oblwan

[oblwan]

babe. i have to do this.

james potter and a classic amortentia situation, but instead of being all bashful he realises this is actually the best way to confess bc what are you going to do? DENY that he's in love with you?

"PROFESSOR, MINE SMELLS LIKE HER!!"

Silence. Remus is facepalming. Sirius is grinning.

summary: Slughorn had asked for a volunteer to take a whiff of armotentia—also known as one of the strongest love potions during potions class, and James—finally seeing it as a way to pour his feelings for you, seized the opportunity faster than the crack of lightning.

pairings: James Potter x Fem!reader

warnings: none! pure fluff. James being the Gryffidor that he is.

note: thanks for this request, twin. So sorry this has taken a bit long to be written. Anyway, I hope enjoy this you lovely angel <3

James Potter Masterlist

The moment James stepped foot inside the potions lab, he was surprised by the scent that welcomed him. It wasn’t the usual musty scent that lingered in the air due to the poor ventilation of the classroom… It was something familiar, something he was sure he had smelled before but couldn’t pin a name on.

Nevertheless, James was glad for the sudden change. At least he didn’t have to sit in this classroom for an hour with his nose occasionally tucked under his shirt, trying not to be suffocated by the scent that lingered in the air.

With a smile, he strutted over to his usual seat, barely paying a sneering Snape any attention as his eyes zeroed in on you—a twinkle of mischief sparkling beneath his glasses. He didn’t even notice his three best friends who were conversing amongst themselves.

“Fancy seeing you here, love,” he greeted as he smoothly sat on the stool with the grace of a toddler who landed on his arse, purposely brushing his elbow against yours—just to feel the tiniest bit of contact with you. “You’re looking smashing today. Is that a new hairstyle?” he added, a smile still annoyingly intact.

You rolled your at James, a habit that you have now been accustomed to ever since he decided to torment your every shared potions class. You were astonished you haven’t gotten yourself blind considering that it had been exactly six months since he started pestering you. Six months of always rolling your eyes at him. It had always been like this since the beginning of seventh year—with James sitting beside you ever since the start of term. It was surprising to everyone, most especially to you, since the Gryffindor had always made it his mission to sit with Lily Evans, a Gryffindor girl who had been unfortunate enough to have caught the bespectacled boy’s attention.

But that was years ago—back when James didn’t realize that other girls besides Evans existed.

“It’s my everyday hair, Potter. Did you smack your head on the way to the potions lab? Your head seems to have grown thicker than usual,” you mumbled, tone a bit harsh, though it did nothing but widen James’ stupid smile.

He didn’t even hear the rest of your words, or maybe he did—but as usual, he let them slip from one ear and out the other, instead focusing on the way your lashes fluttered softly as you sent him a glare, nose flaring slightly in annoyance. You’re pretty, he thought to himself silently before forcefully and painfully pulling his eyes off you just as Slughorn arrived with the sound of the wooden door banging.

“Good afternoon, class!” greeted Slughorn as he paced towards the table positioned in front of the classroom—a bubbling cauldron sat just above it. He pointed at it—eyes flitting towards the sea of students. “I’d like to ask if anyone in this class has the slightest idea of what this potion might be.”

Someone raised their hand in the air—and the smile that James had donned on his face dropped as soon as he realized that it was none other than Severus Snape.

“It’s Amortentia, professor,” the Slytherin answered, prompting a frown to morph on James’ face.

He looked at his friends, mouthing a discernible ‘kiss ass’ that made Sirius and Peter chortle, whilst Remus silently shook his head with a small smile.

“Very well, and I suppose, Mr. Snape, that you know how this potion works?” Slughorn grinned—eyes twinkling blindly as if Snape had just handed him a bar of gold.

“It is a love potion; known as a powerful one.” James’ brows furrowed at Snape’s words as looked back at the front of the classroom, mouth parting in concentration as he let each syllable sink into his mind. For the first time in his entire life, James found himself listening to Snape with a look of interest—no visible signs of a frown on his face. It was as if another person was talking in front.

“The smell that this potion produces is different for each person, depending on what or who they are most attracted to. The potion is also considered dangerous as it could cause someone to become obsessive if it is drunk.”

James’ eyes almost bulged out of their sockets—a flush flooding over his senses as soon as he realized that what he might have smelled upon entering earlier could be none other than your signature scent. He blinked, once, twice—willing himself to calm down as a thought rushed through his head.

Turning his gaze at you—James let a smile grace his lips, an idea already simmering in the corner of his mind.

He didn’t even hear the rest of what was exchanged between the potions master and his nemesis—already imagining various things between you and him; ones that he would not dare to voice out lest you give him the hex of the century.

“Now—who’d like to take a whiff of this concoction?”

James’ hand shot up faster than you could say Quidditch, an excited smile stretching across his face. A cacophony of giggles flitted across the classroom—something that only fueled James’ determination to be the first one to try the potion. He could feel the heat of your eyes from the side of his face—feeling as if you were looking through a magnifying glass to sift through every nook and cranny of his mind.

He couldn’t blame you for staring, not when it was his first time volunteering in Slughorn’s class.

The professor seemed pleased at James’ insistence as he nodded, the older man’s lips widening into a smile. “Well, if you insist, Mr. Potter.”

A victorious grin bloomed on his face; looking as if he had just accomplished an almost impossible feat and was rewarded an Order of Merlin. With a small glance in your direction, he winked, leaving you all hot and slightly embarrassed as he strutted over to the front of the class as if he owned the very damn classroom.

Silence fell over the entire potions lab the moment James reached the table. Though it wasn’t entirely silent, as a couple of whispers and giggles bubbling from every corner of the room could be heard.

He could feel his heartbeat triple inside his chest from excitement—a sharp sound ringing in his ear as if someone had let a Bludger loose inside the room and smacked him square in the head. Tentatively leaning over the cauldron, the familiar scent of your clothes and hair travelled through his nostrils, leaving a warm and fuzzy feeling to wash over his entire being.

Godric, he could stay here—with his head halfway dunked into the potion and not even Slughorn could pull him out of it. Was this what Snape was talking about?

Lips curling into a smile, James dared himself to look at you, eyes holding something that made your stomach twist—sly and mischievous.

An idea popped into his head; one that made his smile even more wide. Painfully wide. With a dramatic gasp and widened eyes—James clutched his chest as if he were some maiden protagonist in one of Remus’ favourite novels. Looking as though he was about to faint any second.

“Professor,” he called, voice coming out breathless, “the potion smells like her!” he exclaimed, lips slowly morphing into a grin, index finger pointing directly at you.

There was silence. Thick and loud silence that James swore he could hear a pin drop on the stone floors. Half of the class seemed to have been frozen in their seats—eyes just as comically wide as James’, whilst the rest were smiling, clearly amused at his theatrics. Remus looked as though he might shrink at any moment, whilst Sirius and Peter appeared to be thrilled at James’ words, their shoulders shaking as they tried to contain their laughters.

You looked at him, body turning rigid as a statue. James could make out the way your nose flared even from a distance, lips twitching in embarrassment at the fact that everyone’s attention has been poured on you.

Even Slughorn seemed to be at a loss for words, not really expecting someone to be so frank. But there’s nothing really surprising when it comes to Gryffindors as they wear their heart on their sleeve like a badge of honour—especially when the Gryffindor in question was none other than James Potter.

It was a bold statement, that much he knew.

“What? Do I need to say more? It’s like what Sniv—I mean Snape said. It smells different to everyone based on what they find attractive.” He shrugged his shoulders, walking back towards your shared table as if he hadn’t just flipped your entire world in front of the class.

Oh you were sure your stool had vanished under your arse, feeling as if you were defying the fucking gravity. You could still feel everyone’s eyes on you. Burning and drilling through you.

When James neared, he stopped just a few meters from your table, wearing a stupid smile that looked as if the sunlight was slipping past his lips. He leaned in, the scent of the entire room clinging to his robes. “So now that I’ve made my feelings clear, how about a date this Saturday?”

[oblwan]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 what letter? sirius, what letter? 

pairing: james potter x f!reader

series summary ➥ In which, james has had longing feelings for you—christmas holidays are nearing and james confesses his love towards you in the letter, expect you never read the letter, didn’t know it existed.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), James is complicated...ofc, nothing else

#1 she ignored my letter!

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

#2 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

#3 this is awkward..

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

#4 what letter? sirius, what letter?

➥ In which, you never planned on talking to james ever again, not after your last encounter with him. Luckily Sirius saves the day.

-- lmk if u wanna be tagged for any of these!!

[oblwan]

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

꒰ ──★ 𖦹° you know how to ball, i know aristotle ꒱

these chemicals hit me like a white wine

tingin

because you didn’t give me kisses

lost time and make up cuddles

you can’t be kissing boys

i look in people's window

Untitled

“Is that Pr— I mean, a stag?”

“This is betrayal!”

james pining for best friend!reader (headcanon)

“The Laundry?”

Kisses and giggles

Pickles and chocolates

series:

two of a kind

[oblwan]

boy next door luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! (((smut)))) your roommate luigi wants to help you get over your breakup.

warnings: long fic so we’re starting off with fluff, smutty and rough, blowjob, head pushing and hair-pulling and choking on it bc y/n is #real, p in this v fr, Tie, jealous-ish?, (is in the kitchen public?), he’s very talkative, daddy and his good girl <333

^^ unedited and im a procrastinator

you still haven’t gotten luigi the secret santa gift. with the end of december closing in, all the other $25-and-under gifts sit neatly wrapped beside the tabletop tree. by friendsmas standards, you’re embarrassingly late.

but it was hard!!! he spent most of his time tucked away in his room, the door always cracked just enough to remind you he wasn’t entirely gone. you’d catch glimpses of him hunched over his desk, surrounded by books and papers scrawled with notes you couldn’t begin to understand. he never started conversations, only speaking up to correct you or drop some fact that left you feeling both impressed and annoyed.

it was so desperate you tried the campus bookstore, staring helplessly at the rows of penn merch to no avail. he already seemed to own everything—hoodies, mugs, even a pennant on his door. a gift card felt impersonal, but anything else felt like a gamble.

“good morning,” you hum, stepping into his room. luigi’s snaps his head up, standing shirtless by his closet, scrambling to pull on a sweater. for someone who barely left the house, the sight of his six-pack catches you completely off guard.

“what do you want?” he asks, voice gruff.

you lean against his wall. “do you prefer american or chinese food?”

he huffs out a laugh before leaning onto his blackwood desk. “what, are you taking me out on a date?”

“no, no, no, your secret santa asked me to ask you.” you lie. “they also asked if you wear a size medium or large.”

“don’t worry, i can’t make it to movie night,” he says casually. your lips immediately drop into a frown. it was the annual tradition in the house—a night where all five roommates came together to watch a terrible holiday movie and exchange department store gifts. he couldn’t miss it. “i’ve got a mandatory frat event,” he adds with a shrug. “apparently, it’s not optional this time. i’m surprised your boyfriend didn’t tell you about it.”

you feel yourself dull at the mention of him. “we’re on a break.”

luigi raises an eyebrow. “a break, huh? didn’t see that one coming.” his tone is neutral, but there’s a flicker of something underneath. “what made it happen?”

you shrug, avoiding the conversation.

luigi’s expression softens, his gaze shifting to something a little more concerned. he takes a small step closer, his voice quieter now. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you weren’t, and it was overtly obvious. luigi stands over you, his tall frame leaning closer, his warmth wrapping around you like a quiet embrace. “i thought i heard you say you were done with all that fraternity nonsense,” you say, remembering the times he complained to your roommates about the tumultuous nights and endless responsibilities waiting for him at the phi kappa psi house. it’s strange to picture your boyfriend in that world now.

“you’re nosy,” he says.

“you specifically told my boyfriend it was a huge waste of money.”

“ex-boyfriend.”

“we’re on a break!” you emphasize, eyes narrowing. “plus, it sounds like you’re just trying to get out of secret santa.”

luigi leans in slightly, his voice lowering, teasing. “and it sounds like you’re getting me a gift card.”

you can’t help but laugh, the tension between you both shifting into something lighter, something that felt just a little too comfortable. “alright fine,” you say, accepting defeat. “secret’s out. what is it you want?”

he pauses, studying you for a moment, the faintest smirk curling at his lips. “what do i want?” he murmurs, his voice low, as if weighing the question. hesteps a bit closer, just enough to make the space between you feel charged. “i don’t know, what are you willing to give me?”

you flush under his gaze, unsure of what to make of this moment. you have a boyfriend—yet you’re ninety percent sure luigi is flirting with you, and about a hundred percent sure you’re liking it.

the warmth in your chest is both unsettling and familiar, a confusing mix of guilt and something else you can’t quite place. you try to shake it off, but the way he looks at you lingers in your thoughts, pulling at you in ways you didn’t expect.

he seems entertained by your befuddlement, his eyes lingering on yours in a way that makes you second-guess yourself. he looks away, breaking the moment with a soft chuckle, then turns to leave.

“i’ll see you,” he says, but it’s not casual. it’s something else, something that makes you wonder if he’s looking forward to seeing you again as much as you are him.

you bring yourself back to reality, forcing your mind to settle. you can’t flirt with him. it would upset the house dynamic, intrude on your peaceful living space—you cannot let that happen. you shouldn’t. you were on a break from your boyfriend, a small pause in something that still felt important. and soon enough, you’d be back together, just like you always were.

as much as his presence lingers in your thoughts, you remind yourself of the needed boundaries, the reasons why things can’t get blurred.

still, as you continue baking cookies, dodging glitter explosions, and downing soju bottles, his absence nags at you, a quiet reminder that you’re trying not to want something that might never be.

“you’re still awake.” luigi’s voice cuts through the quiet kitchen, startling you so much that you nearly drop the piece of ribbon you’re holding. you whirl around, clutching your chest, only to find him much closer than you’d expected—close enough that you have to tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” he says as you try to shake off the way your pulse seems to have kicked off into overdrive. “you’re not tired?”

“not yet.” you shake your head. “the party didn’t exhaust you?”

“it did.” he says, exhaling. “figured i’d check if i’m eating american or chinese tomorrow before i hit the hay.”

you pretend like you’re offended. “i’d never get you something so thoughtless.”

you grab a gray glittery gift bag and toss it his way. his teasing falters for a second, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “a tie?”

“yeah, you’re always dressed fancy, going fancy places…” you say, brushing the glitter off your hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious. was it the wrong choice? did fancypants mcgee only wear silk imported from asia? “you don’t like it?”

“no,” he says quickly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. “it’s sweet.”

you glance at him, unsure what to say, and his smirk softens into something else, something warmer. he steps closer, the space between you narrowing just enough to make your breath catch.

“guess i’ll have to step up my game,” he says, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “didn’t realize you were paying attention.”

you blink, caught off guard, scrambling to come up with something, but before you can, he leans back, breaking the tension with a chuckle. “looks like you could use some help.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i want to,” he replies, tossing the ribbon into the trash before grabbing the broom from the corner. “besides, i can’t have you using this tie to guilt-trip me later.”

“it’s weird having you be so nice to me,” you blurt out the words before you can realize the reprussions. his dark brown eyes glance up at you, eyebrows pinched together.

the regret is immediate. “i just mean we’ve never really talked before.”

luigi looks at you, his expression shifting slightly. “was that my choice or yours?”

you blink, caught off guard. you’d always assumed it was mutual. “well, that’s not really the point,” you say, trying to brush it off. “we’re friends now, right?”

his dark eyes shift away from yours for a moment, but only to return with even more intensity, holding you in place, freezing you in the moment. your heart stutters in your chest. “i was never interested in being your friend.”

“oh.” the word feels hollow as it leaves your mouth, and you instantly feel your face go pale. you scramble for something to say, anything to make the moment feel less heavy, but the silence hangs between you, thick and unrelenting.

“that’s not what i meant—“

“it’s fine of course, you don’t have to—”

“no.”

he shakes his head and runs up to you, closing the moment of confusion with an abrupt force—his mouth is on yours, tongue slipping past your lips and sliding into you.

whether it was the warmth of the kiss, his big hands groping your body, or the fact that this was just all so irredeemably wrong—you didn’t know—but the rush you got from being with him left you dizzy and dazed and desperate.

luigi laughs into your kiss. “you’re so fuckin’ eager.”

you should be reasonable. you shouldn’t be doing this, this is a mistake. “sorry, i—”

“no, don’t be sorry,” he says, smiling into another sloppy kiss. it felt so tender, so loving, when he takes you into your arms. reason flies out the window. “i want you, too.”

“luigi,” you whimper into his lips, not recognizing the desperation in your voice.

“i’ll give it to you baby, don’t worry,” he hums.

your fingers rush to unbutton your top, half-way done before luigi realizes what you’re doing and he grabs you. “keep your clothes on. i don’t need you naked to make you cum.”

he’s so strong and forward and unlike anything you’ve ever had before. in one swift motion, he turns you over, pressed against the kitchen counter as he slides his warm hand down your silk shorts and cradles your tit with the other.

“you put these on for me, didn’t you?” he tugs your lace panties, pressing them against your hot cunt. your back arches at the sensation and you feel his cock hard underneath his jeans.

“luigi.” you whimper, barely breathing.

“admit it,” he says, in between licking and kissing and biting the nape of your neck, sure to leave marks. “you wore these for me, didn’t you? wanted me to take your mind off that fuckin’ asshole, hm? wanted me to take care of you?”

you swell underneath him, shaking. he grinds his straining cock against your plump ass as he works your pussy, groaning into your neck.

“oh, baby, is that too much for you already?” luigi’s breath is hot against your neck, hands busy rubbing your clit and pinching your delicate nipple.

you felt like you couldn’t breathe. the expression on luigi’s face is smug. “you haven’t even had my cock yet, look at you.”

he brings his wet fingers up to your lips, then shoves them into your mouth without permission. you can’t help but shudder underneath his wicked touch. “yeah.” he laughs. “squirm like that, slut.”

“lu,” you pant. “i want it.”

“no, not yet,” he says, rubbing his hard big cock against your clothed ass. “see how hard i am for you? see how worked up you got me?”

“yes,” you whimper, fingers still in your mouth.

“get on your knees,” luigi grunts. “show me how much you need it.”

you needed it more than anything. dropping down to your knees, you notice a spot on his jeans wet with precum. he’s straining for you. you try to get as much of your mouth on him as you can as soon as his bottoms are off, desperate to show him how good you are.

“you’re so pretty like this,” luigi murmurs as you try to fill your mouth with his entirety. seeing that you’re struggling, he puts his hand on the back of your head and guides you down onto it. “such a good girl.”

he rocks hip forward deep into your warmth, using your face. “choke on it.” he orders. and you do. your eyes tear up at the feeling of his length touching the back of your throat. “god, you’re so fuckin’ filthy.”

before you can breathe, luigi pulls himself out of your mouth and barks out another order, “put your hands up against the wall.”

you do as you’re told. your core aches like it misses his touch. pulling your shorts down, he groans at the sight of your wetness, driving his big cock inside of you.

“slipped in so easy with your spit all over me,” he whispers in your ear. god, he’s driving you fucking crazy. the pleasure is almost overwhelming as he leans down, forces your chin back to bring your lips together, a sloppy, loving kiss.

“i knew you were gonna be like this,” he purrs into you, sucking and biting.

“like what?”

“like a fuckin’ slut.” luigi grumbles. he grabs something off the counter, and you don’t know what’s happening until you feel the silk material fasten around your wrists. the tie.

“luigi.” you gasp.

“i’ve been waiting to get my fuckin’ hands on you.”

you shiver at the confession. “really?”

he groans as he watches your ass ripple against his hips—at how easy and soft and weak you were at his mercy. he melts at the sight of you, using your binded wrists to buck deeper into you. you moan and whimper and scream on the force—he’s so harsh, so mean, so good—you’ve never even dreamt of a pleasure like this.

“listen to you.” he buries himself so deep inside you that you could feel his balls pressed against your ass. “you’re fuckin’ loud when you’re getting treated right, aren’t you?”

“please, daddy,” you whine, completely out of your mind.

luigi groans, pushing your head into the kitchen counter. “god, i didn’t think you were gonna call me that,” he rumbles, rocking his cock hard into your frothing core, rubbing against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure swirling through your body.

he pulls your hair back again, causing you to shriek. “didn’t call him that, did you?” he says it like a statement, leaving no room for correction. “god, i used to jerk myself off listening to you moan. wondering if you were riding him or bent over your fuckin’ mattress.“

“luigi.” you cry.

