#a boy in flames // musings

[duete]

TAGS

[celestialdetected]

I have had a terrible, evil, awful idea.

Arawn, who wanted so desperately to be human, put in a situation where he has to raise another little girl, a little girl who will become the Everlight herself, a little girl who never gets to be human.

[celestialdetected-moved]

Arawn fights dirty. He has no formal combat training, he taught himself how to use the weapons he fights with, and being short and not very strong his method is "anything that'll get me the upper hand". He'll bite, scratch, throw dirt in his opponent's eyes, anything to make sure he wins. He WILL kick you while you're down, he will go just a little too far to make sure someone he put down doesn't get back up. He fights like a feral street cat.

[zhah-zu]

question for the rengoku fans out there: what do you think might happen to the demon slayer corps if rengoku disappeared after the fight rather than die? as in, he didn't get a hand shoved through his solar plexus, but instead followed after akaza into the forest and kept pursuing him until he absolutely killed him?

[thatssotrueee]

" you know, i'm pretty sure what i am SUPPOSED to say here is ' of all the gin joints in this town ..." cash trailed off, dropping down a beer in front of the girl he considered to possibly be a dream. or a mirage. or maybe a high from coming off a sold out show. any of these are more likely to be true than the reality of her actually being there, sitting nonchalantly on a barstool alone. in a past life, cash might do something stupid like lean over the hug the girl he once thought could maybe be THE ONE. but he was older now. smarter, more mature as his mother had told him the last visit she’d come up for. long gone was the overly hyper underachiever from when she knew him. now, he was in a successful band that had played coachella twice. they had a label. he even had a house, one that he didn’t share with his bandmates. cash was everything a woman was looking for on paper - so why was he so adamant that none of them fit into his happily ever after? why was the one woman still crossing his mind at night, the one that got away from years and years ago? and what was he supposed to do when she showed up at the same bar, as if he dreamed her up? “i uh - what the FUCK are you doing in LA, win? ”

[koishua]

so sad that whenever i get the urge to write and think of which enha boy to write about, i immediately lose that drive :( maybe it's a psych thing bc i already have like 110+ and have been doing it for like four years and im sick of writing but i just discovered that it doesn't happen with hyunjin wowowowow y'all mayhaps he is the new koishua!muse of 2025 instead of hee for the past years

[celestialdetected-moved]

@vchloras

“Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.”

— I’ll Give You The Sun (Jandy Nelson)

[hisfavegirl]

The Serpent’s Flame - Draco Malfoy x Reader.

Summary : Being in your sixth year at Hogwarts meant you were nearly at the top of the food chain, and with your bloodline—the legacy of Salazar Slytherin on your father’s side and the dark, mysterious Gaunt lineage from your mother—you carried a reputation that both intimidated and intrigued. Students whispered about you in the halls. Some feared you, thinking your bloodline gave you a dark edge. Others envied your beauty—long, silver-blonde waves that cascaded past your waist, your tiny frame accentuated by curves most girls only dreamed of. And your emerald green eyes? Hypnotic. Dangerous. Just like a Slytherin should be.

Warning : Smut, Reader is described of having Silver blonde hair and green eyes, Reader is the last bloodline of salazar slytherin after voldemort, Nudity, Semi Public Sexs (Bathroom), Rough Sexs, Fingering, Edging, P in V sexs, Unprotected Sexs.

Draco Malfoy Masterlist.

Wizarding World Masterlist.

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws and @arcielee

The soft echo of your heels against the ancient stone floors of Hogwarts followed you as you strolled alongside Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, the air crisp with that early-winter sharpness that filled the castle in November. Pansy had just delivered a biting remark about a Hufflepuff girl who nearly incinerated the entire left wing of the Potions dungeon, and you let out a low, velvety laugh that lingered in the corridor like perfume.

“Honestly, how do you almost blow up the class with a Calming Draught?” Pansy drawled dramatically.

“Talent,” you mused, your voice as sweet as honey, but threaded with the same venom all Slytherin girls were taught to perfect.

Daphne smirked. “Jealous, Pans? I think you just hate not being the most talked-about disaster in the school.”

You rolled your eyes, lips curved in amusement, fingers grazing your wand tucked discreetly in your thigh holster beneath your skirt. Today, you left your hair down—a rare, silken curtain of long, silver-blonde waves cascading down your back. It shimmered like moonlight with each step. Only Slytherin students ever saw it like this. But today, everyone would.

The towering doors of the Great Hall groaned open under the weight of centuries, and a hush fell over your group as you stepped inside. Your presence pulled heads as if drawn by invisible string—Hufflepuff girls pausing mid-bite, Ravenclaws stealing glances over books, even a few daring Gryffindor boys locking eyes before quickly looking away.

But none of them mattered.

Your gaze found him instantly.

Draco Malfoy.

He sat languidly at the Slytherin table beside Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, his fingers playing idly with the edge of his goblet, but his eyes—those piercing, storm-grey eyes—were already on you. The moment your gaze met his, everything else dulled. Sound, light, movement—it all bled into background.

He was smiling.

Not the cold, calculated smirk he gave to the rest of the world. No, this was different—private, intimate, soft only for you. Like the rare sun behind grey clouds in a storm-wrecked sky. His eyes devoured you slowly, undressing you in a way that made your skin burn beneath your uniform.

You walked toward him, slow and graceful, every sway of your hips deliberate. You were aware of the way his eyes darkened the closer you got. By the time you reached him, the tension crackled like electricity.

Draco stood up before you even reached your seat, pulling out the bench beside him. His hand brushed the small of your back as you slid in, lingering there longer than necessary, thumb tracing slow, subtle circles against your blouse. He leaned in close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“You know what that hair does to me,” he murmured, voice low and sinfully smooth.

You turned to him, your full lips parted just slightly, heart beating like wings in your chest. “That’s why I wore it down today. For you.”

He inhaled, sharp and shallow, his hand now resting fully on your thigh beneath the table, hidden from everyone. The warmth of it spread like fire.

“You’re cruel,” he whispered, voice raw with need, “walking in like that. All sweet and untouched on the outside, but I know better.”

Your eyes glinted with mischief, lashes fluttering as you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Not kissing—almost.

“You like cruel,” you whispered. “You like knowing I’m yours and everyone else just wants.”

He groaned softly under his breath, thumb now pressing into your inner thigh. “I want you now.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence, voice breathy. “Then come find me after dinner… if you can wait that long.”

His jaw clenched, his desire so tangible you could feel it hum through him. From across the table, Blaise and Theo exchanged knowing looks, smirks playing at their lips.

“I give him ten minutes,” Theo muttered.

“Five, if she keeps playing like that,” Blaise replied. But Draco didn’t even hear them. His entire world was you and he was burning.

The golden light of the enchanted ceiling bathed the Great Hall in a twilight glow, but none of it touched the storm brewing in Draco Malfoy’s eyes.

His hand was still on your thigh, fingers tracing patterns with a possessiveness that was becoming more desperate by the second. You were whispering something soft against his jaw, your voice silk-wrapped seduction, when a voice cut through the magic between you.

The sound of it—Harry Potter’s voice—was a blade through silk.

Your head turned, thick silver-blonde hair catching the light like starlight, cascading over your shoulder as you looked up. Harry stood a few feet away, awkward, tense, holding a folded parchment in his hand. His eyes flicked from your face to Draco’s hand beneath the table.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice unusually soft, and that’s when Draco’s body turned rigid beside you.

Like a predator sensing a threat.

You blinked, curiosity creasing your brow as you tilted your head, eyes narrowing slightly. “What is it?”

Before Harry could answer, Draco voice cut him like a thunder.

“That’s enough, Potter,” he said coldly, his voice a low snarl of threat and warning. “You’ve got five seconds to turn around before I forget we’re in the Great Hall.”

Harry’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak. He looked at you once more—something unreadable in his eyes—then turned and walked away, his shoulders tight, fists clenched at his sides.

You exhaled slowly, letting your body relax as you turned back to Draco.

“Was that necessary?” you murmured, more amused than annoyed.

Draco’s eyes stayed fixed on where Harry had walked off, his breath sharp, his jaw locked so tightly you thought it might crack.

“He said your name like he owned it,” he growled.

You shifted closer, the air between you thick, heavy with unspoken emotion and lust that simmered right beneath the surface. One of your hands slid up his thigh under the table, resting on the spot where his hand still gripped you.

“And do you?” you asked softly, tilting your face up to him, lips parted, eyes teasing.

That got his attention.

His gaze snapped to yours, dark and full of fire. “You know I do.”

You smiled, slow and sinful. “Then show me.”

And before he could say another word, you leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t a shy kiss. It wasn’t sweet or soft.

It was claiming.

Your lips molded to his, full and warm, your mouth opening slightly to invite him deeper. His hand slid up your thigh, squeezing possessively, while his other hand tangled in the back of your hair, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until the entire world dropped away.

He tasted like mint and heat, the kind that burned into you and left you gasping. Your body pressed into his beneath the table, your chest brushing his as his tongue slid against yours in slow, unhurried strokes that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

You kissed him like he was oxygen.

He kissed you like you were fire.

When you finally pulled back—lips swollen, breath caught—his eyes searched yours with something fierce, something raw.

“Mine,” he said, so quietly only you could hear it. “Don’t let him near you again.”

You smiled, brushing your lips over his jaw, down to his neck, lingering just long enough to make him shiver. “I won’t. He doesn’t get to touch what belongs to you.”

Draco’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, like he was trying to center himself. When they opened again, they were full of promise—and something darker.

“You’re not going to class after dinner.”

You raised a brow, teasing. “Oh? And where will I be?”

He leaned in, his voice brushing against your lips like a spell. “Bent over the sink in the Prefects’ bathroom with my hands on your hips, making sure you remember who you belong to.”

Your breath caught in your throat, pupils blown wide, heart pounding so loud you were sure the entire table could hear it.

“Then finish your dinner,” you whispered, voice trembling with anticipation, “because I’m not going anywhere.”

The door to the Prefects’ bathroom shut behind you with a resonant click, echoing against the marble and tile like a warning bell. Before the sound even faded, Draco’s wand was in hand, lips curled in a snarl of desire as he cast a nonverbal spell—locking the door and sealing it with silence.

The room was warm with steam, candlelight flickering against the white and gold decor, casting dancing shadows over the water that shimmered in the massive tub like liquid stars.

But Draco didn’t look at any of it.

He was already on you.

His mouth crashed onto yours like a breaking wave—furious, hungry, a man lost in the storm of everything he’d held back all day. You gasped into the kiss, fingers flying into the front of his robes, clutching him as if you were trying to steady yourself on something that was already pulling you under.

“Fuck, I waited all day,” he growled against your lips, his hands gripping your waist with bruising heat.

You whimpered into his mouth as he walked you backward, and you knew exactly where he was taking you. One swift tug and your leg was lifted—his fingers digging into your thigh as he wrapped it around his waist, his hips grinding into yours through layers of fabric, teasing just enough to drive you mad.

“Draco,” you breathed, voice already wrecked, and the sound made him growl low in his throat like an animal barely restrained.

He kissed you harder.

There was no gentleness. No softness. Just raw, desperate need.

His tongue parted your lips again, claiming, deep, overwhelming. The kiss tasted like every ounce of possessiveness and frustration he’d bottled all day—watching Harry say your name, watching you smile at someone who wasn’t him.

