#(lighthearted)

you were completely oblivious, mindlessly twirling your quill between your fingers, the feather brushing your bottom lip every so often. it only made sirius look more perversely, his stare growing darker.

his gaze trailed down, finding the little beauty spots dotting your thighs, the ones he wanted to trace with his tongue until his mouth was pressed right to your core. then, to your lips, plush and glistening when you licked them—those very lips that had wrapped around his cock days ago so perfectly, that he still thought about it every night.

a sound escaped him—a slight groan sirius couldn’t hold in, feeling the heat rush immediately to his abdomen and even more down under. you mistook the groan for boredom, as sirius shuffled slightly in his seat and leaned back to try and meet your beautiful eyes.

“sweetheart, how much longer must i suffer from these…” he took one glance at the words on the textbook and squinted like it was written in runes, “mikro waa-ves?”

you snorted, and peered past his shoulder. “microwave?”

the scent of your perfume drifted to him immediately—a mix of all delightful things like jasmine, amber, citrus, and whatever that sweet woody note was that he could never place, but always felt in his chest like a punch. it hit him the way a scent of a pie cooling on a windowsill might hit a starving man.

he blinked himself back to reality, mouth quirking. “yeah those godric-awful spinny heat box things.” and with a dramatic sigh, he dropped his forehead right on the textbook. “you could’ve been very nicely taken care of in the broom closet, but noooo—we had to bloody study!”

“i know…don’t think i’m that thrilled either. trust me,” you murmured and gently rubbed his back in slow circles out of comfort. your palm was warm through his shirt.

something spiked in him. just your touch, warm and inviting, made his cock twitch, strained against his trousers. combined with that sweet smell of your perfume? it was torture. any mere contact with you always got him hard. he wanted you all the time just to ruin you over and over again.

that’s when you sensed it, the rigidity of him. the way his back muscles tensed, the flick of his head upward. his eyes locked onto you in a way that made your breath hitch. you could tell he was practically begging, and merlin help you, you were just as gone for him too.

“you think i don’t want you right now?” you whispered in that smile, biting your lip with that teasing tone, before remembering your so-called studying duties.

you left it with a sigh and turned back to the book. “but unfortunately we have mikro waa-ves to take care of.”

sirius snorted at your mock-pronunciation, the corner of his mouth curled up like he couldn’t decide between laughing or just kissing you senseless. then, without warning, he reached for your textbook, shutting it with a thud, as his other hand found the bare skin of your thigh—playing with the hem of your skirt.

“so?” his voice was low, rough around the edges, and you swear you could melt in his touch right there.

you loved when he used that voice on you, but somehow you also loved it more when it didn’t come with academic consequences.

“how about we take a very fulfilling break? you deserve it, dove.” his head tilted, eyes that darkened with something far more desperate than his casual tone suggested.

just the sight of it made your thighs clench together, feeling the wetness beginning to pool already. and the worst (or best) part? you had no underwear.

none at all. you’d dressed this morning knowing full well sirius would find a way to have you. you’d made it so easy, like a little reward—that was, if he had helped you study.

sirius knew that look that you bore, he knew it so well that he cocked his head to the side again, like a predator sniffing prey and licked his lips in a feral grin.

he got up in a stretch and had a hand already down your arm, pulling your wrist into a playful tug.

“sirius.” you tried to sound stern, eyes narrowing up at him. “you promised you’d help me study.”

“i promised many things sweetheart.” he flashed that cocky grin with a heat that made your stomach flip. “filling you up is one of them.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but the ache between your legs was pounding. he gave a wink, and still managed to bring you up to your feet.

much to your excessive grumbling and the sheer concern of getting caught, sirius somehow had you back against a shelf in an abandoned section of the library, his body caging you in.

his mouth was on yours—starving, hungry and desperate, kissing you like he’d been holding his breath all week and you were the only air left. his tongue pushed past your lips, swallowing your small gasps, his hands gripping your hips like he needed to hold your squirming body in place or he’d explode.

you let out the smallest whimper, high and soft, feeling that burning ache right in your core. that’s when sirius pulled back to grin wickedly at you, his ears perking up at the sound.