“always knew i could treat you better,” he growls. “always wanted to bend you over in front of everyone and make you beg for it.”

“i would’ve let you,” you mewl out, helpless.

“yeah?”

“you’re s’good.”

his thrusts come faster, more frantic. “better than him?”

“yes!”

you’re so close and so needy. your mind glows white as he fucks into you. squirming underneath him, the friction of your frantic movements growing hotter as the both of you chase your high. “good girl,” he praises, kissing all over your neck and back. “cream all over daddy’s cock, baby.”

“luigi,” you moan as your orgasm gushes beneath him, shivering as you feel his cock quiver, his load shooting deep into your cunt. he grunts with his final thrust, whimpering your name.

he kisses your shoulder as he pulls out of you. “so good,” he pants, just as helpless and shaken as you were. he unties the present you’d given him and pulls you in for another kiss.

“luigi,” you sigh against his lips.

“pretty girl,” he whispers back, running his hot wet kisses across your lips, your cheeks, your neck. “let me take you out tomorrow, yeah? a proper date. i’ll wear my tie ‘nd everything.”

you laugh—a mix of disbelief and something else—something lighter. before you can say anything, he’s leaning in again, kissing you softly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“it was a good gift, right?” you hum.

“yeah,” he agrees, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk. “versatile.”

MASTERLIST send requests and leave feedback :3

[oblwan]

past life - luigi mangione

♡ summary: luigi has never dreamed, but one night he finds you—familiar in a way he can't fathom. the dream of you blurs reality and fiction, leaving him yearning for more. ♡ w.c.: 1.6k ♡ a/n: hi. this is my first luigi fic. i was inspired by the post of luigi that has been going around about how moles are where your past lovers have once kissed you. i had to write something about it. enjoy!

—

Luigi does not dream. It’s a strange phenomena to him–one that draws his lower lip between his teeth and nibbles until the taste of blood floods his mouth. His friends are always telling him about their dreams: ones that are frightening, some exhilarating, others that are lustful. Dreams are illogical, irrational, and confusing.

There has never been an instance in Luigi’s life that he has been inherently ungrateful that dreams do not come to him in his slumber. He has other things to focus on: school, his family, his friends. Plenty of things keep him busy on a day-to-day business. Dreams are no fuss, but even he has to admit: when his friends are recalling their dreams to him, with stars in their eyes, he wonders if he’s missing out on something. That’s what bothers him.

He ponders it for hours at a time. Why doesn’t he dream? When he sleeps, why is he pulled into a vast pit of nothingness? He’s done his research, but it all just points him to the same direction: difficulty sleeping properly. But how? He’s done everything right: he gets 8 hours of sleep a day, wakes up in the morning without trouble, and feels properly rested each time. What is he missing?

Lack of REM sleep and fucked memory recollection just can’t be it.

Remembering your dreams can’t be distilled down to a science, but there are some tips you can try–

“Bullshit,” he groans tiredly, tilting his head back and dragging a hand down his face. With a sigh, he shuts his laptop and begins to prepare himself for bed. In the shower, it annoys him. As he brushes his teeth, gazing at his face, it annoys him. When he’s finally beneath the warm sheets of his bed, he is exasperated. As he falls asleep that night, Luigi’s thoughts drift into a thoughtless abyss and sleep overcomes him.

–

Something shifts that night in Luigi’s slumber. He can feel it in his bones, in his head that pulses with pain. He lets out an uncomfortable noise, shifting in bed. He suddenly becomes aware of the bed he’s in: one that doesn’t feel like his own.

There’s a soft linen beneath him, the kind he can’t imagine buying because it’s too expensive to afford, but somehow there it is. The smell of the sheets is faint, not entirely familiar, but not unpleasant. A little floral and musk, like the lingering scent of perfume.

The bed creaks and he feels himself stiffen. There’s someone beside him.

He wants to open his eyes, but his body won’t allow him. He really wishes it would because there’s a stranger in his bed (or is this his bed?). He feels the soft pressure of their arm against his own and hears the soft hum of their breath.

“Luigi.”

The sound of it is so clear, like a bell ringing out, and he realizes, even in his paralyzed state, it sounds different on this stranger’s lips than it ever has on anyone else’s. It’s quiet. It’s intimate. A tenderness he’s never quite known. If he could, he thinks he would laugh, but all he does is pause, stunned to a place that rests between awe and disbelief.

He’s dreaming. This is finally it. He’s dreaming and he knows it.

The air is thick around him, heavy with silence until they break it once more.

“Luigi,” they repeat, this time a bit louder, more insistent. It sounds like a girl. Her voice is warm and soft and so close–he feels like he could lean into her and let himself fall.

His eyes finally flutter open.

The first thing he sees is your smile. You’re looking at him with a calm, knowing expression. The sunlight catches your eyes as it slips through the cracks of your curtains. The room is bathed in the early morning light, the kind that makes everything look softer and unreal.

As he drinks in your appearance, Luigi is sure he’s never met you before. Your skin glows in the slanted light, a golden stripe drapes across half your face down to your bare neck.

It’s the oddest thing. He doesn’t question any of it as your smile softens and grows. The kind of smile he could never find himself deserving of, but somehow he’s found it anyway. Then, you lean in, pressing two soft kisses to each of his cheeks. One after the other–each more tender than the last. Your lips peck his cheek beneath his left eye, and linger further down when you bring them to the right side of his face, near the curve of his cheekbone.

At this gesture, he can’t help himself. He stares at you as though you’ve just grown two heads.

You laugh softly and melodically, as if his bewilderment is the most natural thing in the world.

“Luigi,” you say, playfully. “You’re staring.”

“I–,” he starts, voice catching in his throat, but you shake your head, still smiling.

“You should get used to this, you know,” you tease, rolling to your side. The blankets shift away from your body and your bare back is revealed to him. You stretch lazily, and he can’t find it in himself to look away. He watches you, transfixed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You pause, crossing your arms over your chests to cover your breasts. You look over your shoulder at him, hair glowing in the light like a halo. “Except to make us breakfast,” you grin and lean over once more to quickly peck his lips. You push yourself off the bed and pick up a plain white tee, previously discarded, from the ground, throwing it over your head. It fits you, just a bit too big, covering your body. He vaguely realizes it's his.

“Breakfast?” he murmurs. The word feels foreign on his tongue, as he attempts to piece together the pieces of a puzzle he can’t recall beginning.

“Yes, breakfast,” you reply, laughing again. You make your way to his side of the bed and place, yet again, another loving kiss to his forehead. The entire motion feels so natural, so lived-in, that he swears this isn’t the first time. It can’t be, but he doesn’t even know your name.

“Unless you’re planning to keep staring at me all day,” you call over your shoulder as you make your way to the door.

I might, he thinks and he startles himself. That doesn’t sound like himself, at all. Before he can say anything, though, before he can make sense of any of it, the room begins to fade. The light dims, you’ve walked out the door and your voice is growing distant, and he feels himself slipping away. He’s being pulled into something more uncertain than this.

He’s waking up. Panic sets in, but before he can get up to follow you, it’s too late.

–

He awakes with a sharp gasp, chest heaving and back aching. His heart pounds erratically, thrumming against his ribcage frantically, while a dull sting blooms in his chest. A longing he doesn’t fully understand settles in the pit of his stomach.

When he looks around the room, he’s certain that it’s his own, but it feels colder, heavier, emptier. His blinds are drawn shut, no traces of sunlight slip through to warm his face.

He sits up slowly, hands gripping the sheets as he attempts to ground himself. His cheeks burn faintly, and he swears he can still feel it–the plush of your lips.

Luigi feels his breathing become uneven as he swings his legs over the edge of his bed. The cool floor beneath his feet jolts him into wakefulness. Something inside him screams–check, see, know. With great rendition, he stumbles out of the room, his steps unsteady but urgent. His mind chases phantom traces of his dream–the very first dream he’s ever remembered–as if he can catch it before it vanishes from his grasp completely.

When he reaches the bathroom, his hand trembles as he flicks on the light. The stark, fluorescent glow floods the confined space, and for a moment he’s blinded. Then, he steps forward but hesitates, afraid of what he might, or might not, find. Shaking his head, he leans over the sink, his gaze meeting his reflection.

His face stares back at him, disheveled and familiar, but he doesn’t look away. He stares at himself with an intensity he’s never felt before. Eyes dark and searching himself, darting over every inch of his face–his brows, furrowed; his cheekbones, sharp and shadowed in the harsh lighting; his wild curls of brown hair, tousled from his sleep. He scans himself for something–anything–that might prove what he felt was real.

His eyes trail lower, to the faint flush of his cheeks, and there, just beneath his right eye, is a small mole. His gaze lingers on it for a moment before shifting to the left side of his face, where the second one rests near the curve of his cheekbone. He lets out a sharp gasp, clutching the sink until his knuckles begin to lighten. Though he’s seen them a thousand times before, something about them feels different now, as if they’ve been marked. By you.

Something stirs in his chest, a sensation that’s warm and blazing. The flicker of a flame.

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s trembling until he releases the sink from his grasp, hands raising to touch his face. His fingertips brush over the spots where your lips pressed against his skin. The memory of your warmth lingers, faint but undeniable.

It sends a shiver through him–not from the chill of his bathroom, but from the inexplicable comfort it brings. His chest tightens as a soft, quivering breath escapes him.

“It couldn’t have been real,” he says aloud, softly, as if it could make the statement indisputably true. Still, the warmth that blooms beneath his fingers says otherwise.

For the first time in his life, Luigi feels the ache of what he’s been missing all along.

[oblwan]

frat flu luigi mangione x virgin!reader 18+

summary!!! (smut inspired by this request) you’re set to interview frat president luigi mangione for the penn newsletter!

note: fratboy!luigi but not reallyyyy associated to that cheating demon storyline. written as a standalone but could be seen as a prequel if you squint. unedited but happy new years

warnings: long fic cuz we need a reason to be fuckin, sad bc luigi’s sad, comfort, an attempt at fluff, and of course smut, dubcon (he grinds on you while you’re sleeping), so dry humping, p in dis v (VIRGINNN)

luigi mangione, as described by his fraternity brothers: “cool,” “mega smart,” and “totally chill.” all phrases you could blindly draw from a hat to describe a stranger walking down the street.

surely, this couldn’t be your debut in penn today. a spotlight on the brightest mind on campus, phi kappa psi fraternity president luigi mangione. top of his class at a mysterious luxury private high school, started a hash brown business at sixteen, and, according to his linkedin, volunteers at local libraries, elderly homes, and animal shelters during breaks back home. he’s got a first aid/cpr certification, a bartending license, and a squeaky clean record.

“he doesn’t even complain on yelp,” you groan.

your friend, lacy, sits in the drivers seat, shaking her head. “maybe he’s just nice.”

you shoot a glare at her.

she raises her hands, defensive. “i’ve only heard good things!”

“oh, well, if he was really so nice, he wouldn’t have canceled on me a hundred and one times.” as if he’d heard you, your phone pings—his name flashing on the screen.

from luigi Hey pretty! Something came up today. So sorry. Can I see you another time?

“one hundred and two,” you declare, showing her your phone screen. at this point, it felt less like inconvenience and more like cruelty. his constant rejections, delayed responses, and last-minute reschedules were a relentless reminder of your looming failure to finish the piece on the phi kappa psi house. journalism club was going to fucking kill you.

“y/n, he literally could not have been nicer.” she finally puts the car into park. the both of you look outside.

frustration had been simmering for weeks, growing with every missed promise. almost two months ago, he’d smiled big and earnest, assuring you he’d meet for the interview—yet here you were, still waiting. the distance between you two seemed to stretch with every passing day, and you couldn’t summon the energy to pretend you still cared for niceties.

you’re outside his fraternity house, calling him, he surprises you by answering almost immediately, his voice low and hoarse, like he’s just woken up. “hello?”

“hi, it’s y/n.”

“oh,” he says, tone dipping as he cleared his throat. “hey, how are you?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “i just wanted to talk—”

“yeah, i know ‘m sorry,” he tells you, sincerity to be debated. “i’ve just been a bit all over the place these past few weeks.”

lacy mouths, “im staying in the car.”

nodding, you hop out, a familiar sense of anticipation lingering. it’s not your first time at the fraternity house, but each visit feels different. the mansion, though grand, has a worn charm—earth-toned walls and overgrown grass, with boys constantly darting across the yard. trash cans overflow with aluminum cans, remnants of the never-ending chaos.

“no, i get it, i do. i, you know, am busy all the time.”

“oh, i’m sure,” he says. “are you free next weekend?”

you didn’t even have to check your schedule to know you were free. but you were already here. “well, actually, i just, um…” you feel a bit of your confidence deflating as you trespass their yard. your face flushes and you suddenly feel the eyes of the other brothers staring at your silhouette like curious dogs, unsure of whether to bark or bite. “i was just passing by the neighborhood, i was wondering if i could come over now?”

he yawns. “what? you mean right now?”

“is that alright?”

“how far away are you?”

“yeah, uh, i’m outside your front door.”

“oh?” he says, clearly taken off-guard. the embarrassment finally settles in. what the hell were you doing?

“you know what, never mind. i’m so sorry,” you flush, spinning on your heel and rushing down the steps, avoiding eye contact with the other guys.

you’re not sure if it’s your heart stopping or the phone call ending, but it’s in that moment that the blackwood door opens. you turn around, and the brown-haired boy steps through, looking disheveled, with dark bags under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept. though, despite that, he’s in gray sweatpants and a long sleeved black compression shirt.

“y/n, come on in,” luigi says, his voice booming, almost too loud for the quiet pennsylvania street. he glances toward the team of players in the front yard, bringing attention to you all over again. “this is the journalist for the penn.”

you shuffle up the steps again. “it’s called penn daily.”

“right,” he nods, eyes searching your body up and down. “you want a jacket?”

you’re in leggings and a tank top. you’re shivering. “no, no, i like the cold.”

the brown-haired boy shakes his head, grabbing one off the coat rack anyway and tossing it over to you.

“you’ll like the jacket even better.”

as he guides you through the house, the weight of the silence surrounds you. you’ve only ever seen the place during parties—neon LED lights casting strange shadows, tables covered in empty Solo cups and suspicious piles of random powders. it always felt like a place of unrecognizable chaos, where everyone was too busy to think about much else but the next round of shots or whatever game they were playing. but today, in the quiet of the late morning, the house feels different. the lights aren’t flashing, the music isn’t blasting, and there’s no throng of people rushing around. it feels oddly intimate, even though it’s still just as cluttered as always.

“is this what it looks like clean?” you ask, only half-joking.

“be nice,” luigi barks, tone plain as he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance. “we had a long night yesterday,” he gestures to the crowds of twentysomethings outside, one group cleaning off the mountain of soda and beer cans off the plastic gray tables, the other playing ping pong. “another long night ahead. you should come.”

the invitation doesn’t sway you, you’re distracted by his face. though his curly hair is neatly cut, and his chocolate brown eyes hold a quiet, dark intensity. his tall frame fills up the room, the way he stands commanding attention without trying. his features are sharp, framed by thick eyebrows, and his smile is small, barely there, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he offers it to you as if it’s expected. there’s an underlying feeling you can’t shake. it’s like you can tell it’s forced. you’ve seen enough of him in passing (and in stalking) to know this isn’t the usual “luigi” you’re used to seeing at parties or around campus.

you bite the inside of your cheek. “you know, if today’s a bad day, you don’t have to—”

“no, babe, it’s fine,” he says, the term rolling off his tongue like it’s second nature.

in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve picked up on his knack for nicknames and gathered you probably shouldn’t be flattered—all the boys in this frat were entirely too flirty.

he pushes the door to his bedroom open, stepping aside to let you in. “shouldn’t take too long, right?”

“sure,” you lie as you slip past him, fingers brushing over the notepad tucked in your back pocket, your mind racing with questions you’re suddenly too aware of.

“well then, it’s no rush,” he says.

quickly, you notice the collection of allergy medication at his desk. a heinous amount of nyquil, half-empty bottles scattered among crumpled tissues and unopened water bottles. it’s almost comical, the way his organized chaos betrays the “untouchable golden boy” image you’d pieced together. his desk, once probably neat and deliberate, now looks like the scene of a losing battle against the flu. curious, you ask, “bad fever?”

luigi laughs dryly. “something bad, that’s for sure.”

you feel yourself sink at the admission. instinctively, you reach up to feel his forehead, your fingers hovering just shy of his skin. it’s a simple gesture, something you wouldn’t think twice about doing for one of your roommates, but as soon as your hand makes contact, he stiffens, his body recoiling ever so slightly. the movement is subtle but enough to make you hesitate, pulling your hand back as his lashes flicker up to meet yours.

“jesus christ,” you gasp. “you’re burning up.”

luigi doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on you just a moment too long, his eyes a little softer than usual.

“think i’ll be fine,” he says, but there’s an edge to his voice, like he’s trying to brush it off. it feels more like he’s saying it for both of you than for himself.

a pang of guilt hits you hard—a reminder of how you’d pushed for this interview while he was clearly feeling terrible. all those ridiculous, relentless messages, the nagging about deadlines while he was probably just trying to get through the day. god, you feel like an idiot.

you cup his cheeks, serious. “you should really get to bed.”

“what, and miss the privilege of being interrogated by the penn’s finest?” he teases, leaning into you. you’re struck at how warm he was, how utterly unprofessional you were coming off as, how awful it would be to pull away.

the article, you remind yourself, inching away. “if you pass out mid-question, it’s not going to make for a great article.”

“least i’ll be a shoo-in for the sympathy vote next semester,” luigi says with a wry chuckle, his tone light but laced with something deeper as he glances back up at you, almost as if testing your reaction.

“come on,” he reaches for your hand when you frown, interlocking your fingers and swaying you. he doesn’t pull you too close, something about the way he’s looking at you has you sure he’ll never give you the satisfaction, but your fingers interlock and there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips, smugness plain. “i couldn’t let you walk out here so fast. you know what they would say about me if they thought i let down a pretty girl like you?”

you feel your face go pink but your ego won’t let his flirting power last. his forehead was burning hotter than sauna, he probably didn’t know what was even happening. “you look like you haven’t even slept,” you say, matter-of-factly. “would you just sit down?”

“trust me, this headache’ll be gone before you can even say sto meglio con te,” he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

he grins as your brow furrows. “you could put that in your article. successful, speaks italian, looks like shit.”

“i didn’t mean that. i’m just worried.” ignoring the fluttering in your stomach and his persistent gaze, you turn your phone over. “i could order you some soup. there’s a really nice pho place down the road—”

“what’re you, my girlfriend?”

“mangione,” you sigh. “you’re being impossible.”

“baby,” he says, the word slipping from his lips with a teasing familiarity that catches you off guard. it pierces straight through your ego, sharp and unexpected. “i promise, ive got way more interesting things to talk about than allergies. come on, ask me.”

before you can react, another voice calls from outside, and you hear hurried footsteps approaching the door. luigi hesitates for a second, glancing at you. a younger group of fraternity brothers peeks in, looking urgent.

“hey, we’ve got a problem with the fundraising paperwork—someone made a mistake with the donations, and it needs to be fixed or we’re going to miss the deadline,” one of them explains, his voice tight with stress.

“who was in charge of that?” luigi asks, a lilt of accusation in his tone.

the younger twentysomethings look around, feigning innocence, avoiding eye contact. “whatever, it doesn’t matter,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes. “i’ll take care of it.”

he squeezes your hand before he leaves the room, saying, “stay put for me.”

so you sit on his navy blue bed, stiff and idle, your mind wandering as you wait. you text lacy and tell her you’ll catch up with her later as the constant sound of chaos fills your ears. you hear the house scrambling through the halls and luigi’s answering calls and questions, directing people, moving them out the way. the speakers for the party this weekend just got delivered, the delta 3 girls are inviting them to volunteer at their annual car wash, and there’s a leak in the basement that needs immediate attention. after what feels like hours, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore. exhaustion pulls at you, and without even realizing it, you fall asleep on his bed, the rhythmic noise of his busy life buzzing around you.

