exhale, “more than okay—so good,”
Even that small praise was dizzying, it had your shoulder relaxing as an almost relieved and pleased smile twitched the corners of your lips.
Suddenly driven by a small confidence boost, you took him into your mouth again—earning you another low groan, his voice cracking at the end. You let your other hand trail up his thigh, resting along the short happy trail by your head—lowering your head further than the last time—humming slightly at the weight of him pressing onto your tongue.
Remus’ hips jumped involuntarily as he let out a loud moan—it sent his tip straight into the back of your throat and you jolted back with a choked gasp. Throat burning slightly drinking in sharp inhales of breath, cheeks flushed, face painted with a shocked expression.
Profuse, breatheless apologies already filled the space between you, “m’so sorry dove—didn’t mean to do that,” Remus shifting his weight onto one hand as he ran the other through his hair—eyes swiming with more unspoken apologies.
You were still trying to catch you breath, swallow the burning sensation that accompanied each breath—visibly confused for a moment as you looked to Sirius.
He didn’t look nearly as concerned as Remus did, which was comforting—because you couldn’t figure out what went wrong.
One hand was rubbing small circles into the small of your back, and the other trailed up and down Remus’ thigh as he spoke, lips curving into a smirk at your expression.
“The vibrations, sweetheart.” He leaned in closer, pressing a small kiss to the thin skin beneath your ear as he continued, “Made Rem feel…so good when you hummed—that’s why he did that, love,”
His lips on your neck were rather distracting, taking a few moments to respond with nothing more than a small, “Oh.”
And Sirius’ lips just stretched into a grin as he muttered into your skin, “Wanna try again?” Sighing contently into him, you nodded—eyes falling dark and back onto Remus.
The whispered instructions Sirius gave you echoed in your mind, take your time—but now when you pressed your tongue flat against the vein on the underside of his length—you were having other ideas.
Watching closely, looking up at Remus when you closed your lips around him, taking him in deeper, inch by inch—spurred on by the strangled moans that built in his throat.
Pausing a few inches from the base before reeling back and repeating—squeezing your thighs together when SIrius’ praise, velvet and soft reached your ears.
“Fuck—thaat’s it, sweetheart.”
Sirius tucked a straggling hair behind your ears, humming in approval as you focused on the tip, hand still fisting the base—and Remus was shaking beneath, using all his brain power to not buck into your touches, groaning out, “Oh- Oh fuck! Feels s’good hngh-” as he fisted the sheets with white knuckles.
You had no intention of rushing, slowly bobbing up and down, relishing in the salacious moans that ripped through Remus’ throat and the way he twitched and throbbed on your tongue.
But it was like a little devil was whispering into your ear, polluting your thoughts—egging you on to take more.
Letting your hand slip to rest on his stomach—all you wanted to do was make him feel good—sucking in a deep breath through your nose before swallowing around the tip; eliciting a lewd gasping groan from Remus.
But you kept going, dipping your head further, forcing every muscle to relax—not stopping till your nose met the small brown hairs at this pelvis.
Eyes squeezing shut, whimpering at the burn and stretch.
Remus’ jaw slacked, and he lost it—hands reliquishing their grip on the sheets in favour for your hair, eyes rolling back in his head as he gasped out “Shit shit shit oh-dove,”
God, Remus already thinks he could pass out.
Even as you pulled back—lips wet and eyes glossy—lungs burning as you drank in shuddering gasps of air, Sirius’ voice falling deaf on your ears. You can’t find it in you to mind the mild discomfort, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you looked up at Remus.
He truly was a sight.
Chest heaving, hair mussed, flush spreading from the tips of his ears to the center of his cheeks, his hand carding through your hair as his panted. Sirius was by your side still, speaking lowly again, “you okay, love? d’you need a minute?” pressing a kiss into your shoulder.
You shook your head almost instantly, gaze still locked on Remus as you muttered, “Wanna keep going,” Already leaning forward and taking Remus back into your hands.
He’d barely had enough time to recover before you took him back into your mouth, instinctively collecting your hair in a loose handful to keep it out of your face as you sunk down again.
Sirius was light praises and the gutteral moans that left Remus sending heat curling directly to your core—each hushed candied whisper of; ‘gooood girl’ and ‘taking him so well’ dizzying you.
When you sunk to the base again, willing away the slight gag that built in your chest, Remus’ hips bucked up into your mouth, his grip on your hair tightening—but instead of pulling off completely, you kept his tip buried in your plush mouth—whimpers muffled and tears prickling at your waterline, while you tried to steady your breathing.
Remus’ body shook as he spouted out delirously “Fuck—shit, m’sorry, sweetheart. S’too ngh—fucking good.” words were slurred and rushed, drunk off the way you swallowed and hummed around him.
He cracked his eyes open, when your fingertips pressed into the flesh of his thighs, steadying yourself, and the sight of you almost had impossibly closer to the edge—coil in his stomach tightening when you looked up at him.
Tears clingling to your lashes, lips stretching lewdly around him with each bob and he could feel his sanity slipping away with each small whine that built in your throat.
Sirius leaned into you again, voice low and sultry in your ears, “Fuck, angel—he’s not gonna last long. d’you want him to cum?” you just leaned in closer—even as Remus gently tugged to pull you away. You didn’t let up, hallowing your cheeks with a muffled moan and he went rigid beneath your touch, spilling into your mouth in hot spurts.
Jaw slacking as his voice cracked—his high still washing over him, “fuckfuckfuck—mmfgh! dove, so good,” shuddering as you pulled off of him. Sirius immediately pressing small kisses to your skin, whispering hypnotically into your ear, “mmhm—swallow f’me, sweetheart,”
Your cheeks flushed further at his words, ignoring the way your lungs still burned for air as you swallowed—hearing Sirius hum in approve when your lips parted, sucking in deep breaths of air—leaning slightly into his hold.
Remus quickly leant down to you, trousers already resting low on his hips again. Tugging you out of Sirius’ hold and onto his lip, pressing his lips firmly onto yours, groaning at the contact.
Thighs splitting over his hips as he tugged you to straddle him fully, hands already smoothing up your sides, greedy in the way they gripped and slid and roamed like he couldn’t get enough, muttering against your lips, “throat alright, pet?” biting back the smirk that threatened to play on his lips.
His kiss was bruising—all tongue and teeth and breathy groans. You barely had time to catch your breath, nodding mindlessly, before you were chasing his mouth again, whimpering softly into the kiss as his hips shifted up, pressing flush to you with no shame, no hesitation.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as he licked into your mouth, pulling a gasp from your lips. Warm, solid beneath you, and the way he was touching you—like he was mapping every inch of skin he could reach—sent your head spinning.
