#either when the spells were made or when they were cast

[cutehoons02]

A sweet poison

Special 1000 followers!!!

Harry Potter series Jake pt

*pairing: pervy ravenclaw Sunghoon x popular slytherin Girl

*trope: opposites attract

*synopsis: Y/n, a cunning, spoiled, and provocative Slytherin, constantly clashes with Sunghoon, a brilliant and cynical Ravenclaw, who is irresistibly drawn to his complex personality. Despite the tension between them and their mutual attitude of defiance, an intense chemistry emerges beneath their banter. Their relationship evolves into a game of power and attraction, where provocations become a battleground, fueled by passions that are never fully expressed. Y/n, always in control, challenges Sunghoon to push past his limits, while he struggles to maintain his cool, but fails to do so completely.

*tags: A lot of tension, Hoon is slightly shy and the protagonist a bit spoiled, a lot of kisses, make couple as prefects of the castle at night, power games, degradation, masturbation (m. hidden room of the castle) unprotected sex (don’t horny) (f. masturbation) suckers, fingering, dirty talk, obsession, pet names (vipers,princess) (hoon,hoonie) +18, confession of their feelings

(English is not my native language)

Being a Slytherin in 2025 had become, for many, almost a trend—a label to flaunt with pride — all smug smirks and loosened ties around stiff collars but you weren’t like them. Your name carried weight.

Your surname whispered in the corridors of Hogwarts, came with a heavy legacy. Daughter of one of the last Pureblood families still loyal to the old magical aristocracy. Not the polished, flashy kind fit for magazine covers, but the real kind — the kind that had shed blood and cast spells to protect their name... and that of others.

Your father was in Azkaban. He had protected the Malfoy family — and not only them. He made forbidden deals, hid evidence, and buried names.

He wasn’t a Death Eater, but… he’d come damn close. And you?

You wore that burden like an emerald choker: heavy, uncomfortable, but devastatingly beautiful.

You couldn’t care less about people’s blood status — if someone studied at Hogwarts, they deserved to be there. Period but you'd never stoop so low as to say it out loud.

Not when your Slytherin aura — cold, elegant, untouchable — was such a convenient way to keep people at bay… and keep eyes on you from those too scared to get close.

The boys wanted you. The girls… either feared you or desperately tried to be near you. Real friends? You could count them on one hand. Maybe half.

And then there was him.

Park Sunghoon. Ravenclaw. Muggle-born. One of the brightest — most dangerously intelligent — wizards of his generation. Hoon didn’t believe in Houses. He didn’t care for appearances — he believed in results, merit, and reason over instinct. He looked at you the way someone looks at a particularly annoying problem — an equation that refused to make logical sense. You were brilliant, sure. But too… theatrical. Too seductive. Too moody. Too everything.

And yet, he couldn’t look at you. There were days when he’d stare from across the room, thinking you wouldn’t notice. But you did. You always did. Because he hated you — or at least, that’s what he told himself.

The truth?

He wanted you. Worse — he couldn’t get you out of his head.

And you knew it. Oh, you knew.

Every time you walked past him, you left behind a trail of perfume and poison. Every time you sat near him in the library, just to throw him off.

Every time you dropped a razor-sharp comment in class, and caught that twitch of a smile on his lips — the one that said only one thing:

This girl is driving me insane.

He hated how perfectly dramatic you were. You loved how hard he tried not to notice and while everyone at Hogwarts kept on with their lives — botched potions, flying brooms, half-cast spells — the two of you were there two opposite poles. Two Houses at War and yet, all it took was a look, a silence held a second too long, a whispered fight in a forgotten tower and the world stopped making sense.

The magic hall was one of the oldest in the castle. Tall, gothic, with faded tapestries on the walls, embroidered with the entwined symbols of the four Houses: the lion, the snake, the badger, and the raven.

Floating candles flickered in the air, casting a warm golden light that spilled across faces, neatly pressed uniforms, and the excited murmurs of the students.

You walked in as you always did — with that graceful step that wasn’t trying to draw attention… but always did.

The muffled sound of your shoes on the ancient floor almost seemed to set the rhythm of everyone’s breathing.

You sat in the Slytherin section, back straight, gaze sharp.

Everyone was talking — about Quidditch, the ever-trashier Muggle Ball, or checking if the Headmaster had arrived yet.

But your eyes, went straight where they shouldn’t have. There they were:

Heeseung — all lion pride and cocky grin. Next to him, T/L — his sister, a textbook Hufflepuff, kindness written across her face and sunshine in her voice. Sunoo, beaming as always and then… him.

Park Sunghoon.

Blue and black uniform, perfectly crisp.

Broad shoulders under his cloak. Long legs folded with that obsessive precision. His hair, thick and styled, always looked just a little tousled — like he’d fought a storm and come out victorious on purpose. You leaned against the desk with poised elegance, fingers laced.

T/L caught your eye and smiled warmly. You returned a faint nod — your rare, sincere way of saying “Yeah, I see you.”

And that’s when you noticed it — Hoon’s flushed cheeks.

The moment he saw you'd seen him, he looked away with a clumsy shift and pretended to adjust his tie. And you? You laughed — quietly, inwardly. Every time, the same story… those cheeks. That boyish flush. He always said it was the cold… sure. Cold ears, cold wrists, cold neck.

If you caught him jerking off thinking about you, he’d say he was “training against chronic irritation.”

Pathetic.…Adorable. But pathetic.

You didn’t even have time to tease him properly — you already had a few sharp lines ready on your tongue — When the great doors opened.

The Headmaster entered, and silence fell like a spell.

His voice, as every year, was slow, deliberate, and heavy with the solemnity only Hogwarts could conjure.

