Ali

➺ Your marriage is the Survey Corps' best-kept secret. Levi doesn't intentionally keep your marriage a secret. He just doesn't think it's anyone else's damn business. You don't advertise it either so the secret persists.

➺ Erwin knows, because he's, well, Erwin. Hange knows because you can never hide anything from Hange. Miche knows because he took one look at the two of you six years ago and just went, Yeah.

➺ Everyone else thinks you're simply two squad leaders/captains who are suspiciously close. Nobody questions why you're constantly in Levi's office because you're also a squad leader. You're just discussing work. No one questions why Levi brings you tea because he's known you for years. Nobody questions why you're allowed to touch Levi because... actually, they do question that one.

➺ The first time it slips is when someone accidentally overhears you call him "my husband."

➺ Eren finally yells "Your WHAT?" while Levi doesn't even look up

➺ Meanwhile absolute pandemonium breaks loose. "CAPTAIN LEVI IS MARRIED?" "How long have you been married?" "YOU'RE MARRIED TO HIM?" of which that last one irritates him because, in his words, "Why is that the surprising part?"

➺ Then it kind of clicks to everyone, how Levi would adjust your harness before expeditions, how you'd drink from his cup, how he'd let you steal food from his plate, how you'd walk into his office without knocking, how you call him "Levi" while everyone else calls him "Captain." Also, there's the fact that Levi once allowed you to put your feet on his desk and somehow you survived.

➺ Husband Levi is ridiculously domestic, but he's still Levi, so he doesn't gush about how much he loves you. Instead you understand that him saying "Your tea's getting cold" means "I made this for you and if you don't drink it I'll be very sad."

➺ You always have clean clothes, your uniforms always get repaired when they're torn, your blades are always sharpened, your boots are always polished, and once, you mentioned a button that was loose and it was miraculously fixed by morning.

➺ He constantly complains about your cleaning habits regardless of how clean you actually are. You could be the second cleanest person within the walls, but you married the first.

➺ Sometimes just to tease him, you'll purposefully move something on his desk by like two inches. He'll notice immediately and move it back, and you move it again. It usually ends up with him asking "Do you want a divorce?"

➺ Levi is very different with you behind closed doors. He relaxes much more with you. Sometimes he'll lean against you, and that's when you know he's exhausted.

➺ Levi doesn't ask to be held. He just shifts toward you until his shoulder is touching yours, then his head, then somehow you're holding him. If you ever point it out, he leaves.

➺ Levi sleeps better beside you. You've been a miracle for his insomnia. It's not a cure-all, but he feels safer with you there.

➺ He has a habit of grabbing onto your shirt (if you happen to be wearing one) in his sleep, of which you have no intention of telling him.

➺ Being married doesn't stop you from being fellow soldiers, though. You're not his helpless spouse waiting at home. You understand his responsibilities because you have similar ones. You understand survivor's guilt.

➺ You hate when he hovers over you, but he still does it anyway. He can pick out your silhouette among dozens of soldiers. If your squad is running late, Levi becomes way more unpleasant to deal with.

➺ You also argue like an old married couple, but the reasons behind the fights are incredibly petty. You've been together too long and you know how to irritate each other.

➺ Hange has witnessed you argue about who finished the tea, whether Levi's handwriting is legible, whether you actually hogged the blanket last night, who stole whose pillow, who left the window open, and how many times one person can reorganize one cupboard.

➺ Levi is private about physical affection. In public, especially around subordinates, you might get a hand on your back, his fingers brushing yours, or him adjusting your collar. Behind closed doors, he's much more affectionate. He likes having you close.

➺ Kissing Levi after years of marriage is much different from kissing him when your relationship was new. There's less hesitation now. He knows exactly how you like to be kissed, and you know exactly how to make him lose his mind.

➺ Sometimes kisses are soft and sleepy before bed. Sometimes they're quick kisses exchanged before an expedition because neither of you wants to acknowledge the possibility that one of you might not return. And sometimes you haven't been alone together for weeks because military life is exhausted, so the second you finally get privacy, Levi is locking the door behind you.

➺Levi will take many opportunities to wake you with his mouth between your legs in the morning. You usually have to bite the pillow to stay quiet, because the last person you want hearing this is fucking Hange who will tease you until the end of time.

➺ Levi never outright says he wants you, but he'll lock the door behind him and wrap his arms around you before kissing your neck. His hands exploring your body is usually his way to signal he's DTF. And usually it's just because he can't believe that you're his and he's spent too much time secretly admiring your beauty in public where he can't act on it.

➺ Privacy is rare in headquarters, so Levi is an expert at silence. He usually swallows your gasps and moans and murmurs near your ear, "Keep it down, honey."

➺ Husband Levi doesn't babble sweet nonsense during sex, but the way he says "Good" in a low strained voice when you're taking him has you absolutely folding.

➺ Levi prefers positions where he can watch your face. Levi wants to see what he's doing to you, wants to catch the moment you come.

➺ He's very good at keeping a straight face around everyone else after thoroughly ruining you the night before. You could be sitting stiffly at breakfast, avoiding eye contact, and Levi would sit his tea while he nudges your foot with his under the table.

➺ Levi is the most physically affectionate after sex. It's when he's most vulnerable. He likes lying close enough that your bodies are touching. He might rest his hand on your waist or stomach. He doesn't like to immediately get up and leave.

➺ Actually, he doesn't like when you get up and try to leave. "Where are you going?" "I need water." "Later." "Levi—" "Five minutes." Then five minutes becomes twenty.

➺ Levi's favorite thing about being married to you is coming back to his room where your stuff resides. Your clothes beside his, your boot beside the door, two cups instead of one, your side of the bed.

➺ Sometimes you wake up before him and catch him looking at you, and then he'll reach over and brush your hair away from your face.

➺ Because in this life, with Titans and paperwork and soldiers who need him and an entire world that never seems to stop demanding something from him, he's found solace in you. You're still here, and that's all he needs.

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your legs trembled as you tried to hold yourself up, using the headboard of the bed to steady your shakes. though, it did little to help your composure, the only reason you were even staying remotely still anymore was from levi's rough hands gripping the sides of your hips.

he successfully anchored yourself on top of his face almost thirty minutes ago, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

every once in a while, he ran his hands up and down your thighs, humming as he licked up and down your sopping cunt.

the vibration shuddered through your entire body, goosebumps pricking up on your skin.

"s-shit, levi," you whimpered, involuntarily bucking your hips against his tongue. he held it still, letting you move your cunt back and forth, tongue dipping between your lips.

you grinded lower against his mouth, seeking the relief you wanted, but he stopped you with his hands, keeping you still once again. then his tongue moved again, a newfound urgency. his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and pulling it down, snapping it back up with a lewd smack.

the sounds your cunt was making while levi practically made out with your pussy was obscene, a mix of squelches and sticky kisses filling the room.

"you taste . . ." levi trailed off, getting too caught up in how you looked on top of him falling apart. he pressed another kiss to your clit in the meantime, watching your abdomen spasm above his eyes. you stared down at levi, making eye contact when he tongue flattened, licking a stripe up. "fuck you taste amazing."

a harsh kiss. "you have no idea." lick. "no idea what you do to me." suck. "could stay here forever."

levi would never admit to himself that he honestly preferred getting you off more than the actual act of fucking.

there was something about the way your eyes lit up when you were right on the brink of cumming, or the way your chest raised up and down or your hands in his hair pulling . . . the more he thought about it the harder he got. but he wouldn't stop until he was properly satisfied.

large hands ran up your sides and gripped the soft flesh of your ass, grounding you against your face despite the fact that you were becoming more sensitive.

it gave you no choice but to grind your hips against his mouth faster, earning a chuckle from him underneath you. "mhm just like that, use me. use my mouth."

the words caused you to moan again, bucking your hips whilst you chased your orgasm, feeling the familiar spasms of your cunt. "i-im gonna, fuck," you whimpered, one of your hands reaching down to grasp onto his hair. "gonna cum."

the peak hit you, so intense you went blind for a moment. your hips stuttered, almost falling down right on top of his face if it wasn't for his steady hands.

you clenched your thighs around his head while he drank the very essence of you, tongue darting inside of your hole like he couldn't get sick of the taste.

aftershocks were still biting at the muscles of your body and levi stilled, grey eyes watching you, observing, seeing if you were finished. there were thick droplets of your own cum dripping down his mouth. it was possibly the most erotic thing you'd ever seen in your life.

you never knew how fucking pussywhipped levi was for you. all those times he urged you to let him go down on you

when you began to pull away, he didn't let you.

"not done yet," he said, giving you a look that told you it wasn't a comment, it was a command. "wanna see how many times i can make you fall apart on my face."

levi's tongue darted out once again, laughing when you jumped from the overstimulation.

"too much," you whispered, but your body protested, pushing your pussy against his mouth.

"she's telling me a different story," levi said in a matter of fact tone, talking about your cunt like it was it's own person. "who am i supposed to believe?"

he sucked against your clit again and again, and you gave in, shutting your mouth to focus on everything levi was willing to give you.

what you didn't know, however, is that you would end up being here for at least another hour, falling apart again and again. levi would urge you to keep going, over and over, till you were on the brink of tears, clit overstimulated from every time his nose bumped into it.

safe to say, you were so exhausted afterwards you could barely process the ruined stained sheets of your shared bed. but levi wouldn't have it any other way, he'd clean the sheets. hell, he'd clean the sheets three times if it warranted such a thing.

For the first time since you knew him, Levi falls asleep before you. Which would be less surprising if he hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes insisting that he isn’t tired.

He sits beside you on the bed in his quarters with a stack of papers balanced against one knee. He intends to win the war against his exhaustion, but his eyes keep lowering, his grip on the papers keep loosening, and every few seconds, his head dips just enough for him to jerk it upright again with a faint scowl.

“You should sleep, you know,” you say, watching the candlelight flicker across his face.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

You’re not even surprised he’s not listening. Levi could be bleeding through his clothes and actively collapsing into a ditch, and he would still look at you dead in the eye and call it a scratch. You hum, unconvinced, but you know better than to argue with him directly when he’s already decided to be impossible. You lie back against the pillows instead and let the silence do the talking, filled only by the faint rustle of paper when he reads another line.

Two minutes later, Levi lies back against the pillow next to you, reports still in hand.

One minute after that, the report slides from his fingers.

And then, finally, he sleeps.

He always looks different when he sleeps. Awake, he’s hard and controlled, every muscle held tight as if bracing for impact every second of the day, his expression tightened before it can reveal too much. Asleep, though, he looks much younger, almost fragile. You know he would hate you thinking that. His mouth is relaxed from its usual tight line. 

You reach carefully for the papers, meaning to set them aside before they get bent, but before you can touch them, Levi grabs your wrist. It’s a soft, sleep-heavy grab. His fingers wrap around you, and you freeze, your breath caught in your throat. Before you can decide whether to pull away or stay still, he tugs you closer with an irritated sound.

“Levi?” you whisper, more amused than concerned, but he doesn’t wake up. He only shifts until his forehead brushes against your shoulder, his hand sliding from your wrist to your waist. Even now, he reaches for you.

Then he murmurs, barely audible against your shirt, “Love you.”

You freeze. All goes quiet, except for the sparking flame of the candle and the creaking of the old wood around you, but all of it seems too far away from you right now as those two simple words land somewhere deep in your gut.

You stare down at him, stunned. Levi Ackerman, who is never tender, who is never affectionate nor vulnerable, has just said he loves you. Waiting for the one moment he’s too exhausted to guard the door.

“Oh,” you breathe, and you smile before you can stop it. “You’re ridiculous.”

He gives no answer and only wraps his arm further around you by the smallest amount. Carefully, you lower yourself beside him, pulling the blanket over both of you while he makes another soft, sleepy sound and follows your body without waking. Your hand hovers for a second over his hair before you give in and brush a few dark strands away from his face.

“Love you too,” you whisper, so quietly that you think only you can hear it. “But I’m absolutely making fun of you tomorrow.”

.

By morning, Levi has returned to himself.

He’s awake before you, dressed except for the cravat still hanging loose around his neck, standing near the small table with tea already poured and the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He looks completely normal. He definitely does not remember what happened last night, and if he does, he’s very good at pretending it never happened.

Unfortunately for him, you have a good memory, and you are absolutely not letting this one go.

“You’re staring,” he says without looking at you.

“You’re sweet when you’re asleep,” you say.

That makes him pause, a tiny hesitation in the movement of his hand as he reaches for his cup, but you see it, because you’re looking out for any minute detail that might let you in on what he’s thinking and possibly hiding. Your smile widens. Levi looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks.

You sit up slowly, pulling the blanket around your shoulders as you smile again. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well,” you say, drawing out the word just enough to make him narrow his eyes in suspicion, “you were very affectionate last night.”

His mouth flattens. “When?”

“After you fell asleep.”

He scoffs. “I was asleep.”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Oh, it counts,” you laugh, nodding, absolutely convinced.

He turns toward you fully now, the tea forgotten in his hand. You watch the first sign of worry pass across his face as memory fails him completely. “What did I do?”

You rest your chin in your palm, taking your sweet time because Levi looks like he’s trying to brace for impact while pretending he’s completely calm, which is, frankly, adorable. 

“You reached for me,” you say, and his eye twitches. “Pulled me closer.” He clenches his jaw. “Mumbled into my shoulder.” He flicks his eyes away. “And told me you loved me.”

For a second, Levi doesn’t move at all. Then the tips of his ears go red. Not possibly-red-if-you-squint. Red. A betraying flush creeps up from beneath his collar and spreads across his cheekbones before he turns toward the table, suddenly fascinated by the existence of his teacup.

“I didn’t,” he mumbles.

“You did,” you argue.

“I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“Apparently you do when you’re being romantic.”

“I wasn’t being romantic. I was unconscious.”

“I don’t know, you sounded pretty convincing.”

Levi makes a strangled sound under his breath, caught between a scoff and a curse. If you had any decency, you would stop there; but the sight of him stiff with embarrassment, ears burning while he tries to rebuild his dignity, is too precious to waste.

“You also grabbed my waist,” you add.

“I was asleep,” he repeats.

“You seemed very determined.”

“I said I was fucking asleep.”

“You were very cute.”

His gaze snaps back to you, horrified. “Don’t call me that.”

“Cute?”

“Don’t.”

“Sweet.” His blush deepens. “Oh, you like that one, huh?”

Levi sets his cup down with enough care that suggests he’s either seconds away from leaving the room or burying his face in his hands with the intent to never rise. You soften your teasing—you don’t want to go too far.

“Levi,” you say, gentler now.

He doesn’t look at you immediately, but when he finally does, his expression is once again guarded. But it’s not cold, not with you. Beneath the scowl he wears is an almost wounded shyness. The thought of having been heard clearly scares him more than he wants to admit.

“I’m not laughing at you,” you say.

“That is exactly what you’re doing,” he says.

“Okay, maybe a little,” you concede, because lying to him would be pointless. “But not because of that.” His throat works once. You hold his gaze, your heartbeat suddenly too loud in your own ears. “I liked hearing it.”

For a moment, Levi looks trapped between retreat and confession, between pride and the truth his sleeping self already handed over without permission. You can see the thoughts moving behind his eyes, irritated and flustered.

Damn it. Damn it. Of all the stupid ways to say it first, he thinks. He looks away again, but it’s not enough to hide him anymore.

“Wasn’t wrong,” he mutters.

Your heart stumbles. “What wasn’t?” you ask.

He flexes his fingers once at his side. “What I said.”

You know better than to push too hard, but you’re only human, and he’s standing there with red ears and a confession caught between his teeth, so you tilt your head and ask, “You love me?”

Levi glares at the floor. He doesn’t know whether to spill the truth or not, but it seems he already did last night. He says, in a voice low enough to sound almost angry, “I love you.”

The teasing dies inside you. He knows what he’s saying this time. And though his face is still turned half away, though his ears and face are still burning and his shoulders are tense and he feels like he’s wandered into a battlefield without his equipment, he stays there with you.

So, you smile and reach for his hand. He looks at your fingers, hesitates only long enough to prove he’s still Levi, and then lets you take it.

“There,” he mutters. “Happy?”

You lace your fingers through his. “Very.”

“Tch.” His thumb brushes, barely there, across the back of your hand. “Annoying brat.”

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divider by: sweetmelodygraphics

Your favorite part of the day has always been dinner time. The dining hall always gets loud, exhaustion loosening everyone’s tongues so laughter spills easier and smiles come brighter. It’s usually the same thing every night—Sasha trying to barter food from everyone, Eren and Jean arguing about something stupid and menial again before Mikasa cuts in and threatens to kick both of their asses, and Ymir showering Christa with love and affection. 

You’re halfway through your stew, watching how Mikasa has slowly been moving the carrots she doesn’t want into Eren’s bowl while he talks too passionately to realize it. Your conversation had somehow shifted from your last assessment scores to which superior officers would be easiest to flirt with. Not exactly the most appropriate conversation, but hey, it should be expected of a group of twenty-something year-olds.

Jean suddenly snorts into his cup and says, “Captain Levi is incapable of being flustered.”

Connie barks out a laugh. “Captain Levi? Yeah, no. I think if you flirted with him, he’d just tell you your posture was shit.”

“He might blush if someone compliments his cleaning,” Sasha says.

You laugh at the thought of Levi turning pink over you complimenting his polishing of the floorboards. It’s almost charming. But you’re pulled back into the reality of things quickly, reminded by the sure fact that Levi would be the type to make you run sixty laps for even breathing wrong in his direction. At least he would look irritatingly beautiful barking orders at you.

“Maybe he just needs someone hot to compliment him,” Connie says.

Ymir, sitting beside Christa with one arm draped over her shoulders, rolls her eyes. “Please. That man could walk through a brothel and find the mop sexier.”

The table erupts into laughter. Armin drops his face into one hand, already checked out of the conversation. Christa turns scarlet but presses her lips together, very clearly trying not to laugh. Jean wheezes, and even Mikasa lets out a small, polite laugh. You shouldn’t laugh as hard as you do, because if Levi heard your conversation right now he would probably bury you all six feet under.

Then Eren, who has never met a stupid idea he couldn’t charge at headfirst, leans forward with bright eyes and says, “Someone should test it.”

You pause, nervously playing with the charm of your necklace. Jean is the first to look at you. Then Connie. Then Sasha. Then Ymir, a little more wickedly.

“No,” you say immediately, because you know that look, and you know yourself. “No.”

Jean grins. “Come on.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re the only one who could pull it off.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“You say things to the officers that none of us would ever say,” Connie points out. It would be rude if it weren’t true.

“Maybe you could only do it for a week?” Christa offers.