“y/n,” luigi exhales as he finally re-enters the room, his exhaustion evident in every step.

he’s greeted at the sight of your body sprawled across his bed, eyes fluttered shut with his jacket blanketed over your silhouette. he’s not so sure what comes over him, but he locks the door. your peaceful slumber is a stark change from the drunk mayhem on the other side of the door, and he’s intent on keeping the peace. the bed dips under his weight as he sinks down beside you, too tired for niceties. without a word or a second’s hesitation, he pulls the jacket off you and brings your tired body closer to his.

it starts off innocent. his arms are wrapped around your stomach, your body limp against his. he cradles into the nape of your neck—and you’re so soft and you smell so good, he can’t help himself. he tells himself he won’t take it too far. starting with small, sweet kisses against the side of your neck, almost tickling you out of your unconsciousness. you sleepily squirm under his hold and he’s straining in his sweatpants before he can make sense of it.

“you’re so pretty,” luigi whispers. it would be a waste, really, to have you this close without touching you. using you.

he grinds his hips against your plump ass. he’s so fucking hard, he really can’t help it. he has to have you, but he can’t bring himself to wake you—you’d been so sweet to him earlier, doe eyes wide with concern—he figures he has to return the favor somehow, right? letting you nap in his bed feels like the least he can do.

“you’ve got no idea how often i lose my mind thinkin’ about this, about you,” he confesses. the noise outside is loud, chaotic—a world away from the quiet intensity between you. it’s too loud for anyone else to know of the secret unfolding here, in the space of his touch and the weight of his gaze.

he’s rougher now, tightening his grip on your hips as he jerks himself into you. you were so worried about him earlier. you’d want this, wouldn’t you? to help him out, make him feel better?

his defense of plausible deniability falls apart piece by piece. one of his hands stray from your hip to your clothed core, rubbing you, desperate for friction. he groans into your back. you were wet, he was sure of it, he had to make sure of it. he slips his hands down your leggings and rushes to palms your wetness. he has to make sure you’re feeling just as good as he was.

you shudder at the touch, slowly bringing yourself from rem to reality. the room is hotter than you remembered, and you almost shriek as you realize luigi’s hands had been all over you. he’s quick to put his hand over your mouth, talking in your ear, “‘m sorry baby, couldn’t resist.”

his sloppy wet kisses are hot against your neck, so frantic, so desperate, so needy, his stubble unnerving you as you squirm under his hold. you can hardly make sense of what’s happening. “luigi.” you mewl as he grinds his clothed cock into you. “what’re you doing?”

he moans at the perfect blend of innocence and surprise twined through your voice. its undeniable now — he can’t spend another second not experiencing you.

“you said you wanted to make me feel better, yeah?” luigi grunts. before you can respond, he’s slipping a finger into your wet pussy. you jolt at the wild unfamiliar storm that grasps you, trying to turn your head over to him, to look at him, to ask him what the hell had gotten into him. he kisses you when your head tilts, his free hand wrapping around your throat.

“that’s so much fuckin’ better,” he tells you, stretching your core out with another two fingers. he’s so eager—so intent on making a mess of you, you’re almost humiliated at how easily you fall apart underneath.

you quiver and shake, and try to twist out of his groping hands, but he doesn’t budge, pressing harder into you. “you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart,” he swears.

“luigi,” you cry, helpless. the friction felt so hot it made you light-headed. the pleasures storms out any logical part of you. “i don’t—i don’t know what to do.”

of course you don’t. you were entirely too sweet, too well-meaning, too fuckin’ stupid to realize how badly he wanted you. running up to him after his gym workout, bright-eyed as you asked him to hang out. not on a date, not even as friends, but for a stupid fucking college paper. he should’ve taken you right there, in the parking lot, let you scream on it so loud the entire campus knew you were his, saved all this goddamn time.

“you’re a fuckin’ virgin?” luigi asks. he needs to hear you say it.

he rips his hand from your aching cunt and you cry out at the loss of friction.

“yes,” you pout.

“any good journalist knows to use specifics.” you see a cocky grin etch onto his lips before he flips you over and brings you in for a proper kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as he sinks into you. you kiss him back. you wanted this, whatever it was. “tell me again.”

“i’m a virgin,” you admit, reddening.

he smiles against your cheek before kissing you again—“been waiting for me, yeah? you want me to take you?”

“luigi, please.”

“what’s that?” he says, cruel.

you pout again and try to please him, rushing into another kiss. he captures your lips gladly, but refuses to bring you to the satisfaction of salvation.

all too mean, he points out, “you don’t even know what you’re begging for.”

at this point you were sure you could get drunk off the warmth of him. if you bucked up into the air, you could feel his bulge raging against his sweatpants.

“i want you,” you whine. “i mean—i just—i thought you wanted me too..?”

“of course i do. look at you.” luigi grunts before he strips off his shirt, ripping down your leggings with a force that pulls your body down the bed with him. his dark gaze drifts down.

you flush at the sight of the wet mess all over your legs. “you did all that just for me?” luigi mocks. “you want me that fuckin’ bad?”

“yes,” you have no idea why but you do. you can’t imagine a world where you walk away now and never experience him.

luigi never had any intention of being nice about this. his morals and his plans for the night unraveled the moment his eyes found you sprawled across his bed. harshly, he grips your hips—sure to leave marks, hoping for it—before pounding the entirety of his length into your purity.

the stretch scorches, searing into you. you see white, red, and hell all at once. “luigi—!” you cry out.

“you’re so good,” luigi assures. he tries to pace himself as you fall apart underneath him. he tries he tries he tries—but your inexperienced pussy molds around him, so perfect and wet, he can’t help himself.

you feel everything but perfect. unnerved and wild and overwhelmed, whimpering underneath him like a sick puppy. he fucks into you like he’s itching to see if you’ll break.

“it hurts,” you whine.

“you look so fuckin’ pretty with your legs spread,” luigi says. “can’t get enough of this perfect pussy.”

you paw at him, desperate for sacred ground, grip landing on his arms, hard and toned underneath your fingertips. he smirks. “feelin’ me up, sweetheart? you like my arms?”

the sound of skin slapping overtakes your corner of the world. you’d seen him before, but never like this. you’ve never had anything like this.

“luigi.” you whimper. “i can’t, you’re so big—”

“i know, pretty, i know,” he murmurs, kissing the running wet tears down your cheeks. “d’you remember the night you went up to me after the gym? d’you remember what you were wearing?”

you can’t help but claw your fingers deep into his arm muscles, desperate to find a vice for the pain. “oh my god,” you gasp. he pounds into you relentlessly and before you realize, you’re rolling into waves of foreign pleasure.

“stupid fuckin’ tank top,” luigi groans. pleasure storms you as he gets more brazen. he pulls down your camisole, lapping at your tits, biting you, marking you. “wind blew over and i got to see your perfect fuckin’ nipples. wanted to tear you apart right there.”

“what? really?”

“had to jack off in my fuckin’ car thinking about you, about this,” he murmurs before smashing his mouth back onto yours—and this time, you feel more prepared to bear it, melting into his warmth, lips perfectly reunited. you’re shivering under the heat. he fucks you hard into the mattress, hellbent on breaking you in. you’re sure he’s accomplished it already. you’re dizzy and light and on top of the goddamn world.

he sees through you. “fuckin’ close?”

“i-i think so—”

“so fuckin’ stupid,” he muses. “stupid fuckin’ virgin, doesn’t even know when she’s gonna cum.”

“you’re so mean,” you whine.

“yeah, you think so?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous as his hand strikes your cheek. the sting blooms like fire, another cruel signature of his dominance, a mark left behind in his endless quest to tarnish the golden purity you wear so effortlessly. his wicked touch moves down to your delicate clit and the sparks of pleasure turn into storms. you’re done for, waves of white gushing around him as you cry out his name.

“oh god,” luigi groans. “such a good girl, creamin’ on it like that. so perfect.”

the jolt of pleasure within you only makes you more sensitive. this time, when his hands return to your body, they’re clamped around your neck. he’s pulling into you, punishing your delicate cunt. as you quiver and froth, his thrusts grow sloppy and he rasps again—this time more guttural, more intense—and soon enough you feel his huge cock twitch inside of you, sending streams of his seed into your stomach.

he joins your silhouette on the bed, his warmth melting into yours as he pulls you close. his arms wrap around you, steady and secure, and his lips press softly to your forehead.

“‘m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and soothing. “didn’t mean to get so rough.”

you struggle to find the breath, then the words, “no, i—i think it was fine.”

he looks at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful, his gaze deepening with quiet admiration. “just fine?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of playful disbelief.

you meet his gaze, your heart fluttering, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you hum,

“penn’s finest.”

MASTERLIST ! leave me suggestions and review me <3

[oblwan]

can you write inexperienced luigi asking the reader to get him ready for college, like taking his virginity

☆ be my first (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 2.1k

☆ warnings: smut, crying, overstimulation, unprotected sex, barely proofread

☆ inexperienced luigi who tutored you through high school asks you to take his virginity before he goes off to college.

it’s late afternoon, and you’ve just stepped out of the shower when your phone rings. you see it’s luigi calling, and you answer almost instantly.

"hey," he greets you, his voice warm and familiar.

"hey, lu," you reply, a grin spreading across your face. "it's been, like, forever since we talked."

"i know," he says softly, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice, maybe even picture the slight blush creeping across his cheeks.

"what’s up?" you ask, curious.

his voice shifts slightly, a little hesitant, like he’s preparing for something important.

"i was wondering if i could come over later… i just have something i need some help with," he admits, sounding almost embarrassed.

"yeah, of course," you respond, offering him a reassuring tone.

"thanks," he breathes out, sounding relieved. "it means a lot. i'll see you later, then."

the hours stretch on as you wait for him to arrive. time feels like it’s moving agonizingly slow. you try to distract yourself, but your mind keeps drifting back to the upcoming visit. you haven't seen luigi in so long. you lay on your couch, looking out the large front window at the setting sun, golden light streaming into your small living room.

when the doorbell finally rings, you get up, take a deep breath to calm your racing thoughts. you open the door, and there he is.

luigi stands on your doorstep, looking even more handsome than usual, his usual nervous energy written all over him. his dark curls are slightly tousled, and he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and baggy jeans. his nervous fidgeting only makes him more endearing.

"hey," you greet him casually, trying to hide the rush of emotions swirling inside you.

"hey," he replies, his voice a little shaky, but his smile is warm. he steps over the threshold, and you gesture for him to sit down on the couch. you sit next to him, maintaining a little space between you, trying to let the air settle between you both.

an awkward silence falls over you two. you both seem to be searching for the right words. then, with a small sigh, you decide to break the ice.

"so, what did you need help with?" you ask, keeping your voice light but curious.

luigi takes a moment, his eyes flitting around the room before he finally speaks up. "i was wondering if you could help me… with something personal."

you nod, trying not to look too puzzled, though a small knot of curiosity tightens in your chest.

"uh, sure," you say, your voice calm, but your mind is already racing with possibilities.

"what is it?"

he hesitates for a moment, then seems to gather the courage to say it.

"i want to lose my virginity before i leave for college," he blurts out, his voice barely above a whisper.

you're caught off guard. the vulnerability in his words hits you hard. you never expected him to say something like that, especially not about you.

all the moments you’d shared, those study sessions, the way he'd always been there to help—did they mean something more to him all along? you’re suddenly overwhelmed with a mix of confusion and honor that he’s chosen you for such a deeply personal request.

“where is this even coming from?” you ask, still reeling from the shock. luigi's cheeks flush, and his eyes dart nervously to the side.

"i've always kinda had feelings for you," he admits, almost shyly. "but i was too scared to say anything before. and now that i’m leaving… i just don't want to go without having experienced this with someone i trust. someone who means a lot to me."

your heart races as you process his words. all those times he’d gone out of his way to help you, to be there for you, had it been more than just friendship all along?

"are you sure about this, lu?" you ask softly, your voice gentle, your hand unconsciously reaching out to touch his arm. "this is a big step. i don't want you to feel like you have to do it just because you're leaving." he looks at you, his expression more determined now, his voice steadier. "i’ve thought about it a lot. i’m sure."

a mix of emotions swells inside you—nervousness, excitement, and something deeper you can't quite put your finger on. this is a big moment, but you can tell he’s thought it through.

"okay," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. you gently place your hand on his arm, a comforting touch as you stand up and guide him down the hallway to your room.

there's no turning back now, and as you walk together, you know this moment will change everything between the two of you.

once in your room, you close the door, and the air becomes thick with anticipation. he takes a seat on the bed, looking nervous and unsure, so you move closer to him, trying to calm his nerves.

"we don't have to do anything you don't want to," you assure him.

"we can stop anytime, just-"

"no," he interrupts you, sounding firmer than usual.

"i want this, i want you to be my first"

there's an unspoken need in his voice, and you can tell he's serious. he places his hand on your thigh as he speaks, looking you deeply in the eyes.

you bite your lip to hold back the words that want to spill out. you want him, too.

he looks at you, his expression a mixture of nervousness and need, and you can't help but smile. you reach out and touch his cheek gently, feeling the heat rising under your fingertips.

you lean in slowly, giving him time to stop you, but he doesn’t. you press your lips to his, the kiss soft and tentative at first, then growing more passionate as he returns it. his hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, and you melt into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck. he finds his way on top of you as you embrace him, his weight slightly pressing you into the mattress.

your bodies press together, and you can feel the heat building between you. your hands wander across his back, sliding underneath his shirt, feeling his skin warm and soft against yours. you pull his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor, then run your fingers across his bare chest, tracing shapes around his freckles. he shivers at the contact. you part your lips and break the kiss.

"is this okay?" you ask, a whisper against his skin. his voice is low and desperate, his words coming out in a rush.

"god, yes," he says, his hands moving over your body, exploring every curve.

he slides his hands up the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach. you lift your arms, allowing him to remove your shirt and toss it aside.

his hands continue exploring your body, and you feel a growing warmth between your legs. he cups one of your breasts, gently massaging the sensitive flesh. you arch into his touch, and he leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"god, you're so beautiful," he whispers.

you moan softly, your fingers tangling in his curls, pulling him closer. you move your hips forward, grinding against him, eliciting a groan from him.

"you know how long i've wanted to do this?" he breathes "god, all the times you were in my room studying, i was so hard just fucking looking at you"

"shut up," you say, feeling a grin spreading across your face.

"i'm fuckin' serious," he says smiling against your skin

he begins to plant kisses down your neck and along your collarbone, his tongue flicking across the sensitive skin.

"fuck," you moan, your hips bucking against him.

"i've been waiting. so. long," he says, punctuating each word with a kiss.

you grip his shoulders, holding him close. he continues his exploration, trailing kisses across your chest, his hands sliding up your back.

his hands find the clasp of your bra, undoing it easily. he slides the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside. he cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing against the hard nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"is this alright?" he asks, his voice low and uncertain. you bite your lip and nod, arching into his touch. he's a virgin, but he knows exactly what to do.

he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently. you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. he moves his hands down, cupping your ass, pulling you closer.

"god, luigi," you gasp, the feeling of his tongue on your skin driving you crazy.

he smiles against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry. he begins to tug at the waistband of your pants, and you eagerly lift your hips, letting him slide them off. he tosses them aside, his gaze never leaving yours.

"so fuckin' gorgeous," he murmurs, his hands roaming across your bare skin.

he slides a hand down the front of your underwear, and you gasp as his fingers brush against your clit.

"luigi," you moan, arching into his touch.

"you want this, don't you?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle. you nod, feeling the wetness pooling between your legs. he presses his thumb against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. you cry out, gripping his shoulders tightly. he slides a finger inside you, curling it slightly.

"yes," you gasp, your hips moving against him.

"tell me," he groans.

"i want you, luigi," you moan, your voice needy. "i want you so bad." he withdraws his hand, and you whimper at the loss of contact. he strips off his remaining clothes, and you admire his toned body and his delicately placed freckles. he kneels between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs.

he positions himself at your entrance, and you moan softly, desperate for him to be inside you.

"please," you whimper.

"i need you."

he enters you slowly, a whine escaping his lips. he'd never felt pleasure so intense before. you're both overcome with the feeling of each other. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"fuck," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he thrusts into you slowly, taking his time. you're both lost in the sensation, your bodies pressed together.

"oh god, luigi," you moan, raking your nails down his back.

"you feel so fuckin' good," he says, his voice a low moan.

you feel yourself tightening around him. he thrusts harder, hitting just the right spot.

"fuck," you cry out, clinging to him desperately.

"god, i'm gonna cum," he gasps, his hips moving faster. you could feel his need, his desire for you, his love.

"let go, baby," you whisper, cupping his face in your hands. "i've got you."

he finishes with a cry, burying his face in your neck, his body trembling with pleasure.

"jesus," he says, his breathing ragged. he collapses on top of you, and you hold him close, running your fingers through his soft curls.

"did you finish?" he asks, still breathless.

"no," you reply, feeling a little embarrassed. "can we keep going?"

he looks down at you, his expression one of pure bliss.

"god, yes," he says with a soft chuckle.

he kisses you hungrily, his hands roaming across your body. he reaches down, circling your clit with his thumb.

"oh god," you moan, arching into his touch. he keeps thrusting into you, and you feel him shaking and overstimulated

"you're so fuckin' tight," he says softly.

you cling to him, the pressure building inside you. you're both teetering on the edge again, the sensation overwhelming.

"oh fuck, luigi," you gasp, your nails digging into his back. he's trembling as he pounds into you relentlessly, you can feel him crying against your chest.

"i love you," he whimpers.

"oh god, i love you too."

it hits you suddenly, the orgasm ripping through your body. you cry out, clinging to him, your entire body shaking.

"god, yes," he groans, his hips stuttering. he comes undone, spilling inside you once again.

you're both spent, sweaty, and breathing hard. he pulls out and rolls onto his back, his chest heaving.

"fuck,"

he mutters.

"god, you were amazing."

[oblwan]

AHHHhhhhGg!!!! We need more sweetie pie fratty Lu!! beg for a pt 2 🛐

I’ve Got You — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: NSFW — MDNI kissing, dry-humping, fingering, fluffy, handjobs, LuigiTalksYouThroughIt, he finishes a little Too Soon ™️, quickie

Wc: 2,586

Notes; Luigi reveals he was a psych major before venturing into the world of CS. He helps you through what seems to be yet another crisis, in more ways than one.

This is a Pt 2 of the Divine Timing Bullshit drabble.

"Well, I was a psychology major for a minute." Luigi's voice carries a hint of amusement as he settles cross-legged on his bed. The room surprises you — a private dorm that speaks of his family's wealth, yet the space feels lived-in, humble.

Lamps with amber edison bulbs cast a warm glow over textbooks stacked beside engineering manuals.

"And so that makes you my therapist?" The words come out more bitter than intended, hanging in the air between you. You hadn't planned this visit — just a casual 'wanna hang?' text at 3 PM that somehow led to you wearing tracks in his floor, your anxieties spilling out unchecked.

"Well, no, but I probably give better advice than Liz, or Scarlett, or Johanna." His voice stays steady, eyes tracking your movement with quiet attention. The way he lists your friends' names shows he's been listening all semester, filing away the details of your life. "Not licensed, but if it makes you feel better, you—"

"Never mind." You drag your sweater sleeves across your eyes, the soft fabric catching on your damp lashes. Your chest feels tight with that particular brand of exhaustion unique to college students — equal parts caffeine jitters and existential dread. "I'm just — I'm so tired of feeling like I have no purpose, you know? Just this thing floating around, ma-"

"Come here." His voice cuts through your spiral, soft but unmistakably firm. He pats the space in front of him, the gesture both invitation and anchor. When you hesitate, hovering between flight and surrender, his lips curve into a gentle smile. "Present moment exercise."

Reluctantly, you migrate to the space before him, mirroring Luigi's posture like a hesitant reflection — crossed legs, straightened spine. The mattress dips beneath your weight, creating a subtle gravity that draws you both incrementally closer. "What's the exercise?"

"Close your eyes." His voice carries that gentle authority that seems to bypass your usual defenses, making compliance feel less like surrender and more like trust. "What do you feel right now? Not think — feel."

You hum softly, hands resting in your lap as the world shifts from visual to visceral. The darkness behind your eyelids makes every sensation sharper, more immediate.

"Your knee touching mine," you start, clinging to this exercise like a Hail Mary thrown into the depths of your winter despair. "Uh- the texture of your comforter" - soft, worn cotton that speaks of countless nights studying - "the candle you lit..."

"Good." The word comes with the warm press of his hands finding yours, and your breath catches slightly. His skin feels sun-warmed against your winter-chilled palms, his thumbs painting invisible patterns that seem to speak directly to your nervous system. "What else?"

"Your hands," you murmur, the words falling soft and honest in the space between you.