-Prefects, students, welcome to the next stage of the Conjunction Project- he began, hands clasped behind his back. -As you know, this exercise is meant to encourage inter-house collaboration…-

The speech went on, but the hall felt like it was holding its breath.

The duets. Mixed-House pairs, assigned for missions, studies, and exercises.

Two whole months and unless someone was hospitalized with dragon fever, the partners wouldn’t change.

-No exceptions,- the Headmaster added. -Except magical impossibility or illness. I trust that’s clear.-

He looked down at the parchment and began reading names. Each pair sparked groans, giggles, or sighs of resignation.

Until— Park Sunghoon… and Y/n L/n.-

Silence cracked the room for a second too long. Then came the whispers.

The stifled laughter, you turned your head toward him. He rolled his eyes in slow, theatrical disbelief and you smiled — that slow, sharp, challenging smile of yours, with just a touch of venom.

Of course.

Of course, this had to happen. As if it wasn’t enough having her voice in my dreams and her legs in my head. Two months. Two fucking months with her. With that tongue that only knows how to provoke, and that smile that makes me want to shut her up… and not with a spell,

Sunghoon thought.

It was 8:50 PM when you stepped out of the pool. Your hair is still damp, your skin carrying the scent of lavender salts and calming spells. You’d indulged a little too much in the prefects’ private sauna — one of the very few privileges in the castle that made you feel treated the way you deserved.

By 8:57 PM, you were still on the other side of the castle. At exactly 9:00, the astronomical clock in the heart of the tower struck with a solemn, echoing dong. At 9:02, you were running — cloak fluttering behind you, your shoes still a little wet in your rush. And by 9:06, you saw him.

Hoon was already there, standing at the entrance of the North corridor in the East Tower, bathed in the flickering light of an enchanted torch. His blue-and-black cloak perfectly in place, tie tight, expression unreadable… and his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. Living cliché, you thought. You approached with a confident step, a smirk playing on your lips. “Already checked the ghosts of the tower, or just practicing your patience on me?” Your voice was smooth, with just the right dose of poison. Hoon looked up at you with a huff. “You’re late.” His tone was sharp, precise — almost surgical. “Your first patrol. Congratulations, Y/n. You managed to turn duty into a spa-diva drama performance.” You let out a soft laugh and stepped even closer — your cloak parting just enough to reveal your bare legs under the uniform, your wand tucked into a garter you wore purely for vanity. “Oh, Hoonie…” you whispered, tilting your head. “Don’t tell me you’re flushed with rage again.” You reached out and theatrically brushed your fingers along his warm, blushing cheek. “You know, if you want to join me in the sauna, you just have to ask. No need to fake the fury.” Hoon clenched his jaw and took half a step back, throwing you a dark look. “It was the cold. You know, that thing that exists outside your cloud of perfume and narcissism.” His tone was sarcastic, biting but behind that stiff mask, you saw it. You always saw it — the red in his cheeks, the slightly quicker breath, the way he couldn’t look at you for more than three seconds without turning away. You followed as he started walking, those long legs moving quickly down the corridor. “What’s wrong, Ravenclaw? Running away from me?” You teased, following at a slower, more deliberate pace — a graceful glide. “Or are you afraid that if you slow down, you’ll, I don’t know… notice the sound of my footsteps behind you a little too much?” He lit the path with his wand, snapping out a curt “Lumos,” and without turning around, shot back: “The only sound I notice is your ego entering every room three minutes before you do.” You laughed. Quietly. Seductively. You walked behind him like a shadow — but with the elegance of an ancient charm.

What a challenge. What a damn walking riddle. He wants me. I see it. I feel it. But every time, he hides behind his bookish logic — and I love every second of this war. He’s playing. As always. And every time — every damn time — I catch myself thinking about that mouth… even while fending off Dementors during training.

Two months. Two. Whole. Months. What the hell did I do to deserve this divine punishment wrapped in a school uniform?

--

You walked up to him as you continued down the dark corridor.

“Hoon?”

“Mhm?”

“You forgot to check behind that statue. There could be a Boggart… or worse… a student breaking curfew.”

He half turned.

You were too close — eyes locked on his, your breath brushing against his skin, and you bit your lip.

“You should check, you know. It’s your duty… Prefect Park.”

And you walked ahead, this time without another word but his ears were still red.

How is it even possible that someone who looks like he was sculpted by a god is too boring to give him a single flaw?

That straight, sharp nose — so unlike your own. You had a slight bump, and that difference annoyed you… and excited you at the same time.

His moles, scattered across his face like secret little constellations. You knew exactly where they were, by heart.

Thin lips, but slightly full, like they were always about to tell you something he’d never say.

Or kiss you — but only if you deserved it.

His hair was thick, dark, just messy enough from the November wind.

And those shoulders. Those damn broad, straight shoulders.

Lean, defined body — nothing flashy… but you knew what was under that uniform.

That image was still burned into your mind — him in the prefects' pool. Shirtless, water dripping from his neck, running down his chest, and stopping where eyes weren’t supposed to look.

But you had looked. Oh, you’d looked perfectly.

That’s exactly when he turned abruptly and pointed his wand at you — not threateningly, but just enough to make you raise an eyebrow.

“You should be checking the corridors, not counting my moles.”

His tone was cynical. Tired. Irritated.

You smiled. Slowly. Poisonously. Your signature move.

“Honestly, I find your constellations much more interesting. It’s November, after all. No sane person’s out at night in this cold… except for the two of us.

One because he’s a control freak, and the other because… well. Just look at this luck.”

Hoon clenched his jaw.

“Being a prefect isn’t a privilege to strut down corridors like it’s a fashion show. You have duties, Y/n.”

