After his 19th birthday, when the Strigoi bloodline began to express, it became worse. The angular ears, the too-bright teeth, the sunken cheeks, and the uncanny build — all made him look like something you’d find in a back alley, feeding on magic.
Remus had watched the changes with fascination and aching affection. But he never said anything. He didn’t want to make Sirius feel like a thing.
Years later, after Azkaban, the creature is all that’s left. Gaunt, silent, monstrous — the sharp angles no longer hidden by charm or arrogance.
Remus sees him again in the Shrieking Shack and his first thought is, he looks exactly like he did when he changed — except now, it’s clear to everyone.
Cw: Noncon, Angst, Smut, Afab Reader, Dark!Sirius, PnV Sex, Somnophilia, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Crying, Forced Orgasm, Tender But Nasty™️, References to Alcohol Abuse, Reader has head + pubic hair, this got kinda bleak and depressing
READ WITH CAUTION
Word Count: 3.5k
Summary: 12 Grimmauld Place is a miserable home.
But for now, it is yours. A lost and vulnerable soul, you find refuge in the owner of the house; a man as troubled as yourself. Unbeknownst to you, he’s sunken his teeth in far deeper; clutching onto you like a lifeline, and the dark, harrowing isolation of winter may drive him to commit acts unforgivable…
Ao3 || Masterlist || Dividers by @/saradika
In mid-February, it’s so cold, so desolate, it reminds him of sharp, icy fingers, clamping down on— His childhood home, decrepit with neglect and age, is the last place Sirius ever hoped to return to. It’s lost, crumbling into undignified ruins, deteriorating into filth. With his pest of a house elf still clinging to the old family values, it’s properly gone to the dogs, and he’d gladly let them pick off the carcass.
But now you’re hiding alongside him - not by choice - you’ve taken it upon yourself to try and ‘fix it up.’ Sirius almost scoffs at the mere thought of it— At you, whose nose wrinkles distastefully at the grime and mould that gracefully adorns his kitchen. You don’t understand that the disease has progressed far beyond the point of recovery. It’s everywhere; it’s in the air you breathe, in the walls, in the carpet. It’s lurking inside the very infrastructure, festering like cancerous growth. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, haunted by its rotting opulence: the decaying decor, the cursed, priceless artefacts, the tattered, hateful portraits, courtesy of mum.
Sirius, who has long since forgotten the luxury of owning his own clothes, wraps himself in the same mothball ridden finery his father died in. Sometimes he feels— He’s eaten alive by the fabric. By vestiges of the past. It still stinks of stale drink, and on nights like these, Orion’s son glares down at the bottom of an empty wine bottle, and thinks that he might be following in his footsteps after all.
On a night like this, the aged floorboards squeak under his heels as he prowls the dilapidated halls. Sirius’ stalking route leads to you, as it usually does, far past midnight. Your bedroom door is sealed tightly shut - probably to keep the heat in - but you never lock it. As if he isn’t dangerous.
Gripping the weathered knob, he twists it, and lets himself in. The dim, yellowy glow of the gaslamp bolted to the corridor wall is his only light, flickering as it pours into the musty guest room he’s lent you. Sirius lingers on the precipice, his fingers still curled around the handle, sobering up rapidly.
Blinking slowly, he looks down at you.
You’re lying on your side, both arms grasping the pillow, dressed in that novelty pyjama set (‘to ward off the draught,’ was the unspoken function of it) Tonks had gifted you for Christmas; a sort of consolation prize. Greatest sympathies, to prepare you for the sordid husk you’ll now inhabit— With him, no less, a man you thought at first to be a killer.
And you, well… You’ve been left skittish from whatever you’re on the run from. He reckons that’s why you’ve latched onto him so powerfully, hoping this unredeemed convict will see fit to protect you from the isolation and the horrors. To help fill the long stretches of time when it’s just been the both of you to keep each other company. Sirius can’t deny his own strong attachment towards you.
Your presence is comforting, and he’s fallen deeply. Too deeply. It’s why he so often finds himself standing here, watching over you. Sirius envies you, the peaceful sleeper. But he also covets you; if only you’d stay and lay beside him, to heal wounds never spoken of… But he doesn’t know how to ask.
Silently, he crosses the boundary.