He pressed you to the edge of the sink, lifting you up with ease, both hands gripping your thighs as he forced them wider around him. His palms slid to your ass, squeezing firmly, pulling you against him. The moan that left your lips was so helpless, so breathless, it made his jaw clench.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he rasped against your neck, dragging his lips down to taste your skin. “Walking in with your hair down… like you didn’t know exactly what that would do to me.”

You gasped as his teeth grazed your throat, your fingers twisting in his soft platinum hair. “I did,” you whispered, wicked and breathless. “I wanted you desperate.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, and what you saw in his gaze made your whole body ache.

“Then congratulations,” he said, voice dark and low, “because I am. I’ve never wanted anything like I want you.”

Your breath caught, lips trembling.

“Prove it.”

And just like that, he was on you again—kissing you with reckless intensity. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to kiss you harder. The other stayed firm on your hip, grounding you as he pressed forward between your thighs, grinding slow, hard, making your whole body tremble with every movement.

You were gasping into his mouth now, dizzy with it, with him, and the way his dominance poured into every kiss, every touch. He was everywhere—hands, mouth, body—owning you completely.

“I hate when anyone else says your name,” he muttered against your lips. “Hate when they look at you.”

“Then claim me,” you whispered, your voice low, ruined with want.

He growled, deep and primal, and for a second he just stared at you—chest heaving, lips swollen, eyes burning with a mix of love, obsession, and something far darker.

“I already have,” he said. “But I’ll do it again. And again. Until there’s no part of you that doesn’t know you belong to me.”

Your whole body pulsed with that promise. You didn’t need candles or silk sheets or whispered poetry. You needed him—here, now, and exactly like this.

And as he leaned in again, dragging your lips back to his with bruising, breathless need, you surrendered to every dark, delicious piece of him.

The mirrors fogged with every breath you took, the scent of heated skin and candle wax curling in the air like a spell. The cool marble sink pressed against the back of your thighs, your skirt bunched up carelessly around your waist. Draco stood between your legs like a storm in human form—his breath uneven, his lips swollen from kissing you senseless, and his gaze… ravenous.

His hand slipped under your skirt again, and this time he stilled.

His breath hitched.

You saw the shift in his eyes immediately—like a fuse had been lit.

“You’re not wearing panties,” he muttered, voice rough, low, and shaking with restraint.

Your lips parted, a whisper of a smirk forming on your kiss-bruised mouth. “Not since breakfast.”

His groan was guttural—frustrated, hungry, and sinful all at once.

“Fuck,” he breathed, like the word had been dragged from the deepest part of him.

You were about to tease him again, when he suddenly gripped your hips hard, and before you could gasp, two long fingers thrust into you—deep, hard, with no warning.

Your moan tore from your throat as your head fell back against the mirror behind you. His fingers didn’t hesitate. They curled inside you just right, pressing against that devastating spot he’d memorized like a spell, and your thighs instinctively squeezed around his wrist.

“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he whispered against your throat, kissing just below your jaw, voice dark and possessive. “Walking around all day like that. Letting the whole damn castle wonder what you’ve got on under that little Slytherin skirt.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, fingers gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles turned white.

“Do you even know what that does to me?” he growled, thrusting his fingers deeper, harder. “Knowing no one else knows how wet you are for me—but I do. I always do.”

You cried out, your body arching off the sink as he curled his fingers again, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his thumb brushing against your clit with maddening slowness. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted me desperate. Wanted me angry.”

His voice dropped lower, turning darker.

“Little tease. You’re so fucking filthy, aren’t you? Sitting in class, legs crossed like a good girl, while you drip onto the seat under you. No panties. No shame.”

“Draco,” you gasped, your voice wrecked, body trembling.

He leaned in, mouth right by your ear. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you moaned, your walls clenching around his fingers, every nerve set ablaze.

“Say you did it for me.”

Your lips parted, a breath catching on your tongue. “I didn’t wear them… because I wanted you to lose control.”

And Merlin, did he.

He cursed under his breath, his fingers thrusting even faster, harder, relentless. His body pressed against you, trapping you in his arms, overwhelming you with the smell of him—cologne, sweat, lust.

You couldn’t hold back the sounds now—not when he was unraveling you with every curl of his fingers, every word dripping filth into your ear.

“You’re mine,” he snarled softly. “Every inch of you. And you’ll never go without them again unless I tell you to. Understood?”

Your body arched, overwhelmed by the wave building inside you.

“Yes—yes, Draco—please—”

“Not yet,” he hissed, pulling his hand away suddenly, leaving you aching, gasping, trembling.

You whimpered from the loss, your body shaking in need.

But Draco’s eyes were molten, burning with possession, and his mouth pressed against yours in a kiss that promised you hadn’t even seen the worst of him yet.

“You want to be my filthy little thing?” he murmured against your lips. “Then beg.”

Your breath came in sharp gasps, skin flushed and damp, as you reached out with desperate fingers and took Draco’s hand—still wet from where it had just been inside you. You guided it back between your legs, aching for the pressure, the rhythm, him.

But before you could get it where you needed, he growled—a deep, territorial sound—and yanked his hand back with a firm grip that made your whole body jolt.

“No,” he said roughly, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. “That’s not how this works.”

Your fingers tightened on the edge of the sink as your thighs trembled, frustration and need burning hot through you.

“Draco, please,” you gasped, but he only raised an eyebrow, watching you with a slow, smug tilt of his head.

“Look at you,” he whispered, dragging the backs of his fingers down the inside of your thigh, never quite where you needed. “So needy… shaking for me already. And you really thought you could take control?”

His hand hovered there—close, so close—but never touching. You reached down with your own fingers this time, slipping between your slick folds and thrusting into yourself with a pace that tried to match what he had done before. Your moan echoed through the bathroom, high and aching.

But it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t him.

Draco watched, gaze darkening, jaw clenched, as you tried to pleasure yourself in front of him—hips rolling, body straining, breath ragged. But there was no satisfaction in it. It only made the emptiness sharper. It made your body ache even more.

Your lip trembled. “It’s not the same,” you whispered.

His chuckle was low and wicked. “Of course it’s not,” he said, stepping closer, gripping your wrist and stopping your hand. “Because these—” he guided your fingers out and held your hand between you, slick and trembling— “aren’t mine.”

You whimpered, your knees threatening to give out.

“Say it,” he said, voice velvet and steel. “Say no one can make you feel the way I do.”

Your chest heaved, green eyes wide and glassy as you looked at him.

“No one,” you whispered. “No one, Draco. Please, I need—”

“You need what?” he murmured, brushing his lips against your cheek, then your jaw. “Say it. Properly.”

“I need you,” you choked out. “I need your fingers. Your mouth. Your cock. All of it. I need you. Please, Draco, I can’t—”

That was all it took.

The sharp edge of his restraint cracked in half. His eyes blazed as he growled into your mouth, crashing his lips to yours in a brutal kiss. His hand slid between your legs again, and this time, there was no teasing. No slow build.

His fingers thrust back inside you with the same devastating rhythm as before, curling just right, dragging helpless sobs from your throat as your nails raked down his shoulders. The pleasure exploded in white-hot flashes, your body melting and tightening all at once under his dominance.

“Mine,” he growled again and again, breath ragged against your neck. “You don’t touch yourself unless I say. You don’t come unless it’s by me.”

Your fingers clutched at his robes, holding on for dear life as he pushed you to the edge, again and again, the tension between you snapping like a whip in the air.

And you would’ve fallen—shattered and ruined in the best possible way—but his lips brushed your ear as he slowed, pulling back just enough to make you cry out again.

“I’m not done teaching you what happens,” he whispered, “when you forget who owns every inch of you.”

Your moan cracked into a sob of pleasure, your body trembling as Draco’s fingers refused mercy. Each thrust was precise, cruel in how perfectly they curled, making your thighs shake and your breath hitch.

“Draco,” you gasped, your head falling back against the mirror. “I—can’t—I’m—”

But he didn’t slow. He didn’t let up.

He was watching you, eyes dark and locked on your face as though trying to burn every sound and expression into his memory. And then—just when you thought you were going to tip into bliss—he groaned low in his throat, the sound thick with want.

You blinked through your haze just in time to see his free hand move. He tugged at his belt with rough fingers, popped the button, and dragged the zipper down. The sound alone sent a fresh wave of need through you.

“Draco?” you whispered, breathless and trembling.

His eyes never left yours.

He withdrew his fingers from you slowly—cruelly slow—and your body cried out at the loss. A high, helpless sound escaped your lips, your hips shifting toward him in pure instinct.

But he only smirked, gripping his now-freed length in his hand, the tip flushed and aching.

“You think I’m going to let you come without me?” he rasped, voice thick with dominance and need. “After the way you teased me all day—after you begged me like that?”

He stepped in closer, the head of his cock brushing your slick folds. You whimpered, your fingers clutching at his arms, nails digging in.

“You’re mine,” he said again, and then—

He thrust into you in one sharp, punishing stroke.

Your cry echoed through the tiled room, body arching hard against the sink, back bowed from the sudden stretch and heat and overwhelming fullness. It was too much—and not enough.

He was buried deep, deeper than his fingers ever reached, and you felt every inch of him. The thick, throbbing pulse of his cock inside you, the way he fit so perfectly, like you’d been made for him.

Draco groaned against your neck, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he held you in place. “So tight,” he breathed. “So fucking perfect around me.”

You couldn’t even form words—your hands flew up to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he started to move. His pace was ruthless from the start, every thrust rocking you back into the mirror, each one followed by a hiss of pleasure from his lips.

The tension in the air was unbearable. The scent of sex, the heat of your bodies, the way you both breathed each other in like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“You wanted this,” Draco snarled softly, kissing your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. “Walking around without your panties… so cocky… so filthy.”

“Draco—” you moaned, your voice wrecked.

“You thought you could drive me insane and not pay for it?” he growled, his thrusts slamming harder, faster. “I’m going to fuck you so deep, you won’t be able to think about anyone but me.”

Tears welled in your eyes—not from pain, but from the overwhelming force of it all. The way he filled you, possessed you, ruined you so thoroughly that nothing existed outside of this moment.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said between clenched teeth, his rhythm unrelenting.

“I’m yours,” you cried, sobbing against his shoulder. “I’m yours—I’ve always been—”

He kissed you hard, a messy, claiming kiss that was all tongue and teeth and desperation.

He pulled back just far enough to press his forehead against yours, his pace never faltering, his breath hot on your lips.

“You feel that?” he whispered, low and dangerous. “That’s me. Only me.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, moaning into his mouth as your body started to break apart beneath his.

The bathroom was filled with the symphony of slick skin, ragged breathing, and your broken cries of his name. The sound of Draco’s hips meeting yours echoed off the stone walls, relentless and sharp, a perfect rhythm that made your entire body tremble with every slam of his hips.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, your thighs shaking around his waist, and your head lolled back helplessly as his cock kept hitting that perfect spot inside you—over and over again. Your eyes rolled, jaw slack, breath catching in short sobs of pleasure.

“Right there,” you gasped, voice high and broken. “Draco—oh, my god—there—”

He growled deep in his chest, watching the way your body responded—how your breasts bounced wildly with every brutal thrust, how your legs twitched around him. His eyes darkened with hunger, possession, adoration.

“You’re a fucking vision,” he rasped, one hand sliding to your waist, the other coming up to grope at your breast, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper. “Look at you. You can’t even think, can you?”

You shook your head desperately, but no words would come. Just moans. Just his name tumbling over and over off your lips like it was the only thing left in your mind.

“Completely cockdrunk for me,” he growled with a twisted smirk, slamming into you harder, faster—each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs. “You love this. Love when I take you like this. When I ruin you.”