You let yourself sink deeper into the sensation — not just the mechanical fact of his thumbs against your palms, but the way his touch seems to radiate warmth up your arms, how each deliberate stroke feels like morse code tapping out a message: breathe, settle, stay. "Uh — little sparks."

"Mm, that's good." Luigi's voice has mellowed to warm honey, no longer needing to rise above your anxious litany of deadlines and mounting student loans. "What else?" His fingertips whisper along your forearms where your sweater sleeves have retreated to your elbows, each touch deliberate and grounding.

"Water." The word emerges soft as you lose yourself in the patterns he traces, his fingers creating phantom ripples across your skin.

Memories surface with each touch — the shock of cold spring water on sunburnt skin, the gentle rock of a weathered pontoon boat, the way summer light dances on the farm's pond. A smile tugs at your lips, unbidden and genuine. "Reminds me of home."

Though your eyes remain closed, you can feel Luigi's answering smile in the air between you, sense the careful attention he pays to each micro-expression that crosses your face, every subtle response to his touch. "Yeah? Take me there," he whispers, his fingertips discovering new paths now, mapping the delicate architecture of your wrist bones. "What do we see?"

In your mind's eye, reality softens at the edges, then transforms completely.

The suffocating weight of impending papers dissolves, the tyranny of five-thirty alarms fades to nothing, and the guilt of rushed mornings and forgotten breakfasts melts away like frost in sunshine.

Instead, memory blooms bright and clear as summer.

"There's uh — it smells like hay," you murmur, the sandalwood candle's warmth fading as memory takes over. Your voice grows stronger with each detail. "There's Rosie, our herd dog. And the birds are chirping in the trees." Luigi's fingers trace their way back up your forearm, slower this time, as if drawing out each remembered sensation. "The sun." You can almost feel its warmth on your skin, that particular kind of heat that's been absent since fall break left you stranded in winter's gray embrace.

"That's beautiful," Luigi breathes, his words carrying an undercurrent of something deeper, something that makes 'you're beautiful' hover unspoken in the air between you. "What do you feel now?” The question lands softly as he observes the transformation in you — shoulders that have finally surrendered their tension, lips curved in a gentle smile, hands that have shed their anxious chill for a living warmth.

"I feel comfort." The words come with a small nod, the first movement you've made since closing your eyes, since letting him guide you away from the chaos in your head. Your voice holds a certainty that wasn't there before. "I feel safe."

Luigi's touch anchors you back to the present moment, gentle but grounding. "Yeah? And we'll keep that feeling, hm?" His hands find their way to your thighs, the touch carrying no threat, no expectation – just steady warmth and presence. "Even when we're away from our safe place, we can find it still."

Something breaks open then — maybe it's the simple humanity of it all, how Luigi offered not just a listening ear but a path back from the edge where dropping out had started to look like your only escape.

Your chin trembles, and behind your closed eyelids, tears begin to gather. All you can manage is a soft "Mhmm," anything more threatening to unleash the emotion building in your chest.

"Ohh," Luigi's gentle tsk carries nothing but understanding as his thumb finds your jawline, the touch tender as a whisper. His soft coo acknowledges what he already knows — that this reaction is natural, expected even.

He'd been here himself once, tears falling during his first time with this very exercise.

When you open your eyes, a watery laugh escapes as you reach to brush away the tears tracking down your cheeks, but Luigi's already there, his thumbs gentle against your skin. "You did great," he beams at you, his smile radiant with a pride usually reserved for mountain summits or graduation stages. "Not so hard, is it?"

Your head tips forward into his touch as another laugh bubbles up, accompanied by fresh tears — a release valve finally opening on emotions bottled since semester's start. "What the fuck did you just do?"

Luigi's grin is soft as he catches each tear with careful thumbs, taking in your flushed cheeks, the way emotion thickens your voice. "I fuckin' popped that big ass dark cloud over your head." There's gentle knowing in his tone – the cloud will gather again, but now you have a way to part it, to find light.

Sniffles punctuate the quiet as you lean into his touch with a sigh, studying him with new eyes. The image of Frat Boy Luigi feels like a distant myth now; trying to picture him dominating a beer pong table seems as misplaced as a lion in a library. "Why did you switch to CS?" The question comes carefully as his hands migrate from your cheeks to your neck, thumbs finding pressure points behind your ears that he somehow knows to touch, pressing gentle circles that make your shoulders drop another fraction.

"You want the honest answer?"

Your nod is immediate.

"I was good at psychology — too good, honestly. Reading people, understanding their patterns, their defense mechanisms." His words come measured, thoughtful. "It began to feel... manipulative? Like I was collecting everyone's source code without any permission."

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him an inquisitive grin. "So, you fuck with actual source code now instead?"

"Exactly." Luigi nods, but something deeper flickers in his gaze. "With programming, everything is transparent. The computer does exactly what you tell it to do — there's no hidden agenda, no complex histories. If something breaks, you can fix it by looking at the code."

Understanding hums through you as your hands seek his, drawing them into your own, missing their warmth for reasons you can't quite name. "What happens when you start looking at people like code?"

The playfulness drains from his expression, his fingers going still against yours.

"That's actually why I switched." He straightens, fingers weaving gently through yours. "I started seeing everyone like programs running on faulty logic. Started thinking I could debug them, optimize their processes." His laugh carries a edge of self-reproach. "God, I sound like such an ass."

"No, keep going.”

"There was this girl in my Abnormal Psych class. She had anxiety, pretty severe. I thought I understood her patterns so well that I could help her rewrite them." His free hand rakes through his hair. "I ended up making it worse. Way worse. Because people aren't programs — you can't just identify the bug and patch it. Every 'bug' is part of who they are."

You study his face in the mixed glow of candlelight and distant desk lamp, catching shadows of old guilt in his expression.

"With code, there's always a right answer. A most efficient solution. But humans — fuck," he draws your hand to his cheek, releasing a soft sigh. "We're messy. Contradictory. Beautiful because of it, not in spite of it. The moment I started seeing people as systems to optimize was the moment I stopped seeing them as people."

You study him — the way he cradles your hand, his own need for contact as evident as yours. "Is that why you're so focused on being present? Not analyzing?"

His smile returns, gentler than before. "Yeah. Turns out the best way to understand someone isn't by debugging them." His lips trace down your wrist, following the same path his fingers had taken earlier, recreating that feeling of safety and home. "Being here. Feeling. Letting things be messy and imperfect and real."

You feel yourself melting further — transformed into something soft and vulnerable you never expected to become.

By all rights, you should be alone in your dorm right now, buried under your duvet until the hypnotic loop of slime videos lulled you to sleep.

Instead, here you are, receiving wisdom from someone you'd once dismissed as just another beer pong champion, your best friend's crush turned into something far more complex.

Fuck.

"And how's that working out for you?" A grin spreads across your face, warmth flooding your cheeks as your heart performs an impromptu butterfly migration. "Letting things be messy?"

He moves with purposeful grace, drawing you onto his lap, his back finding the carefully arranged pillows behind him. "Well," he murmurs, warm hands sliding beneath your sweater to grip your waist, carrying the same gentle certainty as before, "I haven't color-coded a single spread sheet this week, and somehow the world hasn't ended."

Your laugh comes out breathless as your arms find their way around his shoulders. He gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes, those stark black eyebrows relaxed like brushstrokes across his features, each detail seeming divinely crafted.

"You're different than what I expected." The confession slips out as his hands chart a careful course up your back, then down to trace the curve of your ass, maintaining their unhurried, gentle exploration.

"I won't ask." Luigi's grin carries the weight of familiar labels; valedictorian, hazer of newcomers, dean's list fixture, beer pong legend, app development champion, notorious panty dropper. "But, thanks anyway."

Your lips crash together with sudden urgency, your hips finding their home in the space between his crossed legs, your body molding against his like a missing puzzle piece. "It all worked out in the end," you murmur against his mouth, teeth grazing his bottom lip as your hips roll downward. "Wouldn't you say?"

Luigi nods slowly, lips brushing yours with each word. "I'll say whatever you want me to." His grin is a contradiction — shy yet heated, pure yet hungry — as crimson spreads across his cheeks and creeps over the bridge of his nose.

A moan escapes you, startling in its intensity, warmth flooding your cheeks.

His hips rise to meet yours, a deep groan rumbling through him as the hardness in his jeans presses against your inner thighs. “Is this the kind of messy you were talking about?” you breathe between heated, spit-slick kisses, your hips rocking with a deliberate, determined rhythm.

Luigi seems to be unraveling beneath you, his hands exploring every inch your oversized sweater allows, hiked up to your bellybutton. He watches intently as you grind against him, the obvious tent in his sweatpants twitching in response to the attention.

“The kind of messy that practically comes with a free therapy session before making you come in your sweatpants?” A smirk curls your lips, playful and devious, your gaze locked on Luigi, who looks as if he’s found heaven.

“Gonna make me come, are you?” His breath quickens, a familiar tingling sensation building deep within him.

“Only if I get to,” you reply, your words igniting a spark. His right hand slips down the front of your leggings, his palm replacing the stiffness of his groin, fingers teasing momentarily as they gather the arousal dampening your panties.

You tug the waistband of his sweatpants down below his hipbones, revealing his cock — proud yet desperate, glistening with pre-come. The whine that escapes him as you begin to stroke him speaks volumes of his growing need.

“Look at me,” Luigi begs, and your attention snaps back to him, too captivated by his size and the slickness on your knuckles to focus on anything else, wrist working in rhythmic timing over his length. “God, you’re fucking—” He’s cut off by a chorus of moans, hot and steady, as waves of arousal spill onto his abdomen.

Your hand instinctively moves to your mouth, tasting him—bitter at first, but sweet on the finish.

How perfect.

His breath comes in ragged gasps as his fingers work their magic inside you, curving just right to find that sweet spot that makes your eyes flutter and a wave of warmth wash over you. “You can do it,” he whispers, his free hand trailing gentle touches up and down your forearms, mirroring the soothing gestures he’d offered only thirty minutes prior to this. “I’ve got you.”

Your hands are still slick with his release, but it doesn’t matter. You lean forward, tangling your fingers in his hair, your lips crashing together in a desperate hunger punctuated by whimpers that signal your impending climax.

“Fuck,” you curse, your hips moving in rhythm with his fingers thrusting inside you, still gentle yet insistent. His palm presses against your clit, creating a friction that pushes you right to the edge.

His praises shower over you like a sweet melody. “That’s it, baby,” he coos, your head tilting back as you ride the wave of pleasure until you can’t anymore. “That’s my girl.”

[oblwan]

Yearning—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— you’ve had a crush on Luigi Mangione, the popular frat boy for three years. after attending his engineering club, you both finally confess. based on this and this request.

warnings— fluff, luigi is a sweetheart, thigh riding, praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie.

Luigi Mangione. God, where to start? Jackie Kennedy’s letter about JFK came to mind whenever he would infiltrate your thoughts.

“And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me.”

“He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it.”

“When he walked in every woman’s head turned, everybody stood up to talk to him.”

That summed up how you felt about him. That summed up him as a person.

You and Luigi started attending Penn at the same time. He became a frat boy but unlike his fraternity brothers, he was different. He was kind, extremely intellectual, respectful and everyone seemed to love him. Most days, you sat in the far corner of the library reading, watching Luigi as he studied with his friends or came in to do research.

Whenever you would glimpse him around campus he was always smiling, surrounded by friends and sometimes even professors. He was involved in clubs and societies, assisted his peers and even volunteered. He was a model student and it was clear he was from a good upbringing. Everyone loved him and was interested in what he had to say. He was such a people person and in the best way possible. With all those extraordinary characteristics, it was no wonder you developed a crush on him.

His dark curls were beautiful and at times you imagined what it would feel like to run your fingers through them. His thick eyebrows made him even more handsome and you thought that especially when they were not plucked and developing into a uni brow. His strong jawline, his nose—he had a facial harmony unlike any other man you had ever seen. Every single part of him was admirable, he was exactly the kind of man you craved. You’d never met anyone like Luigi.

And he had never met anyone like you. But you didn’t know that—at least not yet.

Throughout your three years at the university, you were too shy to initiate any conversation with him. It wasn’t that he seemed mean—it just seemed as though you were in two different worlds. You were nerdy and he was a popular frat boy. It was a tale as old as time, someone like him would never go for someone like you, so you pushed the idea of something sparking to the back of your mind.

The closest you’d ever gotten to speaking to him was when he would tell you good morning or good afternoon when he’d pass by. He was always so polite. His smooth voice had your heart beating fast and at times, you could barely manage to give a response. You weren’t even sure if you gave a response, your thoughts were louder than your voice.

Though these interactions were minuscule, you held them close to your heart. You yearned from afar and at the end of the day, you’d go back to your dorm and daydream. You felt like a teenager again, crushing on a boy, writing about him in your journal, he made you feel alive. He gave you hope that there were good men.

The entire class sighed as the lengthy lecture ended. It was a Friday, the last day of classes and usually the day frat parties were thrown. You weren’t interested, you’d usually take those days to read a book or write something.

As you gathered your books to exit lecture hall, your professor stopped you. “You’re a good student. I’d like to have you in my engineering club at 3, I promise it’ll be insightful.”

You thought for a moment. Your Fridays were usually spent in isolation so it wouldn’t hurt to give your professor and his club a chance. “Sure. I’ll be there, in the lab on the first floor right?” Your professor nodded happily and you have him a polite smile, exiting the lecture hall.

Once you entered your dorm, you collapsed on the plush bed. You had about two hours before the club would start, until then you’d take a shower then pick something to wear. It wasn’t like it was a special occasion, but you never did anything on Fridays.

As you picked out a chic outfit from your closet, it came to you. Luigi was in the engineering club. In fact, he was a dedicated member. The realization had your heart thumping faster in your chest. You would be in an intimate space with him for however long. You needed to look your best. You always did but now, more than ever.

After a soothing shower, your mind focused on how you would manage to keep your eyes of Luigi, you wrapped yourself in a robe and began getting ready. You applied makeup that highlighted your features and by the time you were finished, the club would be starting in just a few minutes.

Great. Your first time attending and you were late. Now, everyone’s eyes would be on you as you walked in, including his. The thought made you shudder and your heart beat faster.

Just as predicted you were late, slowly pushing the door to the lab open ten minutes after the engineering club had began. After taking a deep breath, you stepped inside.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. Good afternoon,” you apologized politely as you closed the door.

Turning around, you realized the room of six people were staring as you walked in.

The only person who caught your eyes was Luigi Mangione. He was as handsome as the day you first saw him, his thick eyebrows quirked upwards and his soft, piercing gaze locked on yours.

“That’s fine. I’m glad you’re here, the club is usually filled but seeing as there’s some big frat party, no one came,” your professor chuckled but your gaze remained on your crush.

You were snapped out of your gaze when your professor gestured for you to sit in the empty seat beside Luigi.

The thought of having to sit next to him made your legs wobbly. Not like you had a choice so with your gaze still locked on his, you slowly made your way over to the empty seat.

“Good afternoon.” Luigi’s voice rang in your ear as you sat down and you hesitantly turned to look at him, returning the sentiment in a meek voice. He was always so respectful, you were the one who came and saw him, you should’ve been the one to greet him.

For the next few minutes, you zoned out. Whatever the professor and the club members spoke about was background noise as your mind swarmed with thoughts about the man beside you. That was until you heard his soothing voice answer whatever question was asked.

Slowly, you turned your head to look at him as he spoke. His side profile was ethereal, his jawline flexing as he spoke about what engineering meant to him. He was so intelligent and the entire room listened intently, grasping each word that left his lips. His presence commanded attention, you craved a man like him. You craved him.

“Do you agree?” Luigi turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. Your eyes widened for a second. Was he actually talking to you?

“Y-yeah, I do,” you said, simply.

You wanted the earth to swallow you whole right then and there. You couldn’t believe you actually stuttered in front of him.

As the time began winding down, you tried to push your overthinking to the back of your mind, wanting nothing more than to dash to your dorm and scream into a pillow.

“And that’s it for today folks. I hope you all enjoyed especially my special guest, same time next week?” your professor asked, a big smile on his face.

You nodded sweetly but you knew you weren’t coming back. Not after stuttering while you talked to your crush.

Quickly, you exited the lab, determination in your steps as you made your way back to your dorm.

“Y/N! Wait up!” You stopped in your tracks hearing his voice call after you. He knew your name.

“Is everything okay?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, Luigi was standing in front of you, concerned about your well being.

“I’m fine, Luigi. And you?” you asked, fidgeting with the bracelet on your wrist.

“Really nervous, I can’t lie.”

He was nervous, why would he be nervous speaking to you? “Why would you be nervous?” you inquired, confusion etched on your face as you avoided eye contact.

“Fuck, okay, let me start. So, uh, these past three years I’ve been trying to talk to you, but I’ve never been able to go beyond greeting you. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even respond, other times, you just had this look on your face that seemed like you didn’t want me to talk to you. And I’m not insulting your looks or anything,” he said frantically, hands held up in self defense, “you’re beautiful, really beautiful. And then today, when you walked in looking like this—”

He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair, watching as your eyes widened with each word. “When you walked in looking so beautiful, I knew I had to confess. You gave me a look too—that look in your eye that told me you feel what I feel too. Fuck, I’ve had a crush on you for so long. I’ve admired you all these years, and now I finally have the courage to confess.”

Your lips parted slightly, heart beating so loudly in your chest you could hear it in your ear. Luigi felt the same way you had felt since the moment you saw him. He wanted you just as bad. The popular frat boy had been nursing a crush on you all these years and he—him of all people, had been nervous to to confess.

“Me too, God, me too. I feel the same way. I’ve had a crush on you since the day I saw you, ever since then you’ve been stuck in my head. I see you around school a-and you’re everything I could ever want but I was just so scared to even say anything, you’re popular and I’m not and I thought—”

Your frantic confession was cut short when his large hands cupped your cheeks. His eyes fluttered shut as he titled his head and pressed a slow kiss that was hesitant at first. Once you wrapped your arms around his neck, the kiss grew deeper, though still gentle.

He smiled into your lips and you smiled against his, your heart fluttering. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear. I felt like I’ve waited my entire life to kiss you,” he beamed.

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as your cheeks heated. Then, the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Would you like to come back to my dorm?”

“Yeah—I mean are you sure?” Luigi asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Never been sure about anything as much as I am now.” Your new found confidence shocked you and you walked back to your dorm across campus, fingers laced together. Were you in a dream? Did the man you had been crushing on for three whole years feel the same way too? You couldn’t believe it but you’d make the best of it until you could.

Walking to your dorm you got many stares—it wasn’t everyday the most desired frat boy held hands with a random, reserved girl. He sensed your slight discomfort and squeezed your hand, giving you that reassuring smile you had always seen him give to others. Now, it was yours.

As you unlocked the door of your dorm, barely managing to close it behind you, you were gently pushed up against it. Luigi had his arms on either side of your head.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he chuckled. “I need to hear you say it. Do you have feelings for me?”

The tension in the room was palpable, his sweet, strong cologne enveloped your senses making your head swoon and your thighs clench instinctively. Though it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I have feelings for you Luigi, I really, really like you. More than you could even imagine.” His eyes softened at your words as if it was the one thing he needed to be told.

“Fuck, princess. I like you too, a lot. The way I feel about you, I’ve never felt that for anyone else. You’re all I’ve thought about for three whole years and I wish I wasn’t such a pussy and made a move sooner so we could’ve had more time together. So I could’ve had you all to myself sooner.”

This was what you had always wanted to hear and experiencing it in real time was far better than any daydream you had ever conjured up.

Now, it was your turn to interject. Your hands wrapped around his neck, bringing his head down into an intense, all consuming kiss. Your body pressed flush against him and his hands went under your thighs, instinctively. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and he caught you.

“Is this real?” Luigi asked breathlessly, as he sat on your bed with you in his arms.

You giggled and snuggled into his neck, inhaling his scent and making sure your hands remained on him. You wondered if it was real too and you didn’t want to take your hands off him, scared he would just be a figment of your imagination and disappear.

He littered gentle kisses all over your face and you hadn’t even registered what you were doing until you felt a jolt of pleasure course through you. You moved back and forth on his now prominent bulge, and you both moaned in unison.

You were clad in a short dress and it rode up with the only thing separating you being your thong, his jeans and boxers. His hands hesitantly went to your hips and you stared into his eyes as you were grinding on his bulge. His hazel eyes were lust blown and his lips parted as low moans escaped. God, those moans. They were music to your ears.