Rising over your unconscious form, he lifts the quilt, a heavy, lumpy thing, and tentatively rests his knee on the mattress. You sleep peacefully on, even as the rusty old bed-springs squeak underneath him. Sirius slides his exhausted body in behind you, and the dark mass of his own scraggly black hair spills over the cushion. For a moment, he lies there, unmoving and quiet. Even at this safe, chaste distance, your body heat, radiating off you in gradual waves, is enough to soothe the permanent chill that’s seeped into his bones… Sirius can’t resist. He shifts, before placing his forefinger over your throat.
Sirius can feel your pulse, throbbing with blood; you’re a real, flesh and blood human, warm and alive. Merlin, he’s been deprived for so long, a strong vein feels like it’s a lifeline. This is all he’s ached for, but— No... No. He’s already overstepped a line, one he shouldn’t have ever— He needs to stop, he needs to leave, now, before this all goes too far and he ruins it; ruins you, as he knows he inevitably will.
But he doesn’t. Sirius’ breath catches in his throat as he tilts his chin ever-so-slightly, and he presses his cold mouth against your exposed nape. You twitch, but do not stir. Sirius licks his dry lips and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as he nudges down the fleeced collar of your pyjama shirt with his thumb. The slope of your neck is covered in fine, delicate hairs, and he can’t help but smile affectionately down at you. Your defenceless state is sweetly endearing. To be so close to you like this, almost holding you, tender as lovers.
Sirius hesitates, then, squeezing his eyes shut as he endures the lurch of churning revulsion in his gut (he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t—), he leans forward and plants a string of wet kisses over your bare flesh. So human, so vulnerable… You twitch again, shivering as the ticklish brush of his whiskers rubs lightly over your naked skin. Shame burns like acid in his stomach; but his need for you burns brighter, hotter than fire now, all-consuming… He heaves a jagged sigh, and, unable to stop himself, drags the starving flat of his tongue over your neck, lapping up hungry stripes of perspiration. Sirius tightens his grip on you and shudders with relief— He’s finally quenched his thirst, if only a little. Your intoxicating scent, your taste…
He’s stolen things, too, before this; he’s not proud of it, but he’s done it. It’s convenient enough to blame it on Kreacher, who hoards all sorts of objects in the first place… What is the difference, really, between the Black family heirlooms and soiled knickers from the wicker basket? No, It hasn’t been so hard to convince you it was Kreacher; to lie and to fib— his old, senile house elf is simply a raging kleptomaniac… You trust him so much… And now Sirius has gone and betrayed that trust entirely.
Merlin, he needs to stop, he needs to… This should be enough… No, it’s not enough… It’s never enough, he’s barely touched you… Sirius groans feebly into the nape of your neck, slipping the palm of his hand under your nightshirt, desperate for your sacred, lifesaving heat, just a little bit— And then he’ll stop, immediately— just a tiny bit more… You shiver once more, twitching repeatedly as the pads of his fingertips skim over your stomach, still asleep… Sirius brushes his lips over your throat again, as he locks you in wiry arms, inching up your shirt, exposing you to the dark and cold. He traces the slats of your ribs, searching further, until he comes to knead coyly at your breast, teasing your nipple. He dips, finding the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, thumping robustly… Proof of life.
And you’re definitely real, aren’t you? Not a hallucination, not some illusion… He’s sleepless for the nightmares, but the dreams are always worse, because they remind Sirius of everything he can’t have, not ever again… But he can have you. This stray thought, forceful and insidious, leaks into the dark recesses of his brain. Yes, He can have you— It’s his house, his rules, isn’t it?
Fuck, he’s disgusting. The realisation of what he’d just conceived of, even momentarily, assaults him with a new stab of remorse. Sirius flinches away, pulling his offending hand out of your pyjamas; but the damage has already been done. By now, he’s pressed flush against you, leeching off your comforting warmth, and his dick is straining tightly against his trousers. Merlin… He’s perverse.
He throws his forearm over his eyes, blinding himself. Sirius intended for this to be a wholesome encounter, to be sweet and innocent. And now… Have all those years of degradation truly rotted him to the core? Is this what he’s become now? A lustful wretch? This has gone too far, too far— He should leave—
But now, Sirius has known your touch, and it’s embedded itself parasitically into his mind. He’s swiftly hurtling into addiction; he can’t settle for mere table scraps— To retreat with his tail between his legs, only to find a cold and lonely bed, would be unbearable... Sirius rattles a breath, grasping onto that frayed rope of inherited entitlement he’d meant to cut off a decade ago— He deserves this one thing, surely, after a life of torment… Right?