“there she is.” he coo’d in a murmur. “what happened to my grumbling girl from before, hm?”

“shut up. it’s your fault for kissing me like that.” you were breathless, flushed, already arching toward him.

clearly the way you looked wasn’t helping, and neither was how he did.

sirius looked even hotter like this. his pupils were full blown, chest rising and falling in small rapid breaths. he had that cocky smirk, still unbelievably hot—even when he was practically mocking you for being so needy.

“someone’s being a brat.” he said back in that teasing tone with a sharp glint in his eyes—fixated and starving.

before you even had the chance to answer again, sirius sank to his knees, his hands roaming up the soft curves of your thighs right under your skirt.

your fingers instinctively found his hair in a tug and he groaned right into your inner thigh like it was instinct. you whimpered incoherently, hips squirming, your clit so untouched and throbbing that it was just begging for his mouth or fingers—anything to relieve it.

his hands pressed down on your thighs to spread them apart firmly, skirt bunched up—and that’s when he froze. his eyes widened, jaw slack.

“fuck me…” his words were reverent.

a mixture of disbelief and awe in his voice as his eyes roamed your soaked core. no underwear, he’d finally noticed. his gaze flickered back up to you, a smirk curled on his face, all slow and dangerous. you knew you were in trouble.

“oh you bad fuckin’ girl.” he drawled, and looked back right at your cunt, before taking two fingers and sliding them along your soaked folds, his rings clinking and cold against your heat.

“shit…you’re drenched. all from listening to me talk? about muggle studies?” his laugh came out low and filthy, like he already knew the answer.

you let out the softest mewl, hips bucking just slightly. “sirius—please,” you whimpered.

he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean without breaking eye contact. his moan vibrated around his fingers so shamelessly at the taste, and you could only imagine those moans vibrating through your cunt instead.

you tasted like sin to him and you watched while biting your lip, trembling at the sight of him worshipping you.

with a soft pop, he pulled his fingers free, gripping your thighs as he straightened up again. you whined at the loss of contact.

“baby no— i was ready—” you formed a pout on your pretty plump lips, missing the emptiness already.

“shh i know baby, i know.” he murmured, cupping your face with both hands as his thumbs grazed your cheeks lovingly. that teasing smirk lingered long enough to torment.

“but good girls would have their panties on, wouldn’t they?” he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as his hands slid down your sides, voice dripping with mocking arousal. “you’ve been walking around like this all day—no bloody knickers—just begging me to lose my mind?”

his lips planted soft kisses along the curve of your neck, his dark cologne mingling with the faint smell of cigarettes that always made you infatuated. “merlin, i’ve been half-hard since breakfast.” his voice was a low rasp, and it only made you wetter.

you were falling apart already, a soaring heat coiled low in your stomach that almost made it too much to bear.

“please! m’sorry—” you whined, back arching off the wall, just for your chest to press more against his, like a desperate plea.

he let out a breathless laugh, more like a groan. “yeah you will be.” he said with a growl against your skin, breaths coming out in quick pants.

he pulled back to fumble with his belt. the metallic clink of his buckle that hit the ground had made your pulse spike. he shoved his jeans down in one rough motion, flashing you with a wicked grin like you already knew how wrecked you were. the dark fabric of his boxers clung to him, a damp patch spreading right over the thick outline of his length straining against it. he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and dragged them down slowly, bearing himself to you.

your gasp turned into a soft moan as his cock sprang free, flushed and angry at the tip. the head of it glistened, beads of precum leaking from it, veins so prominent, like it was meant to be lined with your tongue—like his cock was meant to mold right within your walls, to be slotted in you seamlessly.

he kept that smug infuriating grin, drinking in the way your eyes fixated on his cock. he lifted your hips effortlessly, your legs clung around his waist as he lined himself against your dripping entrance, nudging it teasingly with his tip. “such a pretty thing…you’ve been aching for me all day, haven’t you?

his voice was husky, just laced with filth. you let out a shivery sigh at just the prod of his cock, clenching around nothing. you nodded with heavy lidded eyes, your voice high-pitched.