Remus grunted softly, breaking the kiss only to press hot kisses down your jaw, your neck, and then he shifted—gripping your hips tightly and guiding you back until your spine hit the mattress. You stared up at him, pupils blown and chest heaving, dazed and flushed, legs parted beneath the weight of his gaze.
He didn’t move for a moment—just hovered over you, smirking down, letting his hands drag slowly down your ribs as your stomach fluttered beneath his palms. But your attention snagged when you noticed movement at the edge of your vision.
James.
He was sitting there at the edge of the bed, still and watching you with a heat in his eyes that made your skin prickle. His gaze didn’t waver, making your breath catch in your throat, back arching instinctively under Remus' hands.
Remus turned his head just slightly, catching James’ expression—and the smirk that curved his lips deepened. Dipping back down, mouth brushing yours with a teasing slowness before murmuring low against your lips, “Jamie has something to ask you, pet.”
Before you could even process the words, James was shifting forward, one knee sinking into the mattress as he leaned in close to your ear—his curls brushing your cheek, voice low and velvet-smooth as he said,
“Can I taste you, sweetheart?”
The world narrowed to the rasp of his voice, the heat of their bodies, and the deafening thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. Remus had already slipped away from you, and you hadn’t even had time to mourn the loss before James was pressed against you.
Lips easily finding the curve of your jaw, kissing and nipping a trail to your collarbone—palms of his hands hot against your skin. Wasting no time to bare the skin of your stomach, touch incessant and insatiable.
Even as you stuttered out, mind foggy and breathless, the end of your sentence loosing itself in the thickness of the air. “…You w-wanna…” hips twitching up into him as his lifted the hem of your top up and over your head.
Connecting your lips again deeper, hungrier, his molding into yours in perfect rhythm.
Pulling away for just to pepper marks down your neck, kisses wet and firm to your skin, punctuating his words, “Mmhm, wanna taste you…make you feel good,”
You couldn’t focus on his words even if you tried, each touch more dizzying than the last, heat curling unforgivingly in the pits of your stomach, gasping out his name when his hand slid between your thighs—cupping your core over your shorts.
Fingers tangled into the short tufts at the nape of his neck and he continued his assault on your skin, relishing in the small gasps your let out as he nibbled at a spot that he’d already marked. Grinning into your skin as you bucked helplessly into his palm, hips unconsciously search for friction.
Whining out, “J-jamie,” when he pressed his hand firmer against you—squirming beneath him, as he hummed lowly. Words making your ears burn tenfold, as he pressed his lips into the curved of your breast, already working his way down to your core, “want you to cum in my mouth, love,”
Legs were already slung over his shoulder before you could really compute his vulgar sentences, gasping when his hands carrassed and pawed at the flesh of your thighs, mind spinning, pulse thumping you didn’t notice Sirius planting himself beside you—
“Jamie’s really good with his mouth. Gna let him take care of you?”
You were already nodding mindlessly when James pressed a kiss over your clothed core, and your entire body shuddered. Hands taking purchase on the sheets beside you, gasping as heat spread invasively under the surface of your skin.
James’ fingers were hooked under the waist band of your bottoms, using his body to raise your hips and peel them off your in a clean, swift swipe—leaving you bare and breathless. Heat coiling in your stomach at the sight of him between your legs, indulging himself with each kiss he planted onto your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your dripping core.
Goosebumps raising over your thighs when the rough pads of his fingers dragged over the flesh, spreading your legs further apart. James’ lips split into a far too pleased smirk at the sight of your folds, glistening and slick, his breath fanning over you when he spoke,
“ooo, all wet from making Rem feel good, huh?”
All you could do was squirm under his hold, one leg still hooked over his shoulder—his other hand trailing up your slit, spreading you as he nibbled lightly at your inner thigh, words muffled by the thin flesh, “Sooo pretty, love,”
Choking out a gasp when he pressed a soft kiss to the swole bundle of nerves, thighs twitching by his head. He looked up at you, drinking in each small micro reaction with a smug smirk—watching as your eyes screwed shut when he laid his tongue flat against your core.
Fingers teasing along the edge of your folds, hooking his other hand around your thigh when you inched away from him. In a single fluid movement, he pushes passes the tight ring of muscles and into your core, humming against your clit when a loud whimper sounded above him.
It was all so intense so suddenly, warm between your legs and curving his digits roughly into your plush walls. Forcing out babbled cries from your lips, “Ngh—Jamie, oh god—James!” Hand resigning its hold on the sheets in exchange for a loose purchase on his hair.
Your head lolled back into the pillows, brows arched high on your forehead as your jaw slacked when he curled his fingers up up up, searching for the familiar spot that had you bucking into him.
White-hot jolts of pleasure running from the base of your spine where James was indulging himself. Moaning into your core as he shuffled forward, helplessly grinding against the sheets beneath him—burying his face further into you.
The coil in your stomach was threatening to snap under the pressure that James was steadily building. Bullying thrusts into you as he took your clit between his flushed lips—tears stinging in your eyes as you tried to buck away from the harsh sucking of his lips.
Crying out in a pitched hoarse voice, incoherent babbles littered with his name, releasing your grip on his curls to push him away before you accidentally pulled out hairs.
James cracked his eyes open, and caught your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you closer to him—locked in with no escape. His hips becoming more frantic in their ruts against the mattress, chasing his high as he pushes you closer to yours.
Muffled between the obscene laps of his lips at your core, words littered with groans that sent shivers down your spine, “mmm, cum f’me, love…wanna—feel,” filing your ears as your back formed an arch.
His hips were already stuttering when you gasped about a choked sob, squeezing his hand to ground yourself as your high washed over you in cruel unforgiving waves. Each stronger than the last as James continued to work you through it—walls clenching around his fingers as stars clouded your eyes.
Shaking and trembling against him, his name spilling from your lips like it was the only prayer you knew.
When he detached, lips flushed and glistening, pupils blown and a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. You’d just barely blinked back your vision, whimpering when he pulled his digits away—thighs trying to squeeze shut at the sensation.
You were still breathless, chest heaving and gaze unfocused when your head rolled—catching sight of Sirius. Name immediately slipping past your lips in a hushed whisper.
And he looked at you with such unfair warmth, cheeks just as flushed as yours—painfully hard and tenting in his bottoms. Automatically cooing out small praises as the aftershocks of your high subsided, but you still kept whispering his name—over and over until he inched closer.
Coaxed by your hand reaching out, all but clawing at his forearm. And when he was just close enough that you didn’t have to strain your hoarse voice, he heard it.
Low and breathy and sweet in his ears, “Want you.” And it had his breath catching in his throat, eyes travelling over your bare figure as you turned, leaning into him. Sirius just pressed a kiss to your forehead, almost brushing off your words as delirium.