“Oh, Hoonie… such seriousness. Are you saying you don’t like it when I look at you?”

You stepped a little closer.

“Because you can pretend all you want… but your cheeks, sweetheart, are literally screaming ‘look at me again.’”

“It’s because of the cold.”

“Of course it is. And I’m a Hufflepuff with a heart of gold.”

The bickering went on like that the whole patrol.

You teasing him, him snapping back — sharp responses, always with that barely-contained nervousness that betrayed everything he refused to admit. Pure tension. Loaded silences. Steps were taken too close. Glances that lasted one second too long. Until the shift ended.

You walked together toward the common rooms, and when you reached the entrance to Slytherin, you turned for one last jab.

“So chivalrous. Walking me right to the serpent’s lair. Should I be moved?”

Hoon looked at you with steady eyes and a flat voice.

“I do this for everyone. You’re not special, Y/n. You’re just like the others.”

You stared at him for a second. Silence. Then, with a half-smile:

“Ah. Then it must be a real problem… that none of those other girls make you lose your mind like I do, right?”

He clenched his jaw. His eyes — for a second — lit up with something that wasn’t just sarcasm anymore.

Something darker. Something far more wanting. But he said nothing. Just a cold: “Goodnight.”

And turned away, his cloak brushing against his ankles as he walked off — with that damn perfect stride.

It had been two weeks since patrols with Hoon started, and every single night had been its kind of chaos — all silent steps and poisonous words.

One night, you’d found him in the middle of a corridor with his shirt open, locked in a duel with a fleeing wizard (spoiler: he took him down in one move).

Another time, you two ended up hiding behind a statue to avoid Peeves, and you fell on top of him — hands on his chest, heart in your throat.

Other nights, it was just silence, and you found yourself walking too close, breathing him in, imagining things that had nothing to do with patrolling.

But that night, you were on time.

You’d spent hours in the Common Room, hunched over scrolls, books, and vials.

Amortentia had almost melted your brain — not just because of how complex the potion was, but because of what it meant.

The love potion. The one that smelled like your deepest desire.

You stretched slightly as the evening cold sliced through the air like a thin blade. Fingers frozen, lips chapped but your eyes were all on him.

Hoon was there, leaning against a stone wall, with that usual Ravenclaw scarf wrapped around his neck.

Tired eyes, messy hair, pale skin kissed by the cold.

How do you always look so annoyed… and so fucking gorgeous at the same time? you thought.

He noticed you looking. Again. He shot you a sharp look.

“Can you not stare like you’re trying to read my mind?”

“Aww, are you nervous tonight?” you giggled. “Afraid I’ll find out that beneath all that Ravenclaw perfection, you’ve got a soft heart?”

He scoffed, gripping his wand tightly.

“No. I’m afraid you’ll freeze me solid with your gaze. You’ve got a Basilisk effect.”

You walked for a few minutes, stairs creaking beneath your steps, until your voice broke the silence:

“Have you studied Amortentia?”

“Obviously yes. Not all of us spend our time staring at people or brewing random potions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So you heard mine didn’t turn out right, huh?”

“Oh, word got around.” He turned with a half-smile.

“I’d bet your beloved would smell like… let’s see… mist, moldy moss, and maybe even a hint of aromatic agony.”

You stopped.

No laughter. No teasing. Your gaze went ice-cold.

“Real funny, Park. He didn’t answer right away. He looked at you.

Then took a step forward — but you turned and started walking again, ignoring him. The silence grew thick. Almost solid.

Hoon followed you, but said nothing.

“Y/n—”

“Don’t.”

“It was just a joke. Don’t be childish.” You stopped dead in your tracks.

“You know what all of you are?” Your voice trembled — but not from the cold. “You all think you’re so clever. So superior. But you don’t know shit about me.”

He said nothing.

“To you, I’m just the daughter of the guy in prison. The pretty Slytherin — spoiled, easy to hate. But have you ever wondered what it’s like to carry that crap with you every single day? At Hogwarts, people talk. Always. They never forget. And they think they know you just because of your last name.”

Hoon looked at you. His expression had changed. No more sarcasm. No more coldness. Just something more human. More real.

“I…”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

“If you want to make fun of me, go ahead. But at least do it properly.

Not with that cheap sarcasm. And next time you bring up Amortentia, remember: Not everyone gets to smell something beautiful. For some of us… it just smells like loneliness.” And you walked away.

Leaving him there — alone, confused… and with a strangely heavy heart.

The Potions classroom was wrapped in a pulsing dimness, lit only by the flickering flames beneath the cauldrons and the pearly shimmer of the potions in progress.

Professor Slughorn, as enthusiastic as ever, clapped his hands and announced,

<Well, everyone, today we’ll test your true skills: each of you will brew Amortentia without the aid of books. Rely on your memory and your talent.>

After an hour of careful focus, mixing rose petals, Ashwinder eggs, and Moonwater, most of the students had completed their brews.

Professor Slughorn moved through the classroom, scrutinizing each cauldron with a practiced eye.

Next to you, T/L — Heeseung’s sister and your friend — leaned over her cauldron to smell her potion. A sudden flush bloomed across her cheeks.

“So?” you asked in a teasing whisper, smiling mischievously. "What do you smell?”

-N-nothing in particular,- she replied, trying to sound casual.

“Liar,” you grinned. “You turned red like an apple.”

T/L lowered her gaze, flustered.

-Alright, alright… I smell vanilla, rain, Quidditch field grass, and… freshly baked bread.-

You burst into laughter.

“Those scents only remind me of one person in this class — Jake Sim, Gryffindor’s top flirt. His list of conquests is longer than Fantastic Beasts.”

-Shh! Shut up!- she hissed, shooting you a glare while trying not to smile.