“A week?” you echo, already feeling the dangerous little spark of interest light inside you. The worst part is that they’re not entirely wrong; you are bold, you are blunt, and you have secretly spent far too much time wondering what it would take to make Levi Ackerman’s perfect composure crack, even if only by a little. “You’re giving me a week to flirt with humanity’s most emotionally repressed man?”

“Get a reaction,” Jean corrects.

“Define reaction,” Armin says.

“Blushing counts,” Eren says.

“Stammering counts,” Jean adds.

“Looking away counts,” Christa says.

“No it doesn’t,” Ymir scoffs. “That could just mean he hates you.”

You cock your head. “To be fair, I think he does hate me.”

“He hates everyone,” Mikasa mumbles.

“What if he flirts back?” Armin asks.

Eren scoffs loudly. “Captain Levi? Flirt back? Be serious.”

Your stomach twists at the thought. You can’t even imagine Levi doing anything as human as flirting. But what if he were to step a little too close, lower his voice to a smooth cadence, fix his eyes on yours and then your lips and then smash his mouth against—

Nope. You’re not going down that mental road again.

You set your spoon down and touch your necklace again. Everyone is watching you intensely. The best move here is to refuse. It’s the most sensible move. Captain Levi isn’t a toy for your entertainment. Making a game out of a man who can kill Titans like swatting flies is going to land you in deep shit. You know that.

And yet, you still smile. “A week?” you ask, leaning back with a confident half-shrug. “Give me three days.”

Jean’s grin widens. “That confidence is exactly why we picked you.”

Ymir snorts into her cup. “No. We picked her because she has no sense of self-preservation. And she’s a fucking idiot.”

The worst part is you can’t even argue with that. Game on.

.

Day one, you begin with too much confidence and nowhere near enough strategy, which, in hindsight, is probably the natural consequence of accepting a bet over dinner while surrounded by idiots.

You see Levi just after breakfast, walking through the corridor with a stack of reports in his arms. He looks somewhat more annoyed today, but because Eren and Jean are watching from around the far corner—not very subtly, might you add—and because you refuse to lose your nerve on the first attempt, you slow your steps just enough to pass him shoulder-to-shoulder and say sweetly, “You look good today, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t stop or look at you. He doesn’t even blink in a way that could potentially be considered meaningful, unless you’re desperate enough to start seeing romantic symbolism in basic human functions now. He simply keeps walking, the scent of his soap trailing behind slapping you in the face. You’re left standing there in the middle of the corridor with your mouth still curved into a smile. Meanwhile, at the end of the hall, Jean presses a fist to his mouth to stop himself from laughing and Eren mouths, Nothing?

Nothing. Not a twitch, not a glance, not even a disgusted little sigh. Fine, you think, watching Levi disappear around the corner. Eren and Jean shoot upright and pretend to engage in conversation, though it’s horribly broken and awkward from what you can hear. The moment Levi’s footsteps fade, Jean shoves Eren’s shoulder, and Eren shoves him back.

First shot missed. Happens to the best of us.

.

By day two, you decide subtlety is the coward’s way.

You happen to run into Levi again in the supply closet. While you’re searching for a specific cleaner, the door opens behind you and he steps inside. Suddenly the cramped room seems to shrink even further. There’s barely enough space for both of you to stand without brushing elbows. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that you’re so close, naturally. 

Instead, he reaches past you for a rag on the shelf above your shoulder. He leans close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. Your muscles lock momentarily. Damn him for being so attractive. Still, you manage to tilt your chin up and say, “Careful, Captain. Any closer and people might start talking.”

He pulls back and looks at you. For a second, you think you’ll get something. A stammer, a blush if you’re lucky, but Levi only looks unimpressed. It’s the exact same look he gives soldiers when he manages to find a speck of dust after three straight hours of cleaning.

“People already talk,” he says flatly. “Usually because you give them material.”

You swallow a laugh. Damn him. You lean your shoulder against the shelf, trying not to focus on the fact that your pulse has just spiked dramatically. “Oh, we can give them plenty of material.”

Levi takes the rag, steps back, then leaves.

.

By day three, you’re beginning to suspect the bet is cursed.

You’re gathered in the yard for ODM training. Your friends have formed a not-so-suspicious circle across the field. You see them gathered with a false innocence, sneaking glances at you, favoring the potential spectacle awaiting them over doing anything useful.

You check your gear and realize one of your straps at your thigh is loose, the buckle hanging awkwardly against your leg. Before you can crouch down to fix it yourself, someone approaches.

“Hold still,” Levi says.

You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you obey. He crouches in front of you and grabs the loose strap before you can object. There’s nothing intimate about it, nothing that should make heat rush to your face—and yet it does. You look down at his dark hair and the concentration on his face and think to yourself, this is fine. This is normal. He’s just fixing your gear. You’re not going to die.

Then you remember the bet. Now’s your chance.

“You always this good with your hands, Captain?” you ask, nervously toying with your necklace.

Across the yard, Connie visibly folds in half. Eren grabs Mikasa by the sleeve. Sasha’s mouth drops open. Levi tightens the buckle with one tug and looks up at you, his expression so blank it’s almost hostile in a way.

“Only when someone’s done a shit job and I have to fix it,” he says.

You stare at him as he walks away, unaware of the others across the yard silently screaming into the void.

.

By day four, your pride is no longer bruised. It’s limping, bleeding, and asking whether anyone saw the driver of the carriage that hit it. 

You’re cleaning one of the common rooms with a scrub brush in hand and a flicker of annoyance in your heart when Levi comes to inspect the progress. He steps inside, surveys the floor, the windowsill, the table legs, underneath the tables, and even the door handle.

“Do it over,” he says.

You slowly turn your head toward him. “Excuse me?”

His gaze flicks to the windowsill. “Dust.”

You look behind you at the window. Tragically, there’s dust. It wouldn’t matter to a normal person, but Captain Levi is far from normal when it comes to cleanliness. “You’re very hard to impress, Captain,” you say, forcing your voice to carry a teasing tone instead of something that makes it clear how badly you want to throw the rag at his head.

Levi looks at you, and he doesn’t look away. Standing under his intense gaze like this makes your stomach clench in ways you don’t even want to think about. “And you’re very easy to ignore.”

Your smile twitches before you can stop it. That one stings a bit more. You know Levi isn’t above personal insults, but were you really that forgettable to him? You manage to muster up a bit more courage and say, “You know, I’m more skilled in other areas.”

Levi only quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head. That was enough to pull him in, it seems. Success. “How so?”

You smile, because finally, you’ve found the opening. “You’re not the only one who’s good with their hands.”

Silence. Such deep silence that you could hear a pin drop. Levi holds your gaze for exactly one second before he says, almost bored, “Knock it off and get back to work.”

And just like that, he moves on with his day, leaving you standing in the room with a rag in your hand, a burning face, and a grim realization that you may have underestimated both his composure and his commitment to making you feel like an idiot.

.

The moment you sit down at dinner that night, Connie leans across the table and hides his mouth from the view of the superiors’ table with his hand. “Nothing?”

You drop your head into your hand. “Nothing.”

“Not even a blink?”

“He has eyes, Connie. He’s going to blink,” Mikasa says without looking up from her bowl.

Sasha groans and slumps dramatically over the table, one hand still clutching her apple. “We’re doomed.”

You groan too, louder. “No, just me.”

Jean makes a sympathetic noise that’s ruined completely by the fact that he’s smiling. “You still have three days left.”

“Three days to accomplish the impossible,” Eren mumbles.

Armin, kinder than the rest, tilts his head. “Maybe you need to adjust your approach.”

“My approach is fine,” you say.

“Your approach is dogshit,” Ymir says.

Christa gives you an almost apologetic smile, which makes you feel even worse. You stab at the softened carrots in your stew with one hand and toy with your necklace with the other. Every time you touch it, you remember your mother’s hands in yours, the cold metal in your palm, her soft words wishing you safety and prosperity. You long to see her again. Soon, you think. Soon.

You force yourself to not look toward the officers’ side of the hall, where Levi sits with Hange and Erwin, drinking tea without a care in the world—as if he hasn’t spent the last four days ignoring your best efforts. It should be funny. It was funny, at first. But now his lack of a reaction has begun to get under your skin, turning challenge into irritation, then irritation into a feeling that’s far more embarrassing, because it’s one thing for Levi to ignore the flirting and another thing entirely for him to make you feel like he’s ignoring you.

It’s personal now, you decide. 

.

Levi thinks this is the most irritating week of his life, by far.

It’s not distracting enough to matter, and certainly not enough to affect his work, but it’s definitely irritating. And persistent. You are persistent. You’re always there. In hallways, in supply rooms, in the training grounds, always pushing and pushing, waiting for him to break at the seams. 

Levi doesn’t crack. He’s survived this long by being difficult to shake. Still, he thinks about it—about you—more than he should, and that annoys him the most.

Levi walks into the stables. Hay bales are stacked neatly against the wall. The tack is all lined up and organized in the storage room. He’s only searching for a harness clip, nothing more, because apparently grown soldiers can’t keep equipment where it belongs. He barely passes the first row of stalls before voices reach him from the far end. He recognizes them. Eren, Jean, Armin. Levi stops before they see him. 

“Told you,” Eren says with a hint of smugness. “Captain Levi doesn’t flirt.”

Levi’s brows shift by the smallest degree. 

“She still has two days, Armin says, a little quieter. “And honestly, he’s been looking at her more than usual.”

“Looking annoyed doesn’t count,” Jean laughs. “He looks at everyone like that.”

Levi freezes for a moment, then swallows. Then Eren speaks again, painfully unaware of the grave he’s digging with both hands. “Doesn’t matter. The bet was to make him react. She’s been flirting with him for five days and he hasn’t done anything.”

Levi doesn’t know what to feel at first. Then annoyance practically slams into him. Of course the sudden compliments, the lingering looks, the suggestive comments delivered with too much confidence and nowhere near enough survival instinct are not lapses in judgement but a coordinated effort by the loudest collection of children to ever survive to adulthood.

He almost steps out. He almost makes them regret every syllable. He almost assigns all three of them stable duty until their hands smell permanently of horse shit. He almost leaves to go find you and drag you into his office and inform you that if you have enough free time to treat your commanding officer like a tavern dare, you have enough free time to scrub every inch of the barracks.

But he doesn’t. He remains where he is, half-shadowed beside the tack shelves, and thinks of you when you were in the supply closet with him, your chin tipped up and your mouth spilling smooth words you clearly expected to land, of the flash of irritation in your eyes when he refused to give you anything back.

So, you’ve been trying to break him in front of an audience. Bold. Stupid. And mildly interesting. You want a reaction from him. No. More than that. You want proof that he can be moved, that there’s something you can reach underneath all the discipline and deadpan remarks if you’re reckless enough to keep trying.

Fine. Let’s see how well you handle it when he stops being polite.

He turns without a sound, leaving the missing clip for someone else to find and the three idiots still talking at the far end of the stable, none of them aware that the terms of the bet have just changed.

Two days then. If you wanted a reaction that badly, he could give you one.

.

Day six begins badly, which, considering the trajectory of the week so far, should not surprise you. The morning vanishes beneath papers and one disaster involving Connie dropping a crate of replacement gas canisters. You’re on the last thin shred of your patience. By the time late afternoon rears its ugly head, you’re tired and hungry, having spent five days throwing stones at a wall. You’re considering whether you should just run headfirst into it. But you can’t give up. That would be mortifying. Also Jean would never let you hear the end of it. 

So when you turn the corner into the east corridor and nearly collide with Levi himself, you decide the universe has not abandoned you entirely. He stops before you can hit him, and you catch yourself with one hand against the wall, your heart giving a stupid little kick as you look at him. He looks as he always does: composed, mouth set in a flat line, irritatingly clean despite the hour. 

Fine, you think, dragging your confidence up by the collar. One more time.

You let your smile come slowly, forgetting how the last few days have been consistent public humiliation. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me, Captain.”

Normally, this is where he would keep walking. Normally, he would ignore you and tell you to find something useful to do. But Levi stops beside you, close enough that the corridor feels smaller, close enough that you can smell the last cup of tea he had still lingering on his lips. He turns his head, eyes meeting yours from the side. Your smile falters.

“Why would I?” he asks. Your breath hitches—stupidly. The words themselves are nothing, barely a response, but it’s the way he said them, in a way you’ve never heard from him before, that makes the world stop for just a single second. Then his gaze drops, briefly, and he says, “You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

You forget how to answer. Your mind produces absolutely nothing. You can’t find a single comeback or tease. You technically got him to react, and you should be celebrating, but you can only focus on the fact that Levi has just taken the same game you’ve been playing all week and held it against your throat.

Before you can recover emotionally, he turns and walks away. Just like that. 

You remain there, your hand now nervously touching your charm necklace, staring at him while your heart nearly explodes out of your chest. The worst part isn’t that he answered, but that he answered like he knew exactly what it would do to you.

No. Absolutely not. This is not happening. You are the one flirting with him. You’re the one with the bet, the plan, the reputation for saying things no one else dares to say, and Levi is supposed to be an immovable force. He is not supposed to look at you like that. 

And you are not supposed to feel this way in return.

.

Dinner approaches, and you almost manage to convince yourself that you imagined it. 

He was probably being sarcastic. You’re tired and frustrated and maybe starvation has you seeing seduction where it doesn’t exist. Levi’s voice is always low, his eyes are always intense, and your imagination just lost its grip because you’ve spent too many days thinking about him. 

The mess hall doors open onto chaos. Everyone is trying to leave and enter at once. Soldiers are pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowded corridor, laughter and complaints tangling with the clatter of dishes from inside. You’re caught near the doorway, half-turned as Jean calls to you from the table and Mikasa waves to you.

You start to step aside when you feel a hand settle at the small of your back. Levi moves behind you, close enough that his chest nearly brushes your shoulder as he guides you smoothly out of the flow of traffic. His palm rests low on your back for a moment longer than necessary. Your lungs practically stop working.

“You’re in the way,” he says. 

You turn your head, because apparently you’re feeling particularly self-destructive tonight and want to look directly at the weapon killing you. You find him already watching you. Your mind tells you to take the mercy of silence and leave with whatever remains of your dignity.

But because your survival instincts are apparently the worst and will always lose to your mouth, you say, “You always touch your subordinates like that?”

His hand slips from your back, his eyes holding yours as he answers, low enough that the noise swallows it before anyone else can hear. “You always like getting touched by your superiors, or is it just me?”

Your mouth parts. Nothing comes out. Levi’s eyes flick, very briefly, to your lips, then he steps around you and walks into the mess hall like he didn’t just completely make you short circuit. You stand there in the doorway, heat rushing to your face so fast it nearly makes you dizzy. You reach up to touch your necklace again. You still feel the burn of his palm against your back.

No, no, no. That did not happen. Captain Levi did not just say that to you in a crowded hallway. Captain Levi, who has spent five days ignoring your every attempt to flirt, did not just choose now, now, in front of the open mess hall doors where your idiot friends are sitting within view, to say that.

You turn slowly toward the dining hall. At the table, every single one of them is staring. Eren has a spoon halfway to his mouth. Mikasa is watching you calmly, as she always does. Ymir is smiling widely. Jean’s eyebrows are raised to his hairline. You walk to the table on stumbling legs and sit down shakily.

Jean speaks first. “Well?”

You reach to pick up your spoon, then you realize there is no spoon. You haven’t even gotten your food yet. “W-what?”

“What happened?” Connie demands. “We saw him stop.”

“Did he react?” Eren asks. “Did he blush? Stammer? Look away?”

“Nothing happened,” you say a little too quickly.

Armin tilts his head. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, trying not to spontaneously combust from the inside out.

Eren squints at you. “Why do you look like you just ran thirty laps?”

“Because I hate all of you.”

Sasha gasps softly. “Even me?”

“Especially you,” you joke.

“Oh, come on. Something happened,” Jean laughs.

“Nothing happened.”

“You’re flustered,” Christa says gently. Damn it, of course it had to be her who noticed.

“It’s hot in here.”

“It’s winter,” Mikasa says. You glare at her.

Ymir leans forward, elbows on the table as she rests her chin on her linked hands. “Oh, something definitely happened.”

“It didn’t,” you insist, even though your skin is still burning where his hand touched your back. 

The bet was supposed to be simple. You flirt. Levi refuses to react. You keep pushing until you either win through charm or lose with enough grace to pretend you never cared. At no point was he supposed to turn around and make you feel like the bet had never belonged to you at all.

You stand up and grab your food, your cheeks still hot and shoulders stiff. When you sit back down, Ymir’s gaze follows you. She knows. She absolutely knows. But you tell yourself again that nothing happened as you stab a potato hard enough that it breaks apart in your bowl.

Nothing happened. And if that’s true, then you’re in far more trouble than you thought, because apparently Levi can do absolutely nothing and still ruin you.

.

It’s the final day. The day you either make Captain Levi blush, stammer, or lose composure, or you lose the bet and spend the rest of your life—however short that may be—listening to Eren and Jean taunting you and becoming the most smug humans to ever exist on this earth. You’re much less confident than you were when you started, and truthfully, you’re ready to take the loss and humiliation.

The training yard is blue with the early morning, fog clinging low to the ground while the first soldiers trickle in with their gear half-fastened and their faces pinched against the chill. You stand near the equipment racks with your ODM harness hanging around your hips. Your fingers feel slightly clumsier than usual as you tighten the buckle at your waist. It’s not that you’re nervous. You’re just tired and cold. You’re aware that Levi has spent the last twenty-four hours looking at you as if he knows something you don’t, touching you where he doesn’t need to touch you, speaking in a voice that, franky, should be illegal, and then walking away like nothing ever happened.

You tug the buckle too hard and it nearly pulls the breath out of you. Then it falls loose, and you mutter a low, “Shit.”

You feel someone move behind you. Your heart reacts before the rest of you does.

“Your waist buckle is loose.”

You close your eyes for a brief second. Damn the universe for sending him. If you’re going to lose, you might as well go out strong. “I’ve got it,” you say.

“You don’t,” Levi says.

Before you can argue, he steps in behind you. His hands rise to your waist, grabbing the buckle you were fumbling with, and your spine straightens so fast you might as well have been pulled up by a wire. He’s so damn close. Too damn close. 

There are people in the yard. Not many, but enough. Enough that you can’t turn around and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, enough that you can’t grab his wrist, enough that you can’t do anything except stand there and pretend him correcting your gear isn’t an act of psychological warfare. 

His voice lowers near your ear. “You’re distracted.”

“I’m not,” you say a little too fast.

Levi pulls the buckle tight, enough to force a little “mmph” out of you. You swear you hear him scoff in amusement. “You are.”

“I’m perfectly focused.”

“You’re slower.” His knuckles brush, barely, against your stomach as he tightens the leather. “Your breathing’s off.”