But you almost whined when his hand stroked the stray hairs away from forehead, words soft and gentle. “rest, love.” And then Sirius heard it again, as firm as your voice could handle—looking at him through your lashes—flush in your cheeks just barely settling.
“Want more, Siri…want you,” sucking in a sharp inhale—finding air to support your voice, “Wanna go all the way.”
Staring at him with a glint in your eyes that made his head spin—his pulse suddenly much louder beneath his spin. “Y’know you don’t have to, love. There’s plenty of time later—“
Craning your neck up, your pressed a soft kiss to his lips, cutting him off. Before just as quickly as you came in, pulling away—words barely above a whisper. “You don’t want to?”
His stomach dropped, instantly shaking his head, “It’s not that. I want to—believe me, I do. Just don’t wanna pressure you, sweetheart,”
You were still staring up at him, giving him that look—that soft pleading look that said don’t make me say it again, heat curling beneath your cheeks as he leaned in.
His hands were on your waist as he kissed you—trying to take his time, be slow and gentle but you pushed back into him with a vigour that had his resolve fraying instantly.
The kiss deepened, and you felt Sirius melt into you—hands flexing against your waist as if grounding himself. His breath shuddered into your mouth as your hands roamed upward, threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him impossibly closer.
“Fuck—” he whispered against your lips, voice low, like a confession. “You’ll be the death of me.”
You only hummed in response, arching slightly beneath his weight, and Sirius groaned—deep and ragged—as your hips brushed his.
That sound went straight to your head—heat coiling in your stomach as you rolled your hips again, deliberately, and his lips parted against yours in a gasp before he dragged his mouth down—jaw, throat, collarbone—leaving a trail of reverent kisses that made your skin burn.
His voice rasped against the curve of your neck, “You’re sure, love?”
Fingers cupped his face, guiding him back up so you could look him in the eye. Your expression was soft but certain, gaze unwavering.
“I’m sure, Sirius.”
He kissed you again, slower this time, almost something sacred in the way his lips moved over yours. Like he was memorising the shape of your mouth—like he was thanking you with every breath—clothes peeling off in a flurry of movement. Then you felt his hand slide lower, gripping your thigh, guiding you to wrap around his waist as he shifted to settle between your legs—eyes never leaving yours.
“You tell me to stop,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours, “and I stop. Understand?”
You nodded, a small sound escaping your throat—something between a yes and a please—and Sirius swore under his breath, kissing you again, deeper, like he couldn't help himself. Gripping onto his shoulders with a desperate hand, trying to pull him in closer, flush against you, as if to fall into him—become one.
It was only when you felt him, hot and firm against your folds that a small gasp slipped past your lips—his eyes were still on you, searching for any hesitation, signs of protest—but he couldn’t find any. Sirius was only met with your flushed cheeked and bleary expression, breathless and soft beneath him.
He found himself chasing your lips, muttering against them, “Gods, you’re so pretty,” As his length rested over and twitched against your core—he could hear the way your breath hitched with each slow and tentative rock he pushed against your folds. Tempting, teasing—and it forced whines and gasps from your lips at the friction.
One heated palm trailed down the side of your body, ghostly far too gentle touches—still swallowing each small mewl that built in your throat—before you felt his hand hitch up your thigh, leaning in closer—making room for himself. Your hands found purchase on the long curls that hung by base of his scalp—carding and tugging when you felt him press into you. Body stiffening as your brows pinched.
A sharp gasp of his name spilt from your lips at the stretch, and he froze—lips parted, eyes squeezed shut before he cracked them open, fingertips tracing nonsense patterns into the skin of your waist. Concern swimming behind his eyes when he spoke, “D’you wanna stop?”
Hips shifting unconsciously as you shook your head—and you both hissed at the friction, chests rising and falling in shaky uneven breaths as he slowly pushed further into you—walls clinging to him, plush and soaked—and it had both your heads spinning.
Thighs quivering beside his hips as your jaw slacked, “O-oh-” Moans and mewls tumbling out of your mouth before you even realised, the stretch had your spine arching as you all but drooled around his length. Sirius was still trying to be patient, placing small kisses along the curve of your neck, your jaw, the thin sensitive skin behind your ear—whispering lightly into your skin.
It was when you sucked him in deeper after the first thrust—hips bucking up in a filthy cadance that had your vision blurrying—that Sirius almost cracked. Hands flying to your hips to keep you still, to keep his sanity, groaning out as he reeled back slightly, “f-fuuck, sweetheart—haah, hold on,”
Squeezing his eyes shut, evoking the patience of a saint to keep each drag of his hips slow and steady—but slow wasn’t going to cut it. Not when the room was spinning, not when all you could think about was Sirius Sirius Sirius, every sense overwhelmed by him, not when you could feel each vein dragging sinfully against your walls.
Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears—pitched, shaky, airy—with each whimpering plea that spilled out, “Hnngh—please, Siri. Ah! s-s’good,” If the chanting of your hips up up up didn’t break him, the sweet ring of your voice in his ears surely did. His head fell into the dip of your neck, cursing under his breath, grip on your hips tightening as he dragged his hips back before pushing all the way in with one languid thrust.
Each nerve was set alight, spine arching into him with a deep curve as a lewd cry tore its way out of you. His eyes threatened to roll back in his head at the way your walls spasmed around him with each weight rut—but he’d forced them open, stuck on you—memorising the way you looked beneath him, overcome with pleasure.
Grasping and clawing at every part of him, and he was no better—pads of his fingers pressing bruisingly into your flesh, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth. Nothing slow and tentative anymore, every shift, and moan, and thrust was feverish—chasing and pushing you further to the edge.
“f-fuck you feel so good—mmfph! taking it so well, love. so good f’me,”
And then, Sirius was angling his hips upwards—urgently, desperately—the hot coil in the pits of your stomach suddenly impossibly tighter as his tip barrelled into that spot, your vision darkened at the edges and tears sprung at the corners of your hazy eyes—thighs trembling from the striking jolts of pleasure that ran through you. Radiating from the base of your spine out.
You were all but melting into the sheets beneath you—staring up at Sirius with a bleary dazed expression, incoherent mewls mixing with his name like a mantra.
Walls clinging to him impossibly tighter with each ram—and he wasn’t going to last much longer, eyes squeezing shut as he nipped and kissed at the skin of your jaw.
Words muffled as he pressed his lips against yours. Hand resigning its bruising grip on your hips to slip between you, thumb rubbing small circles into the over sensitive bundle of nerves—mumbling into your skin when your jaw hung, “c’mon love, need you to let go—f-fuck, please,”
All the muscles in your body became taut, brows pinching impossibly higher on your forehead as your high crashed over you—trembling and shivering as he worked you through it, gasping out as your mind practically shattered.
Vision black, ears ringing before becoming completely boneless.