“This feels so good, baby, are you okay?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Shhh, just hold me,” you whispered, feeling your orgasm on the horizon.

He guided you back and forth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breathing increasing.

“Be a good girl and cum for me sweetheart, it’s okay. I know you want to,” he whispered.

At his command you gripped his bicep, your entire body convulsing as you stared into his eyes and came in your panties.

He held you close, rubbing your back as you slowly came down from your high. “That’s it, such a good girl,” he cooed. You couldn’t believe just grinding against him made you cum that hard, if you weren’t so caught up in the moment, you would’ve been embarrassed.

“Lu, I need more,” you pleaded, voice thick with emotion.

As soon as the words left your lips, his eyes glinted in a way you hadn’t seen before. He slipped off your dress, staring into your eyes and when he found no hesitation, he unclasped your bra.

His eyes widened at the sight of your bare chest before him, nipples hard. “You’re absolutely stunning, can I touch you? Taste you?”

“Please,” you rasped.

His head dipped and you couldn’t help but moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your hardened nipples. He moved to the other neglected breast, engulfing it with his mouth and suckling, while gently pinching the other. Your fantasy was finally fulfilled as you ran your fingers through his dark curls, back arching into his touch.

Abruptly, he placed you on the bed and slid to his knees, opening your legs to reveal the heaven that resided between. “Am I allowed to touch you? Can I taste you sweetheart? It’s entirely your decision if you want me to.”

“Yes, please.” He slid off your wet panties, tossing it aside and taking a moment to marvel at your glistening pussy before his head went between your legs.

The feeling of his tongue against you was heaven, he was so skilled, sucking on your clit and flicking it with his tongue. His eyes bore into yours, a moment so intimate you almost wanted to hide your face. Your moans, the sound of your juices and Luigi’s tongue filled your once silent dorm and you gripped onto his curls for dear life.

“You taste like Heaven baby,” he murmured before diving back in.

His hands gripped your thighs tighter as he deepened his focus, his tongue pressing harder against your clit. He was relentless but tender and more soft moans escaped your lips as your thighs shook. He responded with a low groan of approval, the vibration adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

His tongue circled against your clit in a final, deliberate motion, and the world around you blurred. When your orgasm hit, it was like a storm breaking loose. Your pussy surged with pleasure, a pulse that started deep inside and spread outward, consuming every inch of you. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, gripping tight as your orgasm washed over you, a cry slipping from your lips as you squirted in his mouth. He didn’t let up, drawing every last ripple from you, not stopping until your body finally collapsed, spent and trembling.

“You did so well sweetheart, did you enjoy that?” he asked, leaning up, lips and chin glistening.

To answer his question, you pulled him in for a kiss and slipped your tongue inside his mouth to taste yourself. His hands went to your breasts, fondling you as you smiled into the kiss. “I need you so bad Lu, please.”

“Talk to me. Tell me what you need then princess,” he whispered, his deep voice making your pussy throb.

You buried your face into his neck, your cheeks heating at the request but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t be shy sweetheart, I’m here—it’s just me. Tell me exactly what you need.”

He titled your chin to look up at him, his eyes glistening with care and something darker. Something you’d never seen before but made your thighs clench. “I- I need you to fuck me.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Luigi lay you flat on the bed then hovered over you, his body pressing lightly against yours as he sucked on your neck. He shed his clothes in a flash, and your breath caught at the sight before you. The heat of his skin against yours was electrifying, and anticipation hung thick in the air.

Luigi looked like a god, one you craved to worship, his muscles taut and glistening under the dim light in your dorm every curve and contour accentuated. You couldn’t help but caress his abs, fingers tracing the defined lines, marveling at the way his body felt firm under your touch. His eyes fluttered shut, a low groan escaping his lips as your hands explored his body.

“Like what you see?” he asked, leaning down to lick the side of your neck.

“You have no idea.” You had dreamt of the day you would be able to have him all to yourself, have your hands all over him, and it was finally here. Your eyes trailed down to his deep V line and then you saw it. He was long, thick and hard. Bigger than you had ever imagined and your breath caught in your throat as you saw his cock physically throb.

“S’okay baby, you can take it. I’ll go nice and slow for you,” he whispered.

You nodded then felt him slowly push the tip in, just enough to make your breath catch again. A gasp escaped your lips, his size stretching you, testing your limits. His brow furrowed with restraint, the muscles in his arms tensing as he held back, waiting for you to adjust.

His eyes searched yours, intense and burning with something primal, yet laced with care. “Are you okay sweetheart, want me to move?”

You nodded slightly, biting your lip, and he moved again, pressing in just a little more, but it’s so much—he’s so much, filling you in a way you’d never been before.

Your pussy tightened around him, and he moaned, low and guttural, the sound sending a ripple of need straight through you. “You feel so good baby,” he gasped, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

He was so thick, every inch was a slow, deliberate stretch, each stroke making you moan and grip the thin fabric of your sheets. His darkened eyes never left yours, his lips parted slightly as he panted softly, the strain of holding back evident on his face. You were both gasping, lost in the feeling of him filling you inch by inch, the overwhelming sensation forcing you to arch your back slightly into him.

“Lu,” you moaned, your nails clawing at his back.

“I know baby, it feels so fucking good.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, he was fully buried in your pussy, and you could feel him throbbing deep inside your cervix. The moment hung in the air, both of you frozen in awe, the sheer intensity of it all leaving you breathless.

“Feels so good Lu, I—I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, on the brink of an orgasm already.

“Not yet baby, I want it to be really good. Be a good girl and hold on for me.”

You nodded and your fingers gripped his shoulders as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, and for a moment, all you could hear were your ragged breaths mingling together and the sound of his body softly pounding into you.

His hips rolled gently, sliding out just enough to make you gasp before pressing back in with a deep, deliberate thrust. The friction was perfect, every inch of his cock dragging inside your pussy sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. The man you had a soul eating crush on for three years was fucking you. Luigi Mangione was finally fucking you.

He reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit softly and no matter how hard you bit your lips, you couldn’t stop the moans that left you. “You’ve been such a good girl for me, you can cum now. Do it around my cock, baby,” Luigi cooed.

As soon as the words left his lips you felt it. A rush of liquid escaped you as your orgasm ripped through every muscle in your body. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as you squirted around his cock, the slick wetness coating him. His name fell from your lips again, but it was a loud moan, caught in the overwhelming and intense ecstasy that took over.

You gasped realizing what had just happened. You’d never squirted before—you weren’t even sure if you had ever cum, but somehow, Luigi managed to get that out of you. He made you squirt.

“That’s it. My good girl, you came so hard baby. Fucking soaked my cock,” he said, looking down at the mess you made on the sheets and his cock as he bottomed out.

He gave you a moment to breathe, pressing soft kisses on your lips. “You’re so beautiful, God, I can’t believe I have you,” he beamed.

He flipped you on your side, his body pressing against yours as he hoisted your leg up.

“Ready sweetheart? Is this okay?” he asked.

“More than okay, please fuck me,” you whined.

He pressed a kiss to your ear before he was back in your soaked, warm walls. This time, it was easier for him to slip inside, though the stretch from this angle still had you squeezing his thigh. He thrusted up into you, hitting that sweet spot that had you crying out repeatedly.

“You take me so well baby, such a good girl,” he praised.

He maintained a steady but deep rhythm, one that had you feeling almost every inch of him, and soon you felt your pussy throb, another intense orgasm impending.

“You wanna cum baby? Yeah? Tell me how bad you want to,” he murmured.

You wrapped your hand around his head, your fingers lacing in his curls and fucking yourself back on his cock. “Please Lu, wanna cum so bad. I’ve waited so long for this. I’ve thought about this every single day, please let me cum.”

“Yeah? Me too baby. I’ve thought about fucking you for so long and having you just soak my cock. Cum for me pretty girl,” he said.

Your legs trembled, your hands pulling his head down to the back of your neck to make him suck as the pleasure peaked. He thrusted into you harder, each motion pushing you closer to the edge until you couldn’t hold on any longer. With a loud whimper, your pussy clenched around his hard cock, the tension snapping again and the release flooded through you all at once. You squirted once more, this one somehow more intense than the last and making tears prick the corner of your eyes.

“You’re amazing sweetheart, such a good girl for me,” he whispered into your ear.

Your vision blurred, the orgasm leaving you dizzy, but he didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, slow and deeper now, letting you ride out every last wave of pleasure until you were left panting and utterly spent, your body limp and trembling in his arms.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum, where do you want it?”

“I-inside me, please,” you gasped, your walls clenching around him to milk him of his cum.

“Are you sure sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically, grinding your ass against him and that did it.

“Oh God baby, t-thank you. You’re incredible,” he gasped as his orgasm washed over him.

You felt him pulse inside you, his cock twitching as he spilled into you, filling you with his warm cum and you came once more, this time, with him. His body tensed beside you, every muscle taut as he let out a ragged moan of release. His cum flooded through you, his orgasm drawing out in long, throbbing waves as he rocked against you, riding out every last pulse of pleasure. You’d never felt this good before.

Slowly, he pulled out of you and turned you so that you were facing him. He stared into your eyes, his expression softening as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. His breathing was still heavy, but there was a look of contentment on his face, a quiet satisfaction in the aftermath of the overwhelming pleasure and the need he felt for you over the past three years.

“You did so well, sweetheart. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“You didn’t,” you smiled, brushing his thick eyebrows with your fingers making him chuckle.

“I’m glad. Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Surpassed it. It was better than I could ever imagine,” you beamed.

“I feel the same way sweetheart, now let’s cuddle for a bit then take a shower and get ready. I’m taking you out to dinner.”

His words made your heart flutter and you buried your face in his firm chest. He was all you could ask for and more. After years of yearning, he was finally yours.

[oblwan]

Here’s a story from this request

Summary : Luigi has a secret crush on you. Both of you attending the same university. When you ask him for help with math, what starts as a simple study session quickly gets spicy !!

Warning : explicite content 🔞🔞

I don’t know why this song feels like Luigi in college.

Luigi stood in the university hall, leaning casually against a wall as his friends joked around. Though he appeared to be listening, his focus shifted the moment he saw you descending the staircase.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have, tracing the determined set of your jaw and the way you clutched a paper tightly in one hand. There was something different about you today—your usual cheerful demeanor had been replaced by a tense, distracted air.

Then your eyes met his.

Caught off guard, Luigi looked away quickly, his pulse quickening.

"Oh, look. It's Y/N," one of his friends said with a teasing grin, just loud enough for you to hear.

As if on cue, the group turned to look at you. Luigi let out a quiet sigh, his jaw tightening. He had noticed you from the very first day of class but hadn't said anything to his friends. And now, they were practically gawking.

You stopped mid-step, offering the group a polite smile. "Hi, guys."

Your gaze flickered briefly to Luigi, and this time, you greeted him with a smile that held just the faintest edge of teasing.

"Hi, Luigi," you said, your tone light.

His throat tightened, and his response came out awkwardly, barely audible. "H-hi Y/n"

You stepped closer, holding out the paper in your hand. "I need help with applied mathematics. You're taking it as a minor, right? And from what I hear, you're pretty good at it."

"Oh... yeah," Luigi stammered, unprepared for your directness.

Before he could offer a proper response, one of his friends cut in, raising a hand dramatically. "I can help you too, Y/N!"

"Yeah, me too," another added, clearly trying to impress you.

Luigi shot them both an annoyed glance. "Back off," he muttered, though his tone remained light enough to pass as joking.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flashing in your eyes. “I’m gonna choose whoever scored the highest on the last test gets to tutor me."

The group fell into a brief silence, and then the scores started coming in.

"71."

"82."

"89."

"80."

Finally, Luigi spoke, his voice calm and steady. "95."

Your lips curved into a grin. "Well, looks like we have a winner. Luigi, you're my tutor."

The subtle pride in his expression didn't escape you, though he tried to play it cool.

"How about tomorrow at the library?" he offered.

You shook your head. "I need to study tonight—my retake is the day after tomorrow. Your place or mine?"

Luigi froze, your words echoing in his mind. Around him, his friends erupted into laughter, elbowing each other and exchanging smirks.

"M-my room... if that's okay with you," he managed, his voice suddenly tight.

"Perfect," you said with an easy smile. "I'll see you after class, then."

As you turned and walked off, Luigi stared after you, his thoughts racing.

"Dude, did you hear that? She literally said, 'Your place or mine.' That's your chance !" one of his friends teased, slapping him on the shoulder.

Luigi shoots them a sharp look. "Shut up. She just needs help, that's all."

"Sure, sure," another friend says, smirking knowingly.

But Luigi doesn't respond. He's too preoccupied with the thought of spending time with you alone. Ever since you entered his life, you've had a way of unsettling the calm, logical order he's used to.

[7 PM]

Luigi paced nervously in his room, adjusting the books and papers on his desk for what felt like the hundredth time. He smoothed the creases in his shirt, glanced at the clock, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He opened it to find you standing there, arms full of notes, a faint smile on your lips.

"Ready for an intense night of applied math?" you joke.

He steps aside to let you in, trying to mask his nervousness. "I hope you're prepared to work hard because I'm a tough teacher," he quips.

You laugh as you take a seat at his desk, spreading out your notes. Luigi watches you discreetly, wondering why your presence alone is enough to make his heart race. He pulled up a chair beside you. He sits next to you and opens a notebook filled with neatly organized notes. His subtle cologne lingers in the air, and you can't help but notice how focused he looks when he starts explaining.

"Alright, show me what's giving you trouble," he says, gesturing to your notes.

You flip to a particularly challenging problem. "This one. Honestly, equations like this make me want to quit. Differential equations are a nightmare."

Luigi chuckles softly. "They seem daunting, but once you understand the logic, it's not so bad. Let's break it down step by step."

He explains with patience, his calm voice guiding you through each line. As complicated as the topic is, his methodical approach makes everything click.

"Oh! I get it now!" you exclaim, your face lighting up. "Why didn't anyone explain it like this before? It's so obvious!"

He grins, clearly proud of your progress. "See? I told you it wasn't as hard as it looked."

You work together for a while, your confidence growing with each solved problem. At one point, as you reach for his notebook, your fingers brush against his. The brief touch makes you pause, and you notice him quickly look away, his ears turning red.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

"It's... it's nothing," he replies, his voice quiet.

The atmosphere grows heavier as you both become more aware of the growing tension between you.

At one point, your hands brushed as you both reached for the same pen. You pulled back quickly, but not before your gaze met his. A flicker of something passed between you—brief, but undeniable. Luigi looked away again, clearing his throat.

Luigi leaned closer to point out an error in your notes, his shoulder brushing against yours. You froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.

"Here," he murmured, his raspy voice lower now, almost intimate.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the slight crease in his brow as he concentrated. The sharp lines of his jaw, the faint curl of his hair—it all felt too distracting.

"Got it?" he asked, his tone snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, focusing back on the paper.

But even as the night continued, the unspoken tension between you lingered, growing in the quiet spaces between words. Neither of you dared to name it, but it was there—electric and impossible to ignore.

A few minutes later, after tackling another problem, Luigi leans closer to explain a particular detail. His proximity sends a wave of nervous energy through you, but you fight to keep your focus. When his elbow accidentally brushes against the side of your chest, warmth spreads through your body, pooling low in your stomach. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice tinged with embarrassment. 

"It's fine..." you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

But your concentration falters as your thoughts begin to wander. Your eyes trace the lines of his hands—large and strong, with long, deft fingers. Veins crisscross his forearms, disappearing into the back of his hands, and the way he grips the pen exudes a quiet confidence. His arms are muscular, his collarbone defined, hinting at the sculpted frame beneath his shirt. 

Your gaze dips lower, involuntarily lingering at his crotch for a moment too long. You can't help yourself. Luigi has always been a contradiction: introverted and composed, yet brimming with a quiet fire, a confidence you've never fully understood but can't help wanting to unravel. 

Your eyes shift back to his face, and you find yourself studying him anew. His profile is striking—an angular jawline, lips that seem almost too perfect, and a thick beard that he likely trims every day. His brows are bold, framing a gaze that is somehow both piercing and gentle. There's an elegance to his nose and a wildness to his untamed curls, as though he doesn't care enough to control them. 

You're not sure what's happening, what this magnetic pull between you means. And judging by the faint tension in his movements, neither does he. 

"Alright," Luigi says, his voice breaking through your reverie. "I'm going to give you an exercise now. It'll cover everything we've gone over so far. You'll work on it yourself while I keep an eye on your progress." 

"Okay," you reply, nodding eagerly, grasping at the distraction. 

He steps back, giving you space to focus. For a few minutes, you immerse yourself in the task, scribbling out equations and trying to channel all your thoughts into solving the problem. But then you feel him again—standing behind you, his presence throwing your concentration into disarray. Your mind strays to places it shouldn't, thoughts you can't control flaring to life. 

Luigi crouches down beside you, his arm resting on the back of your chair. The closeness feels almost deliberate, his movements steady yet unassuming, as if he's unaware of the way he's affecting you. 

"Look here," he instructs, his voice low and firm. 

He reaches for your pen, his fingers brushing against yours once again. The contact feels electric, sending a jolt through you. He corrects the mistake with a confident stroke, then places the pen back in your hand. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The air between you feels charged, heavy with something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. You both break the gaze at the same time, awkward and unsure. The tension hangs there, undeniable yet unaddressed.

He leaned closer, his curly brown hair falling into his face as he pointed at a particularly confusing problem. "Okay," he said, his voice soft but confident, "tell me what the derivative of this function is."

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. Your eyes flickered to his face—his sharp jawline, the faint stubble, the way his lips curved into that patient smile. He caught your gaze and tilted his head, his brown eyes narrowing playfully.

"Focus," he teased, tapping the page with his pen.

"I... I don't remember," you admitted, flushing slightly under his scrutiny.

"Hmm." He clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. "Wrong answer. But don't worry, we'll get there."

He scooted closer, his thigh brushing against yours, and you felt a jolt of warmth shoot through your body. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "Let's break it down step by step. Think of it like building something from scratch—you start with the foundation, right?"

You nodded, though your attention was less on the math and more on the way his hand gestured animatedly as he explained. God, why does he have to be so damn attractive? His rolled-up sleeves revealed the veins running along his forearms, and you couldn't help but imagine how they'd feel under your fingertips.

"So, if f(x) equals 2x squared plus 3x minus 4," he continued, writing out the equation neatly, "what's the first step?"

Your mind went blank again, but this time it wasn't just because of the math. The proximity was getting to you—his woodsy cologne, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his leg pressed against yours. You shifted slightly, trying to focus, but it was impossible.

"Uh..." you stalled, glancing up at him.

His lips quirked into a knowing smirk. "Wrong again," he murmured, leaning in even closer. His breath ghosted over your ear as he whispered with his raspy voice, "You're not paying attention, are you?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Maybe I need a different kind of lesson," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Luigi froze for a moment, his pen hovering mid-air. Then, slowly, he set it down and turned to face you fully. His expression was unreadable, but there was a heat in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh?" he said, his voice low and velvety. "What kind of lesson did you have in mind?"

You hesitated for only a second before reaching out and placing a hand on his chest. His heartbeat thudded beneath your palm, steady and strong. "One where you show me exactly how much you know," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your boldness.

His lips parted in surprise, but then his eyes darkened with something primal, something hungry. He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"Positive," you breathed, closing the distance between you.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But then his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and everything changed. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you dizzy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you in a way that made your toes curl.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were hooded, his pupils blown wide with desire. "If I'm going to teach you anything," he murmured, his voice rough, "you're going to have to follow my rules."

You nodded, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "What are they?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Every time you get a question wrong," he said, trailing a finger down your arm, "I stop. No touching, no kissing, nothing. Until you get it right."

"And if I get it right?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened. "Then I'll reward you appropriately."

Before you could respond, he grabbed the textbook again and flipped to a new page. "Alright," he said, his tone suddenly serious, though his eyes still burned with mischief. "What's the integral of sine x?"

Your brain scrambled to recall the formula, but all you could think about was the way his thumb was tracing circles on your thigh. "I don't care."

He shook his head, clicking his tongue again. "Nope. Wrong." And just like that, he leaned back, his hands dropping away from you.

You groaned in frustration, but there was a thrill in the challenge, a fire igniting deep within you. "Fine. Try me again."

This time, when he asked another question, you forced yourself to focus, determined not to let him win so easily. And when you finally got the answer right, the look of pure satisfaction on his face was worth every second of torment.