As if your body is eager to prove him right, your breath hitches. You hate him. You hate him so much you want to bite him. You angle your head just enough to speak over your shoulder. “Did you come over here to critique my breathing?”

“No.” He leans in just enough that his next words touch the edge of your ear. “I’m wondering what’s on your mind.” Your first name falls from his lips. You despise how much you like to hear him say it.

Your brain, which has faced Titans, blood, death, and the endless exhaustion of military life, simply abandons you. “I—nothing,” you say, the word catching in your throat. 

Levi freezes for a breath, then finishes buckling your gear. He withdraws his hands, but he doesn’t step back immediately. The absence of his touch feels somehow worse than the touch itself. 

“Save your filthy little thoughts about me for later,” he says.

You freeze. There’s no possible response. Nothing clever nor dignified. Nothing that doesn’t immediately reveal your thoughts, filthy or otherwise. But you realize they’ve already been dragged into broad daylight and inspected by the one man you least want to have that power.

Levi steps around you casually with a perfectly neutral expression, acting as if he hasn’t taken your last functioning nerve between his teeth and smiled around it. You stand there, frozen, your entire body burning. 

Maybe this bet was a bad idea.

.

By midday, you’re coming to terms with the fact that you’re no longer trying to win the bet. You’re just trying to survive the damn thing.

The realization comes to you somewhere between drills and the deeply inconvenient moment when Sasha asks why you keep looking like you expect someone to sneak up on you. Because that’s exactly what it feels like right now; like every corridor has become a battlefield and every corner might contain Levi with another clever line ready to slide under your skin and make its home there.

He’s only doing this because he knows, somehow, because he’s figured out the bet or sensed weakness or simply decides that torturing you is a productive use of his time. That’s what you try to tell yourself, anyway. But none of those explanations quell the heat in your stomach. None of them make you stop remembering the low cadence of his voice. None of them help when you take the stairwell after grabbing a stack of reports to deliver and find him descending from the floor above, eyes already fixed on you as if he knew exactly where you would be.

Your first instinct is to step aside. Your second is to flee. Your third, which is unfortunately the one you choose, is to fight. 

Levi reaches the landing and moves as if to pass you, not stopping, not granting you so much as the satisfaction of another look, and you feel your pride explode in your chest. This is reckless, but when have you ever not been reckless? It led you here, after all.

“If I didn’t know better, Captain, I’d think you were coming onto me,” you say.

Levi stops. Slowly, he turns. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are not empty. They are darkened, focused purely on you and filled with so much control it feels more dangerous than if he had simply smiled.

“You’d know if I were coming onto you,” he says.

A warning. A door. A line on the floor with your toes already over it. Leave it alone. Let him go. Remember that there are only a few hours left in this ridiculous bet and the safest thing in the world would be to stop poking at the man who’s already proven he knows exactly how to make you forget your own name without even touching you.

Stupidly, you say, “Would I?”

For a moment, nothing happens—then Levi steps closer. A single step that takes the distance between you and closes it. His boots echo quietly against the stone. Your back doesn’t touch the wall yet, but every part of you understands that it could. He leans in and you go still. It’s just enough room to move away. But you don’t. His breath brushes your ear as he speaks.

“You’d know,” he says, voice so low the words barely survive the air between you, “because I’d have you backed against this wall and make damn sure you remembered who you were teasing.”

You swear you feel your knees give out. There’s no other way to describe it. A part of you dips, a violent little swoop of heat and shock and want that leaves your fingers tightening around the reports until the papers bend.

Levi draws back just enough to look at you, almost patiently, able to see every ruined thought passing across your face—and he has all the time in the world to watch you suffer through them. You force your mouth open, but nothing coherent arrives. His gaze drops once to your hands clenched around the reports, then he steps past you, the sleeve of his jacket brushing your arm.

You nearly pass out when his footsteps finally fade away.

.

Hours later, after dinner, you and your friends gather in the yard, warm with lantern light and the fading noise of the day. The sky above the barracks deepens into a royal blue. You sit on the grass with your friends, trying to look as normal as possible and most likely miserably failing.

The bet is nearly over. You’ve technically won it, but for some reason, you don’t want to admit it, because if you do, the things Levi said and did become real. Still, you don’t tell them anything. Connie is looking at the stars, Sasha is finishing the last of her crackers that she snuck out of the mess hall, Jean is laying down with his hands behind his head, Mikasa is watching the yard, and Ymir keeps glancing at you with an expression that suggests she knows there’s blood in the water and she’s simply waiting for you to admit you’ve been bitten.

Eren is the one who finally breaks. He waits until the last bell rings from somewhere inside the barracks, marking the end of the day. He smiles and looks at you so smugly it makes you want to slap him.

“That’s it,” he says. “Told you. Captain Levi doesn’t give a shit about romance.”

The others groan, laugh, and argue, immediately debating technicalities, because Jean insists there may still be time if Levi walks through the yard in the next thirty seconds, and Connie says you should just sprint inside and say something ridiculous in case it works. 

You hear it all from very far away, because you know with certainty that Levi didn’t blush, nor stammer, nor look away. He didn’t lose. Not where anyone could see, at least. Eren is right. Jean is right. Everyone is right. 

But they don’t know about the corridor, about his hand at your back, about the training yard and the filthy little thoughts he somehow spoke into existence just by naming them; they don’t know about the stairwell, about the way his voice lowered just for you, about the wall that never touched your back but has been haunting you for hours anyway.

You sit there in the grass with your face turned toward the darkening yard, letting the others mourn and gloat around you, while the memory of his words presses insistently at the forefront of your mind.

You’d know.

You press your lips together and say nothing, because the truth is yours now—and Levi’s.

And that might be worse than losing.

.

Several days pass, and in that time, Levi Ackerman becomes a ghost. He’s somehow everywhere and nowhere at once. In the courtyard while you’re sharpening your blades, standing at the edge of the formation while you run drills, passing through the dining hall with a cup of tea in one hand; and every time you see him, every time his eyes flick over you, your mind drags itself to the stairwell again. 

You try to be normal about it. Privately, you fail, but in public, you’re a master of composure—or at least that’s what you tell yourself every time you miss a cue or spend a full three seconds staring at Levi’s mouth during morning briefing. You spend too long trying not to think about him, and the act of thinking about him suddenly becomes the only thing you know how to do.

Then the summons comes, delivered after dinner by a junior soldier, who says, with a nervous little glance over his shoulder, that Captain Levi wants to see you in his office.

“Did he say why?” you ask.

The soldier clears his throat. “Performance issues.”

The others at the table look at you with a mix of confusion and pity, but you don’t look back at them. You simply stand, smooth down your jacket, and walk out of the dining hall while desperately trying to ignore the fact that your heart is about to explode.

Outside Levi’s office, you lift your hand to knock, but you pause when you become aware of the warmth gathering underneath your collar. This is ridiculous. You’re a soldier. You’ve faced Titans. You’ve bled, trained, survived, laughed in the face of exhaustion, taken orders from men twice as loud and half as terrifying, and you are not going to break down just because Levi asked to speak with you behind a closed door.

You knock.

“Come in.”

You open the door. Levi’s office is exactly as it always is; painfully neat, the shelves orderly and every stack of papers aligned neatly. A single lantern burns on his desk, where he sits with a report open in front of him and a cup of tea sitting near his right hand. He doesn’t look up immediately, and it makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” you ask, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

Levi lifts his eyes and says, “Sit.”

Your spine reacts to the order first as you enter the room and sit in the chair opposite his desk with as much grace as you can muster, which isn’t a lot under the circumstances.

“Am I in trouble?” you ask.

Levi leans back slightly, his fingers resting against the edge of the report. He studies you carefully. “Depends how honest you plan on being.” You smile despite the cold chill running down your spine. He narrows his eyes at you. “Your focus has been shit.”

Well. Not the line you expected, maybe, but the tone is familiar enough to turn into irritation, and you’d rather deal with irritation than the other feeling gathering in your stomach.

“My focus is fine,” you say, more meekly than you’d like.

“No, it isn’t.” Levi closes the report. “Your turns were wide during drills yesterday. Your reaction time was slow this morning. You checked your gear and didn’t realize your gas pressure regulation valve was broken.”

Your lips part, then close again. Damn him. “That was one mistake.”

“Several mistakes.”

“I was tired.”

“You’ve been tired before. You’re sloppier when you’re distracted. And you’ve been distracted.”

Heat starts rushing to your face. “Is that what this is about? My form?”

“It’s about performance issues.”

Your body locks up. Levi’s expression doesn’t change, and that’s the worst part, because his face remains perfectly neutral while the words crawl under your skin, dragging every memory of the last two weeks with them. His hand at your lower back, his voice at your ear, his proximity in the stairwell, his near-command to save your filthy thoughts for later. You try to breathe through your nose.

“My performance is fine,” you say.

“It’s shit,” he says.

You grip the arms of the chair a bit tighter. “Did you just call me in here to insult me?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Levi sits in the silence for a moment, then he says, “Next time you make a bet involving me, pick a group of idiots that won’t talk about it loudly.”

You swear your stomach drops so fast that the whole room spins around you. Your vision blurs and your mind scrambles backward through every report, every hallway attempt, every bold little comment you’d thrown at him. He knew. Levi knew.

You stare at him, completely frozen, shame flooding through you before anger surges to meet it. Not only did he know, but he had let you keep going, watched you struggle, and taken the game from your hands and turned it against you.

“You knew?” you say.

“Since day five.”

Your face burns. The air in the office suddenly feels suffocating. “And you just let me keep going?”

You swear you see Levi’s eyes glint with amusement. “No. I started playing.”

You stand suddenly, chair scraping back against the floor loudly. “That was petty, Captain. Were you trying to embarrass me?”

“You’re the one who was trying to make me blush in front of half the regiment.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, because he’s infuriatingly, humiliatingly right, and he knows it. “That was different,” you say weakly.

“How?”

“It was a bet.”

“Mm.” Levi steps out from behind the desk. “That makes it better?”

You hold your ground as he rounds the desk, though you become increasingly aware of the closed door, his desk behind you as you turn around, how his shoes make almost no sound against the floor. Your pulse skips.

“It was harmless,” you say.

“It was stupid.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

His eyes lock onto yours. “No. I didn’t.”

Your back suddenly meets the edge of the desk. You hadn’t even realized you were stepping back. Levi doesn’t touch you, but he steps close enough that the space between you becomes a silent dare, and when his hands come down on either side of you, palms braced against the desk, you’re caged without being held. Trapped only because neither of you has chosen to move.

He’s left you room to step away. You could step away. But he’s so close. He’s close enough that you can see the shadows beneath his eyes and the faint scar above his eyebrow. Your breath thins. Levi’s gaze sharpens on you.

“You’re very bold when there’s an audience,” he murmurs.

You swallow, but your throat feels dry. “And when there isn’t?”

For the first time, something almost like a smile threatens the corner of his mouth. He cocks his head slightly. “That’s what I called you here to find out.”

The office goes silent. It presses around you, filling the space between your faces, making you conscious of every small thing surrounding you: the desk biting into your thighs, the faint scent of tea gone cold, the lantern flame shifting in its glass, Levi’s hands braced on either side of you, close enough that your own fingers could reach his wrists if you dared.

Your anger is still there, and your embarrassment too, but beneath both, beneath the humiliation of being caught and the fury of being played, something else opens its eyes, a recklessness that’s starving for touch. It’s been alive since the corridor, since the stairwell, since the first time Levi turned the game back on you.

His gaze drops to your mouth. Yours drops to his. Neither of you moves. You can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears now, unsteady despite your best efforts to calm it. Your hands grip the desk behind you. The urge to say something snarky leaps to your lips, but you have nothing. You’re completely, utterly speechless.

But you feel the smallest flare of courage. And with that courage, you’re able to whisper three simple words.

“I dare you.”

The kiss is nowhere near gentle. It’s controlled for a single second, just a firm press of his mouth against yours, like he’s giving you exactly one moment to pull away; and when you don’t move, when your hands leave the desk to grab his cravat and pull him deeper in, his restraint breaks. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been counting every reckless word you threw at him and has finally decided to answer all of them at once.

Your legs press into the desk as his body leans in, one hand leaving the wood to rest on your waist, the other sliding to your jaw. You make a small sound against his mouth that you would absolutely deny under oath, but Levi hears it, feels it, and answers by tilting your head exactly how he wants it. Your thoughts turn into complete static, but only one breaks through.

This is the reaction you wanted. Not a blush or a stammer. This.

Levi pulls away to breathe, his mouth still close enough to brush yours. His hand is still firm at your waist. You don’t speak, and neither does he. You notice the darkening of his eyes. Yours are fixed on his mouth. Then his thumb moves along your jaw.

“You wanted honest,” he says quietly.

You smile against his mouth and whisper, “I wanted a reaction.”

Levi scoffs. “You got one.”

His mouth crashes back into yours, tongue sliding against yours. One of his hands fists in the fabric at your lower back, pulling you against him. The other cups the nape of your neck, holding you exactly where he wants you. You feel the way his breath hitches once before he deepens the kiss even further. He’s done waiting.

He tears his mouth away again, voice low and rough. “Bedroom.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” you tease.

Levi’s mouth twitches into something almost resembling a smirk. “It’s an invitation. Don’t confuse the two.”

His fingers lace through yours and he leads you out of the office, down the short hallway to his private quarters. The door shuts behind you, and then he’s on you again, mouth hungry, hands already working at your straps. You push his cravat aside and unbutton his shirt with equal urgency. Every brush of his hands against your skin sends sparks racing through you. 

You reach up to your neck and unclasp your necklace, setting it carefully on the small table beside his bed. You’ve never taken it off, so the absence doesn’t register at first. When it does, you feel more naked, despite already fully being so. Then you turn back to him. Levi watches the movement, then his hands return to your bare waist, guiding you backward until the edge of the mattress meets the backs of your knees. He gives you the gentlest push and you sink onto the bed, the sheets cold against your skin.

Levi follows you down, bracing on one forearm as he kisses you again. His free hand trails along your side, mapping the curve of your waist, the flare of your hip. He breaks the kiss to move lower, pressing his mouth to the hollow of your throat, then the slope of your collarbone, then lower still. 

When his lips close over once nipple you arch, a soft sound escapes you. He sucks gently at first, then with more pressure, tongue circling the sensitive bud while his thumb teases the other. The dual attention makes your walls flutter around nothing. You thread your fingers through his hair, feeling the satisfaction that rolls through him at every gasp you give.

He continues downward, kissing a path over your stomach and your hipbone. He bites gently, leaving a whisper of a mark. His hands part your thighs and then suddenly, without warning, his mouth is on you, tongue stroking slowly. At the same time two fingers slide inside, curling so perfectly that your vision blurs for a moment.

Levi’s thoughts are focused on only one thing: he wants to feel you come apart, wants to hear every sound you make when there’s no audience left to perform for. He works you steadily, tongue flicking and sucking at your clit while his fingers stroke that perfect spot again and again.

Your own thoughts scatter now. The bet feels distant, ridiculous compared to the reality of Levi’s mouth and hands. Pleasure builds fast, coiling tighter with every pass of his tongue and every thrust of his fingers. Your hips move without conscious thought, chasing the sensation. Levi’s free hand presses your thighs wider, keeping you open for him. The quiet growl he lets out against you vibrates through your core. Your inner walls clench around him, urging him deeper.

“Levi, please,” you whimper, hands tangling in his hair as you grind against his face. “Need more.”

With a low chuckle, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he picks up the pace. His tongue dances over your clit, sending a wave of ecstasy through you. He doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. Your thighs close around his head. One hand flies from his head to the sheets, gripping tight.

In a moment of surprising tenderness, he reaches out for your hand with his free one, lacing your fingers together. His other hand is still preoccupied, fingers thrusting deep and curling against your g-spot. The tension inside you winds tighter and tighter. Your quiet moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure that seems to drive Levi on.

Your orgasm comes so suddenly it catches you by surprise. Your body clenches around his fingers as wave after wave rolls through you. You cry out, back arching off the bed, your hand in his hair tightening its grip on his locks. Levi doesn’t stop until the tremors ease, drawing every last ripple of pleasure from you with careful strokes of his tongue. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are dark and intent, lips glistening. He kisses the inside of your thigh once, then moves back up your body to press his mouth to yours.

Your heavy breaths turn into small, hitched inhales as your pulse races. Levi’s weight settles partly over you, one hand stroking your side. You feel his cock twitch against you. You reach for him, pulling him closer, and he comes willingly, his chest pressed against yours as he grinds his hips down to meet yours, his length sliding over your wetness. 

He then pulls back, eyes searching your face. There’s a softness in the way he lifts his hand and brushes his thumb across your cheek. He feels the rapid flutter of your heart through your chest. He’s been denying it for days now, but he’s wanted this. He wanted it since the first time you tried to make him react, but he needs to know you do too.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

You nod without hesitation. “Yes.”

Levi watches you for another second, looking for any signs of doubt, then he settles between your thighs. His hand guides himself to your entrance, and the first press of him stretches you in a way you never could have prepared for. He’s thicker than you expected, the tip parting you slowly. The sensation is overwhelming at first. You feel every inch as he sinks deeper. Your body yields around his solid girth. A quiet sound escapes you, half gasp and half moan. Levi stills once he’s fully inside you, giving you time to adjust.

He takes both of your hands in his and lifts them above your head, pinning them gently to the mattress. His fingers are laced through yours. He begins to move, slow rolling thrusts that you feel the full stretch each time he pushes in. The push of him inside you is deep, hitting places that make your toes curl.

Sensations layer one over another: the slickness, the pressure against your inner walls, your hips tilting to take him deeper. He lowers his mouth to your neck, lips brushing first. Then his teeth graze in a light bite, the sensation racing down your spine. You feel the sting melt into heat, and he soothes it with a slow kiss before biting again, a little harder this time.

Against your skin he murmurs, “You feel so good.” 

The words spread through you in a rush of heat. He shifts your hands and grips both of them with just one of his, while he slides his now free hand down to grip your hip, steadying you as he thrusts again, deeper. You kiss him when he lifts his head, mouths meeting in an open exchange that still tastes faintly of you. He pulls back enough to speak, still moving inside you with long strokes. 

“Is this what you wanted?”

You nod, a moan threading through the motion, your body arching to meet each thrust. The stretch is constant, a fullness that blanks your mind. Levi feels the way you clench around him and the small tremors in your thighs. He slows deliberately, hips rolling in a lazy pace that keeps him buried deep but denies the hard friction you’re starting to crave.

“Yeah?” he says, tilting his head. “Wouldn’t like it if I stopped now, would you?”