He was barely holding on when your clamped down onto him, forcing himself out of your core and spilling onto your stomach with an salacious moan, shuddering out breathy whispers of your name. Collapsing onto you lightly, brushing hairs out of your face—small delicate pecks pressing into your jaw.
One hand skimming over the side of your waist, soft and gentle whispers fading away—body resigning itself to sleep.
Bestfriend!Fred with no boundaries teaches you how to have sex
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You weren't sure what had made you so insecure recently. Maybe it was the fact that you were the only virgin in your dorm now that Katie had gotten with Oliver. Or maybe it was the fact that you'd been too scared to do anything more than snog someone at a party. Either way, you were feeling the pressure to experience what the rest of your peers were currently indulging in. The only issue was that you were too scared to make a move on anyone due to your lack of experience, so really the whole situation was an unfortunate cycle of anxiety and naivety that kept you a virgin mary. And that's how you found yourself approaching your best friend Fred in the common room.
"Hi," you said meekly, dropping onto the couch next to him. He shut his book and slung his arm over the couch.
"Hello, darling," he purred, reaching his hand over to play with your hair. You sighed and pouted, earning a chuckle from the redhead. "What's bothering you, love." He knew right away that something was off. Of course he did.
"Well," you cleared your throat, "I was hoping you could help me with... a favor." You grinned shyly at him.
"Well," he drawled, offering you a teasing smile, "Tell me what I can do for you." You groaned as your head rolled onto the back of the couch. You were already regretting coming over here.
"I- ugh this is humiliating," you groaned and covered your face. You could hear him chuckle under his breath. "Stop laughing at me." You snapped, giving him an angry glare which only made him smile wider.
"I'm not laughing at you, Y/N," he said sincerely, putting his hands up in defense, "spit it out already."
"Okay, okay," you breathed, "so you know how I... well how I've never... done more than... y'know." You huffed trying to get him to understand without actually saying it out loud.
"How you're a complete and total virgin?" He smirked, earning a smack from you.
"Fred!" you scolded. He laughed and it almost broke through your utter embarrassment. "But, yes. How I'm a complete and total virgin." You covered your face with your hands again. You could hear him chuckle as he attempted to pry your fingers off your face.
"Love, you know I'm not judging you," he said, pulling your hands down. You let his hand rub gently across your cheek, and your body relaxed. He would never judge you, and that's exactly why you were here. "So what's up?"
"Okay, well I want to.. y'know," you rolled your eyes causing him to laugh, "But I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing... and I need help." You huffed and looked up at Fred to gage his reaction. That smirk was still plastered on face but was now accompanied by a raised brow.
"Oh? And so you want me to..." He dragged on, teasing you. You groaned again. He loved teasing you, and watching the blush spread across your cheeks only provoked him more.
"I want you to... teach me." You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping that he wouldn't reject you.
"I can teach you, darling," he purred, "what are best friends for?" You bit your lip, nervous and excited that he had actually agreed to this. It was weird, knowing the two of you were about to cross a line. At the same time though, you were closer to him than anyone else. This wouldn't change anything, you were sure of it.
"Okay," you breathed, "so what do I do first?" He chuckled and looked around the room. It wasn't too busy, most everyone either at dinner or studying for exams. George and Lee sat in the corner playing cards loudly.
"Well, we can't do anything here," he hummed, standing up. You looked up at him with your brows furrowed. "Come up with me?" He stuck his hand out for you. You hesitantly nodded and took his hand. As he led you up the winding stairs towards his dorm, you were suddenly overly aware. You could feel the nerves begin to course through your body the way they always did when a boy was leading you somewhere private. Fred seemed to sense this as he shut the door to his room behind you.
"You know we'll stop whenever you want to love," he hummed, stroking his thumb across yours. You nodded, the words stuck in your throat. "Are you nervous?" You nodded again, letting a chuckle fall through your lips.
"I- I'm nervous. That's why I've never done anything before," you admitted, the blush on your face burning even more as Fred stepped forward took your face into his hand.
"Just tell me if you don't like it, okay?" Fred asked, waiting for your consent.
"Okay," you whispered, nodded slightly as you looked up at him. You watched him wet his lips with his tongue.
"Can I kiss you?" He breathed. You nodded again and held your breath as he bent down to close the space between you. A involuntary gasp left your lips when he kissed you gently, his hand finding the small of your back. You tentatively kissed him back, melting into him as his thumb swiped against your cheek in the way it had so many times before. Except it was different this time. You were kissing your best friend and he was walking you back towards the bed. You gasped when your legs hit the edge, and Fred chuckled into your lips.
"I'm assuming you've gotten this far before?" He asked, pressing his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavy from your kiss, and it was certainly a sight to see, his lips red and slick.
"Mhmm," you nodded. Although, you weren't sure if anyone had kissed you like this before.
"Good," he breathed, "I'm going to lay you on the bed now, okay?" You nodded eagerly, earning a slight chuckle from Fred. Your incoming blush was hidden when he came forward once again to take you into a kiss. This time it was deeper, and wetter. His hands found their way under you as he pushed you back onto the bed. You let out a noise as your head hit the pillow and he fell over you, connecting your lips again. He could feel your hesitancy in your actions as he kissed you, your hands staying by your sides.
"You can touch me," he smiled, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. You sucked in a breath.
"O-Okay," you fluttered, hesitantly running your finger over his collar bones.
"Good girl," he whispered as he came to kiss you for the third time. Your eyes reflexively rolled back into your head, a wave of something washing through your body. You had almost forgotten about the nerves, your body overwhelmed with feeling as your best friends hands explored down the sides of your body. His knee separated your legs in a way that almost bothered you, and that feeling was exacerbated as his thumb swiped across the front of your hip. You whined into the kiss to your complete embarrassment. Fred hummed to this.
"Did that feel good?" He asked, peppering a kiss on your jaw. You grasped his shirt collar.
"Yes? I think so," you quavered as he hummed into your neck.
"It's supposed to feel good, love. You don't have the be embarrassed," you could feel his smile against your skin, making you squirm with fluster. His hand slid up your leg to the edge of your leg.
"Do you like this?"
You nodded fervently.
"Use your words."
"Yes," you breathed out as his hand slid under your back, "I like it." It seemed that was all it took for Fred to start absolutely devouring you. You had certainly never been kissed like this before, and you wondered if everyone kissed like this or if it was just Freddie. He grunted into the kiss as he lifted your leg up slightly, pressing his hips into yours. This made you moan into his mouth, and you instantly cringed at the sound of yourself. He chuckled into the kiss and pressed his thumb back over your hip.
"Love, it's okay to make noise. In fact, I hope you'll be doing a lot more of that with this next bit," Fred reassured you, going back to peppering kisses on your neck. Were you the only one getting a bit carried away here?