You twitch again, mumbling incoherently. Sirius grimaces. He needs to be careful… You might be a heavy sleeper, but he’s already disturbed you too much. If you wake up screaming… He wouldn’t like to think of what he might do. But he’ll stop— He’ll stop after this, he swears it to himself, licking his lips, feeling harder and hungrier than ever.
Sirius’ forearm props up your leg for him to gain enough access, spreading your thighs open. It’s awkward, but he manages. He tugs down the waistband of your pyjama bottoms, just a bit, so he can touch you, feel you so close to him… Sirius’ hand brushes over a soft tuft of your pubic hair, and he twitches a faint smile… So endearingly vulnerable, before dipping his fingers into your pussy.
You’re not aroused, but the heat of your core is enough to satisfy him, if only temporarily. Sirius hasn’t done anything like this for a long time; it feels unfamiliar, like all human contact does. He nudges away the curls, tracing your labia, before recalling the shape and form of it, and gently rubbing your clitoris. Fondness, mixed in with his sickening shame, rushes into him, and he presses his lips to your nape again, pleading and soothing like an apology.
Then, Sirius bites his tongue, justifies himself with the excuse of repaying you with sweet dreams, and pushes his index finger deeper inside your pussy. He hums quietly, indulging in your little twitches, the way your walls flutter around him. It’s not particularly romantic to pleasure you without receiving consent, but lying back-to-chest in the darkness, planting scorching kisses down your neck, he can use his mind to fill in the gaps. Easing out his intruding hand, Sirius tastes the heady flavour of your slick— Merlin. He licks his fingers greedily, drenching them in spit, before plunging them back into your warm cunt, spreading wetness over your folds.
You let out a sleepy whimper at his touch, and he pauses, going completely stiff with alarm. But— But you haven’t woken up… And now he’s uncontrollable, beyond all morality, relishing in your soft, breathless gasps as he toys with your clit, his damp fingers sliding easily in and out of your pussy. You moan faintly, and the noise vibrates straight to his cock. He’s throbbing, now... Groaning, he forces down his guilt and remorse, discarding them as trite, worthless things. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Though you’re still fast asleep— Yes, maybe you’ve hoped for this all along… Secretly. Secretly. Of course, you’ve just been too embarrassed to admit it, but that’s fine… Right now, you’re all his.
But that’s still not enough.
Sirius knows what he truly needs; to bury himself inside of you, to merge with you entirely, to steal your warmth for himself— This aching desire, it’s wrong, so revoltingly wrong, but so is he; the entire expanse of flesh covering his body feels like prison, mired in filth, and he’ll never be clean again… He only wishes you could alleviate his pain— Oh, but you can, Sirius will find solace in your heat even if he has to take it from you. He grinds his palm against his temple as he decides. He fights it, but his selfishness wins… Yes, he needs it, needs you— Fuck, he’s about to do something unforgivable, commit a genuine offence; but he’ll make it up to you, of course he will—
Sirius carefully shuffles down your pyjama bottoms until they’re bunched up around your ankles, followed by your moist panties. He shifts, now painfully hard and weeping in his trousers, and allows your thigh to fall momentarily to unbutton them and release his erection. Rigid and leaking precum, his dick falls over your ass. He readjusts his position on the bed and strokes himself roughly, before hooking his forearm around your leg and lifting it. You jerk unceremoniously and mumble, stirring, but he ignores you— He’s too close, he’s gone too far now… Gritting his teeth, Sirius guides his cock into you, finding you elusive and slippery in the dark, but— The slick of your folds sliding along his length feels heavenly. Sirius licks his lips, smearing precum over your inner thighs, and finally enters you.