“oh sirius, you don’t even know—”

you managed to utter, and he cut you off with a low disbelieving groan. “oh i do know. been thinking about it all bloody day. thinking about stretching you out…feeling you squeeze around me until i can’t think straight.” a growl slipped out. “gonna take me in so deep you’ll milk me dry, yeah?” his eyes fluttered at the thought, before they snapped back to yours.

the head of his cock slid along your folds and you let out a strangled moan, both from his filthy words, and how badly you craved him.

sirius was just as desperate, you could feel the tension within him—but still he kept drawing it out, a deliberate punishment for hanging around with nothing under your skirt all day.

“now beg, baby. make it pretty.”

your fingers were curled at the nape of his neck, tugging onto the strands just to make him hiss. you brought yourself to meet his eyes, shivering.

“please- hmmph sirius-”

he clicked his tongue condisendingly and it made you flinch because you knew you were wrong.

“please what? gonna use that pretty little mouth for me sweetheart? because you were talking an awful lot before i got you here.”

his smile was all teeth, eyes gleaming with lust as he leaned in to brush his lips barely against yours in a ghost.

you squirmed even more, locking your legs tighter around his hips. “please—please fuck me, fill me up—” you babbled.

“good girl.” he groaned, finally pushing into you, a single deep thrust that stole air from your lungs. he didn’t even give you time to adjust, already moving with his hands groping your ass.

“godric—you’re perfect.”

you could feel a delicious stretch as your walls caved in around his cock in a squeeze, fluttering around him. sirius groaned into your lips. “so fuckin’ tight—” he mustered as he finally bottomed out.

his pace was then relentless, every thrust slamming into your sweet spot instantaneously as he swallowed every whimper that left you.

your head fell back against the bookshelf in a thud, breaking the kiss. “oh—yes!” you managed to moan in a surprised gasp, already dizzying at his furious pace. the shelf behind you creaked, but you didn’t care.

with your neck on display, he pressed hot sloppy kisses to your skin all the way up to your jaw, hands squeezing at your ass and hips in a bruise.

you clenched around him, keeping him in as much as possible as he readjusted his grip.

“fuuuck—yeah do that again.” he managed to gasp out into your neck, his voice gravelly.

you whimpered, clenching again which only made sirius stutter in his movement, muttering the filthiest of praises to you between each thrust.

“you’re squeezing me here—fuckin’ slut for my cock huh?” he gritted his teeth, words spilling out in half babbles as he kept his pace, relentless and pushing.

you nodded with half lidded eyes, just your mind breaking apart with every push. he was stretching out your spongy walls, burying himself right to the hilt. his voice, deep and husky reached your ears.

“say it.”

you managed to muster out, squeezing him again. “yes—i am!” you tugged on his hair harshly which only made him hiss more.

“yeah, my greedy little cockslut.”

one of his hands finally lifted from your thighs just to press tight circles to your neglected bud.

that spurred you on, the coil inside you pulled hot. you let out a gasp, the feeling of ecstasy reaching you.

and sirius knew, he was attuned to every part of your body. “come on, baby, give it to me. cum all over my cock.” he rasped against your ear in a grunt, hips losing their steadiness, his thumb still working your clit. “soak me, sweetheart.”

his voice, uncharacteristically gentle, was all you needed. the pleasure snapped, flooding you as you screamed out his name. you clenched around him so harshly that sirius started praying to whatever entity there was in the sky to thank them, as his cock pumped thickly in and out of you.

you were still fluttering, still in a daze when you finally found your voice.

“baby cum for me, right inside me—yeah? wanna be full of you.” you whispered weakly back to him, cupping his cheeks and carefully trying to brush the hair from his eyes.

and that finished him. sirius lost it as curses tumbled out of him, his thrusts turning ragged. “ah shit—fuck, fuck fuck—”

he groaned, wanting to keep you full so badly, until you felt his cock twitch deep inside. you felt spurts of thick hot ropes of warmth filling you up, and you let out a moan at the feeling. his hips finally stilled, forehead pressed to yours.