"W-what's next?" you groaned in delight and his lips sucked in a nice spot.
"Have you ever been touched before?" He pulled back to look at your face.
"No," you muttered with a small shake of your head.
"Have you ever touched yourself before, darling?" He asked gently, his thumb continuing to swipe across your hip. You nodded and blushed crimson.
"Y-yes, but I've never," you shook your head.
"Do you want me to make you cum?" He asked so casually, as if this didn't make the heat rush down from your cheeks to your stomach. You weren't sure what you were expecting when Fred had agreed to teach you some new things, but you supposed this was a good start.
"Yes, please," you whispered. Fred smiled at your response, you had always been the polite type. He pushed himself off of you and began unbuttoning his shirt, towering over you as you laid sprawled on the bed. Your eyes caught on his large, freckled chest before you reckoned you should probably be doing the same. You stayed on your back as you began to clumsily unbutton your top. Your eyes stayed on Fred's fingers, his smirked dancing in the edges of your vision. You'd seen Fred shirtless countless times, but never from this angle. The way his fingers moved down his abdomen and closer to his... you were losing focus. He stripped his shirt off before coming over you to help you with yours. As he undid the last button, his eyes dropped to your breasts. His hand reach out gently to caress your waist as he lowered himself over you.
"Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" He breathed, waiting for your consent.
"Okay," You whispered, this time coming up yourself to initiate the kiss. You had never felt this want before building inside of you, wishing that his body would press into your own. His hands explored your body, touching new places and waiting for you to sigh in approval. First they crept up the sides of your waist, then under your breasts to cup and squeeze them, which you found out you liked. You made an embarrassing squeal as he lightly rolled your nipple, which only made him do it again. His hand then traced its way down your stomach and over the front of your skirt. He pulled away for a second which made you whine and nod your head. Fred chuckled lowly as he dropped his hand down even lower, until the tips of his fingers grazed the front of your panties. It already felt better than anytime you'd touched yourself. You felt like you were going to explode when he rubbed down the front of you with his palm. You moaned into the kiss, unable to restrain yourself from bucking your hips up. You could feel yourself start to gush as his hand ghosted over your wet panties.
"Next step, princess," He said, pushing your panties to the side as he searched your face for any hesitancy. At this point, your body felt as though it needed him to touch you or you would die.
"Please, Freddie," you pleaded, your hands clenching the sheets beside you. He smiled slyly in satisfaction.
"You're so well behaved, Y/N," he praised teasingly, his finger running down your slit, "such a good student." You groaned at his teasing words as his fingers ran over your clit, a shock of pleasure rushing through your body. Your hands came up to grasp his arms as his fingers moved over your clit, again and again. His eyes stayed on your face, watching as each wave of pleasure washed over you. Your stomach was beginning to knot when he dipped his finger into your entrance, moving slowly and asking for permission.
“I’ve never done that before,” your voice came out in a whine as his fingers came back up to make circles over your clit. He let out a low chuckle that sounded more like a groan.
“Do you want me to show you what it feels like?” He asked, his supporting hand grabbing the back of your neck as he ran a long swipe over your slit, making your whole body shiver. You supposed you should be embarrassed, making these faces and noises in front of your best friend. But it felt too good to care and all you wanted was to feel his fingers inside of you.
“Y-yes, show me,” you stuttered coming up to kiss Fred again, needing more of him. He breathed into the kiss as his finger grazed over your clit and down to your entrance, pushing into you ever so slightly. You were so tight, and the fact that you’d never been touched here before made Fred pant at the thought.
“Just relax, darling.” He cooed, rubbing his thumb over the back of your neck that he still held tightly in his hand. “You’re doing such a good job.” He thrust his finger in slowly, causing you to clench around him. It felt good, unfamiliar, but good. As his finger moved in then out again, you were starting to realize why everyone was so obsessed with sex. The sight of Fred panting over you didn’t hurt either.
“Fred, I- I think,” was all you could manage before you felt the knot in your stomach suddenly pulsate. A loud whine left your lips as his thumb swiped over your clit another time, sending you over the edge.
“That’s it, cum for me Y/N,” Fred encouraged, holding your head as your back arched off the bed. Unwillingly, your body writhed with pleasure as waves of your orgasm rocked through your core. Fred’s fingers begin to slow down as he kissed in the crooked of your neck, you hips slowly rocking against his hand and the last bits of pleasure drained out from you. He gave you one last kiss before pulling his finger out of you, leaving you with an empty feeling. All you could do was pant as you laid there frozen with pleasure, red and sweaty from the experience. Fred smiled down at you cheekily as he wiped your damp hair out of your face.
“How do you feel, love?” He asked, continuing to brush down your messy hair with his hands. He knows how much you hate looking disorderly, but he had to admit, you looked damn good in this position.
“I mean, that was really good,” you chuckled, covering your face with your hands again and closing your legs up. Fred chuckled and fell beside you, starting to button up your top.
“Well that’s only the first part of your lessons, but I think that’s enough for today,” he hummed, leaning over to kiss your head as he finished the last button. You groaned and rolled over to face him. You couldn’t help but stare down his body, noticing his length bulging through his khakis.
“Aren’t I supposed to do something back?” You bit your lip, running your finger down his chest. Fred stopped your hand as you reached his waistline.
“You’re not supposed to do anything, Y/N,” Fred chimed, “but if you want to learn, I can teach you that, too.” He sent you a wink and a laugh as your cheeks blushed crimson again. You rolled onto your back and let out a chuckle.
“How much more is there to learn?” You thought aloud, still in a dream state from your first orgasm.
“Well on a scale of sex god to complete and total virgin, I’d say you’re still on the latter side of the spectrum,” Fred joked, earning another slap from you.
“Oh, shut up. Just help me learn, okay?” You asked sheepishly. Fred chuckled again and smoothed down your skirt.
Jeff can’t put his finger on it, but something’s wrong with him.
He’s never the first one to arrive for band practice, let alone early. But here he was in the garage tuning his guitar.
Jeff is watching from across the room. He’s punctual. He’s been playing his music at a lower volume. He hasn’t killed anyone’s character out of spite in at least a month. And Mike actually deserved it last week.
Jeff even heard him make comments about the cubs/cardinals game to Wayne in passing.
And there’s something wrong with Eddie’s hair.
It’s not frizzy like it normally is. It looked … soft. Defined. Conditioned —
“You’re sleeping with Steve Harrington!” Jeff snapped, pointing accusingly to Eddie.
Eddie’s face dropped.
His eyes darted between their friends — when did the other guys get here?
For a moment Jeff felt bad blurting it out, catching the fear in Eddie’s eyes. But just like everything else Eddie has faced, he’s replaced the fear with confidence.