Your eyes fluttered, your body arching like a bow, caught between the searing edge of too much and not enough. You tried to respond, to say yes, please, always, but all you could manage was a loud, wrecked cry of his name.

“Say it,” Draco demanded, panting hard against your neck. “Tell me who does this to you. Who you belong to.”

“You—Draco!” you sobbed, lost in the haze of it all. “Only you. Always you. Please—don’t stop—”

His hands gripped you harder, fingers sinking into your hips, dragging your body onto him even deeper. He was in complete control—every move calculated to push you further, to watch you fall apart.

“I could watch you fall apart like this every damn day,” he whispered against your ear, voice thick with dark affection. “So perfect. So desperate. So mine.”

Your vision blurred as the knot inside you tightened, twisting hotter and hotter with every brutal thrust, every filthy word from his lips, every stroke of his body against yours.

And he felt it—felt you spiraling, clenching tighter around him, dragging him closer to his own edge.

“Come for me,” he commanded, slowing just enough to grind deep, right against that spot again. “Show me how much you need me.”

When you shattered, it was silent for a second—like the whole world held its breath. And then you sobbed his name so loud it echoed, your entire body shaking as you convulsed around him.

Draco didn’t stop—he rode it out, watching your face, the way your lips trembled, the tears on your cheeks, your blissed-out, cockdrunk expression like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

You trembled in his arms, your body still quaking from the intensity of your climax, your breath short and gasping—but Draco didn’t stop.

Not even close.

He was still moving inside you with an unforgiving rhythm, his hips snapping against yours, cock dragging through your oversensitive walls like he was determined to leave his mark. The pleasure had tipped over into something almost unbearable, a wildfire dancing along every nerve ending—but still, you took it. Because it was him.

“Draco—” you whimpered, voice broken, hands scrambling for purchase against his back. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled into your ear, biting lightly at your lobe. “You will. You’re gonna take everything I give you.”

The hand on your waist gripped tighter, and the other slid up, fingers curling beneath your chin until he was forcing your head back, making you look into his eyes. They were wild, half-lidded, pupils blown wide with dark lust and something far deeper.

“You feel that?” he asked, voice low and rough. “The way you’re still clenching around me, sucking me back in like you don’t want to let go?”

You cried out as he angled his hips differently—deeper, harder, making your walls flutter helplessly again, dragging you toward a second peak far too soon.

“You love this,” he whispered. “Love how I don’t let you go. How I fuck you like you’re mine.”

“Draco—please—” your words dissolved into a whimper, your body betraying you, tightening around him again like it was begging for more.

He groaned, head dropping to your shoulder for a moment as your body pulsed around him again. His control was fraying—he could feel it—but it only made him rougher, more desperate.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re gonna make me lose my damn mind.”

And then he pulled back enough to look at you, his hand still firm on your jaw, holding you in place so you couldn’t look away.

“When we get back to our dorm,” he said darkly, his voice like gravel, “I’m going to bend you over our bed and do it all over again.”

You whimpered—loud, involuntary—and your body clenched around him so hard he nearly dropped to his knees.

He smirked. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to ruin you again. Have you screaming into our sheets.”

Your nails raked down his back as you nodded, nearly delirious from the overstimulation, from how deep he was inside you, from the possessive fire in his voice. “Yes—yes—please, Draco…”

“You’re gonna fall asleep with my come still dripping out of you,” he snarled, snapping his hips harder now, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the chamber like something sacred, something obscene.

“And when you wake up,” he panted, “I’ll still be inside you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from how intensely you felt him, how much he overwhelmed every part of you. You felt him getting close, his rhythm growing erratic, the edge in his voice raw now, ragged.

“Say it,” he breathed. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you sobbed. “You, Draco. I’m yours—always.”

And with one final, punishing thrust, he groaned your name like it burned him, burying himself to the hilt, his whole body trembling as he emptied inside you.

He didn’t move for a long moment—just held you against the sink, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling, bodies still connected, still pulsing together like one. His hand slid down your cheek, his voice quieter now but no less intense.

“You drive me insane,” he whispered. “And I’ll never stop wanting you.”

You leaned into him, eyes fluttering closed as your fingers found his hair, soft now, comforting despite the ache in your limbs.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered back.

He smiled—dark and soft all at once.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Draco’s arms were firm around you, his stride purposeful as he carried you through the dimly lit corridors of the Slytherin common room. Your head rested weakly against his chest, breath still shallow, limbs boneless from what he’d done to you in the prefects’ bathroom—twice.

The soft crackle of the fire flickered across emerald stone walls, casting shadows as the room buzzed with low conversation. But it all came to a halt the moment the door swung open and Draco stepped inside, your limp, well-fucked form in his arms.

Pansy’s eyes widened. Daphne covered her mouth. Blaise arched a brow and let out a low whistle.

Theodore groaned, tossing his quill on the table. “Again?”

Draco didn’t even slow. His smirk was slow, arrogant, smug in the way only he could be. “She’s exhausted,” he drawled without glancing at them. “Can’t even walk. Thought I’d carry what’s mine.”

Your face flushed against his chest, but you didn’t protest. You couldn’t. You were still trembling, your thighs sticky, your throat raw from moaning his name into stone and silk. Your fingers curled weakly into the collar of his robes as he carried you past your staring friends.

Blaise gave a low chuckle, muttering something about “needing soundproofing spells.”

Draco’s smirk only deepened as he approached the stairs. “Don’t wait up.”

The door to your shared dorm clicked shut behind you, sealing you away from the world. The moment it did, the air shifted. Still thick with the heat between you, with possession and passion that hadn’t yet burned out.

He set you down on the bed gently, the first sign of softness since he had taken you hours ago. But the glint in his storm-grey eyes told you he wasn’t done—not by a long shot.

You tried to sit up, but your muscles ached. Your body trembled with exhaustion, overstimulated and aching in the most delicious way.

Draco leaned over you, brushing your hair back from your face, his thumb gliding softly across your cheek. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Good.”

“Draco…” your voice was hoarse, breathless, pleading—but even now, even broken open like this, you were still looking at him like he hung the stars.

He kissed you slowly this time. No rush. Just a claiming, a reminder.

“Think anyone else would ever see you like this?” he whispered against your lips. “Laid out. Weak. Trembling just from me?”

You shook your head, and he smiled—sharp, wicked, proud.

“Didn’t think so.”

He trailed kisses down your jaw, your throat, his fingers slowly undoing the rest of your clothes. But this time wasn’t about urgency. It was about ownership. Worship.

“You were made for me,” he breathed, eyes scanning every inch of you like he still couldn’t believe you were real. “And I’ll spend every night reminding you.”

Your hand found his hair, fingers sinking into those soft, pale strands. “You already have,” you whispered.

Draco hovered above you, his forehead pressed against yours, and for a brief moment, his eyes weren’t clouded by lust—but something deeper. Fiercer.

“I’ll never let you go,” he said softly. “Never.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I don’t want you to,” you whispered.

And in that quiet, tangled space, surrounded by soft sheets and flickering candlelight, he kissed you again—not to dominate, not to conquer—but to claim.

The moonlight spilled through the tall windows of your shared dorm, casting pale silver onto your skin like liquid stardust. The fire burned low in the hearth, its soft crackle the only sound besides your breathless moans and the rustle of the sheets as Draco moved over you like a shadow possessed.

His hands framed your waist, fingers possessive, reverent—like he was reminding himself this wasn’t a dream. That you were real. His.

He hovered above you, his eyes hooded with need as they raked over your body. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Every inch of you is perfect. You don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were swallowed by a gasp as his lips wrapped around your nipple, hot and soft and overwhelming. Your back arched off the bed, a breathless moan escaping you as you instinctively threaded your fingers into his hair, tugging tightly.

Draco groaned low against your skin, the vibration sending tingles straight through your chest. He didn’t stop—he sucked harder, his tongue swirling deliberately, almost cruelly, around the sensitive bud. His other hand slid over the curve of your breast, fingers squeezing and massaging to match the rhythm of his mouth.

“Draco,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by the twin sensations—his mouth, his hand, his heat pressing you down into the mattress.

He chuckled darkly against your skin, pulling off with a soft, wet pop. “You’re so sensitive tonight,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin as he spoke. “You like when I touch you like this, don’t you?”

You nodded, dazed and breathless, your voice barely a whisper. “Yes… always.”

That answer made his eyes flare. He lowered his mouth again, trailing his tongue across your other breast, flicking teasingly before his lips closed around your nipple once more. Your moans turned desperate, thighs shifting beneath him, seeking friction, seeking more.

He grinned against your chest. “So eager,” he breathed. “I haven’t even started yet.”

His voice was like velvet and fire, and you whimpered as he gently bit down—just enough to make you shiver—before sucking again, deeper this time, more possessive.

“Mine,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Every part of you.”

Your hands trembled in his hair, and when he finally pulled away, your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. He looked up at you, hair tousled from your grip, lips glistening, and that wicked gleam in his eyes.

He kissed your sternum, slow and lingering, then moved up to hover over you. His hand cupped your face gently, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip.

“You drive me mad, you know that?” he whispered. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You reached up, caressing his jaw, your voice soft and shaken. “Then show me.”

His smirk returned, full of promise and wicked heat.

“Oh, I intend to.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white, as Draco finally pushed inside you—one hard, deep thrust that stole the breath from your lungs. The stretch was immediate, the fullness intense, and your back arched off the bed with a cry that he swallowed in a kiss.

“Merlin,” he growled into your mouth, voice ragged, “you feel like you were made for me.”

His hips didn’t hesitate. His pace was brutal from the start—rhythmic, punishing, like he had no intention of going slow. The bed creaked under the force of his movements, protesting each thrust as he drove himself deeper into you, again and again, without mercy.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, trying to hold onto something, anything, as the pressure inside you built quickly, dizzyingly. His cock hit that spot inside you with precision, every time, like he knew—and of course he did. He knew your body better than anyone ever could. He studied it like a sacred text and mastered it like a spell.

You cried out his name, over and over, your voice shaking with each slam of his hips, and he loved it—every sound, every tremble, every time you clenched tighter around him like you couldn’t help it.

“Louder,” Draco snarled against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. “Let them all hear how good I fuck you.”

You whimpered, half from his words, half from the way your body was unraveling beneath him. He gripped your hips tighter, pulling you into each thrust with force, his nails digging into your skin, marking you.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze—stormy grey, dark with hunger, fierce with something deeper. His expression twisted with pleasure as he watched your face, saw you lose yourself completely under him.

“You’re mine,” he said, like a vow. “No one else will ever have you like this. No one can.”

You nodded through the haze, your voice breaking. “Yours… always.”

The words made him snarl with satisfaction. He leaned down and kissed you fiercely, his pace never slowing, never faltering. He poured all of it into you—every ounce of control, of possession, of worship twisted with desire.

You didn’t know how long he kept going—minutes? Hours? Time didn’t exist in that room. There was only the sound of your gasps, his groans, the sharp slap of skin against skin, and the bed that shook beneath you.

When your body finally gave out—shaking, aching, overwhelmed—Draco still didn’t stop. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he buried his face in your neck.

“You take me so well,” he whispered. “You always do.”

And in that raw, breathless space between madness and devotion, you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Because he was.The room was thick with heat, the air heavy with every moan, every gasp, every echo of skin meeting skin. Your body trembled beneath Draco’s, completely spent, completely his—but he didn’t stop.