You shake your head, no words yet, just the desperate cling of your legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Your hands flex under his hold. You feel the strength in his grip. You couldn’t break free if you tried, and somehow, the contrast of tenderness and control makes heat flood through you again.

Levi’s mouth curves slightly. “That’s right. You want me to keep going, pretty girl?” He leans down, his lips barely ghosting over yours. “Come on, use your words.”

You nearly crack under the weight of his words. Your voice comes out breathy and urgent. “Please don’t stop. Keep going, Levi. I need it. Need it harder.”

He obliges without hesitation. His pace shifts, thrusts growing harder, the bed creaking softly beneath you as he drives in with more force. His thickness fills you completely with each stroke. The wet sound of it mixes with the quiet moans he lets out against your neck. He bites there again, teeth sinking just enough to mark without breaking skin. He kisses the spot, tongue soothing the sting. 

A rush of emotion floods you through the physicality of it all, a mix of being wanted so thoroughly and the unexpected gentleness in how he holds you even while fucking you harder. The moment Levi releases your hand to brace himself properly, you drag your nails down his back, the urge to mark him back rising. The scratches start light but deepen with the next thrust. Levi’s voice comes low near your ear.

“Not too hard, love.”

You nod quickly, the word settling somewhere low in your stomach. You know why he said that. Marks like that would be impossible to hide in the showers. Questions would rise. Explanations you couldn’t give. You ease the pressure of your nails, letting your hands smooth over his skin instead. You feel the flex of his muscles beneath. 

Levi doesn’t falter, his hips snapping down in a rhythm that pushes you higher again. He kisses you to muffle the louder moans that slip out of you, his mouth claiming yours while he drives deep. The tip of him brushes your cervix with every stroke. You feel the tension coiling in him, the way his breathing grows rougher, the subtle tremor in his arms holding his body up. His own pleasure builds, the quiet sounds he makes rising in volume, murmured words of how perfect you feel around him, how much he’s thought about this. 

The pace stays relentless, but he still holds enough control that he doesn’t get lost in the haze. You cling to him with your legs. He kisses your neck again. You feel the precipice approaching for him, the way his thrusts grow slightly erratic, his quiet moans turning into messier, louder groans.

When he pulls out at the last moment, it’s with a low moan, and he shoots ropes across your stomach. The sight of it, the claim on your skin, the way his body shudders through his release, almost makes you cum again on the spot. 

Levi stays close afterward, breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. He kisses you gently, fingers stroking over your wrists where he held them before to check without words that you’re alright. You nod silently. He suddenly stands on slightly shaking legs and crosses the room to retrieve a cloth. He sits beside you and wipes you carefully before lying beside you, one arm draped over your waist. 

You turn into him, closing your eyes, not worrying about what the morning will bring. Right now, it’s just you and him, and the very distant thought that you’ll have to thank the others for throwing you into this bet.

.

The morning after is painfully awkward.

Surely, you can survive sitting down with your friends after spending the night with Levi. Surely. Probably. Maybe, if no one looks at you too closely.

You slide onto the bench beside Sasha, trying not to remember Levi’s hands on your waist, Levi speaking against your lips, Levi’s breath finally turning uneven in the dark when your fingers dragged through his hair and pulled a rough sound from his throat that absolutely would have counted as a reaction if the rest of these idiots had been there to witness it.

Then again, fucking your captain probably counts as a reaction too.

Sasha looks up from her breakfast. “You’re late.”

“I slept in,” you answer smoothly.

Ymir, sitting across from you with Christa close at her side, narrows her eyes immediately. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“That sounded defensive.”

“That’s because I’m being attacked before I’ve had tea.”

Jean and Connie snicker. Then Connie sighs and shakes his head, saying with genuine disappointment, “I still can’t believe you couldn’t get the Captain to react. I was so sure you could do it.”

Oh, you did it alright. 

“I did my best,” you say.

Ymir props her chin on her hand and smiles lazily. “Please. No one could ever make Levi blush or stammer. The whole thing was a waste of fucking time.” She pauses, then adds, “A funny waste of time, though. That was pathetic.”

Jean points his spoon at you without looking at you. “She did get him to talk to her more than usual.”

Armin suddenly says your name. All eyes turn to him. He tilts his head, eyes locked onto your throat. “Where’s your necklace?”

Your hand goes to your throat and meets bare skin. Your heart drops through the floor, through the earth itself where it can lie down and die in peace. You know where it is. You know exactly where it is. But you cannot tell the truth, because you would absolutely never hear the end of it.

“I must’ve forgotten to put it on,” you say, and immediately slap yourself in your mind because you have never forgotten to put on your necklace, because you never take it off except for showers.

Then you feel it on the hairs on the back of your neck. Someone’s approaching. But before you can turn around, a hand enters your vision and sets something down on the table in front of you. Oh gods, you know those hands. They were all over you last night.

You look up and your entire soul leaves your body.

“You left this,” Levi says.

You look down at what he set down. It’s your necklace. Right there, on the table, beside your hand. In front of everyone. No one speaks. No one breathes. You stare at the necklace and it feels like its staring back in disappointment at you.

Levi turns and walks away without another word. When you look up, every single head is turned to you. You look back down at the necklace, your face absolutely boiling with embarrassment and the memory of last night. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Why did the Captain have your necklace?” Connie asks.

You pick it up with slightly shaking fingers. “That is… a great question.”

Jean leans forward. “And?”

“And I’m admiring how great it is.”

Eren’s eyes are now huge, both horrified and fascinated. “Wait, did you manage to get him to react?”

You look down at the necklace of your palm, remembering Levi’s hands lacing through yours, his mouth lavishing attention on your neck, his body settled between your thighs, his praises and moans and whispers—all things you will be taking to your grave and beyond it.

Then you smile.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

thank you for reading, and for allowing me to reach this milestone <3

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divider by: @angeliicide

He surged forward. Sirius grabbed his arm. 

“Remus, no,” he managed, “the door’s open. We’re too late in this one."

Remus’ face was strangled, his large hands curling into fists. “What if it’s not too late? We can’t leave her.”

He rushed down the path, shrugging off Sirius’ desperate hands. 

“Remus,” Sirius choked. “You don’t want to see her. You don’t want to see how he left her!”

“Get off of me, Sirius,” Remus snapped firmly, and the slightly shorter man was shoved backwards, stumbling onto the cobblestone. 

He landed on his ass, his hands breaking his fall as he watched helplessly while Remus stormed inside of the house. Sirius swore he could smell the sickly sweet scent of cinnamon from here. 

His heart was hammering in his chest like it had been the time had found you, stuttering and hard, violent and already broken. 

He didn’t hear a commotion inside the house. There was no screaming or punches or bursts of magic. Nobody came running out. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, only at some point, he was shaking from the cold as well. 

You were dead in this version, too. 

Sirius buried his face in his hands. He wanted Remus to come back so they could use the time turner and get out of here, so they could finally save you and maybe, just maybe, he’d never have to see that horrible image of you curled on the kitchen floor again. Maybe he’d forget all about it, and it would feel like it had never happened. 

Remus had been in there for nearly an hour when Sirius forced himself back up from the floor.

He found the confidence to stand by the front door, his fingers trembling as he held onto the door frame. Sirius’ nose curled, his face pulled together in grimacing agony. He forced one booted foot through the door. 

“Remus?” Sirius called pathetically, like a scared child, his voice wobbling. 

His ears strained when he heard what he believed to be a whimper. 

Sirius remembered when he had found you, and how one thought that had occurred to him then, and then every night in Azkaban since: He’d had to deal with it alone. 

He remembered how much he wished Remus would turn up, and how wrong it had felt to grieve you while Remus was off somewhere, none the wiser. He hated every second in Azkaban, with no clue how Remus was feeling, wondering if Remus had also wished he had been there. 

With that thought, Sirius took another step through the door. 

His legs felt like lead as he forced them through the corridor, the smell of baking becoming even more apparent in his nose. Then he saw the streaks of blood that met the kitchen door, and as he grew closer and closer, his eyes wider and wider and less believing, he found himself in the frame, staring at Remus cradling you.

Every nightmare came soaring back, and with it, the indescribable sensation of his heart being ripped from his chest and stomped on in front of him. His knees felt weak again, his whole body heavy as he dropped to the ground. Sinking, sinking, sinking, sinking…

Sirius choked and Remus finally tore his gaze from your face.

Remus’ back was against the kitchen counter, his jeans covered in your blood, his hands crimson as he cradled your body to his chest. Sirius could only stare at you, your bloody chest, your messy hair, your eyes shut. Remus was shaking as he cupped your head. His face was so pale it was almost translucent. 

“How could he do this to her?” He whispered. 

Sirius sat a few feet from them, his face as heavy as his heart felt. “Because in some sick, twisted fucking way, you have to mean the killing curse. He didn’t mean it. Not like he did with Marlene and her family.”

Remus closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours. “She loved him.”

Sirius buried his face in his hands. “Rem, let’s go. Please,” his voice broke.

“I can’t just put her back on the floor,” Remus whispered. “I can’t.”

“I’ll find her soon,” Sirius tried to reassure him, though the words felt bitter and he felt sick at the thought that in the world of time travel, there was a version of him who lived in a loop, continuously opening that door and finding his girlfriend in a puddle of her own blood.

Sirius forced himself over and helped Remus to move your body back onto the kitchen floor. He placed his hands over your stomach, and he gently shut your eyes like he had the first time. Remus stroked your hair. 

“We can find her and save her now,” Sirius said quietly. 

“I want to kill Peter,” Remus admitted. 

He had the same dark look in his eye that he wore around the time of the full moon. Sirius wasn’t sure if he was supposed to try and comfort Remus, or if he was supposed to try and talk him out of it. All he knew was that he also wanted to kill Peter. Whether Peter lived or died had never been important to things working out the way they did—it only mattered when he resurrected Voldemort in that graveyard during the second war. Peter had been alive all those years that Sirius had rotted in Azkaban. If he killed him, it wouldn’t make a difference.

But the point was that Sirius couldn’t go back to Azkaban. The point was that he would be free, you would live, and Harry would come to stay with the three of you. Peter would rot in his cell, and the second wizarding war would never happen.

“Azkaban is worse than death,” Sirius assured him. 

Remus gave a small nod. “Let’s go then.”

The front door creaked open. Sirius went rigid, only moving when Remus grabbed him by his shoulders, hauling him into the pantry cupboard nearby. Sirius hissed as his leg caught on one of the corners of the shelves. 

“Baby?” He heard his own scared voice, slightly younger, and a lot shakier. “Sweetheart, why’s this door open?”

He could remember his exact thought process at that moment. Sirius had known something was wrong. He remembered thinking that maybe if he called out to you like everything was fine, then maybe you’d call back and say you’d burnt something in the oven and you were just airing the house out. Then he’d scold you for keeping the front door unlocked during the height of a war, but would ultimately kiss your pouting lips and sneak a slice of whatever you’d made. 

“Come on,” Remus breathed. “You don’t need to relive that.”

He wrapped Sirius’ hands with his around the time turner just as his younger version stumbled upon you. As the younger Sirius began to cry out, words of disbelief growing louder and frantic, Remus flipped back the turner and they were back on the pavement outside. 

 The door was open. 

Sirius turned to Remus angrily, tears pouring down his face uncontrollably. 

“We’re too fucking late, again! Stop making us too late!” Sirius seethed at him. 

Remus looked furious himself. “You know how temperamental this thing is, and it’s hard to get it right when all of that just bloody happened!”

“Wait!” Sirius called, and stopped Remus from grabbing the time turner again. “Do you hear that?”

There was crying coming from inside the house. His heart clenched and he nearly emptied the contents of his stomach over the floor. 

“She’s alive,” Sirius choked. 

Remus hesitated, chewing his lip. “It’ll be too late.”

“Fuck that,” Sirius growled, and he raced through the door first that time, barrelling into the corridor and through to the kitchen. 

Sirius had spent years wishing he could have been even a little bit earlier. If this version of you was already dying, he’d give you someone to hold onto. He couldn’t just leave you there. 

“Sirius!” Remus called after him. 

He could hear Remus’ heavy footsteps, but he did not hesitate. He nearly slipped on the blood in the kitchen, his heart lurching as he grabbed the white frame of the door to stop himself. You were laying there, choking on your own blood. 

“Baby.” Sirius dropped next to you.

Your glassy eyes found him. The crease between your brows made him coo, and he sniffled as he wiped at your wet face. You strained to open your mouth, a bitter smile beginning to form before your teeth clamped down, a wave of pain rushing through you. 

He held a hand over your bleeding chest. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re alright. Remus and I are waiting for you.”

When all you could form was a raspy breath, Sirius choked. He dipped his head into your arm. Part of him had always hoped that maybe it hadn’t been as painful as it looked. He doubted it, considering the sheer amount of harm Peter had done to you, but it made him ache so much more knowing he’d left you to choke on your own blood, cold on your kitchen floor.

“I know it hurts. You can let go, though,” Sirius reassured her. 

He felt a presence behind him. Remus put one hand on Sirius’ leg and the other in your hand. His throat was bobbing as he tried to control his sobs.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Remus whispered. His voice caught. “Sirius is right. We’ll come and find you.”

There was some sort of recognition in your eyes as your fingertips spasmed in Remus’. Your eyes began to flicker, and as soon as your lashes touched your cheeks, you were gone. 

Sirius beamed wetly, and laughed bitterly as he wiped at his face. Remus grabbed him and yanked him into a tight hug. 

“Fifteen years I’ve been desperate for just that,” Sirius admitted. “Not even to save her—I just—I just always wish I had been there sooner. So she wasn’t all by herself.”

Remus nodded, his words getting stuck in his throat for a moment. “I wanted to be there, too. I wanted to be with you both so badly. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop thinking of you both alone afterwards.”

“We won’t be ever again,” Sirius swore, and grasped Remus’ hands so tight that he thought he might accidentally break his fingers. “All three of us. We’ll always—It will always be the three of us.”

Remus dropped his forehead to Sirius and nodded tearily. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

Salty water combined at their chins. Joined hands reached for the necklace hanging around Remus’ neck. They turned it, once, then twice.

This time, the door was closed. Sirius sighed in relief as Remus dug through his bag for the de-ageing potion that they had stolen from Hogwarts. 

“We have to be quick about this,” Remus warned, and Sirius only nodded in agreement, accepting half of the drink from him, both men downing it at once. 

The effects of the potion worked quickly. Like before, there was an uncomfortable jolt and then everything began to become slightly brighter, and slightly sharper, too. Sirius patted his face when he was done, blinking to rid the dizziness, and checked Remus over. He didn’t look a day over twenty-two. He pressed a kiss to Remus’ lips. 

“Let’s do this,” he breathed.

Remus smiled nervously, and took Sirius’ hand, leading him down the cobblestone pavement. He pushed the front door open. The aroma of cinnamon had become so normal that he hardly smelt it now, but his heart nearly stopped in his chest when he heard the sound of music playing through the record player in the dining room. 

Your voice chimed in quietly to the soft sounds of Fleetwood Mac, and Remus nearly choked on the memories of your first kiss with him. He always liked to put their self-titled album on because he loved the way you flushed, also remembering back to a time where he had you in his dormitory. Every now and again, after a few drinks, Sirius would put it on and sit back so he could watch the two of you dance in the middle of the living room, as if you were back in the Gryffindor tower.

He shared a look with Sirius, who smiled wearily. They both stepped forward until they were in the kitchen doorframe. The tiled floors were pristine, perhaps even freshly mopped as Remus scanned them, as if looking for drops of blood, despite the fact that you stood with your back to them at the sink. 

You were washing up an abundance of dishes and baking trays, your bright yellow gloves pulled up to your elbows. You grabbed the mixing spoon and stuck the end in your mouth, licking the cake mixture off when you seemed to notice the eyes on you. 

You flinched, your heart skipping a beat. “Merlin’s beard!” You scolded them. “You both made me jump.” Then you glanced at the spoon in your hand, your cheeks flushing as you dropped it into the soapy dish water. “Every great baker tests their treats along the way.”

You always said that. Sirius had forgotten you always used to say that.

Your gaze flickered across both of them, your face softening as you peeled off your gloves. “Are you both going to just stand there and say nothing? I am sorry for trying to force you both to work your argument out, only you don’t realise how hard it is to be in the middle of world war three.”

Remus cleared his throat. “Don’t apologise for that. You should never apologise for that.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “Have you talked?”

“We have,” he said softly. “We talked for a very, very long time.”

“And?” You prompted.

“We’re both the worst,” Sirius concluded. “We’re both irrational and stupid and over emotional, and you must be the kindest, most special person in the whole world to put up with all of our bullshit.”

You shook your head and sighed. “Neither of you are stupid or the worst. Over emotional, yeah. Irrational? Definitely. Especially you, Black,” you smiled. “But you shouldn’t say those things about yourselves. You’re both just scared. I’m scared, too. I’ve not been perfect either.”

Remus shook his head disbelievingly. “You have been perfect forever. Not once have you let us down.”

“Hm. Is that why you both stormed out when I was trying to help?”

Both their faces fell as if you had punched them. You furrowed your brows. The devastation that crept over their features was unlike anything you had seen from them before, and you wanted to ask them why, but Sirius surged forward and squeezed you into a tight hug. 

“We’ll never storm out again,” Sirius mumbled into your hair. “I don’t want to. I really don’t want to.”

You glanced concernedly at Remus, stroking Sirius’ back. 

“You were only gone a few hours. I’ve kept myself busy. I made some of that carrot cinnamon cake.”

When Sirius pulled back, he kissed you hard on the lips. 

“It smells amazing,” he said. He was sure it did, but he knew he never wanted to smell it again after today. 

You smiled softly at him, and then Remus reached across, and you were pulled into another kiss. Remus kept both his hands on your lower back, dragging you up to him, kissing you for slightly longer than usual. You held his jaw as you moved away. 

“I love you both,” you said softly, and ran a hand through Sirius’ hair. “I’m so happy you were able to work everything out in the end. What was the verdict?”

Sirius cleared his throat as you turned back to your dishes. “Erm, that life’s too short to hold grudges against the people you want to spend the rest of it with.”

You turned from the dishes, cooing at him. “Those hours away have made you smarter, Black. You’ve come back a wise old man.”

Remus’ eyes softened even more, if that were possible, and he melted into the back of you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his head dipping to rest in the crook of your neck. You giggled, but relaxed back into him. 

“This is the song that was playing when you first kissed me,” you reminded him, as he always did. 

Remus laughed quietly against your skin and swayed his hips as he always used to, holding onto you so that you were forced to copy him. He closed his eyes when he felt them start to burn, and tore away from you gently once he felt them threaten to squeeze past his lashes.

You didn’t notice the emotions that had stuck your boyfriend, and finished washing your last dish, placing it on the drying rack. 