Eddie’s eyes narrowed angrily at Jeff. “So what if I am?”
Jeff shrugged, plucking at his strings. “Good for you, man. Just hit me, that’s all.”
That made Eddie physically stumble. Like he wasn’t expecting that. “What?”
“You’ve been different,” Jeff said. “Not in a bad way. Good actually. Just — made me realize it.”
The garage was silent. As if everyone was afraid to make a move.
“Is there — is there gonna be a problem?” Eddie asked, all bravo drained from his voice.
“Nope,” Jeff said. “Like that we’re not waiting on you. Bring him by sometime.”
Eddie stood still, still trying to process everything.
“How did — how did you know?”
Jeff pointed to his own curls. “Your hair. Looks nice. Figured Steve washed it, huh?”
Eddie blushed, pulling a strand over his face. There was a mumbled of a ‘yeah.’
Gareth scoffed. Eddie’s glare quickly went to him. Gareth threw his hands up defensively. “No, it’s just that if anyone can take that mane of yours, it’s Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington.”
Eddie let out a laugh. “Whatever. Just play, bozos.”
Yeah, something’s different about Eddie.
He’s happier than he’s been in years. And Steve Harrington is to thank for that.
[sappy established radiostatic, free use, light somno, filming ment.]
Sex-neutral Alastor x Vox who "jokes" about being free use just in case Al ever wants to fuck him out of literally nowhere... and Vox 100% does mean it, but realistically, he does not expect anything like that to actually happen. He fantasizes, though.
Until one day, after a very long, very fun night of drinking and dancing at the bar together, Vox is sitting in his cozy armchair at home, just relaxing and scrolling on his phone before he goes to bed. Alastor walks over to him, wobbly and warm, sits down in a straddle on his thigh, and starts grinding away. And Vox is like HOLY FUCKING SHIT HI, HEY <3 HELLO <3
Alastor just groans "Don't mind me, dear" and uses Vox's thigh and eventually Vox's fingers until he's satisfied, and sleepily curls up on top of the other demon while Vox stares with eyes that almost look bigger than his head. Smoke whistling out of his head vents, he watches Alastor doze off, soft and warm and perfect on his lap. He jerks off afterwards, while Alastor sleeps, stares at him and jerks off and whimpers his name. Holds him by the waist, imagines fucking him.
When they wake up together the next morning, curled up around each other on the chair, Vox's cum has dried onto them both. Alastor gives him shit. He does not care. He's probably still high off of the memory. All things considered I would assume that he uses his head to film a lot of his sexual encounters with Alastor [FOR HIS EYES ONLY! Possessive television.] and this would be no exception, very special event
[This is a further detailed concept that I originally posted to my twitter <3 follow me there as well to see them first! They are almost always written better here though lol]
summary: "The instant Ron came to you asking for help sewing a rip in his t-shirt, Molly knew you were the woman he was going to marry."
wc: 0.6k+
The instant Ron came to you asking for help sewing a rip in his t-shirt, Molly knew you were the woman he was going to marry. You’d been sitting in front of the fireplace with many of Ron’s siblings, along with Harry and Hermione, listening as Fred and George recalled the story of one of their wicked pranks to Charlie and Bill. You laughed along with everyone else as the twins reached the climax of their story, cuddling into Ron’s jumper that you wore.
This was your first summer at the Burrow as Ron’s girlfriend, and you’d admittedly been a hundred times more nervous to be here, to gain his family’s approval. Your head snapped towards the staircase at the call of your name, watching as Ron padded down the stairs, gripping the side of the shirt he was wearing. “Y/n” he repeated, “Could you fix this for me?” You straightened up in your seat, unaware of the eyes on you as you took the soft fabric of Ron’s favourite t-shirt in your hands, examining the rip in the seam. Your fingers grazed his soft skin underneath the fabric. You hummed, asking “Could you get my-” But your words were interrupted when Ron thrusted your small sewing kit forward, causing you to giggle “Perfect.”
You worked silently, looking for a thread the same colour as Ron’s t-shirt, and began sewing the seam back together. Ron stood in front of you silently, aimlessly playing with a strand of your hair as he listened in on the story. He didn’t notice the look Bill and Charlie shared, or the way Molly stood still with a tray carrying hot chocolate as she admired the intimate moment between you. Molly had to turn away to hide the tears forming in her eyes at the realisation that she would never get to sew her son’s clothes ever again, that he had found someone to do it for him.
“Oh that tickles.” Gasped Ron when your hands ran up his side in an attempt to tie the thread together before snipping it with a small pair of scissors. “Sorry sweetheart.” You muttered, looking up at him while you tried straightening out the now crinkled fabric of his shirt. Ron didn’t bother to check if the job had been well done, so Bill assumed that this had occurred many times before, noticing that Hermione and Harry didn’t flinch at their ginger friend’s request from you. Ron cupped your cheeks, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead as he thanked you, taking your sewing kit back from you. You put a hand over his, shaking your head. “Leave it, I’ll take it up later.” You patted the empty spot next to you reserved for him, and Ron immediately sat down, putting your kit on the side table next to him.
His family watched as you shared a smile, Ron’s hand snaking around your waist while you comfortably cuddled yourself into his side. You leaned your head on his shoulder, arm slung in front of his torso in a loose hug and Ron instinctively pressed another kiss to your temple, eyes trained on his younger sister who started another story to fill the silence. You both thanked Molly sincerely when she handed you your hot chocolates, and she held eye contact with you, a hand coming down to your cheek to caress your skin with a motherly smile as she held back happy tears.
That night, when Ron took you by the hand to lead you outside for a long walk, Molly held her tongue, deciding to give you both some freedom. And when Ginny approached her, asking shyly if her mother could sew up a rip in her jeans, she burst into tears, hugging her daughter close to her.
It stayed hidden, kept between his backpack and the back of his desk drawer when he wasn’t writing in it. Very rarely it left his house.
It wasn’t a diary. It wasn’t a journal. It was his notebook.
Steve had a notebook.
Steve can’t find the damn notebook.
Since his parents have decided they weren’t ever coming back to Hawkins, he was a little more relaxed about where he left it. And now he can’t find it.
He was halfway through tearing up the living room when Robin came over.
She had to shout to get his attention, “What are you doing?”
“I can’t find my notebook,” Steve griped, shoving his arm widely underneath the couch. “I swear I had it yesterday.”
“What notebook?” Robin asked.
“The black one,” Steve said. It’s no use. He can’t see under the couch anymore, and his arm is covered in dust bunnies. He just needed to move the couch completely. He stood back up, about to ask for Robin’s help when he sees her red face.
“Robin?” Steve asked cautiously.
“It was on the kitchen island,” she squeaked.