"Good girl," he purred, pulling you back into his arms. His lips crashed against yours, his hands roaming your body with possessive intent. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as he explored every inch of your skin.

But just as things were heating up, he pulled away again, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Next question," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of 1 over x?"

You bit your lip, your mind racing. "Zero?"

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Correct."

And then his lips were on you again, his hands everywhere at once, until the only thing you could think about was him—his taste, his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing as he whispered your name.

But just as you reached for the hem of his shirt, he stopped you, his grip firm. "Wait," he said, his voice hoarse. "What's the area under the curve of y equals x squared from 0 to 2?"

You blinked, your brain struggling to catch up. "Uh... 8/3?"

He grinned, his hands sliding up your thighs. "Exactly right."

And then he kissed you again, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, desperate and wanting.

But before things could escalate further, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he stared into your eyes. "Last question," he said, his voice shaking with restraint. "What's the probability of us finishing this without any interruptions?"

You laughed breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair. "Slim to none."

"That's what I thought," he growled, pressing his forehead against yours. "But I'm willing to take the risk if you are."

His hands slid up your thighs, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body. The air in the room was thick with tension, every breath you took filling your lungs with the scent of him—clean sweat, cologne, and something uniquely Luigi. His brown eyes locked onto yours, dark with desire, but still glinting with that playful intelligence that always seemed to disarm you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "What's the derivative of e^(2x)?"

You froze for a moment, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the way his fingers were now tracing circles on your inner thigh. Think, think. You bit your lip, trying to recall the formula. "Uh... 2e^(2x)?"

A slow, approving smile spread across his face. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like honey. His hand moved higher, his fingertips grazing the edge of your panties. You gasped, arching into his touch, but he paused, his smile turning teasing. "Next question. What's the integral of sin(x)? If you get it wrong, I stop."

"Luigi," you whined, squirming under his hold. His thumb pressed against the sensitive spot just above your knee, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. "That's not fair."

"All's fair in love and math," he teased, leaning back slightly to give you space to think. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn't help but laugh despite the ache pooling between your legs.

"The integral is -cos(x)," you said quickly, hoping to end the torture.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Brava," he said as he pulled you closer. His hands slid up your sides, lifting your shirt over your head before you could even process what was happening. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but his body heat chased away any chill. His lips found yours again, hungry and demanding, while his hands explored every curve of your torso.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. He chuckled against your mouth, letting you undo them one by one until his chest was finally bare. Your hands roamed over his abs, tracing the ridges and feeling the tightness of his muscles. He groaned softly, his hips pressing up into yours, and you could feel how hard he already was through his pants.

But before you could take things further, he pulled back again, his breathing ragged. "One more question," he said, his voice rough. "What's the limit as x approaches infinity of (3x^2 + 2)/(4x^2 - 1)?"

You groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. "Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious," he said, his fingers trailing down your spine, making you shiver. "Answer correctly, and I'll make sure you forget your own name."

You could barely think straight, but you forced yourself to focus. The answer came to you in a haze. "Three over four?"

His smile was wicked as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your neck. "Very good baby," he breathed, his hot breath sending goosebumps across your skin. "Now, let me show you how well I can reward good students."

In one swift motion, he stood, lifting you with him as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you. His kisses trailed down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his lips closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed.

His hands worked quickly, pulling off the rest of your clothes until you were completely bare beneath him. His eyes drank in the sight of you, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach twist with anticipation. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his lips descended lower, kissing a path down your stomach until he reached your core. You tensed, your hands gripping the sheets as his tongue touched you for the first time. The sensation was electric, sending sparks through your entire body. He licked slowly, deliberately, driving you insane with the unhurried pace. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pressed two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that made you cry out.

"Luigi!" you moaned, your hips lifting off the bed as he worked you with his mouth and fingers. Every stroke, every lick felt like it was unraveling you piece by piece. You were close—so close—but then he stopped, looking up at you with that devilish smirk.

"What's the value of pi to five decimal places?" he asked, his voice steady despite the slickness on his chin.

"Are you fucking kidding me—" you started, but he cut you off with a pinch to your thigh.

"Answer correctly, and I'll finish what I started," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You clenched your fists, frustration and desperation warring within you. "3.14159," you spat out, glaring at him.

His grin widened, and he didn't waste another second. His tongue dove back in, and this time, he didn't stop until you were trembling beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You cried out his name, your voice breaking as pleasure consumed you.

When you finally came down, he kissed his way back up your body, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only heightened the ache between your legs. His cock pressed against you, hot and heavy, and you reached between you to free him from his pants.

As soon as your hand wrapped around him, he sucked in a sharp breath, his hips jerking forward. "Y/n" he muttered, his voice strained. "You're going to kill me."

You stroked him slowly, savoring the way his eyelids fluttered and his breath hitched. But before you could tease him further, he grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head. "My turn," he growled, settling between your legs. The tip of his cock pressed against you, and you both groaned as he pushed inside, inch by inch.

It was almost too much—his size stretching you in the best way possible—but he gave you time to adjust, peppering your neck with soft kisses. When he finally bottomed out, he stilled, his forehead resting against yours. "Tell me this is okay," he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"More than okay," you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please, Luigi. Don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His hips began to move, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. His rhythm was relentless, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You clung to him, nails digging into his back as you urged him on. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, and each time he swallowed your cries with a kiss.

The coil in your stomach tightened again, your second orgasm building faster than you expected. "I'm close," you gasped, your legs shaking around him.

"Me too," he panted, his movements becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to—"

"Inside," you interrupted, the word coming out as a desperate plea. "Please."

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became harder, deeper. With one final push, you shattered, your climax tearing through you like a storm. He followed moments later, spilling himself inside you with a guttural moan. For a long moment, neither of you moved, too lost in the aftermath to care about anything else.

Finally, he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so you were curled against his chest. His heartbeat was rapid under your ear, and his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "Thank you," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him, grinning despite your exhaustion. "For what? Being a genius at math?"

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "For trusting me." His expression turned thoughtful, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

You stride confidently through the university hall, a triumphant smile lighting up your face. Spotting Luigi, you rush toward him and throw yourself into his arms without hesitation. 

"So, what did you got ?" he asks, barely able to contain his excitement. 

"Ninety-seven! Luigi, you're incredible!" you exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The curious stares from other students don't faze you in the slightest. 

"I'm proud of you, Y/N!" he says, his tone full of warmth and pride. 

"Well, I had the best tutor anyone could ask for," you reply with a teasing grin. 

Not far away, Luigi's group of friends watches the scene, their confusion evident as they exchange glances, silently trying to piece together what they're seeing. 

"How about we celebrate properly? Dinner's on me," Luigi suggests, his smile growing wider. 

"Absolutely!" 

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss his cheek, the gesture natural and full of gratitude. Luigi chuckles softly, his ears turning just a bit pink, but he doesn't pull away. The buzz of the hall seems to fade, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of joy.

GIRLS IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS ASK ME I WILL DO IT WITH PLEASURE !!!! FEEL FREE TO ASK !!!

[oblwan]

Romance Languages

Middle image from mewwons on Pinterest here, others mine

Theodore Nott x Reader

Word count: approx. 4.5k

Summary: You and Theodore Nott have a little weekly ritual that you’ve always enjoyed. There’s definitely not any meaning to it, no matter what Pansy Parkinson says.

Warnings/be aware: she/her reader, Ravenclaw reader, Italian!Theo, google translate Italian, use of Y/N, slight time skip, fluff fluff fluffiest fluff

A/N: This is so cheesy and fun, I had an amazing time writing it.

There are some places where I didn't translate the Italian for the sake of not spoiling the story, but all will be clear in good time :)

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There was a sort of rhythm to your Fridays at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that you’d become quite fond of as a sixth-year.

            First, you had Transfiguration, one of the most difficult classes on your schedule (rivaled only by Ancient Runes), but also one of the most rewarding. Then you had Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, another course you enjoyed. You loved being able to get outside during the day and interact with the creatures of the forest while learning more about them. After lunch was your final class of the day and your absolute favorite, double Charms. Professor Flitwick was your Head of House and one of the kindest people you knew. The two of you had bonded during your first year when you’d been bullied by some third-years and he’d been a mentor to you ever since. You'd also grown to become a strong student of the subject itself. At the end of the previous year, you’d scored an O on your Charms OWL and when you’d returned to the class for your NEWT level, he’d quietly let you know that you’d earned one of the highest scores in your year. The Charms classroom was your comfort zone, your favorite place to retreat to after a long day.

            You also enjoyed your last class of the day because many of your friends had decided to take NEWT Charms as well. Each day, you sat next to your best friend, Padma Patil, and in front of two Slytherin girls who were quickly growing on you, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass. Though the Slytherins usually kept to themselves, you and Pansy had bonded after being named Potions partners the previous year and remained friends, sharing notes for your classes and the occasional tidbits about Hogwarts romances and parties. Pansy's approval had been enough to persuade Daphne of your likeability, and you'd made another friend.

            After greeting Professor Flitwick and setting your books down near Padma, Pansy, and Daphne, you came to the next part of your Friday routine. Theo Nott, a dark-haired popular boy with an angular face and mischievous eyes, approached your desk as usual. He was the dream guy of half the Hogwarts population, and you could see why. Though you’d never admit it, his attention definitely made you a little flustered.

            “Buon pomeriggio, belissima.” He wore a confident little smirk as you giggled, your afternoon ritual familiar.

            “Hi, Theo.” You smiled at him and he winked before returning to his seat near the back of the classroom with the other boys from Slytherin. Before every Charms class since the end of the previous year, Theo Nott had greeted you by saying something random in Italian. You had no clue what any of it meant or how it had started, but you weren’t complaining. The first time you’d encountered Theo outside of sharing classes with the Slytherins was when you and Pansy had started hanging out together. The two of you had a few conversations about Quidditch and music, and you were able to detect his southern European accent, but you’d never known that he could speak Italian until one random day in fifth-year Charms when he’d approached you before class.

            “Vorresti venire a cena con me?” Theo murmured. His eyes were oddly soft – he looked more gentle than you’d ever seen him.

            You laughed. “What the heck does that mean?” His subtle expression quickly became a smirk, his eyes sparkling.

            “That’s for me to know, and you to, well…” He strode back over to the other side of the classroom, as elusive as ever.

            It became a pattern between the two of you, him greeting you with some random phrase in a language you didn’t understand and you laughing it off, saying hello to him in English. You’d wondered if he would stop after the end of your fifth year, but when he’d spotted you in NEWT Charms, he’d immediately resumed the ritual. You were glad, and not just because he was paying attention to you. It felt like you could see another side of him when he spoke his first language, like he was letting you in on a different part of himself.

             As you sat down after your brief conversation with Theo, Padma raised her eyebrows at you playfully.

            “Oh, hush.” You laughed, shoving her playfully as you rolled her eyes. You knew what she was going to say before she said it.

            “You’ve got to jump on that, are you kidding?” She shook her head, her thick ebony ponytail swishing back and forth behind her. “He’s so hot and you have an opening!”

            “I do not ‘have an opening,’ Padma.” You grinned exasperatedly. “Besides, you need to be quiet. You’ll only inflate his ego if he hears you.”

            “If only I had your self-restraint. If Theo Nott talked to me…”

            “If he came up to you and said a bunch of random words to you in a language you don’t understand, I’m sure you’d be just as confused as I am.”

            “What does it matter what language he’s speaking?” She threw her hands up in the air dramatically. “He’s attractive in all of them.” You sighed, laughing softly to yourself. As much as you loved Padma, she had no idea what she was talking about. Theo could have any girl he wanted, you definitely weren’t going to ‘have an opening’ with him anytime soon.

            Professor Flitwick began the lesson and you attentively followed his demonstration as he walked the class through drills of the Extinguishing Spell. You soon mastered the technique and Flitwick instructed you to walk around the classroom and help others as they sought to extinguish the fire that he’d conjured. As you finished correcting Dean Thomas’s aim, you glanced around the room and saw that Hermione had also been employed to help, along with Theo. Your eyes locked with his as he turned in your direction and you felt your face flush as you looked away quickly.

            “Impressive, bella.” He raised his eyebrows as his path crossed yours. You rolled your eyes playfully at his need to throw in a little Italian for good measure.

            “Thanks,” you replied politely. You smiled at him, though you found yourself unable to meet his eyes. Internally shaking your head at your own easily flustered nature, you walked away quickly.

            After Megan Jones’s spell backfired and her flame got a bit out of hand, Professor Flitwick brought the drills to an end and began the second half of class, a lecture on nonverbal spells theory. You and Padma split a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans as the two of you took notes. The lecture was fascinating and you scarcely noticed time passing until you ran out of Every Flavor Beans. It wasn’t long before Flitwick called the class to a close and you packed up your things. As you and Padma left the classroom, the two of you fell into conversation with Pansy and Daphne, discussing the all-too public snog that Daphne had witnessed between Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown in the Astronomy corridor the evening before.

            “I didn’t even know they were seeing each other!” Padma remarked in surprise. “I feel sorry for her, honestly. Weasley’s a bore.”

            “Well, there were a lot of words for what they were doing, but ‘boring’ certainly wasn’t one of them,” Daphne drawled, grimacing. “It was so – “

            “Ciao, bella ragazza,” a deep voice interrupted. You turned to see Theo smirking at you and throwing you a nod as he walked past, keeping pace with Mattheo Riddle and Blaise Zabini next to him.

            “Bye, Theo.” You shook your head, grinning slightly as you waved to him. Turning back to the girls, you chuckled softly to yourself. “He’s ridiculous.”

            “Haven’t you ever wondered what he’s saying?” Pansy asked suddenly. You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

            “I guess. I don’t know, he’s just saying random stuff, right?” You shrugged. “Besides, I’m not sure I could figure it out if I tried. ‘Ciao’ is literally the only word I know, and Hogwarts doesn’t exactly keep a strong collection of Italian-to-English dictionaries.”

            “But Tomes and Scrolls has a languages collection,” Pansy countered. Daphne suddenly glanced at her, shooting her a look that you couldn’t decipher, and Pansy shook her head. “Tomorrow’s a Hogsmeade trip. You should take a look.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

            “Okay, I guess I will.” You wondered why she was so insistent about it – she’d never indicated that Theo’s assorted ramblings might be of importance before. But with your curiosity sparked, you resolved to stop by Tomes and Scrolls the next day.

            The next week, with a few books on Italian language safely tucked inside your trunk in Ravenclaw Tower, you listened carefully to the words coming from Theo’s mouth as Charms class began.

            “Tutti gli oceani del mondo non potrebbero rivaleggiare con la tua bellezza.” He shot you the same confident look as usual and you smiled back, repeating the phrase to yourself in your mind.

            “Good to see you too, Theo.” As soon as he returned to the back of the classroom, you hastily wrote everything you could remember in the margins of your parchment to reference later. Then you did your best to put it all out of your mind so that you could focus on the Charms lesson. Though you were sure that whatever the sentence meant would disappoint Pansy’s curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel a slightly intrigued as well.

            “Did you manage to get it down?” Padma hissed, glancing at your parchment as you labeled it for note-taking. You nodded.

            “Don’t get your hopes up, though.” You leaned over to whisper in your best friend’s ear. “It’s probably nothing interesting.” You paused, studying the foreign words. “If it turns out he’s been insulting me all this time, I’m gonna flip.”

            After Charms concluded, you returned to your dormitory and retrieved your new purchases from Tomes and Scrolls. Locating a particularly secluded section of the Ravenclaw common room, you sat down and began to flip through the books until you found a section with direct word translations. Painstakingly, you started with the first word and began to hunt for its meaning.

            “Tutti gli oceani del mondo – all the oceans of the world.” Your whispers to yourself cut through the silence as you studied the words. Why on Earth was Theo talking about oceans? Maybe the books were wrong. Nonetheless, you continued, trying to trust the process.

“Tutti gli oceani del mondo non potrebbero rivaleggiare con – all the oceans of the world could not rival.” What? You must’ve written something down wrong, you figured, because the words still didn’t make any sense together. Either that or you’d been right all along and Theo had just been talking nonsense for the heck of it. Maybe he thought it was funny. Out of curiosity, you searched for the last three words you’d written down.

La tua – together, they meant something like “your,” but didn’t help make the sentence any more coherent. What could oceans not rival you in? Doing magic? Eating popcorn? Rolling your eyes, you searched for the next word.

Bellezza – beauty. Huh.

“All the oceans of the world could not rival your beauty.” You stared at the sentence that had appeared on your parchment with wide eyes. It wasn’t an insult – far from it. It was actually one of the most lovely and poetic compliments you’d ever received, and you couldn’t help but let the sound of his voice echo in your head as he said them. Your lips parted in silent surprise.

            Your mind raced. Was this right? Were you even reading correctly? Was this some kind of joke or did he really mean…but how could he? He was one of the most handsome, popular guys in your year, there was no way he wouldn’t just ask you out if he really thought those things. Rejection wasn't exactly something he needed to worry about.

            Closing the book in front of you, you realized that there was only one person who could answer all your questions. As you stood, you took your piece of parchment in your hand and resolved to go find Pansy.

            Thankfully, locating Pansy didn’t require much searching. You found her sitting in the library, leaned back and filing her nails while Daphne studied across from her and Draco mumbled about something or other, his lip curled in distaste. She turned slowly at the sound of your approach, but the moment she saw your expression she sat up, interrupting Draco with haste.

            “Get, Malfoy.” She waved her hand in a shooing motion. Though Draco frowned, glancing at the two of you in confusion, he gathered up his books and stepped away from the table.

            “He didn’t have to leave.” You guiltily watched Draco sit down at another table by himself.

            “He did if we’re going to talk about what I think we’re going to talk about,” Pansy declared. “Can’t keep a secret to save his life.” She focused in on you, her expression intense. “Did you do your research?”

            “Did you know what he was saying all this time?”

            “I had my suspicions.” She paused as you pulled out a chair and sat down in Draco’s former spot. “What was this one, exactly?” Your cheeks turned pink as you handed her the parchment and her eyebrows shot up. Her curiosity piqued, Daphne sat down her quill and leaned over to look also.

            “Wow, Nott’s got more game than I thought,” Daphne said with a grin. She looked you up and down playfully. “You’re a lucky girl.”

            “But there’s no way he actually means that, right?” Both Pansy and Daphne met you with skeptical glances. “I mean, if he felt that way why wouldn’t he just ask me out?” Pansy laughed under her breath, shaking her head slightly before leaning towards you over the table.

            “Look.” Her focused expression held your attention. “What you have to understand is that Nott being popular is basically an accidental byproduct of him being really good at Quidditch and really hot. Objectively, of course. That’s not my arena.” She cleared her throat and you laughed softly. “He’s learned how to talk the talk when he wants to look cool – mostly thanks to Riddle’s terrible influence – but he’s actually kind of quiet. Reads a lot. He doesn’t really know how to put himself out there, and with the way that girls throw themselves at him, he’s never really had to.  That is, until...” She nodded in your direction.

            “Theo…Theo likes me?”

            “He hasn’t told me anything, but the way he looks at you?” She let out a breathy little chuckle, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “He’s down bad.” Your whole face turned warm.

            “Pans!” Daphne gave her friend a light smack on the arm. “And you call Draco a blabbermouth.”

            “What? If I don’t get this ball rolling, no one will. He was hitting on her in a language she doesn’t even understand!”

            “What should I do, though?” you interrupted. “I mean, I can’t just pretend that I still have no clue what he’s getting at.”

            "Then don't." Pansy looked you up and down frankly. "You've got all those language books now. Use your resources."

            You arrived to Charms the next Friday with a nervous flutter in your stomach, repeating unfamiliar words in your head. As you entered the classroom, you glanced around, nearly forgetting to wave to Professor Flitwick before you sat down. Theo hadn’t arrived yet, and neither had Daphne or Pansy. However, Padma was waiting for you, eyeing you excitedly. You’d filled her in on your discoveries after talking to Pansy, and she was thrilled (if not a little smug that she had, in fact, told you so).

            “Hello, gorgeous!” Your best friend greeted you, beaming as she pulled her knee up to her chest. “See, I’m doing my best Nott impression.” You shook your head lovingly.

            “Hi, Padma. I do believe you’d have to learn Italian to accomplish that effect.” You sat down, letting your bag fall to your side with a loud smack. “Merlin, Transfiguration was difficult today.”