“so good f’me…” he mumbled in a sigh, sweating.

you both were in breathless pants, heat still humming in your veins. when he finally pulled out, you clenched at the loss and he let out a low chuckle. “still greedy, huh?”

a book thudded to the floor from behind you, startling you both in a freeze, before you dissolved in soft shaky laughter.

“merlin, you’re the sexiest thing ever like this.” he traced lazy circles into your thigh. “bet you’re not gonna remember a thing in your notes.”

you scoffed, knowing he was right but didn’t want to admit it regardless. he pulled away to lower your legs gently, an arm firm around your waist as you wobbled. “you okay, dove? not too much?”

you shook your head softly, still feeling the warmth of him. “m’ fine.” you murmured, grinning. “don’t think this bookshelf is though.”

“eh, nobody reads books anyway.”

“you mean you don’t read them.”

he rolled his eyes, mimicking your voice before dragging you toward the desks. “speaking of books…let’s get you learning some of that cursed wi-fairy.”

“wi-fi.” you corrected and his grin widened.

“yeah yeah, same thing.” he drawled as he collapsed on the chair beside you, not before helping you first.

he leaned back, hands behind his head in a smug manner. “and since i did steal ten minutes of your study time, i’ll make it up to you.”

you arched a brow at him, crossing your arms. “by actually helping me?”

“by quizzing you shirtless. educational and motivational.”

Until tonight.

The barracks at Okhema were quiet, the fires low. Mydei sat polishing his gauntlets, cape draped elegantly over his chair. You had just returned from training, sweat slick on your brow, when you spotted it. A dark little movement on the stone floor. Antenna. Chittering. Six legs skittering toward you.

A roach.

The scream that tore from your throat could have woken the Titans themselves. You leapt onto the nearest bench with a speed that would have impressed even the most seasoned scouts.

“WHAT—BY THE TITANS—” Mydei was already half risen, his eyes blazing as if preparing for a siege. “Is it an attack? A monster breach?”

“IT’S ON THE FLOOR—IT’S COMING—BY THE TITANS, IT’S COMING!” you shouted, pointing wildly at the bug.

Mydei blinked. His hand lowered slowly from his weapon. “…That?”

“Yes that!” Your voice cracked, uncharacteristic for someone who had once spat curses at a Titan’s gaping maw. You clutched the bench like it was a lifeboat in a storm. “It’s hideous—it’s crawling—it’s going to climb on me—”

The great Mydeimos, Last Prince of Kremnos, stared at you as though the black tide itself had sprouted a new absurd form. For the first time in years, he was completely speechless.

“…You do realize,” he said carefully, “that thing is smaller than your thumb.”

“I don’t care if it’s smaller than a grain of sand!” you snapped. “Kill it, Mydei. Kill it before it lays eggs or calls its friends or—by the Titans—what if it can fly?”

You heard your own voice pitching higher, panicked. Mydei’s lips pressed together, shoulders trembling—not in battle tension, but in barely contained laughter.

“You…” he finally managed, “…the warrior who charged headfirst into Nikador’s spawn without flinching… are undone by a bug?”

“It’s not just a bug—it’s a demon in disguise!” you hissed.

At that, he actually laughed. A deep, resonant sound that filled the chamber. He stood, still chuckling, and crossed the room. His hair caught the firelight, tribal markings flexing across his arms as he knelt down. With regal grace, he extended a gauntleted hand and—squish.

You made a strangled noise of relief, but Mydei straightened with an almost smug look.

“There. The mighty foe is vanquished,” he said solemnly, wiping his gauntlet. “Your honor restored.”

You scowled, still clinging to the bench. “Don’t mock me. That thing was… plotting.”

Mydei tilted his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Should I commission a statue to commemorate your victory? The Fearless Warrior Against the Cockroach of Okhema?”