He turned to look towards the kitchen, already torn up. He quickly scanned the island, seeing no notebook in sight.
“No,” Robin said. “Yesterday.”
“Robin,” Steve said slowly. “Where did it go?”
“I thought it was Eddie’s,” Robin admitted. “He was cleaning up from DND and I thought it was one of his little dungeon story things. He took it from me! He didn’t say anything!”
“Oh my god, Robin!” Steve groaned, running his clean hand over his face. “You didn’t!”
“You can ask for it back,” Robin suggested. “It’s not like he wouldn’t give it back.”
“Oh my god,” Steve repeated. “Oh my god!”
“What?” Robin asked. “What’s so bad about your little notebook full of secrets? Your grocery list? Your to do list? Family’s secret recipes —“
“It’s about Eddie,” Steve snapped. “All of it. It’s just — all about Eddie.”
He sighed, sitting down on the couch. He brought his head to his knees.
He exhaled slowly.
“I had that notebook since senior year. Every thought I had about Eddie is in that book.”
Robin sat down next to Steve. She extended an open palm towards Steve. Steve took it, intertwining their fingers. “Every thought?”
Steve nodded. “So I guess he’ll know now. Either he lets me down easy or I out freak the freak.”
“Come on,” Robin groaned. “You can’t tell me that Eddie wouldn’t be into you.”
Steve shot Robin a glare. “Not the time.”
Robin raised her free hand up. “Look, we can just go to his house and get it. Maybe he hasn’t even opened it! Didn’t realize it wasn’t one of his notebooks and he ignored it. We just ask for it back, and everything will be okay. Okay?”
Steve looked at Robin cautiously. “You don’t think he’s opened it?”
Robin blew raspberries. “Not a chance! Let’s go!”
Eddie had the notebook.
The Notebook.
The one Steve Harrington kept locked away at any given point.
Eddie has seen it in action. When Steve doesn’t think anyone’s watching. When he’s alone at Family Video, jotting something down between customers.
Or when he’s sitting in the back of the Wheeler’s basement, writing instead of paying attention to the movie. Or when they are in the middle of Dungeons and Dragons, he’ll be in the kitchen, writing furiously.
Eddie joked to himself that Steve was writing Spirk fanfiction.
That he was obsessed with Spock fucking Captain Kirk out of his mind. A dark part of Eddie wondered if Steve was writing his last will and testament, a martyr ready to go at any moment.
What he didn’t expect to find was — well, himself.
He didn’t realize he had Steve’s notebook. It was piled onto his crate of dungeon master stuff. He didn’t know he had ownership of such a valuable item until he was organizing the crate this morning, getting his notes together for the next session.
He stared at the notebook in hand, trying to remember what notes he written inside.
When he opened it, he realized it wasn’t his at all.
It was Steve’s notebook.
He knew that handwriting. He needed to shut it — except he saw his name.
10.23.84
Eddie Munson would make a pretty girl. He’s got big dark eyes like Bambi. Wild hair, big and Curly.
I can’t tell if it’s natural or permed. But it’s nice.
He’s nice.
He’s got a nice voice. Deep. Smooth. Ms. Click made him read out loud today. It’s the only time I’ve paid attention in this dumb class. Hes like a storyteller. I didn’t want him to stop.
I wish he was in all my classes.
11.5.84
Finally spoke to Eddie one on one. Sold me some weed. Said he was sorry that Billy got the one up on me.
Said something about Billy listens to Mott Lee Crew and it’s terrible music.
Gave me a discount on my weed.
He’s still nice.
11.7.84
I dreamed about him. He kissed me. He was still a boy. I [eraser marks tore up the paper]
3.2.85
He’s barely in school anymore.
I think they told him he wasn’t graduating.
Someone said he went to California to get a record deal. I’ll never see him again.
3.15.85
He’s back. He’s sad. Didn’t work out.
I hate to admit it, but I’m glad.
6.28.85
I saw him in the mall.
I hid in the damn freezers for my 10 minute break.
Robin hates my guts. Said I was gonna get freezer burn. Said it might help with the ladies.
I dont think I want them anymore.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The girls are hot. Obviously.
But then there’s him.
He’s got long hair like a girl, but no boobs. He’s got scruff he forgot to shave and I want to touch it.
He’s not a girl. He’s never been a girl to me.
But the feeling is the same. Like if he was a girl.
What’s wrong with me?
7.5.85
I’m not alone.
I’m not broken.
If [scribbled out] is like this, then it’s okay. It’s not wrong. It’s okay.
I’m okay.
I just — [scribbled out]
I’m okay.
7.8.85
He gave me my weed for free this time. Didn’t say anything more. He apologized like it was his fault. I couldn’t form a straight thought. I just shrugged. Like a dumbass. He threw in another joint.
He’s so nice.
8.15.85
I convinced Robin to go to the hideout.
Eddie’s a fucking rockstar.
It’s like he was meant to be up there. Center stage, rocking like he’s some big celebrity. His grin is wild and it feels like it’s aimed directly at me.
I wish it was true.
10.1.85
Bisexual.
It’s called bisexual.
11.15.85
Of course the kids find him.
They said they had a new doofuses and dorkuses group. Never said it was Eddie.
He’s so good with the kids. He’s taken them under his wing and protecting them from Jason’s douche bags.
God.
Is it weird that it makes him hotter?
2.13.86
He swung by family video today. Grabbed a few movies and a jiffy pop. Said he’s got big plans. A couple of horror movies.
Didn’t say with someone.
Didn’t say alone.
Just that he’s got plans. On Valentine’s Day.
It hurts. I don’t want to think about it.
3.29.86
He’s alive.
He’s ALIVE.
He woke up yesterday. Briefly. Looked at me with his big brown eyes and smiled. Mumbled something about a guardian angel and fell back asleep.
He’s more awake today. Up about 20 minutes at a time. Remembering more.
He calls me sweetheart and Stevie.
I don’t want him to remember me. I’m not king Steve. I want to be Stevie. Want to be good.
Want Eddie to see the real me now. Not to think about how I was.
5.4.86
He’s so beautiful.
7.6.86
He let me stay with him over the Fourth of July.
He said he remembered how I looked on his porch last year. He made the connection to the upside down a few weeks ago. Didn’t want me to be alone.
I slept in his bed. I slept next to him. His whole room smells like him and I never want to leave.
7.26.86
I did a dumb thing. I bought tickets for Metallica for Eddie. I went with him. Drove him down to Evansville. The singe broke his arm, so it was just Ozzy.
But Eddie was so excited. He looked so natural there. Surrounded by music he loves and people like him.
No one knew him. He was just another guy in the crowd. I couldn’t tell you what songs Ozzy did. But I bet Eddie could.
He looked so good there. So [eraser marks]
Happy looks good on him.