He stifles a raspy moan into your neck. The hug of your tight, wet heat is almost overwhelming— Shuddering, he wholly eases himself inside you. Merlin, you feel so perfect around him… Sirius, gasping rapturously, begins to move, savouring every long, torturous drag against your gummy walls. You’re rousing, now, slurring confused murmurs— “What, what’s going on, hm…”
Sirius doesn’t miss the flutter of lashes, a sharp intake of breath— But he continues, regardless, thrusting in slow, tender arcs. Flinching, you let out a strangled, high-pitched noise, and that’s how Sirius knows you’re truly awake— But he’ll make it up to you, he will— he spreads your thighs wide, to penetrate further, sucking affectionate bites into your neck as he ravishes your quivering body. You tremble and shriek, and your panicked struggling fills him with guilty regret. But he needs this now, he needs you now, he’s been alone for too long— And he’s not going to stop until he’s finished taking you… Feverish, Sirius’ other forearm digs underneath the pillow you’re clutching onto, white-knuckled. He tightens his grip on you before he sinks in deeper, spearing into your intimate core
You whimper, spasming involuntarily. Sirius rumbles with approval, his lips still latched onto your throat. He grabs your thigh firmly, bracing himself against the old headboard. He growls and snaps his hips upward, hitting that delicious spot over and over, trying to elicit more of those sweet noises from you. Even if you’re being frustratingly reticent - too shy, he pretends - you’re still unable to muffle your cries, twitching and writhing in his relentless grasp.
The bed creaks noisily as he hastens his pace, showering wet kisses on your rapidly bruising flesh. His movements are heated and urgent now, growing increasingly desperate— Now he’s inside you, he must fill you utterly— He longs to feel alive with you, slipping a hand down towards where you join together and connect, feeling the way his cock effortlessly slides in and out of your pussy. He dips further to rub harshly at your clit, and you whine, arching. Sirius strokes you mercilessly, his wrist cramping from the awkward positioning—
But it doesn’t matter, you’re spurring him on with your ecstatic moans, croaky with tears. He doesn’t let up, teasing in sloppy, frantic circles as he bucks into you, revelling in the stickiness of your skin against his; the lewd, wet sound of flesh-on-flesh is obscene. Sirius groans hoarsely, his hips jerking and stuttering as your cunt squeezes around his dick with his every forceful thrust— You are enjoying this…
Fuck, he is too— Hot pleasure jolts up his spine like the tightening of a knot; and you, crying out with loud whimpers as your spongy insides clench and squeeze around him— Sirius can’t take it anymore. He forgoes gentleness, pounding into your cunt with beastly intensity. You choke out a sob, lurching away from him, but he overpowers and holds you down, still abusing your sensitive clit— He’s going to fuck you until you cum, whether you want it or not— And his hungry mouth returns to sink livid, red marks into your neck, teeth grazing your artery. Something in the wooden bed frame cracks ominously—
But he ignores it, his breathing growing laboured and husky as he slams his hips into you, again and again, forcing you to whine until your voice breaks. You’re shaking violently in his grip— He can sense it, and you’re close, so close— He’s getting sloppier; rapidly approaching orgasm, and your reactions are boiling his blood, whipping up a primal frenzy in his brain— Sirius pinches your clit, and you climax.
Your euphoric moan chokes into a loud sob. Sirius growls at the way you clench around him, and pins you down with his body weight. His hand slips and pushes your leg up high, fucking you harder still through your orgasmic tremors— He’s following right behind you, on the cusp— You’re impossibly tight—
Merlin, you’re so damn tight— Sirius barely remembers to— He pulls himself out with a heavy groan, and his seed spills messily over the inside of your thigh. Hazy static pours over him, smothering the guilt, the emptiness… As it gradually tapers out, he feels the absence of your heat, of your closeness, and it pangs like the pain of starvation. It takes a moment for him to recover, lying beside you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Then, he pushes himself up onto his elbow.
Panting, Sirius’ damp hair clings to his forehead, stinging his eyes. He wipes it, and fog clears, revealing only desecration.
As if murdered, you lie very still— Or try to, but your breathing is ragged and uneven. You’re glistening with orgasmic sweat, chest heaving as he rests your trembling leg back onto the mattress. You jolt, as if hiccuping, still wracked with sobs. Sirius’ heart aches for you— Merlin, no, what has he done?— He wants to take this moment back, but it’s too late now. The only fix he can think of is practical, like ridding a crime scene of evidence…
Sirius pulls out his wand, flicking shakily, evaporating his cum, but the scent of your lovemaking still lingers, thick in the air. With as much dignity as he’s able to grant you, he tugs your pyjamas and knickers up your hips. He tucks himself in and buttons his trousers, swimming in post-climax numbness. For a few minutes, he resumes his vigil behind you, as if he’d never done it at all. But you’re colder and distant; farther away than he’s ever felt you. Sighing, he gently strokes your hair. You don’t flinch or shiver away from his touch, but lie still, perfectly still… Your tear-stained cheek is still stuck to the damp patch on your pillow. Sirius passes over it deliberately. You’ve been asleep this entire time, blissfully unaware… That’s a lie he’ll peddle for both of your sakes, until this all melts safely into a nightmare.