Professor Slughorn approached your station, inspecting your potion with interest.

<Excellent, Y/N,> he said with a pleased nod. <Your Amortentia has the perfect mother-of-pearl sheen, and the vapor spirals beautifully. Flawless work.>

He smiled and added,

<Now, lean in and tell me what you smell.>

You bent over the cauldron and inhaled deeply.

But… nothing. No scent reached you. No familiar fragrance. No unfamiliar one. Just… olfactory silence.

Professor Slughorn looked at you, puzzled.

<You don’t smell anything?>

You shook your head, confused. “No, Professor. Nothing at all.”

He furrowed his brow, thoughtful. <Interesting… Very interesting. Perhaps your mind is too focused to let the emotions flow. Try again, Y/N,> he said gently, though his eyes already held that shade of pity that made your blood boil.

<Close your eyes. Think of a person. A happy moment. Let the potion speak.>

You took a deep breath and leaned in again, eyes closed, letting your thoughts drift.

You searched for something happy.

A moment. A face. Summer at the lake, with your grandmother teaching you the charm to keep water cool in jars.

Your first successful spell.

A quiet evening in the Slytherin common room, with rain tapping on the windows and green light pulsing on the walls. But still… nothing. You inhaled deeply. Still nothing. You opened your eyes and gave a small shake of your head.

The classroom was filled with whispers.

“Maybe she’s too bitter to feel love.”

“Of course — look at that snake face.”

“She needs a potion to feel something, not just smell it.”

“Love can’t be bought — not even with that last name.”

You backed away from the cauldron. For the first time, you lowered your gaze. Not out of shame. Out of rage. That strange stab in your chest hit harder than you expected. You felt T/L’s warm hand lightly brush your back, followed by the gentler touch of Sunoo.

And then—

'Well, no surprise,' came a fake-cheerful voice. It was Jace Roswell — a boy you’d dated for a couple of weeks.

'I mean… you’re the daughter of a convict. You don’t just inherit the blood, right? You inherit the emptiness too.'

Total silence. Your hand closed around your wand. Your eyes — two green blades, ready to curse him where he stood but before you could speak, another voice cut through.

Cold. Sharp. Poisoned like a dagger dipped in bitterness.

“Stupefy!”

Jace was hit full force, tongue paralyzed and body jolting backward like he’d been shocked. His notes scattered across the floor — along with his pride.

Hoon lowered his wand slowly, his eyes locked on Jace.

“Funny,” he said, voice calm and deadly. “For someone so mediocre at Potions, you sure have a big mouth.”

Professor Slughorn turned in alarm — but it was the look in Sunghoon’s eyes that silenced everyone. And then he looked at you. Really looked at you. Not with the usual scorn or exasperation. This time, he looked at you like someone seeing something fragile… or something powerful that had just cracked. But you stood up tall. You left the classroom without a word.

And Sunghoon remained there, wand still in hand, staring at the door you had just closed behind you.

You fled the classroom like you could outrun that burning emptiness inside you. It wasn’t just anger. It was frustration. It was that cursed fear — the fear that maybe you were like that: unfeeling. Empty. Forever the daughter of a man they whispered about — a ruined legend. No one wanted to see you. Only the mask. The bloodline. The shadow and that damned scent of Amortentia you no longer even wanted to find.

You climbed up, to the Astronomy Tower. No one dared set foot in that place, especially not in the forgotten side classroom — too ancient, too cold for the faint-hearted. But you weren’t faint-hearted.Casting the spell to unlock the door was a reflex. The portal creaked open and shut behind you with a sharp snap. The stone was cold beneath your palms. The broken windows let in the light like a knife, slicing through the darkness.And yet, you weren’t alone. A sound behind you — soft but deliberate — made your jaw clench.

“You have no right to follow me,” you hissed, not turning around. “And certainly not to defend me in front of everyone. You’re the first who thinks I’m incapable of loving anyone.” Your voice came out acidic. Sharp. Poisoned. But Sunghoon didn’t flinch. He never did.

“Why does it bother you so much that someone treats you like a human being?” You spun around and stormed toward him, shoving him hard against the wall. The stone echoed from the impact his expression was ice but his eyes… his eyes said something entirely different.

“You’re pathetic,” you spat, face close to his. “You act like some perfect little Ravenclaw, but the moment I raise my voice, you come running after me like a puppy. It’s almost cute.” His jaw tensed. “And you act like a wounded child who lashes out just to avoid feeling exposed.” You let out a laugh. Low. Disbelieving. “See? You’re a walking contradiction, Sunghoon. Rational, perfect, distant — and yet here you are, chasing me up here just because you can’t stand the thought that someone said something to me… something you might’ve thought yourself.”

He stared at you for a long moment. His gaze dropped — briefly — to your lips, then came back up. “This loser, as you call him, is the only one today who had the guts to tell you you’re not alone. Even when you’re too proud to realize it.” And in that moment, something snapped. As if every word, every insult, every stolen glance in the corridors or during late-night patrols had finally reached its breaking point.

You kissed him.

It was impulsive. Rough. Angry. Your hands gripped the collar of his uniform and your lips crashed against his in a kiss that held nothing sweet. It was fire and defiance. It was revenge and hunger.

It was confusion — and… he responded with the same raw intensity.

His hands found your waist — but it wasn’t domination.

It was needed. A need so pure it made you tremble and yet, when you finally pulled apart, his eyes were cold again as if he’d just realized what had happened.

“Careful, Y/N,” he whispered, voice low and edged. “You might find out Ravenclaws can burn too.”

And you, with a bold, wicked smirk, shot back: “And you might find out Slytherins have a heart but only for those who earn it.”