He hadn’t slowed since your release—if anything, his thrusts had grown more relentless. Your limbs had gone limp, boneless from pleasure, eyes glazed in the haze of overwhelming sensation. Yet Draco, with that unyielding fire in his eyes, wasn’t finished.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat when he suddenly shifted, his strong hands curling under your thighs. He lifted them with ease, placing your legs over his shoulders. The angle shifted everything—deeper, fuller, blinding.

You cried out, head rolling back against the pillow, hands clutching the sheets as his cock slammed into that spot inside you over and over again with ruthless precision.

“Oh god—Draco—” you choked out, voice wrecked from pleasure.

His pace didn’t falter. If anything, your reaction only spurred him on. He looked down at you, chest heaving, golden hair clinging to his temples with sweat. And then he saw it.

A low, guttural moan left his throat as his hand moved to your lower belly, fingers brushing the slight bulge with awe and wicked satisfaction.

“Look at that,” he growled, voice rough with arousal. “You’re so full of me… I can see myself inside you.”

You sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure, your body twitching with each brutal thrust. The pressure, the stretch, the weight of his words—it all tangled together until your senses blurred.

Draco leaned down, your thighs pushed tighter against your chest, his pace never letting up. His lips brushed your ear, voice low and possessive.

“This is how I want you,” he whispered, breath warm. “Laid out, ruined, trembling—so full of me you can’t think straight.”

You whimpered, barely able to nod, and he kissed your jaw with unexpected tenderness despite the roughness of his movements.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice gentling for just a moment. “Let go, baby. I’ll hold you together.”

And with those words, your body shattered again, a wave of bliss crashing through you so hard it left you gasping for breath, clinging to him like he was the only thing tethering you to earth.

Draco moaned loudly as you clenched around him, and he drove in deeper, grinding against that spot until your vision blurred. He was wild, wrecked, lost in the feel of you, in the way your body molded to his like it was made for him alone.

When he finally stilled inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck, he didn’t pull away. He stayed wrapped around you, as if grounding himself in your warmth, in your surrender.

His lips pressed softly against your cheek, then your collarbone.

“I’m never letting you go,” he murmured.

And in your dazed, blissful silence—you believed him.

Tag List : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @hayleythecannibal @ceoofglytchell @ashblooddragons @laedeviour @venusbyline

[mediumgayitalian]

“Will, the harpies don’t touch Apollo kids.”

Will scowls, crossing his arms. “I have no idea who started that rumour.”

Nico raises his eyebrows. “It’s not true?”

Instead of responding, Will lifts the edge of his shirt, cocking his hip slightly so it’s easier to see the skin in the low light. Nico leans in closer, squinting, tracing cold fingers over the raised white scar. Will shivers.

“That’s harpy alright.” He whistles. “They got you good.”

“I was nine years old and mislead,” Will grumbles, pulling his shirt back down. He catches Nico’s hand in the process. “Cecil said we would be fine. Cecil is a liar and a fraud.”

“Hermes kids often are.”

Nico could be a Hermes kid, honestly. Beyond the insane poker ability, there’s a…bend, to his smile, something knowing and quick and crooked, as fleeting as the flash of his sharp canines and absolutely impossible to miss. Will swallows, a couple times, fighting the dryness of his throat that pops up like clockwork at the turn of that teasing grin, at the gold in his river-mud black eyes. Nico smiles like he’s about to sell you back what he stole for ten times the price, and Will falls for the scam every time.

“Well, it was — whatever.”

He can’t quite find his train of thought, flexing his newly damp palms, shrugging at the itch at the back of his neck. Nico’s grin flashes again like he knows it’s there, like he can see the neurons crashing into each other in Will’s head, like he can hear the pounding of his heart.

“Eloquent.”

“Shut up.”

He snorts, rocking back on his heels, turning his gaze out to the common. The braziers burn low, sprites of flame crackling up to the heaven, winking back at the tittering stars. Wind hums gently through the silver poplar trees outside Cabin 13, and cicadas and fireflies sing lowly back, swelling and crashing in sync with far-off waves. If it weren’t for regular screeches of angry bird-women, it would be beautiful. Breathtaking.

Will’s not nine anymore. Apollo kids may not have immunity, but he’s fast. Uncommonly so. Realistically, he can make the sprint from Nico’s cabin to his long before the harpies notice, let alone descend in a wrath of feathers and fury.

And yet.

“I haven’t seen a harpy devour someone in ages,” Nico muses. “I bet they’re pretty hungry.”

Will scowls. “Oh, shut up.”

Nico grins wider. “Bet they’re chomping at the bit for a real meal of the delicious golden boy flesh they tasted so long ago.”

“I hate you.”

“Bet they’re watching you. Waiting.” He wiggles his fingers, hiking up his shoulders and twisting his face. “Wi-ill, Wi-ill, come out come out, come break curfew —”

He laughs when Will shoves him, cackling louder than the she-demons, choking on his own horrible impression of their shrieking voices. His laugher rises in the damp-humid night, dancing in the leftover campfire smoke and resting heavy on Will’s shoulders, and it is gravelly and low and Will is weak, weak, weak. Weak for the sound of it the feel of it the taste of it, curling up hot in his belly, zapping up and down his veins at the speed of sound, forcing the breath out of his lungs in an awed sort of exhale, a sigh he could not stop if he tried.

“C’mon, you weenie.” Nico wipes the tears out of his eyes and holds out his hand, flexing his fingers. “I’ll walk you home.”

There is no world in which Will doesn’t reach out and slide their fingers together, no world in which his vision doesn’t swim at the contact, his throat turn to sand, his knees to leaves and twine. Nico is freezing, like he always is, and it zips through Will so quickly he barely manages to choke down the gasp that bubbles out of him.

“You got harpy immunity, now?”

Nico grins, and this time it’s sharp on purpose, this time it’s wide and more crooked than a thief’s and sharp as the deadliest of knives, wide and cocksure and knowing, knowing, knowing.

“Don’t worry, princess. They won’t come near you.”

Will follows him across the common with a heart so cold it burns.

[saeist]

a/n: alternate universe where touya didn't go insane and goes to UA :] dedicated to the loml @saerins cus we're on our touya brainrot + went a little insane with this instead...

"jesus doll, excited now are we?" touya muses, a smirk on his lips as he lets you push him inside your small and cramped bathroom.

rolling your eyes, you motioned him to sit down on the toilet lid while you prepare the shower. making sure the water is just the right temperature or else you might burn touya's head off when you rinse the hairdye off his hair

"is this the part where you remove your shirt and i suck on a titty?" touya says more of a statement rather than a cheeky question. you stop yourself from hitting the boy that has his signature lopsided smirk with the shower head you were currently holding

with an exasperated sigh and a pinch to your nose bridge, you answer him

"just shut up for once, touya. besides, won't your dad kill you if he found out you're dying your hair black? or did you forget that he almost kicked you out of the house when he saw your piercings for the first time?" you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend who decided at the last minute to dye his hair as a sign of "rebellion against his "uptight, stick far up his ass dad" his words, not yours

"he can manage" touya huffs, scoffing at the memory of his dad yelling at him for acting and starting to look like a good for nothing delinquent or in endeavour's words, a villain. "it's not like it's my duty to keep our image of a "perfect family". if only the rest of the world knew what its like to have endeavor as your deadbeat dad!"

touya and endeavour never really got a long per say.. at least that's what touya tells you whenever he had a shit day training with endeavor. days where he would train with his dad were usually days where he'd opt to spend the night at your dorm. away from all the chaos inside the todoroki estate that he unfortunately refers to as his home

but to touya, at the end of the day, you are his home. his peace, his serenity, his anchor in this world where hell could break loose at any given moment

"don't give me that look, doll" touya sighs, shoulders dropping when he noticed you were staring at him.

"i just don't want to see you hurt all over again. you almost gave me a heart attack that one time when you showed up here unannounced" you pout, letting touya slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

touya’s arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “i can handle the old man. it’s his problem if he can’t accept me for who i am,” he mutters, resting his forehead against your stomach

"i mean, he already stopped giving a shit when he realized i can't withstand my flames, so who am i to give a shit back after everything he did to me?" touya continues, his grip tightening

you run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the warmth of his presence. “shhh, we already talked about this" you shush him, "all i'm saying is that i just want you to be safe, touya. i can’t stand seeing you hurt,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry.

he looks up at you, his usual smirk replaced with a rare, sincere expression. “i know, doll. i know." touya presses light kisses on your stomach, "but I have to be true to myself, even if it means pissing off endeavor” he chuckles, the pads of his thumb rubbing circles on your exposed skin

you both stay in that position in silence for a bit. just finding comfort with each other's presence. just the way touya likes it. nice and quiet. a contrast to his daily hellish life back at his own home

that is until touya starts to feel his scalp burn a little

"okay fun time's over, doll. my scalp's startin' to kill me here" touya shudders, slowly unwrapping his arms around you as he reaches for the shower head in your hand.

you stifle in your laughter watching him make a fuss inside your cramped bathroom.

that is until, you remembered that your bathroom tiles were pearly white and if he's rinsing off black hairdye then–

"TOUYA MY TILES!" you let out a screech

"too late, doll" touya pokes his tongue out at you, hair dye getting all over your walls and cold tiles.

you were gonna pay one hefty fine if you don't clean this shit up as soon as possible.

now, touya sits on your bed. drying his freshly dyed jet black hair with a towel and you're not even gonna lie to yourself. he looked a little too good for your liking. touya has always been a looker himself but with this new hairdo.. oh lord

"why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?" touya chuckles, hanging the now stained towel around his neck as he leans back on your bed with his elbows propped. he was giving you bedroom eyes, quite literally and figuratively.

what a tease!

"nothing. just making sure that i'm still talking to touya and not his emo alter ego dabi" you mused, plopping down on your bed next to him.

touya laughs at your comment. eyes turning into crescent moons

“thanks for everything, y/n,” touya says softly, voice full of genuine love and appreciation.

your heart swells at the sight of touya like this. you would move mountains if you could just to see touya– your touya happy.

"i love you, touya" you lean in for a kiss. to which touya happily returns the favor.

"i love you more than life, doll." touya smiles lazily against the kiss, cranking his neck to the side for more access as he deepens the kiss.

moments like these with you is when touya feels like he's on top of the world and he hopes it will forever stay like this cause to touya, he can face anything the world throws at him when he knows you'll be there right by his side

[endless-ineffabilities]

the sapphire and his sun

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Musings about Aemond Targaryen and the only one he truly needs. His one true hope and love. His beloved wife.

a/n : i had to write something after that episode! holy Aemond! This pretty much wrote itself and I could expand it in the future ~ if inspiration strikes true!

word count : <2k ▪︎ masterlist

Aemond used to think his only solace was himself.

His mother had never been much of a mother in her own right, too muddled in the web of deceit that she and Otto spin at their fancy. Criston posited as something of a father figure, but his true loyalty is to his Queen. His brother has always been a wastrel, and his sister wasting away in her own mind.

Aemond never had anyone. Not truly.

Until you.

He still remembers the day you walked into his life, a lone ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds of stormy grey. You appeared to be a frail-hearted young lady, eager to please and to be a devoted wife to her prince. All the while he saw your spirit dimmed from being offered by her House to be Prince Aemond's newly betrothed.

All to secure an alliance.

There was no promise of loyalty or love. Being the prince, he is able to take into bed any whore he wishes. But one look at you - just the one - and all thought of any other lover vanished from his mind.

The first night he was supposed to take you to bed and consummate your marriage, the meek cast in your eyes had disappeared, and in its place a defiant glint he hadn't seen before.