“Don’t you dare.”

But he was grinning, rare and unguarded. “I should have known the great stoic [Name] had one weakness. And here I thought you untouchable.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, equal parts embarrassment and indignation. “You tell anyone about this, Mydei, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. He leaned down, his voice low, teasing: “Shout at me from atop the bench?”

You tried to glare, but it melted under his amused smirk. He was enjoying this far too much.

Later that night, when you finally returned to your bedroll, you noticed something. Mydei had quietly shifted his cot closer to yours, his golden gauntlets resting within arm’s reach.

And when you muttered, “It might have friends,” he only chuckled and replied, “Then I’ll be here to slay them for you. Even princes must defend their comrades from such terrible foes.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, the warmth of his words stayed with you longer than your humiliation.

The training fields of Okhema buzzed with life as you sparred with Phainon. His white hair shone like flame in the sun, his eyes sharp but kind as his blade pressed against yours. Sweat slicked your brow, but you didn’t falter. You never did. Against him, you could fight ten days and nights without yielding.

Then you heard it.

A buzz. Low, insidious, growing louder.

You froze mid-parry.

Phainon tilted his head. “[Name]? You stopped. That’s not like you.”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes darted skyward, scanning—until you saw it. The devil incarnate. Black and yellow, wings shimmering, stinger glinting in the light.

A wasp.

“NOPE.” Your sword clattered to the ground as you bolted across the field, sprinting with the desperation of a hunted soul.

Phainon blinked. “…Wait. Are you—running from a wasp?”

The insect zipped after you, and your war cry became a shriek. You leapt over a fence, barreled through a line of startled recruits, and kept running. “GET IT AWAY FROM ME!”

Phainon, laughter already spilling from his lips, jogged after you. “You faced down the Titan of Strife without flinching—but this?!”

“It’s got a stinger!” you wailed, ducking behind a training dummy.

Phainon leaned on his sword, grinning ear to ear. “So did Nikador, and you stabbed him in the eye!”

“That was different!” You dove under a bench, panting. “That was war! This is personal!”

The wasp hovered menacingly above, and you scrambled out again, practically climbing onto the nearest roof to escape. Phainon followed, effortlessly vaulting up beside you.

“[Name],” he said gently, though his eyes danced with suppressed laughter. “It’s a bug. You’ve fought armies.”

“Armies don’t FLY INTO YOUR FACE!” you screeched, swatting wildly as it buzzed closer.

At that, Phainon doubled over laughing, his usually calm and noble composure shattered. He laughed so hard he had to steady himself against the tiles, tears pricking his eyes.

“You should—” he wheezed, “you should have seen your face!”

“This isn’t funny!” you snarled, but your voice cracked with panic as the wasp swooped again. You clung to Phainon’s arm like a lifeline, burying your face against his shoulder.

His laughter softened. He looked down at you, expression warming. Slowly, he raised his free hand and—flick. The wasp zipped away, vanquished by nothing more than his casual grace.

You peeked up, trembling. “…Is it gone?”

“It’s gone,” he said softly.

You sagged in relief, realizing you were still clutching him tightly. Heat flooded your face as you quickly let go, trying to reclaim some dignity. “Don’t… say anything. To anyone.”

Phainon smiled, gentle now. “Your secret’s safe. Though I admit, seeing you terrified of something so small… it’s strangely endearing.”

You gaped at him. “Endearing? I looked like an idiot!”

He shook his head. “No. You looked human. Even legends are allowed their fears.” His voice dropped, tender: “Even you.”

Your chest tightened at his sincerity. You had expected endless teasing, but instead you were met with warmth that disarmed you more than any wasp ever could.

Phainon stepped closer, his hand brushing yours. “If another comes, I’ll protect you. Not because you can’t handle it, but because I want to.”

You stared at him, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with buzzing wings. “…You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

His grin turned mischievous. “Oh, I’ll remember it. But only for myself.”

And with that, the Deliverer walked you back from the roof—your unlikely savior from the tiniest of terrors.