“There’s magic for that, you know,” Sirius reminded you softly. He wanted you to stop so he could hold you properly. He was itching to. 

“I like the smell of the washing up liquid,” you said. “And I think the dishes are cleaner afterwards.”

Sirius watched you carefully as you placed the gloves over the tap to dry, and then popped your rings back on from the windowsill. He couldn’t believe how quickly everything came flooding back. Small parts of your routine that had left his head completely came rushing in now, to the point where Sirius recalled exactly which ring went on which finger.

He watched you grab a tea towel to start drying up, and it was then that he realised he hated what you were wearing. Your dress felt like a costume now; part of a scene that Sirius wished had never played out. Once you took it off, he swore he’d get rid of it, and he’d never have to see it ever again—not in the back of your wardrobe, nor in the back of his head.

“I still think that perhaps we should have that conversation together,” you said, a hint of nervousness in your tone. “I think it’s absolutely wonderful that the two of you have made up, but the things you were accusing each other of…” You shook your head, and faced them as you multitasked. “I never want to hear you say things like that ever again.”

Sirius ducked his head, ashamed. Remus was the first to speak, “You’re right. We can have the conversation tonight, if you’d like.”

“I was wrong,” Sirius admitted. “I never should have pointed fingers at Remus. Neither of us would ever do anything to put James, Lily, or Harry in jeopardy, or to help Voldemort in general. I just… Don’t even know what I was thinking.”

“Neither do I,” Remus agreed. “We are so sorry.”

“I just don’t want anything to happen to us,” you whispered worriedly, furrowing your brows. “What if you two fight so badly one day that we can never come back from it?”

Sirius swallowed. “You worry about that?”

You nodded timidly. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s just, sometimes when you argue, I feel this horrible sense of dread that one of you will take it too far, and we’ll all have to deal with the consequences.”

Anguish splattered Remus’ face and he couldn’t help but grab you, yanking you into a bone crushing hug. You squeezed him back, one of your hands wriggling to blindly invite Sirius over too. Remus opened his arm when he realised what you were doing, and you both grasped onto him. You felt safer than ever wedged between both men, your head resting against Remus’ chest. You could hear the soft drumming of his heartbeat, like your favourite song.

Your face pressed painfully against something cold and hard. Peeling away, you kept Remus at arms length and clutched at the necklace around his neck, your brows furrowing. 

“What’s this?” You asked, and then you blinked. “That’s a time-turner.”

Sirius stilled. “How do you know what a time turner is?”

“You had one. Back at school…” You said, shaking your head. “It’s all foggy. I’m just remembering now. I completely forgot you had one. Where did you find it?”

Remus pulled it back from your fingers. “I never had a time-turner at school. This isn’t… it’s not a time-turner, sweetheart, it’s just…”

“It’s jewellery I gave him so he’d forgive me,” Sirius attempted.

You scowled and shoved the tea towel at him. “Don’t you dare both act like I am stupid.” You folded your arms against your chest. “What have you both been up to?”

Remus cursed, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, just… Do you remember anymore of us showing you it, or is that all?”

Sirius had never even thought to suggest to Remus that they check his advanced Obliviation spell worked. It certainly couldn’t have been strong for the sight of the time-turner to jog your memory, either that or the laws of time-turning had some sort of effect on Obliviation spells.

You thought for a moment. “I remember Sirius being really upset—wait, no—Sirius was in the hospital wing, he’d been hurt during the full. You were showing me because—no, you were in the hospital wing, too. I was dreaming because I was stressed and…” You glared at the floor, and then back up at them.

They knew the moment it clicked. 

Your mouth dropped open and you backed up further, your hands gripping the edge of the counter. Your eyes darted between them both, suddenly brimming with tears. You held a hand over your pounding heart. 

“You said you’d come back to—” You breathed. “Oh, Merlin’s beard, you’re the same Sirius and Remus who visited me that night, aren’t you? You’re from the future. How did I just forget all of that? You said you’d come back to the day I die—is—is it about to happen?”

“It’s supposed to,” Sirius said roughly. “It’s not going to happen.”

You clutched your forehead, blinking rapidly. Remus placed a soothing hand on the small of your back, rubbing circles.

“Peter…” You exhaled. “Peter asked…”

Your legs became heavy beneath you and you slid to the floor slowly, your back against the counter. Sirius gulped at the sight of you, in that dress, on this kitchen floor. Remus knelt beside you, ignoring the clicks in his knees.

“You’re not going to die tonight,” Remus promised through gritted teeth. “Do you remember what we said about Peter framing Sirius?”

“Vaguely,” you nodded. “Yeah. Yes, I do. Sorry. It was three years ago for me.”

“Three hours for us,” Sirius mumbled teasingly, and joined you on the ground. “We’re going to get him tonight, sweetheart. He’ll be the one who goes to Azkaban, and you’ll live. We’ll all be with each other for a very, very long time.”

You buried your face in your hands as you thought hard. Minutes later, your face emerged.

“How will Peter go to Azkaban if he never kills me? He’s not committed the crime, then,” you said.

“He kills the muggles,” Remus said quickly, before Sirius could speak.

“Then surely he goes to muggle prison.”

Sirius’ mouth trembled. “You’re not the only person he gets killed tonight,” he burst.

Remus shot him a furious look. “Sirius,” he scolded scathingly. 

“Who?” You demanded, your voice wobbling, and your heart caught when you saw how upset they both looked, and it all pieced together. “It’s Harry, isn’t it? He gives him to Voldemort, doesn’t he? No. That’s impossible. You’re the secret-keeper, Sirius. So who is it?”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a long moment. “Sirius was never the secret-keeper. It was Peter. James asked Sirius, but Sirius thought it'd be better for them to choose somebody nobody expected.”

Your mouth fell open and your eyes brimmed with tears. “But—but— So–so Harry dies tonight? Baby Harry?” 

“Not Harry,” Sirius grunted, and turned away in an effort to avoid you seeing his face.

“No,” you gasped, and you grasped Remus’ jumper, and this time the tears poured down your cheeks as if the faucet had been switched on. His thumbs wiped them slower than they came. “No, no, no. Not James. Not Lily! No! No!”

You smacked at Remus’ chest, and he grasped your wrists gently, closing his eyes. Sirius buried his face in his hands, as if to save himself from the sight. He’d never had to watch someone mourn their best friends before. It was like someone had ripped out the stitches he’d so messily patched himself up with.

“No!” You sobbed. “No, no. Remus. Remus, we need to go and help them. Like you’re helping me! We need to get to them.”

“We can’t,” Sirius croaked, and his fists clenched by his sides. You didn’t understand him in the slightest. “Voldemort wants Harry. It’s Lily’s protection that ultimately kills him.”

“You said he comes back anyway!” You bellowed.

You still didn’t understand. How could they just stand here?

“If we save Lily and James, Voldemort won’t die,” Remus said. “He’s winning right now, isn’t he? It’s getting worse out there. Peter is the reason Voldemort’s resurrected in about thirteen, fourteen years. We can send Peter to Azkaban instead of Sirius, and that will be the end of him. No second war. Minimal sacrifice.”

Your lip wobbled and you clutched him tighter. “There has to be another way. You worked it out for me. We can work something out for them, too. What if we can defeat Voldemort? How did Lily do it? Can’t we warn them?”

“It was Lily’s sacrifice that killed him,” Remus whispered. “Nobody could ever recreate such a thing.”

You turned away from them both and paced the room, back and forth, back and forth. 

“We’ll save Harry,” Sirius said quietly, as if that would make you feel any better. “If we’re all here, Harry will have a home.”

“He doesn’t if we’re not?” 

“He gets sent to his muggle aunt,” Sirius scowled. “And she’s awful to him.”

You wiped away tears, and then some more. “He deserves to be with his mum and dad. He deserves Lily and James, not us. I’m—I’m too young. He’ll be so confused.”

Remus hesitated. “Harry suffers a lot thanks to Peter. He lost his parents, but at least he’ll grow up knowing the sacrifice they made, and he’ll live a happier, longer life. We just need to stop Peter.”

You turned away from them, your chest hollow. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Lily rang me this morning. Harry was trying to babble down the phone to me, like he does. James was—he was trying to tell me about the costume he picked out for Harry, even though they can’t go trick or treating, and I was just—I was so upset about all of the stuff going on between the three of us that I was hardly listening. I didn’t even pay attention when Lily said she had to go, I can’t even remember if I told her I’d see her soon—or—or if—” you choked, burying your face again.

Sirius grabbed you, and wrangled you into his arms. “We will get through this together,” he whispered. “We will make sure it’s justified. I promise you that.”

You shook your head. “There must be another way to defeat Voldemort. There must be something else.”

“Nobody has worked it out,” he murmured. “Nobody but Lily.”

You rested your head against his arm, relishing in the way he ran his fingers through your hair. Your heart ached painfully, mourning the friends who weren’t gone yet.

“Can’t we work that part out later?” You mumbled solemnly. 

Remus joined you, placing a hand on Sirius’ arm. “Maybe one day we can come back, but… we’re not sure how much that would impact our timeline, sweetheart. The… If Voldemort keeps winning for much longer, there’s a chance he’ll tip the scales completely. James, Lily, and Harry would all die later, we could all die too, in battle. There’s too much possibility.”

“But you’re saving me,” you whispered, and then you pulled away to keep Sirius at arm’s length. “What if that’s the wrong thing to do?”

Remus swallowed. “Your death was completely unjustified and only saved Peter in the grand scheme of things. It damned Sirius, it damned me. It’ll have minimal impact on the outcome of the war, and…”

“A great big fucking impact on our livelihoods,” Sirius finished.

Your silence was deafening. Your eyes were slightly swollen, your lips redder than usual. You brushed your hair from your face and breathed in and out, focusing on the floor.

“How could Peter do this to all of us?” You croaked after minutes.  

Sirius caressed your face. “He only cared about himself.”

You tilted your head so his hand cupped your jaw, and his thumb wiped some water from above your top lip. His grey eyes watched you so softly, so earnestly, and you could see that he was breaking down inside, too. The thought of your Sirius spending the rest of his youth behind prison bars made your skin crawl. It made you want to find Peter and kill him there and then. 

“What’s the plan, then?” You mumbled.

Sirius reached out to kiss your forehead. “We get as far away from here as possible, so Peter can’t hurt you.”

“He’s going to frame you,” you tell him angrily. “Whether you are here or not, Sirius, he will try to frame you for James and Lily’s deaths, if not mine.”

You felt sick as your friends’ names left your mouth. You felt like you were betraying them for not helping. You wondered if Remus was telling the truth about potentially going back in time at a later date to save them once they knew how to defeat Voldemort. For your own sanity, you chose to believe him. 

Remus furrowed his brows. “What are you suggesting?”

The oven began to beep, and all your gazes flickered over. You switched it off so it would stop the noise. 

“Well, Peter asked to come over tonight,” you swallowed, and grabbed the oven mitts, placing them over your hands before retrieving your cake. “I made him his favourite and everything. I suppose it’d be rather rude if I didn’t welcome him.”

Both men felt sick as pieces of an old puzzle began to fall into place. You had invited Peter over that night and baked for him specially. You’d sat with him and talked, and he had killed you anyway. 

Sirius looked horrified. “You want to… do what? Let him in?”

Remus thought for a moment. “You want to trap him.”

“The aurors can deal with him, but if he runs away, we’re screwed,” you said. “And I’ll be damned if Peter gets away with it again.”

“I don’t know how I feel about it,” Sirius said. “You—what if he—what if he gets you again?”

“You two will be here. He won’t know it. I’ll get him.”

“We can grab him,” Remus said.

“No. I want to,” you scowled. “If Peter thinks he’s clever killing his unsuspecting friends, then we’ll have to see how clever he feels when I already know what’s coming.”

“No, no way,” Sirius shook his head. “No. I can’t—I can’t see it happen again—I can’t—”

Your eyes turned softer, and you grasped his face. “I want to get him. I am a capable witch.”

“More than capable,” Remus agreed after a moment, though his eyes were strained. “You should know that he doesn’t use magic.”

“He doesn’t?”

“No,” Sirius spat, and he reached over the counter for the knife that swam in the back of his head every night before sleep. “So I’m taking this. No chances.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly and your stomach flipped. “He—he—” You shook your head, and looked at the time on the clock. “It doesn’t matter. He’s coming over in twenty minutes.”

“Wait,” Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm before they could spring into action. “Remember when we cornered him at the Shrieking Shack? He turned into his animagus form.”

Your eyes lit up and you beamed at Sirius. “How do you fancy a trip up into the loft for that old gerbil cage I had?”

Sirius grinned.

── .✦

Your heart was pounding out of your chest when you heard the doorbell ring. You adjusted your hair in the mirror by the dining table, and nearly jumped when Sirius swooped out of the pantry cupboard to grasp your waist and drag you into a kiss. Your mouth melted against his, his hands shaking as he released you, and then you kissed the fond face of Remus Lupin, too.

“You know what to say if you want us to jump in.”

“I ask him if he wants to try the brownies I made.”

“Good girl,” Remus mumbled, and kissed your hairline. “Get him.”

You squeezed his hand and shut the pantry cupboard door, leaving them both in the darkness with their wands drawn. You exhaled and headed for the door just as the bell rang again. 

You yanked it open and forced a smile at Peter.

“Pete,” you greeted.

Peter smiled at you, a smile that you thought was nervous as you studied it, and entered your house when you stood aside to make room for him. 

“Shoes off,” you reminded him. 

You felt an odd sense of imposter syndrome knowing that you had done all of this before. You wondered if subconsciously you were changing your dialogue or if you had said this all of those years ago in the world Sirius and Remus knew you from.

Peter yanked off his shoes and put them beside a pair of Remus’ Doc Martens. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ve just had a really long day.”

He followed you through to the kitchen. You were hesitant to have your back turned to him, but Sirius had told you that you had both eaten by the time he had tried anything on you. You clung onto that information for dear life.

“What were you up to?” You asked. “Please, sit down. I made your favourite.”

Peter smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Y/N. Just some paperwork I didn’t finish at work yesterday. Wasn’t really planning to spend my Saturday filling out forms.”

“Something you would have rather been doing?” You asked, your teeth nearly gritted, but thankfully Peter looked too tired and wrapped up in himself to notice.

He shook his head. “No. It’s been really quiet for me lately. I was happy when you phoned earlier. I was going to ask to see you tonight anyway.”

“It’s a shame Sirius and Remus couldn’t be here,” you said. “They would have loved to have seen you. It’s been so long since we all hung out as a group.”

“Too long,” Peter agreed, and you noticed the way his gaze flickered to the table.

You reached for two small plates from the cupboard. 

“Phoned James and Lily this morning,” you told him. “Harry’s really trying to talk now, bless him.”

He looked visibly uncomfortable as you placed his plate in front of him. 

“Do you want a big bit or a little bit?” You asked, and put the cake between you both. 

“Little bit’s fine.”

“Oh, come on, Pete. I made this for you. Rem and Sirius won’t help me eat all of this.”

“Where are they both?” Peter asked, and accepted the large portion you put on his plate. 

“Both went out for a bit,” you said as he ate a forkful. 

“Ah. This is really good, Y/N. Brilliant as always.”

“Thank you, Pete. Glad you think so.”

You ate some of yours as you watched him, and you wondered what you had thought about in the past, when you had been utterly clueless. Had you been filling the space with all of your chatter? That was what you often liked to do with Peter, and then he’d always agree with you and add his own piece. 

He ate quicker than you wanted to. You’d hoped the more he had on his plate, the longer it’d take for him to get to this part. 

“What were Remus and Sirius arguing about?”

Your brows furrowed, confused.

“On the phone earlier. You said it’d be just us because they were upset with one another. Was it just typical Remus and Sirius drama, or was there something wrong?”

You put your pudding fork on your empty plate and pursed your lips. “Between you and I, the rat in the Order is really starting to get to them.” 

Peter frowned. “Who do they think it is?”

“Each other,” you said, and watched him blanch. “Yes, really stupid, isn’t it?” You agreed with a small laugh as you climbed from your seat. “As if good men like Remus or Sirius would ever do something so low and insane.” 

You turned to grab a cloth from the counter, and heard the chair scrape back behind you. You instinctively looked over your shoulder, seeing as this time, you knew what the commotion was. 

“Avada Kedavra!” Peter cried, and for a second you tensed, flinching, but nothing happened. You looked down at your hands, and flexed your fingers across the cloth, dropping it back down.

You began to glare. “Really?” You laughed horribly at him. “You come into my house, I treat you like a friend, and you don’t even have the decency to curse me to my face?”

Peter trembled, swallowing thickly. “Avada Kedavra!” He tried again, and then shook his wand. “Fuck! Why’s it—why—” he panicked breathlessly. “Y/N, I’m sorry—I have to—Why’s it not—?”

“You need to mean it, to kill me,” you snapped, and watched his eyes dart around the kitchen for the next nearest weapon. “You want to stab me, do you, Peter? Why? So you can frame Sirius for everything? So there won’t be an alibi? So Remus won’t defend him? So I won’t defend him?”

Peter scowled at her. “You don’t understand!”

“I don’t want to understand you. You’re pathetic!” You seethed at him. 

He tried his wand again. “Expelliarmus!”

Your wand flew from your grip, and as he moved to tackle you, the pantry door opened behind him and Sirius was on him within a moment, his arm wrapped around his neck, strangling. 

“Yeah, you know who this is,” Sirius spat viciously against his ear. 

“Sirius!” Peter struggled, his hands desperately trying to scratch the other man’s pale skin. “Remus, help—help me!”

Remus was already diving down as soon as Peter began to shrink. He had seen it a hundred times before, the way his clothes suddenly started to become too big. You did the same, rushing for him as Sirius blindly stomped on the pair of trousers. 

“Sirius, we can’t kill him!” Remus warned.

You found his fat little body and squashed him against the floor so he couldn’t bite you with his long teeth. Sirius was quick to grab the tongs he’d left out to pick Wormtail up, and he threw him in the cage, snapping the door shut. 

“You’ll be staring at bars for a long while now,” Sirius laughed. “You best get used to it.”

Wormtail scrambled around, desperately trying at the bars with his teeth and then his little hands, but nothing gave way and he squeaked and squeaked and squeaked. 

“We know what you did to James and Lily,” you croaked at him. “And the aurors are on their way. You’ll get what you deserve, Peter.”

Remus held onto you as the adrenaline wore off and you began to cry again. You cried for Lily, James, and Harry. You cried because Peter, one of your best friends, had just tried to kill you and frame your boyfriend. You cried because the look of relief on Remus and Sirius’ faces was enough for you to realise you had most likely just escaped a truly gruesome, horrible fate: for all three of you. 