As you kissed again, his hands gripped you with urgency, and you pushed him back onto the old, worn-out settee wedged between the walls and the dark windows of the tower. The floorboards creaked beneath you — but you didn’t care.

You straddled him, with the venomous elegance of someone who knows exactly how much control they hold.

Your hands took his face as you kissed him again — hungry as if that touch could wash away the bitterness in your mouth.

You bit his lower lip — intentionally.

He let out a low groan. You smiled. Fierce. Dangerous. “Really? You whimper at that, Hoon? I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be good at enduring… pain.” His pupils dilated as he stared at you.

“You’re a damn viper.”

“Thank you for the compliment.” You traced a nail along his throat — following the rhythm of his breath.

“Much better than sweetheart, darling, or princess. I’m not sweet, Hoon. I’m poison.”

“I’m starting to notice,” he murmured, voice low — with a crooked, defiant little smile, somewhere between awestruck and undone. You grabbed his cloak and yanked it off with purpose.

Then your fingers closed around the zipper of his hoodie.

With one firm pull, the heavy blue-and-black fabric slipped off his broad shoulders, revealing a fitted black tank top underneath.

Your gaze dropped to his chest — the sculpted lines of a lean, toned body beneath all that Ravenclaw rigidity.

“Well, well… who would’ve thought? Underneath all that top-of-the-class tension, there’s a body built for sin.”

He opened his mouth to reply — but you didn’t let him. You leaned in, kissing his neck — slow, deliberate — leaving behind small, growing marks.

Your teeth grazed his pale skin, your mouth sucking just enough to leave proof, one kiss at a time and every time you bit, you saw his skin bloom red like temptation, and inside, you felt something like pride.

Because tomorrow… tomorrow, he’d wear your marks — the marks of a Slytherin’s sin. Sunghoon held his breath, then whispered near your ear:

“They… might hear us…” You lifted your head just enough, your eyes locked onto his.

“What’s the matter, little Raven? Afraid someone might find out the golden boy moans while a Slytherin is marking him like he’s hers?”

He shut his eyes for a second, gritting his teeth.

“Merlin, you’re unmanageable.”

“No,” you whispered against his skin. “I’m irresistible. And you… you’ve fallen.”

You kissed him again — slower this time, deeper — while his hands slid up along your thighs beneath your uniform. It was a power game.

A battle of breath, of tension, of who would give in first. But neither of you wanted to surrender. Neither of you could. Not yet.

His hands trembled slightly beneath your lifted skirt, fingers hesitant — like he still thought he could stop this.

Adorable.

“What’s wrong, golden boy? Top of the class go mute the second he brushes against a wet pair of panties?”

He didn’t answer. His cheeks flushed, and that usual air of superiority vanished — replaced by something far more interesting:

Confused submission.

Without waiting, you took his hand and carried it exactly where you needed it. "You have studied forbidden spells, ancient formulas, and advanced potions… and yet you tremble at the thought of making me enjoy. How ridiculous you are." He inhaled slowly but did not back down. His fingers moved under the lace of your now-soaked panties and your horny, slow, hesitant cunt. When he touches you, moan loudly. Wet. Hot. Open. Just for him. "Look what you're doing to me, Ravenclaw…" he whispered against his mouth. He stuttered, kneaded with shame and desire.

"You like it, don't you? Make me like this. Feel my thighs tremble under your fingers. You want it as much as I do." His finger slipped into it, and your body reacted with a visceral tremor. You huddled over him, enjoying the way his control crumbled. "Shut up … please…" he muttered. "If they hear us…" You stopped for a moment just to smile. "That would be perfect, my love. Imagine someone coming in and finding you like this: with two fingers inside a Slytherin and your flap ready to explode." He gasped, almost moaning. And he sank another finger.

"Oh, fuck…" hissed, squeezing your thighs around his hand. "You're good, you know? A perfect guy who knows where to touch me. Who would have thought." "Y / n … you … you're fucking my hand…" he stammered with his eyes half-closed, his breath short. "Yes. And I will until you make me come so hard that I can't walk to the Common Room." His thumb moved-accurate, damn perfect. He began to tease your clit as you felt bloated with pleasure like a storm about to explode. Every time he pumped his fingers inside your poor cunt you would moan and he would bite his lips so as not to moan at the sight of you getting his fingers fucked and riding on them like it was your favorite thing.

"Faster," hissing through his teeth. "Let me enjoy it, Ravenclaw. Do something useful in your perfect life." His fingers sank, his thumb turned, and you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed His hair, forced him to look at you as your body stretched. "I'm coming…" you said, but it was already too late. Pleasure swept you into a warm, slimy, pulsating wave. And he stood there beneath you, his fingers inside, his face upset, confused … excited like I've never seen him before. "Look how small you are," you told him while still breathing hard. "You made me enjoy with your fingers as if it were your mission. Maybe you should write it in your thesis." "Y/n… I…" he stammered, still with wet fingers. "Shhh," You put a finger on his lips. "Don't talk," you said as you kissed again.

That night, you weren't looking at him. For the past month, it had become almost a reflex: your eyes shifting to Hoon as soon as he entered the room, his flawless gestures, that voice always too calm, too sharp. But not this time. This time, you kept your gaze fixed ahead, your elbows at a distance from him, your mind elsewhere. And he felt it. He sensed it. It was like a sting to his pride. "Strange, Slytherin…" he whispered as you walked through the castle. "Tonight, you're not trying to seduce me with your gaze. What's going on? Don’t you notice your knight who defended you in front of everyone?" He said it with that half-irritating, sarcastic smile of his, the one only a Ravenclaw too clever for their own good could have. But you didn’t laugh. You slowly turned to him, your eyes as hard as marble.