"If I am to be used by my prince, I will do it with the remaining shred of my dignity. I will not cry, I will not beg for a life I have already lost. If all that I am now is a vessel for duty, then so be it." You looked at him, as if for the first time, and with the flames dancing across your face, Aemond would remember that moment as when his sun first shone down on him.

He felt his anger flare for but a moment, his constant fear of being betrayed taking over him. Had everything been an act? Was this to be a marriage of unpleasantry and resentment?

But it quickly dawned on him that the act - the betrayal - was that if his wife was willing to play a fool and dance under his strings like some marionette.

He preferred this. He preferred you.

"Mayhaps I will not bed you tonight, my lady wife. Not yet," he had said, your face slowly twisting in surprise. "I will let you keep more than just your dignity, for you will also possess the choice. Trust that it is only for the time being, at least, until it is imperative that I produce an heir. From this moment forward, I swear to take no else to bed as it is my oath as your husband."

He watched the minute switches in your expression. The wariness. The confusion. The relief. And he already felt it then, as silly as the notion might be, that you had recognised who he really was and that you accepted him.

Aemond was no scoundrel. He wasn't a villain in your story. He wasn't some mighty, untouchable prince.

He was a boy. He was now your husband. He had decency. He had a heart.

And you may not have yet realised, but this heart - wretched as it might have been - he was surrendering it to you.

With the turn of the moon came ill tidings - the death of his father Viserys. Although he was also not much of a father to begin with. Aemond felt numb to it all and there was no time for any emotion to take root, for the conspiracy festered like an open wound. His brother was to be made king.

"Must you go and find him?" you asked. "What if something were to happen?"

He had been blank and unfeeling, unsure of what to make his father's passing. But then, some warmth bloomed in him at your concern. His darling wife cared. He hadn't yet been allowed to indulge in the pleasures of your flesh, but your nights were filled with conversation and confiding.

He took your hands and pressed a kiss atop each one. "It is I who understands Aegon's doings, my wife. Ser Criston is in need of my aid. My brother would sooner sail away than fulfil his duty, which is why he must return at all cost."

"Let him sail away. Let him go and live as he pleases, husband. He never possessed the temperament of a king. You on the other hand... "

His father is dead. His brother could be gone. The enemy encroaches.

But gods be damned, you believed in him.

Aemond didn't know for certain what happiness felt like, he'd never had a single taste of it. And how morbid it was for him to possibly feel it then. But...

"You would make a far better ruler than anyone, and I don't just say that because I am your wife."

Happiness. How fascinating.

How utterly... simple.

For he realised that he had felt it before. Not even in grand moments, no, but in the littlest of things.

He had felt it when you once laughed in pure bliss when he first rode with you atop Vhagar.

When you would help fasten him into his training armour.

When he would watch as you read one of your stories.

His happiness was standing right in front of him. His ray of light, his sun.

And his sun persisted even when he singlehandedly cast the realm into macabre blacks and greens.

Shaken and despondent, he stumbled into your chambers to deliver the news to you first. In the passing hour, everything will change. Will you turn on him too?

"It was an accident," he confessed. "I thought I could control Vhagar, but... she is her own beast. She always has been. I admit I was angry and it was my folly to seek vengeance, but I did not mean to... " His voice broke, and he felt your finger wipe at something wet from his cheek.

He did not even notice that he was crying.

You still said nothing, so he grew frightful. What if nothing he said would ever be enough? No explanation, no apology. He can't lose his light.

"I never held any love for him," he carried on painfully, "but he was my blood. And I... I just - "

"It wasn't your fault, Aemond."

A ray of hope. A remaining strength.

You repeat, "I believe you, and it wasn't your fault."

It mattered not whether his mother would shun him, or his grandsire would frown upon his gruesome action. Rhaenyra was coming for him, as sure as dragonfire, and he would soon have to face the consequences of his actions.

But none of that worried him, not then.

He had to stay alive, however he can, so that he can protect you. It was not remiss of him to overlook that the ladywife of Lucerys' apparent murderer would also have a target on her back.

Aemond knew that the fight was inevitable, and he was going to win it. For you.

In tears, in love, in pale shades of grief, he kissed you with everything he had in him.

A solemn promise. A declaration of love.

"No one shall know the truth of it, my love."

"What do you mean?"

"They will not know, but you will. And that is all that matters. There is no stopping it now and I must face the war head on. What the realm will come to accept is that I intended to fell my nephew and that I do not regret doing so. They have to fear me. This is how I can keep you safe."

"Aemond - "

"Do you trust me?"

The only thing that mattered, the one answer that decided whether he bent or broke. The Seven Kingdoms were to be covered in gloom and shadow, its fields marred with blood and many a broken bone.

His world, however - his world still had light.

"I trust you. With everything I have, I do."

To be tagged in Aemond or Daemon fics, comment on this post !

[celestialdetected]

It's never been more important that I remind you guys that Arawn was imprisoned for physically assaulting a politician who, through negligence or malice, was responsible for the destruction of his family, the only reason he didn't kill said politician was the guard dragged him off of them before he could.

[celestialdetected-moved]

Arawn's actually very self-conscious about his eyes. They're sort of hawk-gold and look very out of place on a human face. So, what I'm saying is, someone should hold his face in their hands and tell him they're beautiful

[mywhisperingwords]

the chocolates | fred g. weasley

summary: fred weasley, a love potion, and a closet—the perfect recipe for disaster word count: 2.5k masterlist

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual post-dinner chaos—laughter, shouts from an impromptu game of Exploding Snap, and the faint scratching of quills from students rushing to finish essays.

You were curled up in your usual spot near the fire, absently chewing on the end of your quill as you debated whether your essay on Bezoars needed another paragraph. The warmth of the flames combined with the lively hum of the room almost lulled you into a state of contentment.

That is, until the portrait hole slammed open with a bang, silencing the room.

Fred Weasley burst in, looking like he’d sprinted all the way from the Great Hall. His tie was askew, his hair sticking up in several directions, and his face—well, his face was set in an expression of utter determination.

“There you are!” he boomed, pointing directly at you.

You blinked. “What—”

But before you could finish, Fred crossed the room in long strides, his eyes locked on you with unsettling intensity. He dropped to one knee in front of your chair, clutching your hand in both of his as the entire room watched in stunned silence.

“My darling,” Fred said, his voice trembling with emotion. “My light, my muse, my reason for existing—I’ve been a fool to wait so long to tell you this, but I can’t hold it in any longer. I love you.”

The quill slipped from your fingers. “What?”

“I love you!” he repeated, louder this time, as though sheer volume would make his words more believable. “You’re the sun to my Quidditch pitch, the sugar to my treacle tart, the spell to my wand. Say you’ll be mine forever!”

A beat of stunned silence followed. Then—

“Did he just compare you to a Quidditch pitch?” George’s amused voice cut through the stillness.

Fred whipped around, glaring at his twin. “Shut it, George. You wouldn’t understand true love if it hit you with a Bludger.”

The absurdity of the situation might have been funny and a bit sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You yanked your hand out of Fred’s grip and stood, glaring at him.

“Fred, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fred said, springing to his feet with alarming energy. “I’m in love with you. Have been for ages. But tonight, I ate those chocolates and suddenly realized that life without you is meaningless.”

Your stomach dropped. Chocolates?

“Wait,” you said slowly, your mind racing. “What chocolates?”

Fred grinned. “The ones in the green box on my bed! Absolutely delicious—did you make them for me, darling? A little token of your affection?”

You froze, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave. The chocolates.

You had made them, but not for Fred. They were part of your Potions homework—Professor Snape had tasked the class with brewing a subtle love potion and incorporating it into a confection. Your plan had been to dispose of them after class. But you’d gotten distracted while helping George brainstorm a prank and probably accidentally left the box in the boys’ dormitory.

Fred had eaten them.

The rest of the evening spiraled into chaos.

Fred followed you everywhere, loudly declaring his undying devotion to anyone who would listen. The common room was no longer just alive with its usual noise—it was filled with Fred’s dramatic serenades and heartfelt speeches.

At one point, he climbed onto the back of the sofa to address the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen! I would like you all to know that I, Fred Weasley, am in love. Truly, madly, deeply—”

“Fred, get down!” you hissed, tugging at his arm.

“—with the most beautiful soul in all of Hogwarts!” he continued, completely ignoring you. “And I don’t care who knows it!”

The younger students cheered enthusiastically, while the older ones groaned in exasperation.

“I’m begging you,” George muttered, rubbing his temples. “End this madness.”

You’d had enough. Grabbing Fred’s wrist, you dragged him out of the common room and into an empty corridor.

“Fred, listen to me. You’re under the influence of a love potion. This isn’t real.” Even if you secretly wished it was, but you would never admit that out loud.

Fred’s response was to grab your hands again, gazing at you with heartbreaking sincerity. “But it feels real, my love. Isn’t that what matters?”

“No!” you snapped, pulling away. “Because you’re going to feel very stupid when this wears off.”

It took until the next morning for the potion to wear off, leaving you sleep-deprived and thoroughly annoyed.

When Fred stumbled into the Great Hall, you could tell instantly that he was back to his normal self. His wide-eyed horror when he spotted you was proof enough.

“I—oh no,” he said, freezing in the doorway. “I didn’t… did I?”

You folded your arms. “You did.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he sank into the seat across from you. “How bad was it?”

“Bad enough that half the school thinks we’re engaged,” you deadpanned.

He groaned louder, burying his face in his arms. “Merlin, kill me now.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile, a flicker of hope in your heart. “Well, at least now I know what you’d be like if you fancied me.”

Fred froze, his arms still covering his face. For a moment, you thought he hadn't heard you. But then, slowly, he sat up, avoiding your gaze as he forced out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, well, lucky for you, that'll never happen," he said, his tone a little too casual. "Can you imagine? Me, fancying you? Talk about a nightmare."

His words hit harder than you expected, your chest tightening uncomfortably.

"Right. A nightmare," you echoed, keeping your voice light even though his dismissal stung more than you wanted to admit.

Fred shifted awkwardly in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, thanks for, uh, not hexing me last night. I think l'll just... be going now."

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone at the table with your thoughts.

Over the next few days, things didn't go back to normal like you'd hoped.

Fred was acting... strange. He didn't avoid you outright, but he also wasn't his usual self. Gone were the easy grins and playful jabs he always threw your way. Instead, he seemed quieter, more distant, and almost hesitant whenever you were around.

At first, you thought he was embarrassed about what had happened, which made sense. After all, he'd spent an entire evening serenading you and professing his undying love in front of half the common room. Who wouldn't want to disappear after that?

But the longer his odd behavior went on, the harder it was to shake the nagging feeling that it wasn't just embarrassment keeping him away.

Maybe he regretted it-not just the potion-induced spectacle, but all of it.

The chocolates, the confessions, even spending time with you.

The thought made your chest ache in a way that surprised you. You hadn't realized just how much you'd grown to enjoy Fred's attention, his laughter, the way he always managed to make even the most ordinary moments feel brighter.

But now, it felt like he was slipping away, and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

You tried to convince yourself that it didn't matter, that Fred Weasley would never feel that way about you. And even if he did, it was only because of a stupid potion. Nothing real.

Still, the ache didn't go away.

&

The days dragged on, and the awkwardness between you and Fred showed no signs of fading. It was as though an invisible wall had gone up between you, and neither of you seemed willing—or able—to break it down.

Unfortunately for you, George Weasley had noticed.