── .✦

“What happens now?” You asked as you uncurled yourself from Sirius’ grasp a couple of hours later. “Surely your younger versions will be coming home soon. They’ll have no clue any of this has happened.”

Peter had been taken away in his cage, the most satisfying sight for Sirius who knew that Peter was about to endure the worst years of his life. Now that they knew Peter was an unregistered animagus too, there was no chance of him slipping through those bars the same way Sirius had a couple of years ago. 

Remus thought for a few moments. “We can Obliviate you. It’s most likely the safest option. The less people who know we meddled with time, the better. Once we’re back to our present time, the time loop will complete itself and become full circle.”

“So, when you get back, there will be a thirty-something-year-old version of me with you?”

“That’s the plan,” Sirius squeezed your fingers. “And hopefully we’ll have twenty years of memories to look back on. Ones you need to make for us now.”

You smiled sadly. “I like the way you put that. What if I remember again? It didn’t work last time.”

“I think the time turner may have triggered your memory,” Remus said. “But I’ll be returning this as soon as we are back.”

You hummed. “Alright. It’s strange that I won’t remember today. I won’t know I was ever supposed to die. But I suppose that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“It’s probably best you don’t,” Sirius said. “We can leave enough memory that you remember stopping Peter, so when the aurors interrogate you, they don’t realise you’ve been Obliviated, and see us here.”

You kissed him on the mouth, your hand tangling with his dark hair. Then, you kissed Remus.

“Do it now. I don’t enjoy goodbyes.”

“You’ll see us both really soon.”

── .✦

You yawned as you finished clingfilming the sandwich you’d prepared for tomorrow, your head unexpectedly bumping backwards against a hard chest. Arms wrapped around you, and your heart skipped a beat when Sirius ducked to kiss your jaw. Your eyes flickered across the room where Remus sat at the dining table, Harry on his lap. Remus read his own book whilst Harry attempted one himself. 

“He’s converting him lame,” Sirius whispered against your ear, and you giggled. “James would be horrified.”

“James wasn’t quite as illiterate as you are,” you told him teasingly, and shrieked as Sirius wriggled his fingers into his ribs the way he did with Harry to rile him up. “Stop! Hey!”

“Siri!” Harry scolded, at the same time as Remus shot him a look. 

“Hey, hey,” Sirius held his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“You hurted her!”

“I tickled her,” Sirius corrected him. “Shall I tickle you next?”

“No!” Harry laughed. 

“Then mind your own beeswax, mister,” Sirius played, and moved around to ruffle Harry’s uncontrollable hair—already as bad as James’ was. 

“He was just sticking up for Y/N, weren’t you, Harry?” Remus noted warmly, and squeezed Harry’s shoulder in an attempt to get him to stay seated.

They could see the look in Harry’s eyes—Sirius had set him off. 

“Yeah,” Harry said proudly and leaned back with his book. 

“Well, I’ve packed your lunch for tomorrow,” you beamed, and placed it in the fridge beside his yogurt and his fruit—you’d taken him to the shops that day so he could pick out what he wanted. “Are you excited for your first day of school?”

“No,” Harry huffed. “I like being here. With you.”

“I’ll be here when you get home,” you reminded him. “Every day. I’m not going anywhere, Harry.”

Remus stroked Harry’s hair endearingly. “None of us are. How about you run upstairs and get into bed and one of us will come and read to you.”

Harry nodded eagerly. 

“Who would you like tonight?”

“You, Rem. You do the best voices.”

Remus stuck his tongue out at Sirius, who played back.

“Alright, alright. Hurry upstairs then, Harry. If you take too long, I’ll miss my bedtime, and then we’ll both be grouchy in the morning!” 

Harry stood up and tucked his book beneath his arm. He walked over to you and let you routinely kiss the top of his head, and then he moved to Sirius and gave him a hug as always. Sirius jabbed his fingers in his ribs and Harry’s squeal echoed through the house. Remus hissed.

“Run, Harry! Or I’ll get you again!” Sirius called as Harry took off running and laughing. “Remember the only safe place is under your duvet!”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Good luck getting him to wind down,” Sirius smiled smugly at Remus. “Should be a piece of cake for you, considering you’re so good at the voices.”

Remus rolled his eyes but smiled amusedly and kissed Sirius’ cheek. “How bitter are you, Black?”

“Bitter is my middle name, don’t you know?”

“Thought it was Jealous,” you teased, and snaked your arms around Sirius’ thin waist.

Remus laughed and kissed you next. 

“I best put him to bed, then. I guess I have been selected.”

“Thank you, Rem,” you said warmly. 

“I can’t believe it’s his first day of school tomorrow,” Sirius said, and held onto your hands, relishing in the way it felt to have your front against his back. “Time has flown by so quickly.”

“It’s terrifying,” you agreed. 

Remus hummed. “God knows where we’d be without Harry. Wouldn’t change this for the world.” You smiled, and you supposed that, after all of the shit the wizarding war had brought, and with the loss of your friends, this was the best outcome imaginable.

That feeling, that greed, was especially present now, when she was pulling you upstairs into your bedroom. To be fair, you had been all over her all day, pulling her close and kissing every bit of skin you could reach. You could tell she tried to not let it affect her, but she had her limits. Limits you knew how to push and bend, knew exactly what to do or say to get exactly what you wanted.

Once she had finally snapped and gripped your wrist firmly, pulling you along behind her, you knew you had reached your goal. You got her to fold with a few whispered words and a coy look.

From pulling you behind her to pushing you into the room and onto the bed, every moment was heating up in the most delightful way.  From her lips to her touch, you felt the flame of desire ignite and there was no extinguishing it now. Not as she climbed atop you, not when she lifted your shirt from your body, not when she kissed down your frame all the way to the flimsy material of your underwear that you were left in.

You could live in this moment forever. You could bask in the feeling of her gripping your thighs and pulling them apart, slotting herself nicely between them. 

She slid her fingers into the waistband of said flimsy panties and slid them down your legs and threw them somewhere near the door. She made quick work of diving in, licking a stripe up your core. You groaned at the feeling, her tongue circling your clit over and over.

See, you all agreed that it was fine if two of you broke off every now and then for some quality one on one time. There was no rule against just you and Lily having some fun on your own, the other two didn’t have to be there. But, there was a sort of clause to this, just don’t get caught by the other two. More importantly, don’t get caught by Regulus.

At the beginning of your relationship, you often felt guilty, excluding the other two. That was, until Regulus had you in the shower all alone, growling that if he ever caught you like this with James or Lily, you would regret it. And that intrigued you.

Ever since then, you had yet to be caught, to see exactly what you would be regretting if you were. Now, there had of course been some close calls, but you took pride in yourself for the fact that you were incredibly sneaky and mischievous.

Today, you thought it was going to be one of those times, where you were able to sneak off and not be caught, just like every other time. That was until you heard the click of the door handle and looked just in time to see James and Regulus enter the room.

You saw James’s face spark with confusion then awe as he drank in the sight of Lily on her knees in front of you, lounging on the edge of the bed. 

Regulus looked slightly different. You saw him look from you, to Lily, to the panties on the floor right in front of where he stood, then back to you. All with an unchanging expression. His eyes bore into yours, and you knew that you were fucked now.

“Lily,” you whined, trying to wiggle your hips out of her grasp, but she wouldn’t budge. You tried again, this time trying to push her away.

“I hear them,” she acknowledged. She didn’t halt her actions, if anything, it just encouraged her.

Your eyes were still locked on Regulus’s. His face still void of any shock, any emotion at all really. It was a strange contrast to James’s wide eyed stare and blushed cheeks, now the same deep pink color of his cock which was no doubt hardening beneath his jeans by the second.

With Lily’s continued ministrations, you couldn’t help the small moan that left your lips. You tipped your head back and allowed yourself to drink in the pleasure, whatever consequences be damned. Lily clearly wasn’t stopping, so why shouldn’t you continue to feel good?

You heard Regulus approach, his footsteps along with the wet sloppy noises that came from where you and Lily were attached being the only noises filling the room. He stopped just short of the side of the bed and reached to grasp your face in one of his hands, turning you to face him. You looked up at him and felt your heart rate rise in anticipation, wanting to finally find out what he had in store.

To your surprise, he just leaned down and kissed your lips. It was sweet, soft. He broke away and slid in behind you, helping to prop your body up so Lily could get better access. She took full advantage of this and flattened her tongue, adding pressure to your bud so nicely. 

Regulus again turned your face to kiss you. You craned your neck to the side in an almost uncomfortable angle to reach him. He gave you a few soft kisses before licking along your bottom lip. You opened your mouth for him, allowing his tongue to explore yours. Your tongues danced together, there was no need for a battle of dominance when you both found a rhythm.

Lily seemed to be annoyed that the attention was off of her when she was the one working so hard, so she decided to bring a finger to your entrance and circle it, collecting your wetness before pushing in ever so slightly.

You forgot Regulus, snapping your attention back to her. You met her sultry gaze staring back at you as if tempting you to look away again. You saw her tongue start kitten licking you again and you moaned out, throwing your head back against Regulus’s shoulder. He stayed firm behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle to hold you in place for Lily.

Lily took Regulus’s help and added another finger to your entrance, pumping both in and out of you, curling upwards in the way only Lily did. You lost all your senses, letting out breathless moans and praises of Lily’s name. She felt so amazing. You were becoming undone for her, getting closer and closer to your orgasm.

“You just gonna stand there, pretty boy?,” you heard Regulus’s voice from behind you, "Or are you gonna come join us?”. 

Lily halted her work on you and turned to look over her shoulder at where James still stood, your juices covering her mouth and chin. You whined, not wanting her to stop, but also looked to where your other boyfriend was.

He looked like he was in desperate need of some attention. You smirked, enjoying the fact that he could get this worked up by just watching you three. He stood, a little spacey and breathless. 

You decided to help him out and smiled sweetly at him. “C’mere Jamie, I wanna play with you.” He nodded and moved quickly to be by your side.

Lily turned back to you and winked up at you before continuing. You fought the urge to roll your eyes back, you had to be somewhat coherent for James now. You turned your attention to where the boy was struggling to undo the button on his jeans, too busy watching what Lily was doing. You took pity on him and helped him. 

His eyes flicked to you and gave you an appreciative look. He slid his jeans down his thighs leaving him in just his boxers. You reached up to wrap your hand behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss. His lips were needy against yours, eager for your touch at last. He shimmied out of his boxers and allowed his cock to be free of its restraints.

You took him in your hand, gathering his leaking precum to use as lubrication. You stroked him up and down with ease, pulling away from the kiss to allow his moans to ring through the air. Such sinful moans falling from his lips and you had only just begun touching him. 

Regulus chuckled from behind you, amused with how needy James was. Regulus seemed to reward your actions by attaching his lips to the small space under your ear and sucking, biting. There was surely to be a bright purple bruise there the next time you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Everything was getting too much for you, every action, every noise, every touch, was blending together and you were falling fast. You felt the brink of orgasm approaching. You couldn’t help but moan out, throwing your head back onto Regulus’s strong shoulder. 

Lily’s eyes shot up to yours, looking so sultry yet angelic between your legs, her tongue working her magic. She lapped you up in time with her fingers curling in just the right way, the way that only Lily understood. You were right on the edge, letting out breathless moans and chants of Lily’s name, before she suckled on your clit as her finishing move of her routine, and you were undone.

You felt every wave of pleasure as Lily worked you through your orgasm. “Good girl,” she drawled, giving you the praise she knew you wanted, Regulus doing the same by kissing your neck and shoulder sweetly. You relaxed for one moment, trying to catch your breath, before you heard a whimper beside you.

Your attention turned to the sad looking James at your side. You had forgotten his pleasure when seeking your own, and now he was pouting. You giggled, trying to compose yourself, and peeling yourself away from where Regulus and Lily had you, and crawled into James’s lap. Lily took your spot in Regulus’s lap, lounging lazily as both of them watched you and James.

Facing him, you took his face into your hands and pecked his lips. He tried to deepen the kiss again, wanting to continue where you had left off, but you cood, “Awe baby, I’m sorry. Did I forget about you?” James nodded fiercely, arms tugging you closer to him, trying to feel you everywhere. You could feel his dick so close to your bare cunt and groaned, grinding down on him to elicit the same reaction.

He whimpered and bucked his hips up into yours, dangerously close to entering you.

“Do you wanna be inside me baby? Would that make up for it?” you asked. James was almost shaking beneath you as he nodded and bucked up to meet your core again. You chuckled at his attempt to enter you, but looked to your other two lovers, just to make sure everything was alright.

Regulus had Lily in a similar position that you had just left. She was leaned up against his chest, legs spread for Regulus’s hands to work on her dripping cunt. You let out a short breathless moan at the sight. Regulus was whispering something into Lily’s ear that had her moaning and throwing her head back the same way you were just moments ago. 

James must have had enough of your inattention, because he bucked up into you once again, this time finding his mark. James slipped into you easily due to the wet mess you had become on Lily’s tongue. You both groaned out at the familiar sensation, James stretching you out and you squeezing him in the way he loves. 

Still facing him, you grabbed his face and pulled him into a fast and messy kiss. You both felt that needy desperation and melded together as you connected. James opened his mouth for you and you took advantage by licking into it. He moaned and pushed your hips down onto him even further. You threw your head back and let out a rather pornographic, attention seeking moan, putting on a performance for Regulus and Lily just as much as you were for James.

You started grinding down onto James, back and forth, as he let out soft whimpers. You moved your hips in a silent rhythm, getting James as close to his release as you could without bringing him to the edge. You moved your hips in time with his thrusts, the way you knew he liked, and let him think he was the one in control by allowing him to move your hips back and forth on his cock. He brought one hand up to cup your breast, pawing at it before taking your nipple into his mouth and suckling. You moaned and gripped his hair at the back of his head, tugging just slightly. 

You snuck a look at Lily and Regulus where he had his ring and middle fingers pumping in and out of her at a rapid pace. Lily’s face was twisted with pleasure and ecstasy, eyes screwed shut and cheeks reddening to match the color of her lovely hair. She was going to come undone soon, and you couldn’t wait to hear the beautiful noises she would make. You know that watching you and James was tipping her closer and closer to the edge.

You rocked your hips on James at the same time as Regulus’s fingers sliding in and out of Lily. You cried out, gripping James’s shoulders and squeezing with your nails, no doubt leaving tiny crescent moons indented into his skin. You knew that sent a rush of pleasure down to James cock by the way he twitched inside of you and he let out a gargled moan.

You watch as Lily’s chest heaves up and down, moaning so seductively and making you want her between your thighs again. She let out moans in quick succession, squirming in Regulus’s grasp, legs flailing and hands gripping his thighs, anything to try and get away. But Regulus was all too used to this, and had her tightly against him as he continued his assault on her cunt. Fuck you werent going to last much longer.

In out, in out, in out. You could make out the sweat lining Lily’s chest. You started bouncing on James in time to Regulus now. James whimpered and nuzzled into the crook of your neck, giving you full control without pretending now. Bouncing, bouncing bouncing, closer and closer to the edge. Regulus added his thumb to brush Lily’s clit, and it had her screaming. You nuzzled back into James and slammed your hips down onto his, clenching his cock hard and feeling him spurt into you, moaning your name over and over, kissing your neck and holding you tight into him. You felt so good, wanting, needing to continue to rock your hips onto his, but you didn’t want to overstimulate him, especially when he had been such a good boy for you. 

You didn’t have to wait for long, Regulus was pulling you off of James moments after James was completely coming down from his high. Both you and James whined at the feeling of the loss of each other. You felt the emptiness rush over you, but Regulus had a look in his eye that meant you wouldn’t have to go empty for long.

Regulus laid you down on the bed, smiling down at you. You became suddenly shy at his attention, remembering what he had said all that time ago about being caught, and now here you were, caught, and at his mercy. You were slightly scared, but you needed something, anything from Regulus. You would take the rough punishment, the unfair edging, the nerve-shattering overstimulation, anything.

 “My turn baby,” He said, kissing your clavicle and taking your right thigh and pushing it down on the bed next to your body, giving him unrestricted access to your pussy, still dripping with James release. Regulus reached down between your two bodies and spread James’s cum up and down your cunt for lubrication. You could have cum from just that alone, but he then dipped two fingers into you, curling them upwards and making your back arch, before pulling them out and using James’s cum as lubrication for himself, tugging his cock once, twice, before lining up with you.

You looked over to where James was now between Lily’s thighs, eyes glazed over from pleasure. Lily’s fingers tangled in James’s locks as she used her leverage to grind on this tongue, meeting him lick for lick.

Regulus turned your face back to him, squishing your cheeks so that your lips pouted out. He chuckled at your expression. “Eyes on me now babygirl, yeah?” he said, more like demanded.

You nodded to him, eyes not leaving his, as you felt his tip line up with your entrance. He then pushed in, so slowly. Inch by inch he pushed in until he bottomed out. You had no breath to moan or cry out. He pulled out ever so slightly before thrusting in again. You arched your chest up to meet his and he took this as a sign to speed up a little more.

Still holding your right thigh in place, he thrust into you deeper. You felt every glorious inch of him and forgot about the whole ‘being caught’ scenario… Maybe he did as well. Maybe there was no reason to worry yourself. You let yourself relax and enjoy it all.

You finally got out a strangled moan, encouraging Regulus on. He was slipping in and out so easily, so quickly, that you barely had the right state of mind to notice that James and Lily were now 69ing.

Regulus gripped your thigh with one hand and brought his other to grip your throat, stabilizing himself as he thrust even harder into you. You whimpered, half at the way he was making you feel, and half due to the moans coming from both overstimulated James and Lily.

Regulus squeezed your throat in the most delicious way that made the sides of your vision go fuzzy and all the blood go straight to your pussy. Regulus pounded into you with vigor as he saw your eyes start to roll back into your skull. He was letting out breathless sounds, the only thing close to a moan he would ever let out, while you while you completely let go, moaning and cursing, chanting his name like a sinful prayer.

“Reggie, R-Reggie.” you cried out.

He smirked down at you. “What is it baby?” he asked with fake worry. You could hear the noises that James and Lily were making and you knew you were going to cum for Regulus embarrassingly fast.

“C-could we… switch positions. P-please?” you asked as he continued pounding into you.

Wordlessly he gripped your hips and turned you so that you were on your hands and knees. He pushed down on your middle back so that your tits met the bed and your ass was perfectly on display for him. From this position, you could watch James and Lily with ease. She was on top, riding his face, her juices running down his neck and chest, his cock a deep red, ready to be played with again.

You caught Lily’s eye and for the second time tonight, she winked at you. You turned into a shy mess again, hiding your face in the sheets before you felt Regulus slide his dick up and down your slit, recoating himself to push into you. 