It’s agony to tear himself away from your warmth, but Sirius knows he’s ruined everything by violating you, and lingering will only hurt you more. He presses one final, adoring kiss to your neck, yearning to embrace you, then slips wordlessly out of bed.
To forbid himself, he uses magic to bolt the lock.
Morning brings clarity.
He walks into the kitchen, and the stone tiles clack under his boots, echoing, echoing… You’re there, also, preparing a slow, tedious breakfast.
The silence is heavy. Sirius wants to break it, but the quiet feels impenetrable; a chasm of his own design. For a moment, he frowns, looming uneasily over the dining table, aggravated by the clinking of the jar as you spread jam on your toast, eyes downcast.
Then, he pulls out a rickety chair and sits down.
You don’t smile at him today. You don’t return his probing gaze. You knife up more slimy jam— Too much, now, and the bread has gone soggy.
If you’d only burst into tears, he’d gladly take you in his arms to hold you now. Sirius could be your solitary comfort, as you have been his… Only, your new, withdrawn, gloomy state unnerves him. His face darkens… Your bond has truly been broken.
But there’s something else, too.
Remorse gnawed his flesh until daybreak, and was scarred over by something cruel and hard, burrowing gruesomely inside him like an infection.
He could think of it this way: returning to his old childhood home has done very, very strange things to him. Yes… That’s it. Sirius has never had anything so warm and lovely in this place... And indeed, he’s spent much of his life out of control and powerless… But he does have power over you. It occurs to him abruptly. He does have power over you.
Sirius leans back in his chair with a squeak. His guilt, hot and shameful, broils fiercely in his gut, but it intertwines with a kind of grim satisfaction.
Anon: More horny? Like, idk, maybe Stepdad Sirius hearing you on the phone to your friend about how your boyfriend can’t make you cum and you have to fake it so he shows you how a real man fucks?
A//N: y’all straight up have issues…
Warnings: 18+ only, Smut, Dark!Stepdad Sirius x sub!Reader, cheating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all), breeding kink (kinda?), p in v, praise and degradation, masturbation, stepcest, Older Sirius Black, r is of age, innocence kink
Word Count: 1.4k
“I don’t know… I mean- he keeps fucking me but I always have to fake it when I cum.” You complained into your phone, “I don’t see why you’re still with him honestly.” Your friend responded, “Well- I love him…I think.” You mumbled the last part, “What about your hot stepdad?” She mused, you blushed at the mention of him, “Sirius?” You spluttered, “Yeah- well I mean I guess he’s hot but he’s my stepdad!”.
“You know maybe he could fuck you.” Your friend suggested with a laugh causing you to blush furiously, “I wish.” You sighed into the device, “Oh come on, he’s totally into you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” You could hear the grin in her voice, “I’ll remind you again. He is my stepdad!” You yelled at her, she chortled another laugh, “Right he’s your daddy.”, you whined in frustration, “I’m hanging up on you now.”.
As you set your phone down you rolled onto your back with a sigh. ‘Sirius was moderately attractive.’ You thought, eyebrows furrowing as a dirty thought crossed your mind, ’No, no. It wouldn’t be right. He’s your stepdad.’ The thoughts continued to flow your mind. Few rational ones coming across.
You were so caught up in your thoughts that you had allowed you hands to slip into your panties as you rubbed quick circles on your clit, bucking up into your own hand at dirty thoughts of your stepfather.
Unbeknownst to you, said stepdad was smirking as he stood outside your door, listening to your pretty cries of his name.
Sirius had originally come upstairs to ask you about dinner when he heard your conversation about him with your friend. He didn’t mean to pry of course- actually he very much did. Sirius knew he shouldn’t have naughty thoughts about his much younger stepdaughter but how could he help it? She was practically whoring herself out to him. Wearing slutty tank tops around the house that barely covered those pretty tits of hers.
As his mind traveled further down the rabbit hole he heard an especially loud cry come from you, pulling his mind out of the gutter. Sirius took this as the perfect opportunity to walk into your room.