"Funny. Still on about that? Even though you defended me, everyone thinks I’m incapable of loving anyone. And you know what? Maybe they’re right." He stiffened. He didn’t expect that. Not from you. He tried to say something, but you didn’t give him space. "And maybe you think so too, Hoon. No matter how much you pretend to be above it all… you let what they say about me influence you. You’re cynical. Fucking cynical." Hoon’s eyes darkened. He didn’t say anything. He took a step. Then another. And suddenly, his hands were on your hips. He shoved you against the wall with enough force to take your breath away. His face was very close.

"You don’t know anything about me." "Oh, I know far too well," you retorted, lifting your chin in defiance. "Your face is an open book, especially when you play the know-it-all. You know what people say, Hoon? That you’ve got a crush on me." He snarled through gritted teeth. "You’re arrogant. Superficial. And spoiled. You think you’re invincible just because people are afraid of you. But you’re just a broken little girl, hiding the emptiness behind lipstick and that bitchy attitude." You felt your heartbeat quicken. Not with anger. With something far more dangerous. "Go on, Ravenclaw. Tell me again how much I disgust you. Let me show you how much I get under your skin, while you're the first to chase me and want my body, maybe even my mind." "Under my skin?" he hissed. "You're a fucking toxin. You get inside me and ruin me. And yet here I am. Still on top of you."

He was about to kiss you. Maybe to yell at you. Maybe to implode. But it didn’t happen. The sound of footsteps broke the tension. Three prefects from other houses rushed toward you, visibly agitated. -Hey! Stop it right now, what the hell—" 'It’s not the time!' one of them intervened, worried. 'Three first-year kids are missing. We need to find them immediately. They might have gone into the Forbidden Forest.' You and Hoon exchanged a glance, still heavy breaths, the wall still warm against your back, his hands still firm on your hips. No one spoke. But something had changed and suddenly, the night had grown much darker.

The wind blew harshly against your cloaks, wet with snow, slicing at your cheeks like icy blades as you all moved in silence, wands raised, along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Detection spells floated through the air, one after another: Homenum Revelio, Point Me, Lumos Maxima… but nothing. No response. No trace. There were ten of you, and the professor split everyone into pairs. Naturally, you got paired with Hoon.

He walked ahead, stiff, silent, as if the cold didn’t touch him. You followed a few steps behind, wand clenched in your fist, steps careful, mind crowded. Every time a branch snapped or the snow rustled oddly, you instinctively moved closer to him. Until, without even noticing, you were practically pressed against his back.

“Using me as a human shield, Y/n?” he said without turning around, his voice as cold and sharp as ever.

Then, the scream. Shrill. Agonizing. It didn’t even sound human.

You grabbed his wrist without thinking. Hard. Your frozen fingers on his warm skin.

“Now’s not the time to be a smartass,” you growled. “There’s a child out there screaming.”

He looked down at your hand gripping his wrist like it was the only real thing in the middle of that blizzard. He swallowed hard. His jaw clenched violently. It was below freezing. But you… you were too close. Too warm. Too much.

“Your touch makes less sense than a Muggle in a Charms class,” he muttered, trying to hide the fact that he was practically burning up under his cloak.

Then you both screamed. At the top of your lungs.

No response. Just the storm. And then… a red light in the dark.

You ran. Fast. Brooms forgotten behind you. The light pulsed through the trees, flickering like an alarm.

And when you reached it— A young Gryffindor boy. Trapped. And in front of him… a five-headed beast. Towering. Twisted. Screaming. Its jaws gaping, drooling, circling the boy like a trap from hell.

“Minus 200 points to Gryffindor for being a monumental idiot,” Hoon said, unflinching.

“Are you insane?” you snapped. “Who gives a damn about points?! He’s in danger—we have to save him!”

Hoon scoffed. “Of course. Let’s reward stupidity, as usual.”

But despite the words, he raised his wand. “Fulgari!”

The spell’s glowing tendrils wrapped around one of the heads… but the creature reacted by tightening its body around the boy, who screamed, voice cracking: 'I don’t want to die! Help! Please!'

One of the heads lunged at you both, growling. You raised your wand, ready to fight. But Hoon stopped you with a hand against your chest.

“Go. Now. I’ll distract it.”

“Not a chance,” you growled back. But he didn’t listen.

“Expulso!” he shouted.

The creature staggered, and for a moment, it looked like it might retreat. But then… another head burst from the black mass of its back, snarling with rage, its red eyes locked solely on the two of you.

The snow seemed to freeze in midair.

You and Hoon exchanged a look. He was tense, sweating despite the cold, but his voice was steady.

"Hope you studied, Slytherin. Because this time… we need real magic.”

'Use a Patronus!' the boy cried out, tears streaking his face, voice broken.

You and Hoon exchanged a quick, tense look. The monster’s heads screeched and writhed around each other like frenzied snakes. The snow was falling heavier now, mixed with hail. The cold clung to your eyelashes.

“It’s too dangerous for you! We wouldn’t even manage a moth,” Hoon hissed, eyes locked on the creature.

But without thinking, you stepped forward, raising your wand with both hands. “Expecto Patronum!” … Nothing. Just wind. Your voice vanished into the void.

Panic tightened in your throat. But you shut your eyes. You searched for something. A thought. An emotion. And there it was—Hoon, back in class, defending you in front of everyone, unafraid of judgment. That moment when you realized that behind all the sarcasm and coldness, there was something more. He didn’t just see you as the loud, brazen Slytherin. He saw a girl who felt things. Who had her own fragilities.

“Expecto Patronum!” you shouted again, heart pounding like a drum.

A light ignited. Green and blue. It pulsed. Boiled. And then it burst.