He lined himself up with your entrance yet again, but it was you who pushed back onto him. He let out a low groan and took your hips in his hands. He wasted no time, holding you in place as he pounded into you. You moaned so loudly that you were sure everyone down the block could hear you, but you didn’t care, his cock was too deep, he felt too good. And Lily and James sounded as if they were right there with you, feeling just as amazing. 

“Fuck James,” Lily moaned out, lazily stroking his cock while still riding his face.

Regulus continued thrusting, bending one of his legs to the side of you for better leverage, reaching new depths. You cried out broken moans holding off your orgasm as long as possible, but you couldn’t hold it for much longer.

“I, Reggie, I’m s’close,” you moaned. “Please can I cum?” you still didn’t know for sure where you stood with him, if he was going to rip away your orgasm at the last second for getting caught.

Regulus just breathed out a “Cum whenever you want baby.”

He thrust into you faster now, knowing that you were on the brink. You couldn’t stop it, everything again came crashing down on you. You screamed out, but Regulus shoved your face into the bed to muffle the sound, still fucking into you to chase his own release. 

You couldn’t catch your breath, listening to James come undone next, then Lily right along with him, her high pitched moans reverberating off the bedroom walls. 

Regulus pounded into you for a good while after you had cum, James cuddled into Lily’s lap as they both just watched you take your pleasure.

Your body felt so lifeless as Regulus used it, pounding into you like a doll. You loved it. He was close, his thrusts becoming sloppy and not as coordinated as usual. You decided to finish your performance with an encore. 

“Fuck Reggie,” you moaned out with a scratch in your voice from all the moaning and screaming. “You fill me up so good.”

You felt him twitch, gripping your hips and getting ready to spill into you.

“Merlin, you feel so good Reggie.” you coaxed, trying to get him to cross the finish line like all of you already had.

“You know how to make me feel so good, Y/N.” Regulus said, out of breath and sweat dripping down his temple as he chased his high.

You moaned once more before hitting the final nail on the coffin. “I love you Reggie.” you breathed out.

This completely broke him. He threw his head back, eyes tightly shut as he let out a whimper for you, coating your walls with his hot ropes of cum. You smiled and moaned with him, loving the fact that you got him to make such pretty noises, especially when he is the most reserved out of the four of you.

You confidently whipped around to face him, disconnecting from his cock to connect to his lips with a small peck. He smiled down at you yet again. “I love you too,” he replied softly.

You crawled to where James was laying on the bed, beat and ready to cuddle and sleep. Lily had gone to grab a few towels to wipe off with. You kissed James’s cheek and asked if he had enjoyed himself. He nodded sleepily and you giggled.

Lily took care of James while Regulus grabbed a cloth and wiped your core down for you. You told him you could do it yourself, but he insisted. 

“I thought you were going to be mad at me.” you admitted to him, breaking the comfortable silence that had built throughout the room.

“Why would I ever be mad at you babygirl?” Regulus replied to you, wiping down your thighs where he and James’s cum had mixed and dripped out.

You shrugged but said “Well because of what you said about if you ever were to catch me… I thought that you’d be mad or jealous or something.” you tried to explain.

He chuckled, folding the small towel before throwing it somewhere near the laundry. “Oh baby,” he said, “As long as I am able to join, I’m never going to be mad or jealous.” He kissed the top of your head before slotting himself behind you, spooning you. “That is, as long as I am able to join…”

“I would never not want you to join.” you said to him quickly. “I like when we all have fun.”

“Oh baby,” Lily said, crawling in behind James to spoon him just as Regulus was spooning you. “You didn’t like when it was just me and you?” she teased.

“I did!” you tried to defend yourself. “I just… I don’t want anyone to ever feel left out.”

Regulus cooed at you and kissed your cheek, cuddling into you. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” Regulus said.

“She certainly is.” Lily said, licking her lips and winking at you again.

James

the moment was silly really, both of you being giggly and playful. you were on top of james, both stripped of your clothes, down to your underwear, in the middle of a heated makeout session. you couldn't help the slight movement of your hips on his, feeling him hard beneath you. you were grinding down just enough to elicit a deep and breathy moan from james.

"oh sorry," you said, breaking to catch your breath. you thought for a moment, deciding to lean into the playful mood. "it's just, i couldn't feel it, it's just so small." you giggled.

james's brows shot up and he smirked up at you. "oh yeah?" he replied and before you knew it you were flipped in an instant, the room spinning as james pinned you beneath him. with the positions now reversed, he ripped your panties from your body, shoving his boxers down and lining himself up with your enterance. you were taken off guard, gasping as he slid himself through your folds and coated himself in your arousal.

"you wanna take that back?" james asked. you hesitated for a second, and james took this as his sign to slam into you, the stretch burning so good. he instantly found his mark as he hit your g-spot over and over again, not taking his time, not giving you time to catch up.

your back arched and you cried out, dragging your nails down jame's back in response. james hooked your legs over his arms, pistoning in and out of you at a rapid speed. nothing but james's name and pornagraphic moans fell from your lips, filling the room along with the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

he was clearly proving you wrong, joke or not. reaching spots inside you that you didn’t even know were there.

“j-jaaamess!” you cried as he hit that spot deep inside you, making your eyes roll back.

“i’m gonna ask you again,” he said, tone lowering an octave, husky and seductive. “you wanna take that back?” he punctuated each word with a harsh thrust into you, your poor pussy being abused for your earlier mistake in thinking he would take the joke.

“yes, yes-fuck,” you sobbed, “i didn’t mean it!”

james’s smug face lowered to yours, stopping a hairs width away. “yeah,” he said, pausing his thrusts to gently place a quick kiss to your lips, “that’s what i thought.”

Sirius

sirius had added a messily written 'condoms' onto your grocery list which allowed for the perfect opportunity to mess with him.

"condoms?" you asked, standing in the doorway to your bedroom and waving the grocery list.

sirius chuckled, half naked with a towel wrapped around his waist, fresh out of the shower. "yeah, we used the last of them last night." he stated, throwing a wink in the mix.

"oh, ok well," you paused, stepping into the room, "what size? medium?"

sirius raised a brow and scoffed. "medium?'' he repeated back to you. you tried your absolute best not to crack, not to give up the joke just yet. "do you think i have a medium dick, sweetheart?"

you glanced down to where the towel covered him, as if you had x-ray vision and shrugged. "i mean, its average."

sirius's jaw dropped, he too looked down, envisioning what was beneath the towel. "average!?"

you gave him a teasing pout, "oh, baby," you cooed, "its ok. the big ones scare me anyway." with that you couldn't help the smirk that creeped on your face.

before you knew it, you were on your knees in front of sirius, towel long forgotten, dick shoved down your throat. it was a joke, but you were wrong, dead wrong, sirius was definitely not medium.

you could feel his size in the way your jaw ached to accommodate him, in the way you constricted around his mushroom tip that he was forcing down your throat over and over. tears fell openly down your cheeks at the burn.

"oh baby,” he mocked, “whats a matter?" he looked down at you, giving you a faux pout as he forced you to take more of him. your hands flew to his thighs, nails digging in and making sirius hiss in reply. "what happened? you were so feisty a moment ago. cat got your tongue?"

he pulled back slightly, not all the way, just enough for you to gasp down some air. gagging and coughing, you looked up at him through your tear damp lashes, silently pleading for him to ease up.

"you wanna take what you said back?" he asked, a bite to his tone.

you nodded your head the best you could with his hand gripping your hair and his cock shoved down your throat.

"good," he hummed, "then lets keep that mouth full so nothing stupid comes out of it again, yeah?"

Remus

you were feeling a bit more on the brave side today, otherwise you would have never said it, never tested him like this.

he was already fucking you, manhandling you from position to position. his trusts were precise and calculated, each one a pleasureful assault on your cervix.

he flipped you, on your hands and knees now as he adjusted, lining up with your entrance again before plunging in.

it took everything in you not to moan out at the sensation, biting your tongue as you waited until he bottomed out before asking, "is it in yet?"

remus paused for a moment, everything still and tension in the air. he laughed behind you. to be fair, he probably did find it funny, but he couldn't let you get away with that, couldn't let a comment like that slide.

that's how you find yourself on the ground, facing your floor length mirror in the corner of your bedroom, chest pressed to the ground and hips being held by remus fucking into your already abused cunt. you had a perfect view of him railing you, watching with lust blown eyes as his dick split you in half.

"r-remmy," you whined out, feeling your walls clench around him.

"nah," he panted "don't 'remmy' me." he drove himself into you harder as if to prove his point. "you did this to yourself."

you fisted the fluffy rug beneath you, gripping the fabric to ground yourself to something as you felt your orgasm fast approaching.

remus grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up, your back meeting his chest as he continued. he forced you to look down at where the two of you connected, seeing the prominent bulge in your lower tummy as he pounded into you over and over.

you moaned at the sight, at the feeling, at everything.

"look at that," he said into your ear, his breathing ragged and strained from the workout he was getting, "theres your fuckin' proof its in, yeah?"

They were all willing and happy to sit for you, not only because you needed the practice, but because you were actually really talented, a natural. Your shading was always perfect, lines always neat and straight. 

“Remember that bet we all made?” he asked, smirking and throwing himself on your bed and making himself comfortable.

You thought back to the stupid bet that Remus, James and Sirius were all a part of. They tried to make it an apartment wide thing, but you refused their idiocy and said you wanted no part of it. Besides, you didn’t even really care about the content of the bet.

The boys all put their bets on who would win the upcoming football match and it was two to one, Remus and Sirius vs. James. You couldn’t recall all of the details but you do remember them all agreeing that the loser or losers would do anything the winner or winners wanted. 

And knowing these boys, that could quite literally mean anything. 

“Sort of,” you replied to him.

“Well,” he drawled, his shit eating grin reaching from ear to ear. “It seems that Jamie lost.”

“Oh god,” you laughed, “does that mean he has two forfeits then, since it was you and Remus against him?”  

Sirius shook his head, sitting up on your bed and turning his body fully to you. “Not really, we actually pulled both of our punishments together into one.”

You were glad not to have been a part of this bet now, this side of Sirius was unnerving.

You stayed in your place at your desk, waiting for him to continue his thought.

“James has to get a piercing,” he explained. “Well, two piercings really.”

Your brows knit together in confusion. Sirius, taking note of this, decided to stop beating around the bush.

“His nipples.” he sighed, not amused that you weren’t getting it or playing along. 

Your mouth fell open. There's no way. And that is exactly what you said to Sirius on your bed.

“There is no way James is agreeing to that.” you scoffed.

Sirius shrugged in reply. “Well, it was this or a tattoo, but we all know clean-cut Jamie isn’t gonna do that, now is he?”

You gaped at him, that was a pretty large forfeit for a bet, something permanently altering to his body, but if James was agreeing to it…

“Well, ok…” you said, confusion still lacing your tone, not understanding what exactly this had to do with you.

Sirius blinked at you, annoyed that you still weren't getting it. “We want you to pierce him.” he said finally, exasperated.

“Woah, woah-,” you started, but Sirius cut you off before you could say no.

“What do you do in that tattoo shop all day?” he asked.

“I usually book appointments and clean tables or chairs after the artists are done with them!” you explained. Sure you had experience in shop tattooing as well as piercing, but it was minimal and was always supervised.

“Yeah but you have your supplies here, you have a tattoo gun and piercing needles I know you do.” he said smugly. “Come on, doll. You tattoo us in the living room all the time, how different can it be, really?”

You shook your head, adamant about not doing it. You didn’t want to hurt James, and what if you messed up!?

“Look, he’s only gonna do it if it’s you, ya know.” Sirius drawled, his voice silky smooth, the same one he used to flirt or to try and get what he wanted. It often worked.

“Siri-”you tried, but again, he cut you off, not willing to be told no.

“It’s either this or a tattoo.” he said finally, crossing his arms. You once again gaped at him. “You don’t wanna do that to our sweet ol’ Jamie, do you?”

 He was actually trying to guilt trip you. And it was working.

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat.

Sirius jumped up from the bed, that smile returning to his face. You gathered your supplies; needles, gloves, alcohol, anything and everything that you could possibly need. Once Sirius saw you were ready to go, he pulled you along with him by your arm out of your room, down the hallway and to your shared living area.

If you didn’t know what was going on at the moment you would have thought that James was being tortured right now. The sight of him sitting in one of your kitchen table chairs in the middle of the room, shirtless. The couches and coffee table had been pushed back yesterday for your appointment with Pandora, and you hadn't had the time to put it all back. He was rigid, sitting perfectly straight, and you could practically see his heart beating out of his chest.

Remus was there, lounging across one of the misplaced sofas. “Took you long enough to convince her,” Remus chuckled.

“She was being difficult.” Sirius joked.

Wide-eyed and pale James avoided eye contact with you. He sat stiff, leg bouncing up and down with nerves.

You took a breath, easing your own nerves. You definitely were handling them better than the boy in front of you, that’s for sure. You set your supplies down on the coffee table, laying out everything you would need. You turned to James who was eyeing the needles. Poor, sweet, James…

“You know,” you said, your voice cutting through the tense atmosphere, the only sound in the otherwise dead silent room, “This piercing is like… really painful.”

James went a shade paler, green even.

“Oh sure, that’ll help calm him down.” Remus muttered under his breath sarcastically. You shot him a look but continued on.

“I just mean," you sighed, lowering your voice for James, attempting to ease his nerves even only slightly. “do you really want to go through with this? Are you sure there’s not like a less painful piercing you’d want?” You ask and James looks at you with the brightest, biggest puppy eyes imaginable.

“Woah, woah,” Sirius spoke up. He had taken to lounging across the other couch across from Remus. “Hold it there princess. We were the winners of the bet. We get to choose.”

Remus was smirking on the other couch, returning to his splayed out position, getting comfortable for the show. “And we chose this.” he stated, his tone cocky, as if he wouldn’t be just as antsy if the roles were reversed and he were the one in the chair right now. 

“It’s fine,” James said meekly in front of you. “I mean, how bad can it be, really? I’ve broken a few bones. This can’t be worse than that.” He was really trying to convince himself more than you at this point.

Oh sweet James. Sweet, naive, optimistic James…

You sighed, taking a step closer to James and giving him your best comforting smile that you could manage.

James’s eyes followed your every move, from where you grabbed a pair of gloves on the coffee table, to where you picked out a needle from your small sterilized piercing kit. You grabbed an alcohol wipe and tore the top off.

You approached James, better not to make him wait, best get it over and done with, right?

“Ready?” you asked, stealing a glance at where Remus and Sirius sat, matching grind spread over their faces. They were truly evil for this.

James only nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

You gave him a nod back. You ripped the alcohol wipe out of the packaging, unfolding it. James sat back in his sweat looking like he was either going to puke or cry or… something.

You swiped the pad across his nipples, being sure to sanitize the area thoroughly. You were already doing this in your living room, you wanted to take extra precautions as not to cause an infection or something. 

James jumped in his seat, a small noise coming from his throat before he could react. 

You chuckled. “Relax,” you said, trying to no avail to calm him. “It’s just the alcohol pad.” 

James’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His defined muscles in his chest and abdomen on full display, flexing in anticipation.

You picked up a marker, uncapping it and getting closer to James. You squinted, placing one dot along his right nipple, visually measuring and leveling the best you could. You moved on to his left, making sure that the dots lined up and were all even. If he was doing this, might as well do it right, you didn’t wanna give him lopsided piercings.

After making sure they were absolutely identical, you moved to pick up the needle and get the bar within a close reach, not wanting to make James wait and suffer for longer than necessary.

“Wait- w-wait,” James stuttered.

Your attention snapped to him, assuming that he was backing out, no matter what Remus and Sirius would do or say.

“That’s a really big needle.” He said, breathing becoming quicker.

“It's a fourteen.” you stated.

“Like on a pain scale?” James’s brows shot straight up, the color leeching from his tan skin.

You chuckled softly, as did Remus and Sirius from their spots on the couch. “No,” you explained, “a fourteen gauge.”

James clearly didn’t know what that meant, but nodded and waited for you to continue just the same.

You analyzed his nipples once more, then reached for a tool on the table.

“What the fuck,” James panted, “is that!”

“James calm down.” you rolled your eyes, yes you wanted to be careful and gentle with him, but you also wanted to get this over with for both his and your sakes. “These are clamps.”

His eyes almost bulged from his skull and Remus and Sirius lost it.

You shot them a glare that shut them up, but did nothing to wipe the smirks off their faces.

“Listen,” you caught James’s attention, “these don’t hurt at all, I promise. Especially in comparison to the piercing.”

James gulped. “Ok, ok just do it.”

His eyes screwed shut, his head falling back slightly.

You clamped his right nipple first, making sure to line the dots up perfectly. James let out a small groan, squirming in his chair.

“You gotta sit still, Jamesie.” you chastised, earning a small, breathless apology. 

You lined the needle up with the dots on the nipple, deciding that you should give him a countdown to prepare. “Ok, three… two… one.” You pushed the tip of the needle in, continuing until it popped out on the other side. 

James groaned, his head tilting back fully and mouth falling open. Remus and Sirius were snickering in the background, but you decided to pay them no mind and continue on.

You followed through with the bar, screwing the little ball onto the other side and, viola! James had one nipple done.

You straightened, admiring your work before heading to the coffee table for another needle and bar. 

James was having trouble in the chair, still panting and flushed. His eyes still screwed shut.

You took pity on him and tried to take his mind off of it. “See,” you said, the room’s attention falling on you, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

James panted out, “n-no.”

You smiled, he was taking it like a champ.

“Good,” you said. “Well this one is probably going to hurt much more because your body was running on adrenaline for the first, now you used it all up and, well it’s gonna hurt.”

“Why are you telling him this?” Remus asked, exasperated.

You glanced at him. “I’m just trying to be honest here.”

James was still attempting to control his breathing, probably not listening to you anyway. You picked up another needle and prepared for the second piercing. 

The second your clamps so much as touched James for the second time, he was wiggling and squirming in the chair uncontrollably. His hips were bucking off the chair and he made a noise that sounded like a whimper.

“James,” you said softly, “you gotta sit still.”

“T-trying.” he sputtered out.

Although he may be trying, he was still moving in his seat, pulling away from the clamp and twitching. You assumed that it was his body attempting to run from the upcoming pain it knew it was in for. You couldn’t have him moving around so much when you were trying to do something so precise.  

An idea popped into your head. Since this was already an unorthodox piercing session, you didn’t think it would be that crazy if you just… went ahead and did it.

You sat in his lap, pinning his hips to the seat. His hands trapped between your thighs and his. His eyes snapped open, mouth opening and closing with confusion.

“You gotta stop moving.” you explained.