The door opened and you immediately sat up, removing your hand from your panties and covering the spot of cum with a blanket.
“Everything ok in here, pup? Heard you call out for me.” Sirius’s deep voice rung through your ears as you tried to recollect yourself, “uh- y-yeah. E-everything’s fine, Mr Black.” You mentally cursed yourself for being so formal, he would’ve seen right through you.
“Mr Black, aye? Haven’t heard that in a while. Surely somethings the matter, puppy.” He mused, shutting the door behind him as he walked towards you.
You blushed more as he continued to walk closer, stopping only when he stood above you.
Sirius’s finger hooked under your chin, forcing you to look up at him as you gulped nervously, “Were you planning on telling me about these little fantasies of yours?”, You were confused for a moment before he tore your blanket away to reveal the white patch on the bed.
“Sirius it’s not what you think-“ You tried but were silence by one of his fingers against your lips, he tutted at you, “S’not my name is it princess?” He hummed, you gulped again, “N-no daddy.” You corrected, forcing your eyes away from his piercing black ones, “hmm. Better. But I think I should make sure you remember that.” He smirked.
His words confused you but then you were pushed back on the bed as he hovered over you, “Sirius-“ you realised your error at his hard glare and were quick to correct yourself, “daddy what are you doing?” You asked.
“Whatever that dumb brain wants me to do.” He flicked your forehead teasingly causing you to pout in annoyance, “Now, how about you start by telling me what you were imagining daddy doing to you.”.
You looked to the side as you contemplated whether you should tell him or not.
“I want you to make me cum. Properly. I wanna- wanna cum on your cock.” You inhaled sharply as the wetness grew more between your thighs, Sirius scoffed a laugh, “Can’t your boyfriend do that for you? Or have you been saving yourself for daddy?”.
Sirius’s hand landed a slap on your pussy when you didn’t respond to him, “Answer me, pup. Don’t wanna punish you.” He definitely did just not before he got to fuck you.
“He- he can’t. My boyfriend doesn’t make me cum. He get’s himself off and I have to fake it.” You explained, a faux pout formed on your stepfathers lips, “That won’t do now will it? Let daddy show you how a real man fucks.”
You gasped as your felt the cool air hit your cunt with the loss of fabric covering your sensitive areas, “You know, I’m a little disappointed your not a virgin although I hardly think that will matter since this cunt is probably too tight to even get a proper cock in you.” The laugh came out taunting and mocking as Sirius teased your entrance with his fingers.
“Don’t even think I need to prep you. Y’did that all on your own like a good girl, s’nt that right?” He hummed, you could only nod in response but that wasn’t enough for Sirius, “Answer me, poppet.”, “S’right daddy. I did it by myself.” You mumbled, “Tell me. What did you do all by yourself?” He quoted, of course he already knew the answer but seeing the humiliation it brought you made it so much better.
“I fingered myself so then you don’t have to.”, the proud smirk that fell upon your stepfathers lips made you shiver.
“And you know what that means? Means I can fuck you straight away.” He mused, you whimpered in response, “Please fuck me, daddy. Need it so bad.” You begged the older man above you.
Sirius cooed gently as he wiped a stray tear from your eyes, “M’gonna fuck you so good, petal. Make you my little fucktoy.” He kissed your forehead gently.
His belt came off along with his trousers and shirt, “Y’gonna be a good girl and let me use you now?”, you nodded desperately, “Yes- fuck- please daddy, want you to use me.” You whimpered pathetically.
“That’s my good slut.” And with that he sheathed himself inside you, encouraging a wanton moan from your throat, “Knew you’d be tight but fuck- your squeezing me like a fucking vice.” He gasped out as he reached a sensitive spot inside you.
Sirius began to thrust in and out of you at a rough and brutal pace, you guessed you would probably end up with a bruised cervix by the end of the night.
The sound of slapping skin filled the room as your hips were met with Sirius’s, “F-feels good daddy.” You moaned softly, “Feels good, puppy? Just needed a real man to- shit- fuck you?” He said in between grunts.
“Yes daddy. Jus’ needed a real man to make my pussy feel good.” You answered.
You grabbed Sirius’s hair for dear life as you pulled roughly on the roots, enticing pleasured moans from the raven haired man above you, caught up in the moment you subconsciously trailed your nails up and down his back, driving Sirius absolutely feral and making him fuck you harder than before.