One evening, as you sat in the common room trying (and failing) to focus on your Potions essay, George dropped into the seat across from you with a casual grin that immediately put you on edge.

“Hey there,” he said, propping his chin on his hand like he had all the time in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, George?”

“Why do you assume I want something?” he asked, feigning offense. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

You shot him a flat look.

“Alright, fine,” he said, leaning forward. “I couldn’t help but notice you and Fred have been acting… weird lately. Care to explain?”

Your stomach clenched. “We’re not acting weird.”

George snorted. “Right. And Peeves isn’t a menace. Come on, what happened? Did you two finally confess your undying love for each other and now you’re too shy to make eye contact?”

Heat flooded your face. “What? No! That’s not—”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” George smirked, but his eyes were sharper than usual, like he was trying to piece something together. “Still, you two have been avoiding each other like the plague, and it’s getting pretty pathetic. So, here’s the deal—I’m going to help.”

You groaned. “I don’t need your help, George.”

“Too bad,” he said cheerfully, standing up and dusting off his robes. “Because you’re getting it anyway.”

Before you could argue, he was gone, whistling as he disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

The next day, you found yourself standing outside a supply closet near the Charms classroom, clutching a note George had pressed into your hand that morning. “Meet me here at seven,” it read, the handwriting unmistakably his.

You had half a mind to ignore it, but curiosity—and a faint flicker of hope that he might have some kind of plan to fix things with Fred—got the better of you.

When you opened the door, the last person you expected to see was Fred, but you should’ve.

He was leaning against a stack of boxes, arms crossed and looking just as startled to see you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“George told me to meet him,” you said, stepping inside. “Why are you here?”

“He told me the same thing,” Fred muttered, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at the door. “Wait a minute—”

Before either of you could react, the door slammed shut behind you with a deafening clunk.

Fred lunged for the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, jiggling it uselessly.

“Let me guess,” you said dryly, crossing your arms. “It’s locked?”

Fred sighed, resting his forehead against the door. “Yeah. It’s locked.”

The silence in the cramped closet was unbearable. You could hear every breath Fred took, every restless shuffle of his feet. He was standing close—too close—his familiar scent of soap and something faintly sweet filling the air.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to laugh. Mostly, you wanted to get out of there before you said something you’d regret.

“I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” Fred muttered, pacing the tiny space like a trapped animal.

“Maybe he’s sick of you avoiding me,” you snapped, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

Fred froze mid-step, his back to you. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Because you’ve barely said three words to me in the last week, and you won’t even look at me.”

Fred’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” you pressed, stepping closer despite yourself. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you can’t wait to get away from me.”

“That’s not true,” Fred said, his voice tight.

“Then explain it!” you demanded, your frustration spilling over. “Because all I can think is that you’re embarrassed about what happened. About me. And honestly, Fred, if that’s the case, then—”

“It’s because I like you, alright?” Fred exploded, spinning around to face you.

The words slammed into you like a rogue Bludger, knocking the air from your lungs.

“What?” you whispered, barely able to process what he’d just said.

“I like you,” Fred repeated, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve liked you for ages, and that stupid potion just… it made it impossible to hide. And then when it wore off, I panicked because I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to ruin things, so I thought maybe if I stayed away…”

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his eyes pleading. “I was avoiding you because I’m a coward. Not because I’m embarrassed. Never that.”

Your heart was racing, your emotions a chaotic swirl of disbelief, anger, and something else—something warm and fragile that you’d been too afraid to name until now.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, your voice trembling.

Fred blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated, stepping closer until you were mere inches apart. “Because I like you too, and you could’ve just said something instead of making me think you hated me.”

Fred’s eyes widened, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, like a dam breaking, he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you with a desperation that made your knees weak.

You kissed him back, your hands clutching at his robes as the tension that had been building between you for weeks melted away, replaced by something infinitely sweeter.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until a familiar voice drawled, “Well, well, well. About time.”

You and Fred broke apart, spinning to see George leaning casually against the doorframe, his grin so wide it was practically criminal.

“George?” Fred said, his voice laced with both shock and irritation.

“Don’t mind me,” George said, waving a hand. “Just here to check on my brilliant plan. Which, I must say, worked beautifully.”

Your stomach dropped. “Plan?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” George said, crossing his arms. “Who do you think left that box of chocolates on Fred’s bed in the first place?”

Fred’s jaw dropped. “You knew about the love potion?”

“Of course I knew,” George said, looking offended. “I took them from your bag after you got distracted helping me brainstorm pranks. Figured it was the perfect opportunity to give you two a little push.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words failing you. “You—you tricked me?”

“I prefer ‘strategically intervened,’” George said, flashing you a cheeky grin. “And before you get too mad, just remember—it worked. You’re welcome.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, George, you’re insufferable.”

“Insufferably brilliant,” George corrected, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a very smug letter to write to Mum about my matchmaking skills. Ta!”

With that, he sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune and leaving you and Fred standing in stunned silence.

Fred let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Only George.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the weight of the last week finally lifting. “Remind me to kill him later.”

“Only after I thank him,” Fred said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Because, for once, his meddling actually worked out.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “It did.”

This time, when he kissed you, there was no tension, no uncertainty—just the kind of warmth that made you wonder how you’d ever lived without it.

[heavenlybodies333]

Skull and Bones - M.R.

!warning! minorsdni, hazing, drug/alcohol use, sexual content

Pairing: Slytherin boys & Mattheo Riddle x you

Welcome to the oldest and most prestigious secret society at Hogwarts

Seventh year had finally arrived, and with it came the bittersweet realization that this was the last time you’d walk these halls as a student. Every creaking staircase, every flickering torch in the dimly lit corridors held ghosts of the past—whispers of late-night escapades, stolen moments between classes, and the dark laughter of your inner circle echoing through the dungeons. Nostalgia curled in your chest, this was it—the end of an era. And what an era it had been.

Your group of friends, that damned group of Slytherin boys, had been your constant since your first year. Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, Draco Malfoy, and Blaise Zabini—each more dangerous than the last, each possessing a different kind of darkness that made them impossible to resist. Pansy Parkinson was the only other girl, and she fit into the chaos effortlessly, the sharp edge of her wit just as cutting as the boys’ cruelty.

But there was something more beneath the surface—something deeper than just friendship, much more than just power. You weren’t just a group of Slytherins. You were part of Skull and Bones—the secret society that had ruled Hogwarts’ underworld for decades. No one spoke of it unless they belonged, and those who did belong knew better than to betray it. There were rules, rituals, oaths sealed in blood and sin. You’d been inducted in fifth year, and from that moment on, you were bound.

Now, with your final year upon you, everything felt lasting. The stakes were higher. The nights were longer and the indulgences more reckless. There was no future beyond this—no guarantee that what you had built together would last past the castle walls. So you would make the most of it.

Tonight was the first official gathering of the year. The initiation for new members—sixth years who had proven their worth, had been put on trial and found acceptable. The ceremony was exclusive, invitation-only, held in the hidden catacombs beneath the castle where only those who knew the way could find it. It was sacred. It was absolute.

Dressed in black, you descended the stone steps, heart pounding in sync with the bass echoing from below. The underground chamber was illuminated by flickering green flames, casting ghostly shadows against the damp stone. The air was thick with the scent of firewhiskey, smoke, and something unnameable—something forbidden.

Mattheo stood at the center, his presence commanding as always. He was the leader, the heir to the legacy, the one everyone followed without question. His dark curls framed a face made for sin, sharp and unforgiving. He caught your gaze as you entered, his eyes locked onto you. “Right on time,” he smirked, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Theodore leaned lazily against the stone wall beside him, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Figured you’d want front-row seats,” he mused, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “It’s always more fun when you’re involved.”

You took a seat on the plush, emerald-green sofa near the front, crossing your legs as you watched Mattheo circle the recruits like a predator toying with its prey. He took a step forward, and the room seemed to shrink around him. Holding up a silver chalice, etched with ancient runes, filled with something dark and viscous. "Tonight, you pledge yourselves to the brotherhood. To secrecy. To power. To each other."

His voice was slow, deliberate, wrapping around the room like a noose. “There is no turning back. No breaking the oath. What happens here, in these catacombs, binds you for life.”

The recruits stood rigid, their eyes flickering between each other, breaths shallow as they awaited their fate. Some clutched their wands with white-knuckled fingers, others tried to conceal their nerves behind carefully schooled expressions. But no one—not a single one of them—was fooling any of you. Bringing the rim of your firewhiskey glass to your lips, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Pansy was perched beside you, her legs draped over Blaise’s lap as she lazily traced patterns into the fabric of his sleeve.

"Gods, I love initiation night," she giggled, eyes glinting with amusement.

The scent of burning candles and spiced alcohol clung thick in the air, mingling with the faint, acrid undertone of whatever fucked concoction Mattheo had brewed together. Chalices lined the table, filled to the brim with something dark, shimmering unnaturally beneath the flickering candlelight. A member stood in front of each recruit, ensuring not a single drop was left behind. It was tradition—drink, endure, prove you belonged.

"Drink, or face the consequences" he commanded smugly, his voice echoing off the giant stone walls.

The first recruit hesitated, looking between the chalice and the jeering crowd. The other boys shouted him down—

"Don’t be a fucking coward, mate!" "What, scared of a little drink?" "Pussy."

You, however, sat forward slightly, biting your lip, the anticipation coursing through your veins. You’d seen Mattheo like this before—cruel, unyielding, intoxicatingly in control. It did something to you.

The boy finally grasped the chalice, lifting it to his lips. He grimaced as he swallowed, the thick, cursed liquid coating his tongue. You knew it burned. Knew it would send tendrils of dark magic slithering through his veins, testing him, seeing if he was truly worthy. One by one, the recruits drank. Some handled it better than others, but all of them felt it—the power, the pain, the weight of what they were stepping into.

When the last one lowered the chalice, Mattheo stepped back, surveying them with the cold scrutiny of a king judging his subjects. Then, slowly, his eyes flicked back to you.

“You enjoy watching, don’t you?” he asked knowingly, tilting his head.

The attention sent a rush of heat through your body, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you let your lips move into a slow, knowing smile. “Maybe.”

Theodore laughed under his breath. “She always does.”

Mattheo hummed, pleased. He stepped closer, his body heat licking at your skin even through the cool underground air. The recruits were forgotten now; the ceremony would continue, but this—this was what had your pulse quickening.

He leaned down, as you tilted your head eyes following him. “You should be careful, sweetheart.” His voice was a low rasp, meant for you alone. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might just forget there’s an audience.”

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, feeling the heat start to pool between them. “Maybe I want them to watch.” A flicker of something feral in his gaze.

Blaise let out a low whistle. “Merlin, get a room you horny two.”

You reached for a goblet from a nearby table, the chilled silver shocking against your palm. You raised it slightly, locking eyes with Mattheo. “To the ones who came before us,” you stated, voice laced with mischief.

“To the ones who come next,” Mattheo countered, his smirk deepening before he turned back to the recruits as they awaited their next test.

“Pick your victims,” Mattheo instructed, his voice smooth, commanding. The board—Draco, Theo, Blaise, Lorenzo—began pulling recruits aside, splitting them off into groups. Some were dragged toward the back where tables lined with bottles of absinthe and enchanted liquor gleamed under the dim light. Others were forced toward the couches where girls—upper-year Slytherin legacies—waited, their smirks knowing, legs parted in invitation.

The first test was simply just a formality. This next test is what mattered. The second test was excess. Pure, unrelenting indulgence.