From the snow and the glow, a shining, majestic serpent and a proud-eyed raven rose into the dark sky, spiraling together in a whirl of colored snow. They danced around the monster, striking. Its roar faded into a high-pitched screech—then silence. Gone. Only the ragged breathing of the boy remained.

You turned. Hoon was staring at you, mouth slightly open, eyes wide in disbelief, his lips caught between sarcasm and admiration.

“Don’t comment,” you panted, throwing him a look. And for once—he didn’t.

You rushed to the boy and wrapped him in your arms, trying to give him all the warmth you no longer had.

'I’m cold… but… your Patronus was beautiful,' he whispered, wide-eyed. “Thank you, little Gryffindor,” you murmured. “You made it too.”

A second later, a flash of light— And the Headmaster appeared before you with a sharp snap, his cloak rippling from residual magic.

-Incredible,- he said, looking at you and Hoon. -A joint Patronus. Haven’t seen one in… decades. Well done, both of you.- Then, turning to the boy with a sterner tone: -You risked your life tonight. From now on, you stay away from any path with trees. Understood?-

When you tried to Side-Apparate with the others, your wand trembled in your hand. Nothing. No effect.

“Perfect,” you muttered.

“You burned through too much energy,” Hoon said—without sarcasm, for once. “You’re insane. Don’t bother. Come with us.”

“No, you go with the Headmaster. I’ll… take a broom. Or walk. I’ll be fine.”

“Walk? With that thing still out there?” he growled. “Do you have blood in your brain or just snow?”

The Headmaster, calm as ever, raised a hand. -You’ll rest here. The Forest owes you something, tonight.-

And from the white trees, a small wooden cottage appeared—steep roof, chimney already smoking. A soft, golden light glowed from its windows.

You and Hoon looked at each other for a moment, then— You ran. Side by side. No words. Just warmth. Into that safe little pause in the world.

As soon as the door shut behind you, the sound of the storm vanished. The little cottage felt suspended in time: warm wooden walls, a thick rug laid out before a crackling fireplace, a bench stacked with folded blankets, and a faint scent of tea and oak in the air.

You pulled off your cloak, hands slightly trembling. Hoon did the same, silent, shaking the snow from his hair. He glanced at you and ran a hand down his face, like he still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Then he burst out: “Are you completely insane? You just… cast a Patronus. A joint one, at that.”

“Yeah, and I also saved your ass, the kid’s, and mine. A ‘thank you’ wouldn’t kill you,” you shot back, crossing your arms, challenging glare locked on him.

He laughed—short, sharp, but not cruel. “You know that trying to cast it without being sure it would work could’ve knocked you out—or worse, right? But of course, the Slytherin princess had to shine.”

“Shine?” you scoffed. “Right, sorry—next time I’ll let you play the misunderstood hero while I blend into the damn wallpaper.”

Hoon eyed you, dark gaze narrowing with that look you knew all too well. He was about to pounce. And he did.

“That Patronus though. Green and blue? A serpent and a raven?” He paused, then added with that pointed tone: “So… what are we saying? A blend of you and me? Tragic. Romantic. Arrogant.”

“It wasn’t a blend,” you huffed. “It was just… powerful. You had nothing to do with it.”

He raised an eyebrow, smiling in that infuriating way only he could—sharp, precise, lethal. “Oh really? Shame. It looked… kind of intimate. Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell me something?”

“Yeah. That you’re a loser,” you muttered, stepping toward him with venom in your voice.

“Says the girl who grabbed my wrist in the snow like I was her favorite comfort blanket.”

“That was so you wouldn’t die, you idiot.”

“Admit it. You like making me worry.”

You rolled your eyes with a groan, but didn’t notice he’d already closed the gap between you. In a second, he pushed you—gently but firmly—against the wall, one hand at your waist, the other brushing your cheek, caught between provocation and something rawer.

Your heart slammed in your chest. The fireplace’s heat. His breath on your skin.

“You’re unbearable,” you whispered.

“Right back at you,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours.

And without giving you time to reply—he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It was a collision. All teeth, shallow breath, and desperate hands.

His body pressed hard against yours, your back against the wall, the world outside drowned out by everything you’d never said.

Sunghoon kissed you like he’d been waiting forever.

It wasn’t sweet. It was real. Raw.

You responded instantly, hands gripping the fabric of his cloak, pulling him closer with a force you didn’t even know you had.

He moved you back—toward the cottage’s small kitchen table. In a flash, you were sitting on top of it, the surface cold beneath you, his body warm and solid between your legs. He tugged at your lower lip with his teeth, and you let out a soft, broken moan, stolen right from your lungs.

His hands were everywhere—warm, certain—and when he gently bit your lower lip, a moan escaped you, more a hoarse whisper than an actual sound.

“Oh, look who’s moaning now,” he murmured against your mouth, wearing that arrogant smirk you knew all too well.

“Shut up, Park,” you shot back in a low, loaded voice. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”

You grabbed his thick cloak and tossed it to the floor, your lips finding his again—hungry, desperate. There was no space for anything else. Just hands, bodies, breath.

Your fingers slipped beneath his heavy sweater, brushing over his warm, flawless skin. “This needs to go,” you whispered, voice low and shameless.

“You can,” he replied, but his eyes held that familiar flicker—somewhere between surrender and craving.

You pulled it up by the hem, slowly, savoring every inch you uncovered. And as you did, your eyes dared him. “How many times have you dreamed of this, huh?”

He let out a low growl. “Shut up.”

You chuckled, pleased. You peeled off his second layer too, leaving him in nothing but a fitted black tank top that clung to his pale skin and highlighted the sculpted shape of his arms.

“Spread your legs,” he said, in that deep, rough voice that made your insides tremble.