9.3.86
Eddie never ceases to amaze me when he DMs. He’s like a cartoon, wild and fun and care free.
His smile is so genuine, it made everything worth it. Sometimes, he glances at me and I feel butterflies in my gut. For a split second, his attention is on ME and nothing else in the world matters. It feels like he loves me too —
Eddie slammed the book shut.
Loves.
Not likes.
Loves.
He did.
He loves Steve. Has for a while now.
He had a crush on him since his stupid coiffed hair and his dumb polos were hanging off of Nancy at any given moment.
Eddie didn’t think he had a chance. He didn’t think Steve liked him that way. That Steve could like him that way.
And now he knows.
Steve loves him.
Eddie read his notebook and he knows Steve’s secret.
Steve’s going to be so pissed.
How was Eddie going to tell Steve that he loved him back, that he felt the same way, without admitting to violating his privacy?
The screen door creaked open.
“Eddie?” Robin called. “You awake? And decent?”
Eddie sighed in relief. It was just Robin —
“Eds —“
Steve poked his head into Eddie’s room, his eyes wide as he locked onto the notebook in Eddie’s hands.
Shit.
Steve stared at the notebook.
His notebook.
Open.
In Eddie’s hands.
And he’s pretty sure he’s on the last entry.
The one from yesterday, while they were playing dungeons and dragons. The one where he admits he’s finally in love with Eddie.
How does he explain it? Blow it off? Pretend that Eddie’s not holding his heart in his hands.
“Eddie, I’m —“
“I’m gay!” Eddie shouted, startling Steve in the doorway and Robin in the living room. A silent beat passed before Eddie continued, his words spilling out a mile a minute. “I’m gay and I’m so in love with you and I’m so sorry for reading this, I thought it was mine and clearly it’s not, but I saw my name and — that’s no excuse because I should’ve stopped and I violated your privacy and everything but if I didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and I couldn’t tell you that me — me too.”
He took a hasty breath, pointing to his chest.
“Me. Gay. Love. You.”
Steve stared at him for a moment, processing. His heart is beating through his chest. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. The terrible possibilities that he’s making this up. That Eddie didn’t say those words. Or Eddie’s only saying it to make him feel better.
But what if he’s honest?
What if this works out?
“Not a joke?” Steve asked, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. He felt like a deer, ready to take off at the next loud noise.
“Not a joke,” Eddie said, slowly standing up, like he knows Steve’s nervous. Dropped the notebook on the bed.
Steve’s eyes quickly darted to it, thinking if he’s fast, he could grab it and make a run for it. He held his hands in front of his chest, palms exposed to Steve. He slowly approached him until he was close enough to brush his hand against Steve’s arm. Eddie’s fingertips ran down Steve’s arm, stopping at his hand.
“I promise you, Steve,” Eddie whispered. “I love you, too. I just — didn’t think you were like me. That this would be possible. So I thought I’d be content being you friend.” He slipped his hand into Steve’s. “That if the only way I could have you was as my friend, then I’d shove my feelings down and pretend that I didn’t have this big crush on you.”
“And —“ Steve swallowed nervously. “And you’re not just saying this? To make me feel better?”
Eddie pulled away. Steve felt his heart stop.
Then Eddie practically dove onto his bed, shoving his arm between the mattress and the wall. His tongue stuck out in concentration as he reached. Steve couldn’t help but laugh.
Then — Eddie pulled out a yellow spiral notebook.
In big, black permanent marker, the cover read: EDDIES! DO NOT TOUCH
Steve kind of swore under his breath, realizing he should’ve put his name on the cover. But the “do not touch” may have incentivize the teens to open it.
Eddie sat on his bed, opening the notebook. He looked up at Steve and patted the spot next to him.
Steve hesitated. He swayed in the doorway before Robin gently pushed him forward. He closed the small gap and crawled on the bed. Eddie leaned in close, showing the open notebook to Steve.
“It’s only fair,” Eddie said quietly. “That you get to read my heart, too.”
Steve studied Eddie for a moment, lost in the beauty of him up close.
He could see the reddish brown of his dark eyes, the small freckles hidden in his pale skin, the way his sheepish smile is pulled tight on one side from the scarring.
He could see how vulnerable he is in this moment.
Steve looked down at the notebook in his hands.
SUNSHINE
The warmth of your smile
Like rays of a sun
Leave your mark on my skin
Let me bask, turn it red
THE SUN
The warmth of your smile
Like rays of a sun
Leave your mark on my skin
Let me bask, turn it red
Let me stay in your orbit
floating around you
Because there’s no where else I’d want to be
HAZY
I’m in a cloud of haze
When I’m around you
Your eyes on me
The whole world focused on me
Like the roar of the ocean
Like the soft grass
Like the rich earth
Hazy hazy hazy
I’m in a cloud of haze
THE DREAMER
he said when we go
He wants the east room
The sun rises in the east
And falls to the west
And all I can think about
Is we, we, we
Like a sweet dream
Haunting me
I think of easy Saturdays in the kitchen
Dancing around breakfast
The radio on something sickly sweet
Like Lauper or Loverboy
Like Mercury singing about love
And he’d see me
Like I see him
And he would want me
Like I want him
And all I can dream about
Is us, us, us
Steve looked up at Eddie, eyes wide. “You mean it?”
“Every word,” Eddie breathed. “They’re — uh — songs. Most of them. Not like — not like corroded coffin stuff. They’re meant for the Machine.” Eddie nodded toward the acoustic guitar.
“You wrote songs about me,” Steve repeated. “For me.”
“Technically you were never supposed to hear them,” Eddie said sheepishly. “But I thought it was only fair. Notebook for a notebook.”
“Eddie,” Steve’s eyes drifted to his lips, snapping back up. “I’m gonna kiss you.”
“Fuck yes,” Eddie breathed, leaning in.
Steve kissed Eddie.
Oh my god he’s kissing Eddie! He cupped Eddie’s jaw, feeling the stubble against his palm. He felt Eddie lick against his lips —
“I’m gonna go,” Robin cleared her throat. “Not that I’m not happy for you two. It’s just — I don’t know what you’re gonna do next.”
“Yeah,” Eddie laughed, his hand playing at the hem of Steve’s shirt. “Maybe — maybe you should.”
“Ew —“ Robin said turning away. “Eddie that’s my SISTER —“
“Robin —“ Steve interrupted, turning to look at her with a soft smile. “Thank you. For giving Eddie my notebook.”
Robin smiled back. “You’re welcome. Eddie — don’t deflower my SISTER. He’s a RESPECTED member of Hawkins!”
“No promises,” Eddie smirked. “Now that he’s mine, I’m never letting go.”
“Yeah?” Steve breathed. He felt like he was full of butterflies, ready to take off. “You’re mine, too.”