“Daddy m’gonna cum! Can I please cum?” You screamed out as your legs wrapped tightly around his torso.
“Let go for me, pup. Need to feel it. Go on, let go for daddy.” He groaned out, using his own hand to knead the soft flesh of your breasts.
With his words you came all over his cock, squeezing him tight enough that you practically milked him for all he had, “Fuck yes- you feel so good. M’gonna fill you up so good.” He whispered in your ear as he fucked himself through his own orgasm.
The room quieted as Sirius fell to your side, “What would your mother say?” He teased as the first words since he pulled out, you let out a soft giggle, “Let’s maybe not tell her, daddy. She might have a heart attack.” You innocence made Sirius want to take you all over again but he refrained, instead pulling you closer towards him.
“Such a good little puppy for me. Always such a good puppy.” His voice was hushed as you slowly drifted off to sleep.
Sirius Black is the proud head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and an eager supporter of the Dark Lord. Both he and his wife Narcissa are amongst the Dark Lord's most trusted, but one night an Order of the Phoenix member appears as a thorn in their side and Sirius has to admit, he likes it.
Remus Lupin, a reluctant but scrappy fighter in the war against Voldemort, is sent on an Order mission. A run-in with a Death Eater—who happens to be the most handsome man he's ever seen—sets him on a path towards destruction and God, he loves it along the way.
chapter five
“Shut up, Potter. Lupin, are you well?” Sirius asks, almost looking concerned.
James blusters, crossing his arms over his chest. “Er, hold on a second, Black—”
Remus rolls his eyes as he shuffles up and pushes the covers back so he can climb off the bed. “James, mate. James. It’s fine, seriously.”
“Sirius Black is in our flat and it’s fine!?” James cries.
Read chapter five here | Or start from the beginning
(in which Sirius and James are idiots together no matter what universe I put them in)
As the Worm Moon Dies by Rollercoasterwords (WIP) - wolfstar-
Summary (from AO3):
In 1965, Voldemort became Minister for Magic. In 1968, the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix was destroyed, the remnants of the terrorist organisation driven underground. By 1970, all was well in Great Britain.
The year is 1984. Sirius Black has just turned 25. He's rich, he's powerful, and most importantly--he's bored.
But all of that is about to change.
This fic is engaging with such a good plot! prose is immersive, really gritty and dark. sirius' characterization is done so well.
It features wolfstar as an enemies to lovers (i think?) trope which is different than the other tropes for wolfstar out there.
highly recommend this piece of work and i am eagerly waiting for an update!
They try to take Sirius' body, but Remus refuses them. Instead, Remus does as he wants, not caring what anyone says or thinks, maybe for the first time in his life.
I think I might have loved you.
Those words echo through his head every second of the passing days. He burns him, turns Sirius to ash, the color matching his eyes perfectly when he's finished. Remus takes him to a cliff face at the edge of the sea. He waits for four days until a storm brews on the horizon, moving slowly closer. Only when the rain is coming down in sheets over him, robes drenched through, veins and bones cold, wind whipping like harsh, pulling fingers at every part of him, does he upturn the vial and let Sirius fly free into something just as fierce and rageful as he himself had been.
I think I might have loved you.
There is no might for Remus. He knows now.
Harry is new life, a gust of fresh breath. He's the light at the end of the long tunnel of helpless, hopeless days. And Remus has his own life back now, everything falling into place so easily once it all ended, a shocking and marvelous thing.
But he finds himself on quiet days sitting in the Potters' kitchen, staring at lemons on wallpaper, picturing dulled green and silver instead. He hears hissed, breathless whispers rush past his ears on the ghost of sighs, too many to begin to count. He feels fingers gripping at him, around his arms, his throat, almost tender caresses of fingertips that the person the hand was attached would never admit to, no matter how it was pried from him.
At night, Remus dreams of grey eyes and dark hair like silk. They haunt him. He knows they always will, somehow.
And Remus knows he'll never be the same, something, so many things, stolen from him so completely, with so much wretched unfairness in it all, that he'll never fully recover. But that's all right, because he has everything when he sleeps, even if only for a little while. His waking hours can hold everything else.
And while Remus tries to keep moving forward, all over the country, as the news spreads, people raise their glasses in muted surprise and gratefulness, all murmuring the same words, like prayers spoken in the blackness as light bleeds through.