Draco shoved a recruit down onto his knees, tilting his head back before pouring a bottle of firewhiskey straight down his throat. “Don’t fucking stop till I say,” he sneered, gripping the boy’s jaw when he coughed, whiskey spilling down his chin. “Weak little shit, can’t even take a drink?”

Across the room, Theodore had his own recruit bent over the velvet armrest of a couch, a line of shimmering white powder spread across the bare skin of a waiting girl’s ass. “Snort it,” he ordered, voice all silk and cruelty. “Or get the fuck out.”

The recruit hesitated. Bad mistake.

Theo’s patience snapped instantly, and he grabbed the back of the kid’s neck, shoving his face down. “I said snort it.”

Blaise and Enzo had their own initiates pinned against the wall, forced to endure the humiliating spectacle of their own making—blindfolded, wrists bound behind their backs, girls laughing as they took full advantage of their vulnerability.

You watched it all, leaning back into the emerald sofa, a drink of your own in hand. This was the part that made it fun. Watching them break, watching them degrade themselves for the right to call themselves one of you.

And Mattheo? Your Mattheo?

He was in his fucking element.

He stalked through the chaos, observing, drinking in the filth of it all. Every so often, he’d press a hand to a recruit’s back, guiding them toward their next trial—an offered lap to sit on, a challenge to drink more, take more, be more. He thrived in it. Owned it.

You could tell he was looking for you by the way his head turned looking around the party, unsatisfied every which way he brought his attention to until his eyes finally landed on you. Wasting no time, he cut through the bodies with that effortless arrogance, all muscle and purpose, the loose tie around his neck a reminder that at some point, he’d dressed for the occasion before succumbing to the night's debauchery. By the time he reached you, you were already smirking, already tilting your head just so, watching the way his gaze flickered between your lips and the delicate slope of your breasts.

"Having fun, princess?" His voice was silk laced with possession.

You cocked your head, licking the last drop of alcohol from your lips, knowing exactly what that did to him. "You tell me."

Mattheo laughed, “Oh, I’d say I’m having the fucking time of my life.” His fingers brushed against your hip, as a sly smirk appeared on your face, tracing your nails up his chest, letting them drag just enough to make him inhale sharply. “That so?” you hummed, tilting your chin up, challenging.

His hand tightened at your waist as your tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly. “You trying to start something, princess?”

Looking up at him as you bit your lip softly, answering innocently, “Oh I don’t know what you're talking about”

Laughing softly, Mattheo’s lips brushed your temple, all faux-sweetness. “You’re lucky I like when you run that mouth of yours.”

You grinned, letting your hands slide over his belt loops, pulling him closer. “yeah? yet you give in so easily.”

He scoffed. “Bold words for someone who can’t take three shots without getting handsy.”

You gasped, shoving at his chest. “That’s slander.”

“That’s facts.” He laughed, catching your wrist before you could swat him again, his fingers wrapping around it easily. “Don’t pout, baby. You know it’s cute.”

Rolling your eyes, laughing, “mhmm sure, and you’re saying that as if you’re not the one that’s hard right now?”

His eyes snapped back up to you from your hand as it inched closer and closer to his hard erection, palming him through his trousers. In a instant his lips were crashing against yours in a bruising kiss, claiming you like he had every fucking right. His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, fingers finding you already soaked for him. He groaned against your mouth, swallowing the soft moan that escaped you as he dipped a finger inside, slow and deliberate, teasing.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pumping his finger in and out, dragging out your pleasure. “So fucking wet for me. You could barely think, barely breathe as he added another finger, curling them just right, his thumb circling your clit in slow, torturous movements. He swallowed every sound, every gasp and whimper, owning every bit of your unraveling. Around you, the debauchery of the frat continued—bodies tangled, pleasure and pain mingling in a display of pure, unfiltered indulgence. And yet, here you were, completely at his mercy, falling apart under his touch.

His lips trailed down your neck, biting, sucking, marking. “I want to hear you,” he demanded against your skin, fingers moving faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Let them hear who you belong to.”

You didn’t hold back. Couldn’t. Your moans spilled freely, mixing with the loud sound of music that flowed around you. His fingers relentless, dragging your pleasure out until he stopped. Whining out of frustration, you glared watching as he leaned back slightly, bringing his fingers to his lips, tasting you with a satisfied smirk. “So fucking sweet.”

Before you could even catch your breath, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you up from the sofa. “Come with me,” he ordered, voice thick with promise. “We’re not done yet.”

You barely had time to react before he was leading you through the chaos, past the writhing bodies and drunken pledges, deeper into the catacombs where only the elite were allowed. The moment the heavy door shut behind you, he was on you again—ripping, biting, claiming.

“On your knees,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, sinking to the floor, knees pressing against the soft viridescent rug. He towered over you, unbuttoning his shirt with agonizing slowness, the sharp cut of his jaw tightening as he watched you.

His belt clinked, the zipper hissed, and then he was in front of you, thick and leaking, tip flushed an angry red from how hard he still was.

“Open up,” Mattheo ordered, dragging a thumb along your swollen bottom lip. “Tongue out. Good fucking girl.”

He slid inside, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, stretching your mouth until your jaw ached. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deep as he groaned, his hand tangling into your hair, forcing you to take him deeper.

“That’s it, baby, choke on it,” he growled, thrusting slow but deep, feeling you gag slightly before you adjusted, sucking at an accelerated pace. His head fell back, throat exposed, muscles tight as he let out a strangled groan. You used both hands, twisting as you sucked, stroking him until he twitched, cursing under his breath. But the aching need between your legs was unbearable. Shifting, you pressed your thighs together, desperate for friction, but it wasn’t enough. The heat, the slickness pooling at your core, it was maddening.

You pulled off him out of impatience for your own pleasure, licking your lips as you stood abruptly. Before he could protest, you pushed him down onto the couch, straddling him in one swift motion. The thick head of his cock pressed against your entrance, and you moaned as you sank down, taking him in one slow, agonizing slide.

“Fuck,” Mattheo hissed, hands gripping your hips, nails digging into your skin as he felt you stretch around him.

Relief flowing through you like a wave, the fullness of him deep inside you making your head spin. You started slow, rolling your hips, one hand gripped on his shoulder, the other pressed against his chest. The obscene sounds of your wet cunt slipping up and down his cock filled the room, mixing with your shared moans. Mattheo’s grip tightened, guiding you faster, his hips snapping up to meet yours, making you gasp as he hit that perfect spot.

“Ride me, baby. Just like that. Fucking take it.”

You did, bouncing on his cock, your ass slapping against his thighs as pleasure built higher and higher. Your tits hitting your chest while you arched your back closing the space between the two of you. But Mattheo was never one to just sit back and take it. With a growl, he sat up, arms wrapping around you as he lifted you effortlessly, keeping you impaled on his cock as he stood. He slammed you against the stone wall, fucking into you relentlessly. Moaning his name loudly, “mm mattheo, f-fuck right there.”

The pressure, the angle, the way he stretched you impossibly deep had you keening, clinging to his shoulders, nails scratching down his back. You barely registered the heavy footsteps outside before the door swung open.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Blaise’s voice rang out, exasperated. “When I said get a room, I didn’t mean this one!” With a angry curse, he slammed the door shut again. But instead of stopping, Mattheo laughed darkly, his pace quickening, thrusts brutal as he fucked you even harder. The interruption only spurred him on.

“Hope he heard you, baby,” he panted against your lips, biting down before sucking a bruise onto your throat. “Hope they all hear how good I fuck you.”

You were too far gone to care. Clenching your cunt, and you cried out, the pleasure unbearable. His fingers dug into your thighs as he fucked up into you, chasing his release. Your orgasm hit like a wrecking ball, body trembling, walls fluttering around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, gonna fill you up,” Mattheo groaned, thrusts growing sloppy.

A final, deep thrust and he spilled inside you, filling you with his warmth, his cock twitching as he moaned into your neck. Your bodies trembled, slick with sweat, pressed together as you both came down from the high.

He carried you back to the couch, collapsing onto it with you still straddling him, his cock still buried inside. You laid your head on his shoulder, breathing heavy, heart still racing.

“We should probably move before someone else walks in,” you laughed, voice hoarse.

Mattheo laughed, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your back.

“Or we could just keep going until they learn to fucking knock.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: I was listening to Lana as I wrote, art deco was on REPEAT also to be so honest I just matched the frat greek letters to the picture I found, the real skull and bones has different ones lmao

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[d1onysusw1n3]

You know sasuke would’ve congratulated the girl for her determination. Always hitting on him, but not in the normal squealing girly way. No you were different. Lingering touches setting aflame in his stomach. Long sensual eye contact that made his jaw clench. Shit. He couldn’t handle it. The boy unconsciously developed a small crush on you, though he denied it as just a craving, the need to have his way with you, if you will.

And you, well of course you knew the boy was in kahoots for you. Your long black hair, your piercing red eyes, your tall thick legs. Shit you were above the normal curvy size in Japan. And one day after play flirting with the uchiha boy, you found out.

He’s a secret pervert.

I mean it makes sense. He seems cold, calculating, callous even. But he is a hormonal young man, and no matter what the brain says, the body may say differently. It seemed foreign to you, that the boy would be so innocent, at least in that way. He always had a trail of girls flocking over his deep dark looks. He reminded you of the strong smell of coffee beans in the mornings. Something you can’t quite shake until you’re out of the area.

Man was he captivating.

so you vowed to yourself, that you’d try cracking that small shell the uchiha locked himself in. The more your relentless flirting with the boy happened, smooth words as soft as silk. He melted like butter under your tongue. But he’d never admit that. When you joined his team, he was quick to stick himself to you. Though he brushed it off as, you being quite humorous at times, and annoying. He found comfort in you, especially since you acted like a certain hard headed blond he knew.

“Sasukeeeee” you trail on groaning his name whilst dramatically throwing yourself on his back.

“I’m tired carry me!!” You muse.

“…no.” Sasuke huffed. He acted annoyed by your childish antics. On the inside his stomach was roaring blazing flames, especially when your chest pressed up against his back like that.

You guys just finished a mission on gathering intel. The long walk home to the base was killing your feet. And you could tell he was getting tired as well. It was night fall and you all were still walking. Karin would sometimes throw nasty looks at you, knowing damn well every time you talked to sasuke, you would shamelessly flirt with him.

And boy could Karin talk on and on about you. How you use and pass around boys as if they were placed on this earth for your torment. How your strong and overbearingly funny personality draws people in. Your beautiful hour glass body and amazing looks. The way you captivate everyone’s gaze even when you mutter the smallest word. She couldn’t pin point how you did that. Maybe it was the curiosity of what lies behind the crossed out headband and you wore over your eyes due to your powerful kekkei Genkai.

She found you irritating and so attractive. And maybe that irritated her even more. Actually, it drove her crazy.

“Hey how about we stop here for some food!” Karin points to a small club with a bar and food, 24 hour service.

“We are not stopping in some, criminal club.” Sasuke sasses with a deeper frown. The boy has lost all patience, as if he had any in the first place.

“I say it’s worth a shot man, I’m starving” suigetsu claps a hand over sasukes back walking into the club with Karin. Sasuke sighs as he continues to walk home. He wasn’t expecting to hear your tall heels clacking with him. He turned his eyes to the side of him, finding you twirling one of your long hairs in your finger while aimlessly looking off into the darkness of the woods.

“You didn’t have to follow me, usually when they go out, isn’t that when you thirst over some new boy toy.” Sasuke almost spit that sentence out like hot venom. It aggravated him that you aren’t his and his only, but he wouldn’t make the first move. Because he has to get revenge. Though one of his goals were to restore his clan, so maybe.