            “Glad I dropped it!” she replied cheerfully. “Divination was cake.”

            “That’s because all you lot do in that class is stare into crystal balls and spout nonsense.”

            “That’s all Transfiguration is too!” Padma protested. “Except you actually have to remember the nonsense, and occasionally the nonsense comes back into play when you have to turn a porcupine into a pincushion.”

            “Well that’s – “ You were about to launch into your defense of Transfiguration when a deep voice interrupted you.

            “È una bellissima giornata ora che sei qui, dolcezza.” Theo Nott stepped into your field of vision, a textbook in hand, grinning down at you. Once again, you had no idea what he was saying, but you were prepared this time. Well, here goes nothing.

            “Puoi semplicemente flirtare con me in inglese, lo sai.” You smirked back at him, trying to give off an air of confidence even though you weren’t entirely sure that the words coming out of your mouth were correct. (You can flirt with me in English, you know)

            The book in his hands hit the floor with a resounding smack.

            He stared at you for what felt like an eternity. A wave of nerves began to overtake you – what if your translation was wrong? Had you accidentally said something embarrassing? Was Pansy completely wrong about the way that he felt about you? As you looked back at him, you saw that his cheeks were completely flushed. He swallowed hard, then hurried away to the back of the classroom.

            “Well, that could’ve gone better,” you whispered indirectly at Padma. You turned in hopes of having an emergency conference with Pansy and Daphne, but Professor Flitwick quickly interrupted you as he cleared his throat, signaling the start of class.

            “Good afternoon, everyone, today we’ll be continuing on with nonverbal spells theory, then spending the end of class on review.” He stepped forward and the stray book at the front of the room caught his eye. With a frown, he waved his wand and sent it flying toward its owner. You turned around reflexively and saw Theo staring in your direction as he placed his book back on his desk, still looking shaken. Hastily, you whipped back around. “Do try to keep your textbook at your own seat, Mr. Nott.” You heard a few students laugh as you withdrew your parchment and your quill from your bag.

            That day might’ve been the only day you’d ever been eager for a Charms class to end. With your thoughts an endless swirl in your mind and your stomach turning with anxiety, you could hardly concentrate on the lesson. You felt guilty, as though you were betraying your favorite professor, when you realized that you’d been utterly distracted for nearly fifteen minutes and completely lost track of the lecture. Resolving to take detailed notes to keep yourself attentive, you began to write determinedly. But even the words written by your own hand began to make little sense to you as worry consumed your focus.

            “Miss Y/L/N, can you remind us of the effect produced by the Reductor Curse?”

            You snapped back to reality at the sound of Professor Flitwick calling on you. “Um, pardon?” He frowned.

            “The Reductor Curse, Miss Y/L/N.”

            “Oh, Reducto.”

            “Right,” Professor Flitwick said slowly. “That is the incantation, but what is the effect?”

            “Oh, um, destroys solid objects.”

            “That’s correct.” He gave you one last troubled look before turning to the other side of the classroom. “And who can tell me, what is the color of the spell?” You raised your hand, hoping to assure him of your attentiveness, but he didn’t even look in your direction as he called on Lorenzo Berkshire instead.

            Finally, class concluded. You were ready to hurry out the door with the hopes of catching Theo – you needed to apologize for whatever you’d done. However, as you packed your things, you lifted your head to see Professor Flitwick standing before you.

            “Miss Y/L/N, could I speak to you for a moment?” Your stomach dropped.

            “Of course, Professor,” you replied quickly, following him to a quiet corner of the classroom as your friends left.

            “I couldn’t help but notice that you were a bit distracted in class today.” His voice was gentle and respectful, but that made you feel even guiltier to have let him down.

            “Yes, Professor. I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.”

            “I know that it won’t, Miss Y/L/N, I know you.” He nodded solemnly. “I did not ask you to stay after class so that I could scold you. As your Head of House, I simply want to make sure that you are alright. I know that you faced some challenges in your earlier days at Hogwarts.”

            “I’m okay.” You let out a heavy breath.

            “Are you sure, Miss Y/L/N? No one trying to make your life difficult?” You shook your head.

            “No, nothing like that. Just…something didn’t go the way I planned, that’s all.”

            “Ah.” His eyes grew distant. “Yes, the best-laid plans of mice and men do often go awry, as the Muggles say. Oddly, I've found that some of my most errant plans have had the best outcomes." The warm smile on his face brought you a slight reassurance. "Do let me know if you need someone to speak with.”

            “Of course,” you affirmed with a polite smile. “Thank you, Professor.”

            “You’re very welcome. Now, best get going. I do believe that you have a friend waiting for you.” He gestured toward the back of the classroom and you turned to see Theo standing in the doorway. You froze, your heart dropping in your chest.

            “Um, right.” Smoothing your uniform skirt, you quickly attempted to regain your composure. “Great talking to you.”

            “And you as well. Have a lovely evening.”

            “You too!”

            Your heart thundered as you scooped up your school bag and walked towards the door – and Theo.

            “Um, hi.” You bit your lip worriedly as you looked up at him. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

            “Of course, bella.” He froze, seeming to catch himself in the habit. “I…did not realize that you were familiar with the Italian language.”

            You shook your head hesitantly. “Actually, that one sentence is really all I’ve got.” You saw him relax slightly. He stepped away from the doorway and you followed him out of the classroom.

            “Where’d you learn that?” His grey eyes flashed with intrigue as he looked down at you.

            “Oh, that? That was the power of Pansy Parkinson and an English-to-Italian dictionary.”

            Theo grimaced. “Parkinson! I’m going to…” He trailed off, letting out a sigh. “Meddler.”

            “I meant what I said earlier,” you began softly. “Or at least what I thought I said, anyway. You can flirt with me in English.” You glanced up at him hesitantly. “I don’t mind.”

            “English is not a very romantic language.” You blushed as he gave you a playful grin. “I apologize if I frightened you, bella.” His voice grew sincere. “It was not my best moment.”

            “I was going to say the same thing,” you admitted. “I’m sorry if I scared you, or if it was all too sudden, or – “ He interrupted you, shaking his head adamantly.

            “No, dolcezza.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “It was time. I should have…I should have told you long ago.”

            “Told me what?” Your eyes connected with his, stopping him in his tracks.

            “Well, if you know now, what I’ve been saying – surely you must have figured, the way I feel about you.” You froze, surprised at his candid admission.

“Well, to be honest, I still don’t understand most of it.” Theo let out a little laugh. “But the parts I figured out…Theo, that’s some of the sweetest stuff anyone has ever said to me.” You gave him a little smile and your stomach fluttered when you realized that his cheeks were turning pink. It was adorable. “Why wouldn’t you want me to know?”

“It’s so embarrassing.” He chuckled bashfully, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the ground.

            “Hey, my attempts at mastering the Italian language were pretty embarrassing.”

            “You did well, bella.” His voice was so strained that you nearly laughed out loud. You raised your eyebrows skeptically. “Okay, so that is not how you say the words. At all.” You burst into laughter and he did the same, in spite of himself. He had a beautiful laugh, deep and clear and joyful, and when it was gone you longed for more.

            “It’s okay,” you said with a giggle. “You can tell me it was bad.”

            “It was…well, it was very cute.” He looked down at you with hesitant eyes and you blushed, grinning softly. “Even though you are not so good yet.”

            “Well, maybe I’ll learn better if you tell me more about what you’ve been saying all this time.” You smiled back, nervousness fluttering in your chest.

            He let out a sigh, leaning his head back in resignation before looking back at you. “I suppose so.” He ran a hand through his hair again and you observed with amusement how his curls immediately flopped back in his face. “Well…you see, Mattheo and Blaise, they have a very unfortunate sense of humor. Last year, they decided it would be really funny to…to dare me to ask you out.”

            You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. “So – this was a dare?”

            Theo’s eyes widened. “No! I mean, yes,” he corrected, “But they dared me because…well, they could see how I felt about you. That you made me nervous. They thought it was really funny.” Your stomach flipped as your eyes met his. “I thought for a few days that I would just do it, but then I saw you, and – “ He shook his head. “So I asked you out in Italian.”

            “So that’s what you said the first time?” He nodded sheepishly. “Theo, that’s really sweet.” His eyes brightened and you realized just how close he was to you as your words got caught in your throat. “Theo?”

            “Hmm?”

            “You could always…ask me again.” You looked at him hopefully and his face split into an adorable grin as he took your hands in his. “I’m sure it would help with the language acquisition skills, after all,” you teased. He chuckled.

            “Merlin knows you need it.” Your mouth fell open in mock surprise and you shook your head playfully.

            “So rude.”

            His eyes softened as he watched you, and your heart thundered inside your chest as he ran his thumb over your knuckles, making your skin tingle as his grey gaze held you captive.

            “Vorresti venire a cena con me?” The smooth sound of his voice washed over you as you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. (Will you go out to dinner with me?)

            “Si.”

[oblwan]

Slytherin Boys Masterlist🫧

The Slytherin Boys

Soulmate Tropes

Deadly Sins

Theodore Nott

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Lessons in Love 3.3k

The Cat Chronicles 5.9k

Theodore Nott and the Fortress of Trust Issues 3.8k

All’s Fair in Love and Quidditch 3.7k

Til It’s Gone 3.2k

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Fighting Fate 3.1k

Good Things Fall Apart 2.4k

I love you, I'm sorry

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo Berkshire Headcannons

I think he knows 2.8k

The Stages of Grief 6.2k

So American 3.4k

You're Not Everyone Else 4.4k

Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

Flowers 1.2k

Dancing With Our Hands Tied 4k

Interlocked series

[oblwan]

so this is love

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 2.7k

summary: there's a weird feeling that erupts in theo's chest whenever he looks at you and for the first time in his life his mind goes silent.

warnings: none!

a/n: i honestly love this so much and it's so so sooo cute!

Theodore Nott was many things. Quiet, judgmental, emotionless and most importantly handsome. One of the prettiest boys in Hogwarts yet the most unapproachable. No one had ever seen a smile grace his lips and if you had tried to converse with the Slytherin he would only stare at you with blank eyes waiting for you to go away. He spoke little words but it was enough for people to get the point. Unlike his rowdy group of friends, he wouldn’t merrily join in conversation, rather make snarky remarks every now and then, an uninterested look always on his face. A scowl or a smirk always tugged at his lips as he listened to what his friends had to say. 

Even though Theo never voiced his thoughts out loud he always knew what to think. His mind was constantly running at a hundred miles per hour. Every little thing he wanted to say flitted through his mind. It was as if his head was a cacophonous symphony. 

Yet as he looked at the girl in yellow robes his mind was oddly quiet. He watched her silently as she dropped her ingredients into her cauldron. It was a rare moment. One he had discovered a month ago when he had finished his potion early and looked around to see if anyone else was done. There you were. Eyes scanning the contents of your Potion’s book but it was quite clear you had finished brewing whatever was in your cauldron as you leaned back into your seat. 

Theo’s mind was silent. 

There were no thoughts, no opinions, no judgments. He stared at you and it made him uneasy. There was something about you that unnerved him. He didn’t recall you from his other classes and it was the first time he had even seen you in Potions. As he felt the comforting silence settle in his head he concluded one thing - you were interesting and he was going to keep an eye on you.

“Nott, mate, what are you doing? I’ve been asking you to pass me a quill for about a century, have you suddenly gone deaf?” Blaise nudged Theo out of his trance and the brunette blinked for a second before passing over a quill. His partner frowned before following where his eyeline previously was and he smirked. “Still obsessing over the little Hufflepuff I see. Who knew you were capable of having feelings.”

“I don’t fancy her.”

“I never said you did.” Blaise’s smirk widened. “You came up with that on your own.”

Theo felt his face heat up. It wasn’t true. He didn’t like you, not in the slightest. He was merely fascinated at how you were able to turn his manic mind into a state of tranquillity. He looked over. You were talking to your partner beside you and Theo assumed she had said something funny because a grin had overtaken your pretty features and a giggle slipped past your lips. Theo didn’t fancy you but he couldn’t deny that you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

//

“He’s staring again.” Hannah said as she poked your side to get your attention. “It’s like he’s drilling holes into your skull. Do you think he wants to hex you?”

You looked up from your cauldron with a frown as you faced your friend. “He doesn’t stare at me, don’t be silly Hannah. I’m sure he has a reason for looking this way.”

“Y/n you’re terrible at finding excuses for anything. It’s so obvious he’s looking at you and his glare is starting to scare me a bit.” 

Behind your fellow Hufflepuff was Theodore Nott. Your eyes glaze over his perfectly tousled hair and his dark coloured eyes. He really was handsome. You watch as he says something to Blaise and you see a tint of pink touch his cheeks. Cute. You smiled to yourself. Merlin, he was really cute.

Theodore Nott had been watching you for a few weeks now and you weren’t oblivious enough to not notice the Slytherin’s gaze. At first you didn’t know how to react when you first felt his eyes on you. It was weird. Every time you would turn around he would already be looking down at his piece of parchment, scribbling something down with his quill. You had never caught him staring at you but you could certainly feel it. The piercing feeling of his stare made goosebumps rise on your skin. In a way you found it endearing. Sometimes you would turn around and find him, nose deep in his textbook and you could faintly see the tips of his ears blush red. It was those times you would giggle to yourself. 

It was arrogant to assume that Theo felt that way about you but for some reason you couldn’t help but get a little giddy at the thought he might. That someone like him would even think about going out with someone like you. That the cutest guy in your year would fancy you. Then reality came crashing back and you knew that a Slytherin would never be seen with a Hufflepuff much less date one.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n? You still there?” Hannah waved her hand in front of your face. “Merlin, one mention of Nott and you go all dreamy on me. When are you going to ask him out then?”

Your cheeks flared up with heat and you couldn’t help a smile that tugs at your lips. “Shush Hannah.” You try to sound serious but with your blushing face and bright grin it’s hard to do so.

“You’re actually whipped, Y/n.” Hannah let out a laugh and you let a giggle slip past your lips at her statement. You didn’t feel the need to deny it after all, maybe it held some truth. 

//

Theodore Nott always knew what to say and when but as he stood in front of you he found himself speechless. Now as his eyes wandered over your delicate hands and beautiful face he couldn’t find the words that needed to be said. His mind was quiet again. Silence. He opened his mouth to apologise for bumping into you and nearly knocking you over but no words came out. So he did the next best thing, help you grab your books.

You were scrambling to grab scrap pieces of parchment that had escaped the grasps of your books and Theo grabbed the Herbology textbook you had dropped. He watched as you gathered your things before finally meeting his gaze. You smiled and he felt his heart stop. Suddenly it was as if he was being engulfed in a tidal wave. There was a twinkle in your eyes and it set off a spark in his chest that he didn’t know was there. Theo felt himself grow hot as you stared at him and for the first time in his life he felt self conscious.

“Thank you.” You said and he felt his ears ring as your voice echoed through his mind. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going and I was in a rush to get to my next class. I hope you aren’t hurt anywhere.”

A beat passed.

Theo blinked. He watched as your bright expression slowly morphed into one of concern. He watched as you reached out to touch his arm.

“Theodore?”

“It’s Theo.” Is the only thing he can think to say before he realised how it must’ve sounded rude. “But you can call me Theodore. I don't mind.”

Another beat passed.

The two of you were now standing in the middle of the hallway as other students passed by. Theo could hear their whispers as they looked. The curious eyes wondering what a Slytherin could possibly be talking to a Hufflepuff about. For a second Theo thinks he’s upset you and you’re going to storm off but he’s proven wrong. The bright smile returned to your face.

“Well Theo, I’m going to need my Herbology textbook back, I’ve already been late twice this week.” 

“O-Oh yes right, sorry I forgot.”

Theodore Nott has never once stumbled over his words. Yet as he stood in front of you he found himself wrapped in a world he had never known before. He felt himself grow even warmer and he reached a hand to loosen the emerald tie around his neck. This was unlike him. He never went speechless, he never struggled to find a smart quip or retort and he most definitely never stuttered. You brought out a side to him that was new and he didn’t know if he liked it or not.

“Thank you for helping me Theo, I’ll see you in Potions.” You waved goodbye as you hurried off down the hallway. 

Theo’s eyes remained glued onto your frame as you ran. A rising bubbly feeling began in his chest and he felt his heart quicken. He gulped. You had long disappeared from his view but he still felt a burning sensation on his cheeks and he tried to cool himself down with his hands but it served no use. Giving up, he turned away and marched down the hall determined to figure out whatever he was feeling.

//

“You know staring at her won’t make her your girlfriend Nott.” Mattheo smirked as he watched his best friend. The others at the Slytherin table tittered with laughter and Theo rolled his eyes. He was now used to his friend’s teasing and even though it was relentless he didn’t pay any attention to it. Why would he? It wasn’t true anyway.

“Very funny Riddle.”

“You know me Theo, always the jokester.” He winked as he sipped the pumpkin juice in his cup.

“But seriously Theo you should ask her out if you like the girl. Salazar, it's better than drilling holes in the back of her head.” 

“Pansy’s right Nott, we’re all tired of you mooning over the girl just go ask her out already and then the two of you can go snog in the broom cupboard.” Draco snickered and the other Slytherins erupted into another round of laughter.

“Well you’ve got it all wrong I don’t fancy her.” Theo looked at his friends with a scowl present on his face. “She makes me feel all these things and I hate it. I hate how different it is. I hate how quiet everything gets when I look at her. I hate how she makes me feel and it’s all horrible and downright disgusting. It’s like I’ve got a fever whenever I’m around her and I’ve somehow contracted some life-threatening heart disease. My mouth dries up and I stumble over what I say and it’s not like me at all. So no, you’ve all got it wrong because I don't fancy her.”

With that Theo leaves the table, dinner untouched, with red cheeks and a rapidly beating heart. His friends watched dumbfounded as their friend trudged away. They all exchange knowing glances before shaking their heads at his obliviousness to his own feelings.

“That guy seriously needs to realise that sometimes not being an emotionless prick isn’t going to kill him.” Pansy dug into her beef as she scoffed at her friend’s stupidity.

Unbeknownst to the Slytherins a certain Hufflepuff was watching as their friend stormed off, her eyes never once leaving his ruby red face and the angry glare that accompanied it. She excused herself from her table before slipping away to follow a certain brunette.

//

Annoyance was the main thing that Theodore Nott felt at the moment. Anger at the persistence that he had a crush on you when he didn’t, he knew he didn’t. You had cast some sort of spell on him. Some sort of hex that made him notice every little bit about you. The way your smile lit up the room, the way your laughter echoed in his mind like the happy tinkering of a bell. Every second he saw you it was as if you overtook his senses. Clouding his sight with your beauty, suffocating him with your sweet scent, muffling his ravenous thoughts until everything was calm. 

When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt an overwhelming emotion, one that he couldn’t explain, but it made his hectic thoughts still and as cheesy as it sounded it made time itself stand still. When Theodore Nott looked at you he noticed every fine small detail like the way you like to smile at yourself whenever you get a question right or the way you tap your fingers on the desk when you’re concentrating. When Theodore Nott looked at you he felt his heart soar and he isn’t used to feeling this unnatural emotion that had been brewing inside of him.

He didn’t even notice you were behind him until he heard your voice. Soft and gentle and kind. He spun around. You had a look of concern etched upon your face and you stepped closer towards him and he backed away feeling his heart quicked once again. He glared at you hoping that his stare would force you to go away and would force whatever he was feeling to disappear.

“Are you okay Theo? I saw you leave and you didn’t touch your food, did something happen?”

You were so caring, so nice, so calm. You were so many things and Theo couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take looking at you when he could hear his heart pumping. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered, backing away further.

You frowned. “I haven’t done anything Theo. Are you sure you’re okay you look quite red and-”

“You’re lying.” He seethed. “You’re lying because why are you making me feel these things? Why does my mind go quiet, my thoughts stop, the words fail? There’s no explanation to this. I don’t understand why my heart races and everything suddenly feels hotter around me. I don’t understand this feeling I have inside me, some magnetic force that keeps pulling me to you. You’re everywhere Y/n.”

His glare intensified as he spoke, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate step forward. “I look at you and I feel things I’ve never felt before, this bubbly warm feeling. Whenever I’m around you I can’t think of what to say. I close my eyes and I see your smile, your eyes. I can hear your laughter even if we’re in the noisiest classroom. You’re everywhere Y/n. So tell me, what have you done to me?”

A beat of silence.

The both of you stare at each other. Your frown had long gone and now you simply looked at the Slytherin in front of you trying to decipher his anger.