You missed the look that the three boys shared, James looking terrified as ever, Remus and Sirius as if they could combust from laughter.

You focused your attention again, lining up the needle and starting the countdown for James.

“Three-”

“Wait, h-hold on.” James panted beneath you.

“Two-”

“Y/N,” he moaned, continuing to squirm under you.

“One.” you pushed the needle through, the bar following with ease.

“Ngh, fuck!” he groaned. James’s back arched, his body closing the gap between the both of you as a strangled groan left him. 

You quickly screwed the ball onto the end of the bar and sat back. The piercings looked even, symmetrical. And to your surprise, James actually pulled them off.

“There you go,” you breathed, “you did it.” you set the clamps and the needle down on the table.

James whimpered, head lolling back. 

That's when you felt it. You looked down to where you felt it; the wetness soaking through the flimsy material of your pyjama shorts, blossoming from James’s hard cock that you now realized you were sitting on.

Your eyes flickered up to his face, a deep red blush spread across his cheeks, his breathing still labored and ragged. His eyes were still shut tight, too mortified to look at you, his roommate that had just made him cum in his pants from some nipple play.

It was your turn for your mouth to fall open this time. You looked at Remus and Sirius who were both sitting with the smuggest looks, laughing at their friend.

You looked back to James who’s head had turned to the side, trying anything he could to hide his embarrassment.

Those two assholes. 

They knew, they had to have known this would happen. That’s why this was the forfeit to their stupid little bet. They knew this would be the outcome, why they sat there so smug and giddy.

For a second time, a thought popped into your head. This time, it was a little more devious than the innocent attempt at trying to restrain James. This thought, no one would see coming.

You ripped the gloves off, throwing them onto the coffee table. You gripped James’s jaw, turning it to the side and kissed along his neck. James’s breath caught in his throat. You kissed along his thundering pulse and whispered into his ear, “good boy, you did so good.”

James’s hips twitched below you again. You chuckled climbing off his lap, catching sight of Remus and Sirius, their mouths practically in their laps.

After all this, the pain and the humiliation that Remus and Sirius decided to put James through, you decided that he deserved a reward. Remus and Sirius wanted a show, a spectacle, then they could have one.

You fell to your knees in front of James spreading his legs apart to make room for yourself. You slotted between his toned thighs, face inches away from his ruined pants. Your hands rubbing the outsides of his thighs and up to his waistband. 

James could only watch in awe, too shocked to stop your movements at all. You unbuttoned his pants, undoing his zipper and pulling his pants. You tugged the fabric down his legs just enough to reveal his grey boxers underneath, now sporting a darkened patch in the front.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Ready?” you asked.

James could not speak, just nodded enthusiastically for you to continue. You smile up at the sweet boy, leaning in and licking the darkened fabric, the salty liquid settling on your tongue. James’s cock hardened, ready to go again.

Your eyes locked onto his, not leaving as your fingers tucked into the waistband of his boxers, pulling down. James’s chest rose and fell at rapid speed.

James’s cock sprung free, his hard length slapping against his stomach. James was by all means a large person, but cock was impressive. Measuring about as long as your forearm, the tip red and leaking, a bead of his precum sliding down his veiny shaft.

You moved, tongue darting out to lick that bead up. James moaned out, unapologetically. You took him in your hand, stroking him up and down a few times, enough to spread the leaking pre before taking his mushroom tip into your mouth.

You gave him a few small, exploratory sucks, earning the breathiest, sluttiest sound from the boy above you, before taking more of him into your mouth.

You threw a look to Remus and Sirius, watching in awe and lust, catching Sirius’s gaze and throwing him a knowing wink.

You bobbed your head up and down on James’s length, taking as much of him as you could. You gripped his base and moved your hand in time with your mouth. Just as you thought you found your rhythm, James moved, his hips grinding upward into your mouth, deeper down your throat.

He had you sputtering around him, spit and precum dripping down his cock. He was trying to control himself, he really was, but with all the events that had taken place, and the fact that he had cum in his pants not two minutes ago, he was incredibly sensitive.

James’s hands found their way to your hair, gripping your roots and tugging slightly. He let you go at your own speed, not pushing down, but bucking up to meet your pace over and over again.

His whines mixed with your wet gagging filled the room, the temperature increasingly rising. 

This entire thing was so confusing, and hot? From James’s poor whines turning into his pathetic display of his lack of self control turning into… this. You squeezed your thighs together, pressure building along with your own wetness in your panties.

You moaned around James and he echoed, his brows knit together and he bit into his lip hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to give himself a new lip piercing to match his nipples. 

James panted a mixture of your name and numerous profanities, his heavy cock twitching on your tongue. 

You took this as your sign to put your other hand to use, reaching up to cup his balls. You fondled them gently in your palm making him cry out, the touch he needed to release into your mouth.

His cum filled your mouth, choking you slightly as you swallowed around him, trying your best not to let any spill. You continue to suck, sure to milk him dry before popping off of him, giving him a few more tugs.

You looked up at him, his color returned entirely, his messy curls sticking to his forehead, glasses askew. You chuckled, licking his spilled precum off your hand. 

James forgot how to breathe at the sight. His fucked out state making his pupils blown out and eyes glossy.

You stood, looking at each boy, then began to walk back to your room. 

“Hey, wait!”

“Hold on!” Both Remus and Sirius called after you. 

You stopped in your tracks and turned, facing them and waiting for them to continue. 

“Uh, what just happened.” Sirius said, obviously confused and not sure he wasn’t dreaming right now.

You just shrugged, intending to turn back around and head back to your room before Remus’s voice stopped you again.

“Wait- uh, I mean,” he was stuttering, stumbling over his words and clearly flustered. “You could stay or- we could… you know.”

You smirked, the mirror image of what they looked like during the whole ordeal. You knew exactly what they wanted, what they were implying, but you weren’t going to give in. You noticed the obvious bulges in their pants, hard to miss actually, from what you could tell they were both just as impressive as James. But that wasn’t the point here, you wanted to punish them for what they did to your sweet Jamesie. Any other time… you’d let them help with the ache in your core right now, but this time, they needed to learn a lesson.

You shrugged again, turning on your heel.

“Wait- what about us?” Sirius called after you.

“What about you?” you turned to them, they looked desperate as ever.

“We could all, you know…” Remus said, breathing heaving as he motioned between all of you.

You chuckled softly. “Aw Remmy,” you sang, tone dripping sweetness, “I thought I told you no skin on skin contact and no sweating.” His face dropped. Yes, you had told him that, both him and Sirius. It was part of standard aftercare for tattoos, making sure the healing process ran smoothly. 

You told them this both a week ago and two days ago, respectively. Remus just finished with the shading on his spine piece, and Sirius still had a second skin covering the wolf piece on this thigh. Both in no shape to risk damaging their tattoos or getting an infection.

“B-but that isn’t fair!” Sirius pouted.

You jutted out your bottom lip, mocking him. “Aw, then you shouldn’t have been assholes to Jamesie.”

You turned for good this time, throwing a “goodnight!” over your shoulder before finding the door to your room. You opened it and closed it quickly behind you, locking it before sliding into bed, intent on taking care of the mess you made for yourself in your panties. The blurred lines of roommates be damned for now. You’ll deal with it when you could think clearly, when you weren’t thinking about your three roommates' impressive cocks.

The three of you don’t even make it into the bedroom. You are sprawled out together in front of the fireplace, bare skin illuminated by the soft orange glow of the flame. 

Remus lays underneath you, propped up on one elbow, his lips and tongue tracing over your jaw. You’re straddling his lap, one hand on his shoulder and the other grasping at Sirius, who sits beside you, mouthing at your breast. Sirius’ cock is stiff and leaking in your hand, and you can feel the vibration of his quiet moans around your nipple. One of Remus’ hands slides up your thigh, icy fingers sliding between them, making you hiss.

“You’re still freezing cold…” You say, but your words are slow and soft as he begins to trace his fingers through your folds. Your grip on Sirius’ cock tightens involuntarily and he groans, lips separating from your chest. He meets Remus’ eye and smirks, rolling his hips slowly into your hand.

“You’ll warm him up, right, baby?” Sirius watches as Remus slides two fingers inside you, eyeing the way you squirm on his lap. Remus’ cock is pink, the head darker red and slightly swollen, stiff against his stomach. 

You nod slowly, your free hand resting on Remus’ chest as you meet his eyes. “Rem…” You whisper, and lean forward to press your lips to his. He kisses you easily, like it’s an instinct for him to move with you, and his fingers slide out of you as he pulls back. He spits in his hand, wrapping it around himself and stroking once, twice, before lining up with your entrance.

Your hand drops from Sirius, reaching for Remus’ shoulder to steady yourself as he guides himself inside you, letting you adjust to the stretch. Sirius whispers sweet words in your ear, gentle encouragements as he presses kisses across your neck and jaw. There’s always a slight stretch when you’re on top.

“You can do it, baby,” Sirius whispers into your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it, and he watches as goosebumps raise over your skin. “You’re taking our Moony so well…”

“Fuck, Dove, you feel so good…” Remus’ voice is strained, his hands gripping at your hips, face scrunching with desperation for you to move. The tension eases into pleasure as you slowly begin to roll your hips against his, finding a slow rhythm. Sirius brushes his nose over your jaw before sitting back on his knees, admiring the way you and Remus move together. The fireplace crackles, mixing with the sound of soft moans and the shifting of skin against skin. 

It isn’t long before you’re reaching for Sirius again and he smirks. He kisses you deeply, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling away. “Our needy girl,” He whispers as he moves up on his knees, “‘f you want more, have more.”

Your mouth is already open and waiting for him when he puts his cock in front of your lips. Remus groans, watching the two of you as he thrusts his hips up into you, his hands guiding your pace on top of him. You take Sirius as far as you can into your mouth, head guided forward by one of his hands in your hair. You moan around Sirius when Remus somehow manages to thrust deeper inside you and his hips jerk forward with a hiss. You feel so full, and you can feel yourself clenching around Remus’ cock.

“You close, Dove?” Remus asks, and the strain in his voice makes it evident that he is, too. You don’t pull away from Sirius, responding nonverbally with a tighter grasp on Remus and another clench of your walls around him. He slides a hand between you, fingers circling your clit until you’re trembling, jaw going slack and breaking away from Sirius with a moan as you come. Remus follows close behind, grunting as his hot, white ropes of pleasure shoot inside you. Sirius coos, running a hand through your hair, and he leans down to press a kiss to Remus’ lips. 

It’s you who reaches for Sirius, then, climbing off of Remus lap and laying beside him, tugging Sirius on top of you. He continues to kiss Remus as he guides himself inside you. It doesn’t take long before he’s finishing inside you too, grunts muffled against Remus’ mouth, fingers circling between the two of you in the same way Remus’ had until you’re coming again.

The three of you bask in the afterglow and the warmth of the fire. A light sheen of sweat covers your bodies and the air is thick with sex. You’re tangled together, unclear where one ends and the others begin. You make a soft sound, catching their attention, four eyes blinking slowly at you.

“Merry Christmas,” You whisper softly, your gentle words met with soft caresses and whispers in reply.

“Merry Christmas, Baby.”

“Merry Christmas, Dove.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

“I don’t know! Sometimes it just happens, okay? It’s certainly not because of you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good, I…” You struggled to come up with a witty comeback, overwhelmed by the heat. It felt tropical, which was something the dungeons had never been before. “It’s really hot in here, right?”

Sirius nodded quickly, popping the top few buttons of his shirt and loosening his tie.

“Thank god you said it, I thought I was going crazy.” You followed his lead, untucking your own shirt and rolling up the sleeves. Despite both of you making space after the erection incident, when you next looked up, you were back at the desk alongside Sirius, the potion almost glowing in the dim light of the otherwise empty classroom. You shared a bewildered look, the realisation that… something was wrong, dawning at the same time.

It was like your body wasn’t your own, a magnetic pull to Sirius fighting against your better judgement. The second your arms brushed it was like a floodgate had opened in your panties, arousal drenching the frilly cotton. Sirius had clearly felt it too, both of you wide-eyed and panicked. In a long moment of silence, you looked over at the cauldron, understanding slapping you in the face.

You jumped away, nails burning crescents into your palms as you tried to resist the urge.

“Your fucking potion has turned us into some kind of… sex maniac!” You screeched, curling in on yourself so you didn’t have to look at Sirius and feel the same almost painful rush of lust.

“My potion? It was both of us, or did you not put the pixie wings in there?” Sirius fought back, hot breath fanning the back of your neck. It was like you couldn’t stay away, bodies finding each other even as your minds put as much distance between you as possible. You whirled around, ready to keep arguing, but you didn’t expect Sirius to be so close. His hard-on strained against your stomach as you breathed into each other’s mouths.

A moment passed between you — hot and tense and sending arousal dripping down your thighs. Sirius stared at you, sweat collecting at his hairline as he breathed heavily.

“It hurts,” He murmured, a pathetic whine in his tone.

“Me too,” You whispered, “How do we stop it?”

“I think you know.”

“No,” You said, shaking your head wildly, “No, Sirius. I don’t like you. We’re under the spell of some fucked up potion we’ve created, we’re in the potions room; no! We can’t.” Your body betrayed your words, pressing yourself against Sirius.

Sirius just groaned, jerking his hips against you for friction. He didn’t say anything, but in a fraction of a second, you understood. There was only one way through it.

Sirius grabbed your cheeks, pulling you into a searing kiss. It wasn’t sweet, or gentle, pure lust and desire coursing through you both as you finally succumbed to the will of the potion. His hands shifted, one threading through your hair to keep you locked with him, the other trailing down your body to settle on your arse, groping it desperately.

You weren’t much better, though; the more you had of him, the more you needed to be satiated. Flinging a leg up around his hip, you ground against him, tugging on his hair to tilt his head back, sucking aggressive marks down the column of his throat.

“Fuck, feel like I’m gonna explode, I need more,” Sirius groaned, lifting you so you could wrap the other leg around him, suspended in the air. Your pussy sat right on his covered cock, the heat unbearable. You needed him inside you like you needed air to breathe.

Sirius stumbled blindly around the room until he came in contact with a desk, dropping you onto it so you were leaning back on your elbows, lust overrun in your gaze as you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Please, please let me fuck you. So gorgeous, need you,” Sirius babbled and begged, hands already ripping your shirt open, buttons flying across the room with a quiet clatter. You were too entranced to care, flipping your skirt up and out of the way.

“Fill me up, so desperate for you. See how wet I am?” In the back of your mind, you knew you’d never be speaking like this if not for the potion, but you were honestly too turned on to care, desire clouding every sense. Your head felt heavy, cloudy with thoughts of Sirius’ cock, leaking and stuffing you full. It was hard to even open your eyes all the way, hooded with the weight of your want.

Sirius was fighting it better, at least looking guilty for the situation you were in, but helpless to stop his body from fulfilling itself.

“I’m sorry, I’ll buy you a new pair,” He promised as he snapped your panties from you, stuffing them in your mouth without thought. You could taste your own arousal, which was unfairly affecting you, any semblance of thought seeping out through your pussy.

Sirius struggled with his own trousers, finally getting the fly after you put a hand over his to calm him down. His cock sprang out from its confines, and it was more than you could have dreamed. Long and girthy, it slapped his stomach, already leaking buckets — probably a side effect of the potion. A pronounced vein ran along the underside that you wanted nothing more than to run your tongue along. The thought of it inside you had you close to orgasm already, every sensation heightened at least triple because of whatever gas you’d inhaled.

“Look, I don’t know how the potion works. I just, I’m sorry for whatever happens. If I can’t stop myself,” Sirius gritted out, jerking himself rapidly, precum coating his hand.

“I swear to god if your cock is not inside me in the next five seconds, I will find someone else to fuck me.” That seemed to spur him on, lining up the fat head of his dick with your pussy lips. He ran it across you a few times, gathering your wetness, before finally prodding around your hole.

You screwed your eyes shut as Sirius finally entered you, stretching you beyond your limits. Everything felt ten times more intense, shocks pinging up your spine as you gripped the edge of the desk for dear life. You didn’t think you’d ever felt more full, and he’d only just gotten the head inside you.

He pushed steadily, seemingly still somewhat aware and considerate of your feelings, which was better than you were. Writhing and moaning like you were already being fucked, you hooked your legs around Sirius’, pulling him into you with surprising force.

As soon as he was sheathed fully inside of you, it was like a switch had flipped, his silver eyes darkening as he gripped your waist in a bruising embrace. It was like a whole different person was fucking you, forcing you on his cock in a vigorous rhythm.

You couldn’t form words, slack-jawed as Sirius split you open on his straining cock, hitting every sensitive spot inside you. With every thrust, he hit your cervix, making you moan and whine like a bitch in heat.

“Don’t stop!” You cried, pressure building in your lower stomach as Sirius’ thrusts got sloppier, a broken moan escaping his throat.

“Not gonna last much longer,” He snapped his hips against yours, gripping your legs with bruising force, folding them up against your chest. The change in angle had your head rolling back, legs shaking when Sirius started doing a number on your clit, rubbing it with intense precision until you started seeing white.

“Cum on me,” You begged, pulling Sirius down into a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongues and stifled groans.

It only took four more thrusts before Sirius pulled out of you with a soft pop, spilling his seed up your torso and across your exposed breasts. As soon as he’d come down from his orgasm, Sirius’ whole demeanour changed, released from the potion.

Unfortunately, you were still affected, keening under his gentle touch.

“Need more, please.” You arched your back off the desk, yanking Sirius back to you to get more friction.

“Oh, shit.” Sirius realised instantaneously, shifting to devour your pussy, licking and sucking. You ground against his face, fingers threading through his hair to keep him locked onto you.

You’d been close to the edge anyway, Sirius’ cock taking you most of the way. His tongue and careful attention to your clit were building you back up to the high, soft gasps and mewls filling the room.

When Sirius threw a few fingers in the mix, abusing your pussy, you were done for.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, legs shaking like an earthquake as you tumbled into your orgasm, coating Sirius’ face in your cum.

Your heartbeat slowed back to a normal pace, and the haze lifted from your brain. You blinked a few times, closing your legs bashfully.

“So…” You struggled to find any words — what do you say after you’ve just had a potion-induced fuckfest?

“We should probably get rid of that potion,” Sirius said, and you nodded hastily, jumping off the desk to pour it down the sink, careful not to breathe any in this time.

You returned to where your textbook lay abandoned, buttoning up your shirt and brushing through your hair with your fingers. You studiously avoided eye contact with Sirius, unsure of what happened after.

Slughorn came in after you were both decent again, sitting coyly at the desk you were assigned to hours earlier. As the professor sorted through his things at the teacher's desk, preparing to leave, Sirius locked eyes with you, grinning deviously.