The black eyed boy sighed shaking his head at the thought. Maybe in due time he would, but for now he has one goal.

“We’re here, finally” your pretty glossy lips pout as your shoulders drop in defeat. Man were you tired.

You both walk in taking off your robes hanging them on the rack in front of the door. You walk all the way to a lounge room. Sasuke himself sat down on the couch.

When you walked back in you seen sasuke plop down on the couch. He sighed as he sunk down in the soft pillows slowly spreading his legs open making himself comfortable. He had his head laying on the back of the couch with his eyes closed and arms crossed. He looked so ethereal. And peaceful.

You click and clack all the way over to him. Two drinks in your hand. You sit close to him, but just close enough for your knee to be touching his. Crossing your legs you offer him a drink. And he couldn’t help but to accept.

He’s not a usual drinker, as he is very anal about his body and what he puts in it. Even more about his environment and how it needs to be clean and organized.

“You uh, did good today.”

You raised you eyebrows at the man next to you. Surprised he was starting conversation.

“Well you’re not that bad yourself, captain.” You clink your glass against his. He had hard liquor in his glass. As you, the princess fixed yourself a margarita with sugar around the rim, not salt. And a cute little lime on the edge.

GOD it drove him crazy. you were just so strong and you always know what you want. Your upbeat and childish attitude makes him go crazy because he wants to hate it. But he can’t help but to smile or even chuckle under his breath at the things you do. You balanced him out perfectly.

And that nickname. You started calling him captain. he can’t help but to feel a spark down his spine.

“Mm” sasuke grumbled his eyes low and breath heavy. He didn’t know what it was. Maybe the alcohol and the fact he’s a lightweight. But he felt bold tonight. Especially since he knew the other guys would be out till three in the morning. It happens every time.

He turns to you as you finish the rest of your drink slowly licking some of the sweet sugar off the rim of your glass. He couldn’t help but to reach out wrapping a small delicate grip on your wrist, throwing a lazy arm around ur hips. He leans in, and moving real close to your face.

Though he smirks as he goes in to lick the rest of the sugar on ur margarita glass. Rolling your eyes you chuckle pushing him back to lay in the cushions again.

“You jerk.” You stick your tongue out at him. He smirks at you, a devilish one, and it only meant no good.

“You know you love it, shush” he quipped back licking his lips. His arm was still around your hips loosely from when he leaned in, and he wasn’t moving any time soon.

“So what’s with the knew and improved sasuke.” You question his weird attitude. He just shrugs it off shaking his head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, princess.”

you have never felt such a need to jump this man’s bones this strong until now.

“Princess huh? Cheeky for such a stone face like yourself.” You lean in tilting your head to the side.

“Something about you makes me go crazy. What can I say”

He sits up directing you to get up and sit in his lap. You both throw flirty remarks back and fourth, slowly teasing eachother, a silent game of ‘who will cave first’

He would drag his big calloused hands up and down your figure. Anywhere he can touch. Up your thighs, squeezing your hips, up your torso, slotting his thumbs just under the cuff of your boob.

And you yourself were no angel. As you threw your arms around his neck combing through the back of his hairs, trailing your hands down his broad chest and abs.

You got a little cheeky and decided to snake your hands to his zipper undoing it. You slowly trail a finger over all his detailed abs, and finally his V-line.

Fuck that sent him off the edge, he leans in hiding his warm face in your neck groaning at the feeling in his chest as his dick throbbed against his cloths.

“You okay? Captain.” He realized he could never win at this game. He was new to it, you’ve been in this court way longer.

“Your driving me crazy princess” sasuke huffs pressing a wet kiss to the curve of your jaw.

and he wanted to treat you like a princess. He would give you whatever you needed right here if you asked for it.

“Then do something about it.” You challenged him. Testing the waters to see if he’d actually ever would make a move on you. Bitting your lip in anticipation, your thighs rubbed up against eachother in desperate need of attention. An aching need in your core that was heating up by the second, and he was the only man that could scorch out its warm flames.

He didn’t waste anytime taking his hand and grabbing your jaw with it. Making you look right at him. If it was anyone else you would fuck them into a storm. But it was him.

And you wanted nothing but for him to throw you around like a rag doll, for him to destroy you inside out.

He presses his lips to yours, kissing you as if you’d disappear into dust. He held such a hunger for you in his stomach it felt like he was soaring once your lips were against his. He wasn’t a romantic, he found himself afraid of intimacy ever since his brother went rogue. Though he ignored every warning sign in his body for you. Shit he’s felt this way for other woman, but his mind always told him no. But you, he could tell his princess no? Tha’d just be cruel, and all he wants is to please you.

He starts trailing sloppy hungry kisses down your jaw sucking and biting in any skin he touches. You were going to be covered in blue and purple welts by the time he was done with you, so everyone knew that you were his, and nobody else’s.

“Fuck, I need you, please captain.” You look up at him through those pretty eyelashes. He couldn’t resist. He smoothly lays you down in the couch in the middle of the hideout. If any of them were to walk in they would see such a sight.

You fully clothed as the uchiha had discarded his shirt a while ago only in the bottom parts of his clothes. His clothed dick pressed firmly against your soaking pussy, rocking back and fourth in desperate need of any friction. Everything about it was so fucking hot to you. The fact that you both could get caught in a heartbeat, such a lude and dirty scene.

The uchiha takes his time. Even though his body was aching to ruin you. He wanted to tease you. Get a little bit of payback from all those nights he spent fucking his fist to the thought of you. Slowly he takes off your clothes, one by one. Sliding his hands up your abdomen to your round perky tits. Taking a handful as he plays with your nipple, slowly teasing his thumb over them.

You arch your back up against him in need.

“Please I need you so bad, ruin me, please, please.”

Fuck the way you begged just set a fire within him. It pleased him. Something so sadistic as feeling in control for once in his life. Wether he chooses to pleasure you or to leave you soaking wet of what if’s.

“As you wish” he hums slowly ducking his head between your thighs. He’s never ate a woman out before, but since it’s you, he wants to try everything he could.

Slowly he drags his tongue up and down the slot of your pussy, giving extra attention to your throbbing clit. He couldn’t contain in excitement and dove right into you, eating you like you were his favorite meal and he was a malnourished man. Drinking in your very soul, he would never imagine that giving your pleasure would turn him in so much.

You snake your hands through his thick black hair, slightly tugging and pulling at him as you grind your hips up into his nose. He didn’t mind it, he just wanted to make you see stars. He slowly stretched you out with one of his thick fingers your tight pissy clenching a vice grip around him as he drags his thick length in and out of you, even curling his finger to massage your g spot. You felt like your body was ascending, you don’t think you have ever experienced such a feeling.

“Mm fuck, yes, s-sasuke!” You were loud, your scandalous and pornographic moans rang loud throughout the base. You wrap ur legs around his head, your orgasm finally crashing in wonderful full waves. Your body jerked with electricity as your core pulsed around his thick fingers. You couldn’t help but to wail, your eyes rolling so far behind your head you’re pretty sure you could see your own brain.

“Fuck, holy shit.” You gasp. Slowly your orgasm calms but that, that was magic. He pulls out his thick cock, pulsing with a small coat of precum on his red and bothered tip. He takes it, dragging it up and down ur pussy. That first orgasm was just a taste and you wanted so much more.

He slides in slowly inch by inch until he bottoms out. And if this man wasn’t pussy whipped from just one stroke, then he could’ve fooled you. Because once he was fully in the most throaty guttural moan escaped from his chest. Shit it was so enticing.

“Princess you keep squeezing so tight around me I’m, mn, not gonna make it long.” He paints and whines. You couldn’t help it. The once cold and rude sasuke thrusting deep into you slowly grinding against your g spot. It was a fever dream.

He pulls out slowly dragging back in. Throwing his head back his mouth gaped and brows furrowed his gut burned as he picked up the pace. Soon enough your moans were both tangled in each other. He was fucking the life out of you, deep and fast strokes that never faltered once. His stamina was out of the world, all that training really did a number on him.

He noticed the way you arched your back, the way your tits bounced with every rough stroke he delivered to your core,feeling like ecstasy. He pulled out quickly filling you to ur stomach. He hadn’t even pushed himself in again, yet you were already moaning, your ass up in the air as he forced your head down into the pillows. When he slides in you curl, arching your back against him. He reached a deep part in your pussy, one that you didn’t even think it was possible to reach, he felt it, the way your pussy was wrapped around his cock, suffocating him in the best way possible.

“Mhm, so fucking tight for me, all this for me, you feel so good around me.” He whimpers as you clench around him again. All of his filthy words giving you fuel.

You feel the edge of your orgasm teasing you just building and building waiting for it to crash. Sasuke pulls you up. Your back pressed to his chest. He starts fucking you at an inhumane speed, he was so deep in you, swear you could feel a bulge in your tummy every time he would brutally thrust into you.

“Fuck, almost, hah, gonna cum.” Sasuke manages to huff out. “Cmon princess, cum around my cock.”

As if he said the magic words himself. Your orgasm finally crashed, you lest put a throaty moan. Clenching down so hard on his poor dick he felt like it would explode.

“P-Pull out.” You tremble out as you feel his cock pulse. “C-Can’t I’m sorry!” Sasuke whines pulling you down onto his cock as he pumps a deep load into you, painting your walls white. Your mouth opens as you panic about the next nine months.

(I’m sorry he would have weak ass pullout game!!)

“Fuck I’m sorry-“ sasuke mind renders blank as he starts to panic I himself, he can’t have a child yet, he still hasn’t accomplished what he dedicated his whole life too.

“Sasuke calm down. We’ll figure it out, I know a baby is not the first thing on ur mind so, if push comes to shove I’ll raise it until you are ready.” You reassure him turning around to look at his reaction.

“No. I’ll be there I promise, I just, itachi.” Sasuke sighs and he sits nav on the couch. I play with his bands twirling then around my hand. Just because I was board, what I didn’t expect was for him to gently grab my hand, placing a chaste kiss to the back of it.

“If it’s a girl, I want to name her sarada.” He stated with the smallest smile. A genuine one.

“Sarada will do captain.” I smirk kissing him in the cheek.

“Hey! Thar was my feet’s you stepped on, you! You! Aw shit, what’s the uh words, inspection! No uh that ain’t rigfth, uh, IMBECILE YES! HAHAAA!!”

We heard a drunk jugo yell at the front door. Me and sasuke both jump up scrambling our clothes, as soon as we picked everything up he started to run to his room. And I would’ve ran to mine, but thanks to him my legs gave out.

“Sasuke!” I whisper yell to him as my legs shake in place. He runs back over in just enough time to throw me over his shoulders and run off to his room again. Due to the drunk idiots outside the door, they didn’t notice a thing, and It took five minutes for suigetsu to realize the small metal keychain in the shape of a oval wasn’t the key.

“Homeeee!!” Karin yells whilst jumping face down ong the couch.

Meanwhile:

“You okay there?” Sasuke smirks as pride welled up in his chest. After all the side flings you’ve had, you always come back bored or unsatisfied. Well the image of you naked on his bed as your legs shake like an earth quake, you can say was a good moment for him.

“Shuaddup” you huffed rolling yourself under his covers closing your eyes to sleep. He sneaks under, grabbing ur waist while pulling you to his chest. “Your mine now, got it?” He mumbled to the back of your head. “Yes Captain.” You mumble back falling into a dreamless sleep.