“It’s love Theo.” You take a step closer. “All the things you’ve just said - it’s love.”

Theo froze. His expression remained stony yet his eyes betrayed his thoughts as he looked away for a second. He blinked before looking at you once again. Your eyes, the eyes he couldn’t help but notice everywhere he went, looked back at him. His mind was no longer quiet. An outbreak of noise erupted inside his head and he struggled to grasp what was going on. He couldn’t focus. All he could hear was his own voice in his mind, overlapping, shouting, screaming, crying. It all came crashing down and Theo didn’t know what to do.

Then your lips collided with his and he stilled. The noise died down. Chaos ceased. Theo let his eyes flutter shut as he kissed you back with fervour. Your lips were soft and you tasted sweet like strawberries. He wrapped his arm around your waist and you were warm as you leaned into his touch. He felt your arms tangle in his hair and he smiled at the feeling. This felt right. This didn’t feel weird or disgusting. It was something he never thought he would feel. 

The both of you broke apart and you blinked looking at Theo with your beautiful eyes. His heart continued to race. You beamed up at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. You were so pretty, so gorgeous and you had just kissed him. His mind was finally quiet again. The strange feeling that filled his body now didn’t feel so foreign at all in fact it felt natural as he gazed at you.

“It’s love Theodore Nott. That’s what you feel.” You give him another kiss. “And it’s what I feel too.”

Theodore Nott was many things but as he closed his eyes to kiss you once again there is only one thing that he wants to be - in love with you.

[oblwan]

HARRY POTTER... masterlist

[ full masterlist ]

who i write for ,

Harry Potter - Slytherin gang (fancast too), Golden trio, Tom Riddle, Cedric Diggory, Weasley twins

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

tom riddle... OBSESSION

IN WHICH… Tom Riddle is partnered with a Gryffindor for potions. He expects them to crush every assignment sent their way, but what he doesn’t expect is him falling in love.

theodore nott... ONE CUP OF COFFEE

IN WHICH… Theodore Nott can’t stand the idea of actually falling in love but he finds himself questioning his choices after a rather comforting conversation with a Hufflepuff.

theodore nott... THE IDEA OF US

IN WHICH… the saddest thing in a relationship is knowing you met the wrong person at the wrong time yet you still can’t let them go.

theodore nott... BACK TO THE START

IN WHICH… theodore nott is dating the perfect girl, yet prefers to keep her hidden from his friends.

'23 CHRISTMAS SERIES

tom riddle... LAST CHRISTMAS

IN WHICH… Tom can’t fall in love, he shouldn’t fall in love. So why does he love Y/N L/N with her yellow robes, doe eyes, and her obsession with snow so much that he’d kill anyone in his path to get to her?

( last christmas - wham! )

harry potter... BUY ME PRESENTS

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N’s situationship, Matteo Riddle, isn’t the best boyfriend material and when he forgets to buy her a Christmas present, she finally breaks it off. Luckily, she knows someone who’ll do everything Matteo didn’t.

( buy me presents - sabrina carpenter )

oliver wood... ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

IN WHICH… Nothing would make Oliver Wood happier than getting a new broom as his Christmas present. That, or Y/N Malfoy finally noticing him. When the two collide at Hogsmeade, Oliver is overjoyed. Perhaps this Christmas, he’ll get two gifts.

( all i want 4 christmas is u - mariah carey )

cedric diggory... CINDY LOU WHO

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N helps her crush and longtime best friend, Cedric Diggory, get with another girl. Deep down, she knows she’ll never be the bright and bubbly girl Cedric wants. She’ll always be the cunning snake with a knack for starting fights.

( cindy lou who - sabrina carpenter )

draco malfoy... SANTA, TELL ME

IN WHICH… Draco Malfoy no longer enjoys Christmas, especially not when he has to stay at Hogwarts while all his friends are gone. But a certain bright-eyed Hufflepuff is glad to keep him company.

( santa, tell me - ariana grande )

[oblwan]

chicken noodle soup.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

song inspiration: is it really so strange? by the smiths

author's note: just a soft fluffy comfort fic cause i've been thinking about matty lately and i needed cheering up after the end of kwaf. let's all laugh at the fact that i set a 1k limit on this fic only to fail miserably lmao 😭

Mattheo Riddle was not a fan of Mondays. 

Most of the time, Mattheo spent the first day of the week nursing a hangover and getting higher than a hippogriff at the Astronomy Tower with his friends to achieve equilibrium. The only thing he looked forward to every week was the prospect of riling you up in class. To be fair, it didn’t take much to get under your skin. Being himself seemed to do the trick. 

As he walked through the castle halls, Mattheo smiled to himself as he plotted out all the different ways he could provoke you on this dreadful day. For some sick and twisted reason, he reveled in the fact that only he could manage to rouse such a violent reaction out of you. There was something satisfying about the way your eyes blazed, your rosy cheeks tinged with heat as you told him off.

Maybe he'd flirt with you today. Tell you how good you looked in your short little skirt. Watch as you turned as red as the tie around your neck. His pretty little Gryffindor good girl. In Mattheo's mind, you were his to tease and taunt.

With his usual swagger, Mattheo sauntered into Advanced Transfiguration fully prepared to test out his new tactics on his nemesis, but you were nowhere to be found. 

At first, he figured that you were just running late. Throughout the duration of your rivalry, Mattheo had never once witnessed you skip class. He would’ve bet his entire cigarette supply that you’ve had perfect attendance since first year. When Professor McGonagall started the lesson and you were still missing in action, Mattheo was understandably concerned. 

The uneasy feeling in his stomach didn’t mean that he was worried about you though. This was purely about mutual benefit. Mattheo couldn’t very well have his Transfigurations partner skipping out on lessons. Even though he regularly did so himself. But still, that was different. Everyone knew he was a delinquent. You, on the other hand, were anything but. Until today, you’ve probably never missed a class in your life. 

Mattheo waited. Surprisingly, the two of you had the majority of your classes together. All of which dragged more than usual since you weren’t there to yell at him for dicking around. When you still hadn't turned up for Charms or Herbology, he became convinced that something was horribly wrong. Missing one lesson was alarming, but three in a row? That was entirely out of character for you. 

When Professor Sprout finally dismissed the class, Mattheo sauntered over to Granger’s desk. As always, she was surrounded by her two dimwit friends who immediately tensed the second he loomed near. Potter and Weasley shot him matching menacing glares, but Mattheo ignored them entirely. 

“Granger,” he drawled, leaning against the wooden desk. “Care to tell me where my partner’s been all day?” 

The Gryffindor girl appeared a bit perturbed by the question. “Why do you want to know where Y/N is?” 

Mattheo sighed in exasperation and produced the set of notes he’d taken during class. A first for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually listened to an entire lesson, let alone take notes, but he knew that you would have a million questions for him when you returned. The notes were his way of saving himself from your relentless interrogation. 

“Figured the little know-it-all would want my notes.” 

“Y/N is feeling a bit under the weather,” Hermione said cautiously. “I can take the notes to her if you’d like.” 

“No.” Mattheo declared rather suddenly. He cleared his throat and attempted to smooth over the sharp response. “No, McGonagall tasked me with it. I don’t want her docking points from my house when she finds out that you did my dirty work for me.”

Hermione raised a brow. “Sure.” The quirk of her mouth told Mattheo that she wasn’t convinced by his excuse. “Well, Y/N is resting up in the tower if you fancy a visit.” 

After a quick detour to the kitchens, Mattheo made his way over to Gryffindor tower. It was surprisingly easy to gain access to the lion’s den. He simply threatened a third year to let him in and got on with it. They truly needed to upgrade their security measures. One glare was all it took for Creevey to crumble and cave. 

With a satisfied smirk, Mattheo walked past the gaudy common room. For Salazar's sake, hadn't the Gryffindors ever heard of subtlety? The decor consisted solely of crimson and gold and the furnishings looked like something out of that muggle show his nan loved to watch—Antiques Roadshow. Antique was right. The worn out couch that he passed looked older than him.

Merlin, now he was starting to sound like Malfoy. Mattheo hurried along before he caught the urge to fold origami notes and chuck it at Potter's head. Fortunately for him, the place was devoid of the Chosen One or anyone for that matter.

By now, his fellow classmates were all in the Great Hall eating dinner, which he was thankful for. It was no secret that Mattheo’s presence wouldn’t be welcome here and he wasn’t really in the mood to fight his way through the Gryffindors just to deliver a note from the kindness of his black heart. Thank Salazar that there wasn’t a single soul in the tower to bicker with. Until he reached your dorm, of course. 

The relationship between the two of you was volatile to say the least. Despite Mattheo’s reputation, you weren’t shy about telling him off. When you were first assigned as partners, Mattheo had fully intended to let you do all the work while he skipped class to smoke, but he quickly realized that this would not be the case. You hunted him down at his hideout in the Astronomy Tower and discovered him blissfully sharing some premium grade mirthroot with Theo and Draco. When you found him, you were so angry that you dragged him by the ear all the way to the library, much to the amusement of his friends. Needless to say, Mattheo never missed a study session again. 

In a way, Mattheo admired you for it. Aside from his friends, everyone in the castle feared him. It was sort of refreshing to have someone call him out on his shit. Especially if that someone was a funny, feisty, ferocious Gryffindor who he enjoyed pestering every chance that he got. Mattheo always did have a penchant for girls with an attitude problem. 

Even as he knocked on your door, the Slytherin boy couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when he heard you grumbling from the other side. 

“Oh, for Godric’s fucking sake, what is it now?” 

The door swung open, revealing a very pissed off Y/N. Clad in striped pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, you placed a hand on your hip and frowned. Even in the throes of sickness, you still somehow managed to inject venom in your glare. Mattheo grinned like an idiot. 

“Nice slippers, princess.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Riddle?” 

“To make sure my partner doesn’t slack.” He waved his set of notes around. “Don’t think your sickness excuses you from studying.”

“This is payback for making you revise with me after you fell off your broom and broke your arm, isn’t it?” 

Mattheo cringed as he recalled the quidditch accident that sent him to the infirmary for a week. In true Y/N fashion, you were sitting by his bedside with a stack of books in your lap the second he woke up. Madam Pomfrey hadn't even put his arm in a sling yet before you were drilling him on proper spell enunciation and wand movements.

“You terrorized the infirmary with your mnemonics,” Mattheo said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s my turn now. This is sweet revenge, Y/N.” 

You squinted at his barely legible handwriting. “I’m just surprised you took your head out of your arse long enough to take notes.” 

“Glad to see that illness hasn’t lessened your bite. If anything, those teeth seem a little sharper than usual.” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at you. “Feeling a bit feral, princess?” 

“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out?” you quipped, baring your teeth at the aggravating boy. 

The gesture appeared intimidating for a full second until you sniffled and launched into a coughing fit, which made Mattheo frown. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Of course I am. I regularly cough my lungs out on nosy Slytherins whose sole purpose of existence is to make my life a living hell.”

He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. The way his brow furrowed strangely resembled concern. Mattheo trained his chocolate brown eyes on you, examining the rosiness of your cheeks and the slight pinch of discomfort in your features.

"You're burning up." Mattheo's hand dropped from your forehead to the side of your neck. He pressed his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the erratic beating of your heart underneath his touch. It was strangely intimate. "You have an elevated heart rate."

You flushed and swatted his hand away. "Well, yes. That usually happens when one is ill."

"Come on, you should sit down."

"Don't tell me what to do, Riddle."

Mattheo rolled his eyes before dragging you by the elbow. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he barged his way into your dorm and walked you over to the bed. You watched as he pulled up a chair next to you before rifling through the contents of his backpack. Out of the sordid mess of his belongings, Mattheo produced a small container of soup. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a spoon. 

“Here, have some of this. It should help.”

As soon as he pried the lid open, the heavenly smell of chicken noodle soup filled your senses. Mattheo scooped up an equal amount of soup and noodle and blew on it to cool it down before tilting it towards you. The sight of him offering you food like you were some helpless toddler was only slightly insulting. You swore to Godric that if Mattheo started making airplane sounds, you’d strangle the bloody twat.

 “I can feed myself, you know.” 

“Just eat the damn soup, Y/N.” 

You rolled your eyes in return, but obliged nonetheless. Despite the source, you could never resist comfort food.

“Chicken noodle soup?” 

As soon as you tasted it, you knew that it wasn’t just soup. It was your favorite soup. The very same one that Winky made every third Wednesday of the month. You knew because you looked forward to it every time. It was even marked on your calendar. That’s how much you liked it. 

Mattheo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know it’s your favorite so I bribed Winky to make some.” 

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “How do you know it’s my favorite?” 

For once in his life, Mattheo looked utterly uncomfortable. He averted his gaze and busied himself by stirring through the carrots and celery. “You, uh, mentioned it in class once.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was the fever talking, but you thought that was sweet. “You remembered that?” 

Mattheo looked up, a stray curl kissing the tops of his cheekbones as he met your gaze. The shy smile on his face was alarmingly endearing. Sometimes when you looked at those angelic curls and stupid big, brown eyes, you forgot that you were supposed to loathe him. “Of course. It’s my favorite too.” 

You chuckled, sniffling a little. “It’s like a hug in a cup, right?” 

The curly headed boy nodded. “It totally is.” 

After you finished the soup, you expected Mattheo to take his leave. Instead, he inspected the vials of potions laying out on your night stand. He read through every label, frowning a little. 

“You should really have some pepperup potion in here.” Mattheo remarked as he arranged the vials one by one. “Are you sure this dose is potent enough? Maybe you should ask them to brew something stronger.” 

“Pomfrey prescribed them herself. No offense, but I think I’ll take her years of healing experience over your expert opinion.” Mattheo gasped rather dramatically, which made you chuckle. “As much as I appreciate the notes and the soup, I don't think it's wise for you to stick around. I’m feeling a bit better, but I might still be contagious.” 

Mattheo shrugged. “It’s alright, I’m not scared of a little cold. Besides, I still have to go over the Transfiguration assignment with you.” 

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll get you sick?” 

“Not really,” he said, waving off your concern. “I know you’re going to pester me about everything you missed in class, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.” 

To your surprise, Mattheo’s notes were extremely detailed.  It was a bit hard to read given his boyish scrawl, but with a little help in translation, you were making great progress in becoming fluent in Riddle. The more Mattheo explained the concepts and ideas that were discussed in each class, the more baffled you were. You've always known that he was smarter than he let on, but this was borderline impressive.

“How do you know all of that?” 

“I asked.”

“You asked?” Mattheo stared blankly at your surprised expression. “You never ask questions in class.” 

“I never had to since you're always there interrogating the professor like the little know-it-all that you are. Thanks to your absence, I had to fill your role in class today.”

You grinned. It grew wider and wider, spreading until your cheeks hurt. Mattheo glared at your joyous expression. “What? What’s that shit eating little grin for?” 

“You missed me.”

Color flooded Mattheo’s cheeks. You were surprised to find how well crimson suited him. It was almost the exact shade of your house colors. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Riddle, you asked questions in class. You took notes for me. You brought me chicken noodle soup." Mattheo flushed as you pointed out the obvious. "You totally missed me.” 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll hex you.” 

“Admit it, Mattheo. Your day was utterly dull without me.” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes, sighing in defeat. “Fine, you’ve got me. I was bored out of my mind without you around. How else am I supposed to pass the time if you’re not there for me to argue with?” 

“There’s plenty of other people in the castle that you could bicker with.”

“Yeah, but they’re not you.” 

He seemed a little shocked by his own statement, but he didn't try to retract it. In fact, Mattheo almost seemed resigned to it.

“Careful, Riddle. It almost sounds like you have a crush on me.” 

“I’d have to be a bloody idiot to fall for a girl who absolutely despises me.” 

“That wasn’t a denial, you know.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose like the very idea of it vexed him, but you caught the little smile he hid beneath his fingers. Mattheo snatched the notes from your hands. “Focus on the lesson, will you?” He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that. Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/N.” 

“You’ll live, Riddle.” You poked a section of his notes that you hadn’t quite deciphered. “Now what in the bloody hell is the Gobstopper Ruffian?” 

“The Goblin Rebellion. Merlin, my handwriting isn't that bad.” 

“Are you kidding? A kindergartner writes more legibly than this.” 

The hours passed while you bickered and bantered. You hated to admit it, but you missed arguing with him too. Laying in bed all day had you positively bored, but yet time passed within the blink of an eye as you went back and forth with Mattheo. Somewhere between discussing the possibility of Longbottom running an underground exotic plant ring and arguing over the best Smiths song, the sun had set over the horizon. Mattheo rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

“You look knackered, Riddle,” you teased, patting the spot beside you. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?”

Chocolate brown eyes widened at you. “Lie down? With you? On your bed?” 

“Yes, that’s typically how people do it.” You smirked as he shot you an apprehensive look. “Unless you’re too scared.”’

Never one to back down from a challenge, Mattheo lifted the covers and gestured for you to make room. “Scoot over, then.” 

The jest seemed to have backfired on you because now Mattheo was crawling into bed and making himself completely at home. All the apprehension from earlier melted as he pulled you against him, his chest pressed against your back as he nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. You stifled a giggle as Mattheo released a satisfied little sigh. 

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you until you were covered in the scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. You never expected to unearth the fact that Mattheo Riddle was a great cuddler, but yet here you were, reaping the benefits of this newfound revelation. He slipped his fingers through yours and nuzzled closer. 

"Who would've known that Mattheo Riddle was such a great cuddler?"

"If you tell anyone—"

"You'll hex me. Put a curse on my family. Set my possessions on fire. Yes, I know, Riddle. You keep threatening me, but you never follow through. I'm starting to think that you're losing your touch."

Mattheo squeezed your hip before twining your legs together. "I wouldn't test me, Y/N. You're in a very vulnerable position right now."

You chuckled as he scooted even closer. "Maybe, but you won't do anything."

"Why's that, princess?"

"You like me too much," you retorted, chuckling as Mattheo buried his face in your hair. "One day without me and you're already a needy mess."

"You infuriate me," Mattheo whispered against your ear. "But you're also the best part of my day. I couldn't imagine fighting with anyone else but you, my dear nemesis."

"I totally loathe you, Mattheo Riddle."

He chuckled as you snuggled into him. "I loathe you too, Y/N Y/L/N."

The irony of the statement contrasted with how tangled up you were wasn't lost on you. For two people who supposedly hated each other, cuddling with your enemy had never felt so right. The steady beat of Mattheo's heart lulled you towards sleep. You were slowly succumbing to its hypnotic lullaby until Mattheo's voice broke through the silence.

“Y/N?” He murmured against your hair.

You shifted, your eyes feeling heavy as his warmth enveloped you. “Hmm?” 

Mattheo’s voice was low and gravelly, flowing like honey in your ears. “This is nice.” 

You smiled against the pillow, staring at your intertwined fingers. “Better than chicken noodle soup?” 

You felt him grin against your skin before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on your temple. “Way better than soup.” 

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @bubybubsters @criesinlies @niktwazny303 @therealallisonspear @athenalikethegoddess @clairesjointshurt @vixzwrites @elle4404

[oblwan]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ THEODORE NOTT ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

NAVIGATION // inbox. tags. writing. library.

— LEGEND

(*) Indicates smut.

— SERIES

kiss with a fist. seven days of summer.

— HEADCANONS

boyfriend! theo. stalker! theo. toxic! theo.

— FICS

baby, won't you be my girl? // pt. 2. written in the stars. shut up kiss me. devil eyes. * green with envy. * poison paradise. * my collar. *

— REQUESTS

heart shaped bruises. here (in your arms). snow on the beach.

© theostrophywife. all works belong to me and should not be reposted in any way or form.

[oblwan]

— kiss with a fist.

SUMMARY

A Ravenclaw with a surly attitude and sharp tongue. A Slytherin with a cocky smirk and sarcastic flair. Combine them together and you get a catastrophic mixture of academic rivalry, witty banter, and late night gelato.

CHAPTERS

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter seven. chapter eight. chapter nine. chapter ten. chapter eleven. chapter twelve. chapter thirteen.

PLAYLIST

kiss with a fist - florence and the machine baby said - måneskin high enough - k. flay bohemian rhapsody - queen me and the devil - soap & skin w.i.t.c.h. - devon cole it's nice to have a friend - taylor swift people i don't like - upsahl only love can hurt like this - paloma faith the way i loved you - taylor swift 18 - one direction those eyes - new west we made it - david hugo