You obeyed. And he moved in, closer, more real. His body pressed against yours, the difference in height only adding to the tension, thrilling and undeniable. You tilted him toward you slightly, your hands locking around the back of his neck with quiet insistence.

You started kissing him there, just below his ear, then down along his jawline. Your lips found the curve of his neck—hot, eager—and you sucked, leaving a mark.

Sunghoon let out a soft moan, low and involuntary. “Merlin... Y/n...”

“What?” you whispered against his skin, with a wicked smile. “Can’t handle a little real human contact?”

He opened his eyes, trying to stay composed. But you could see it, feel it—every word, every touch, you were pulling him apart piece by piece.

“I hate you,” he murmured again, but his voice shook.

“Oh yeah? Then come and prove it.”

His hands dove into the edges of your coat, and with one swift movement, he slipped it off your shoulders. His eyes stayed locked on yours, but when his hands slid under your Slytherin sweatshirt, his gaze darkened—sharpened. He yanked it off with a single pull, leaving you in nothing but that fitted emerald-green tank top… the one that seemed designed to tempt him.

"Slytherin to the last layer?"he provoked you, a raised eyebrow and dangerously low tone. "Even panties?" "Maybe," you replied with a sassy smile. "But if you want to know, you'll have to find out for yourself." He looked at you as if you were playing with fire — and maybe it was true. But he did not back down. "You really are a little nightmare dressed in silk," he hissed, still approaching. He leaned over you and his lips came back to your neck, this time slower, hungrier. He sucked it, nibbled it, as if he wanted to brand you. And when a groan escaped from your lips and your fingers caught in his hair, he came off for a moment, his eyes lit with a brazen desire.

"Tomorrow you will have purple marks everywhere, princess," he whispered, her voice hoarse. "We are magicians, Park. I'll hide them in two seconds."

"Don't you dare even think about it," he retorted in a darker, more possessive tone. "I want them to see each other. I want everyone to know exactly where I kissed you and that you are mine, my little viper." And he returned to your neck, sinking with a new determination, as if thirsty. He sucked your skin as if it were nectar, as if every inch had a spell just for him. Your groans filled the room, broken only by the sound of your heavy breaths.

Then he lowered himself, slowly, and his eyes rested on your chest. The tank top had lifted, allowing a glimpse of the soft curves that the bra, a little too tight, was trying to contain. His lips rested light above the cups, and he kissed you with an unexpected, almost adoring sweetness.

"Can I take it off?" he murmured, his forehead against your chest. "You can," he whispered, his voice broken with desire. His hands barely shook as he grabbed the hem of his tank top. He slowly took off your tank top, and his eyes darkened as he looked at you. His hands, still cold from the frost outside, slipped under your bra. He unfastened it with precision, and the moment he fell, your breasts were free, sensitive skin stretched by the air and attention of his eyes.

"Sensitive, huh?"he teased you, with a half-smile on his lips. You grabbed him by the collar of the tank top. "Bow down, Park. And suck.» He gave you a look that promised chaos. "You can just give me orders, huh?» Yet he obeyed. He leaned over, his hot lips touching one of your strained buds, then his tongue began to rub him flat. You felt yourself melt, a groan rolled out of you, broken. Then he just used his teeth, and your body strained.

"Hoon!"you screamed, his name rolled out of his lips like an escaped spell. "Always so responsive?"he teased you, his voice hoarse while with his other hand he drew you to himself even more. His hand closed on the other breast, with firm, hungry movements. "You're meant to be touched like that, you know?"he muttered, kissing and nibbling. "So soft. So ... mine."

"Don't say these things," you admonished him, trying to control you, but it was useless. His lips, his hands, were erasing all logic.

It came to you instinctively — you stuck a hand under his black tank top and pulled it up. He just came off your breast, a trickle of spittle shining on his lips. Your eyes rested on his toned, pale, almost unrealistically defined chest. You bit your lip, unable to hold back that little gesture. "You haven't seen anything yet, witch," he whispered, before stooping back, your bodies now closer together, your breasts brushing against his bare chest. They both groaned softly upon contact. "When I saw you in the prefects pool..." you whispered, " I wanted to jump on you." He looked up at you, surprised but amused. "And why didn't you?" You shrugged your shoulders with feigned innocence. "Maybe I wanted to make you suffer a little." "Cursed..." he growled quietly, and returned to kiss your breasts with even more desire, as if the confession had ignited something in him.

He continued to tease you, his mouth soft and careful on your breasts, until his lips began to descend slowly along your belly. Every kiss was like a spark that ignited you all, and you moaned, unable to hold back. "So receptive..." he muttered with a grin, his voice deep and hoarse. "Typical spoiled little princess."

"Don't let a Ravenclaw command me," you replied, lifting yourself up and looking him straight in the eye. "Not even if he has a language like yours." He laughed slowly, but in his eyes there was a new hunger. And you, with an instinctive move, unfastened his belt. His eyes just smiled as you did it. The pants slid down with a rustle, and you whistled softly at the sight of the black boer

"I thought you were more shy," he whispered. "And I thought you were less ... gifted," he retorted, touching it through the fabric. You felt him tense, hard. And you looked at him with a satisfied smile. "It's a pity that he always remains a poor Ravenclaw loser." He clenched his jaw, his eyes turned on.

"Watch how you speak, Y/n" But you still approached, his hands on yours even as yours drew him more forcefully to you. His forehead leaned against yours, and for a moment there was only silence, only breath. Then, slowly, with curious and determined fingers, you stuck your hand under the edge of his boxer. You felt his erection, the way his body reacted, the warm and alive skin under your hand.

"You're really ruined, Park." He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, holding back a groan. "And I bet you're bad, too. It would take a hand of mine in your jeans you’d be wet" You admonished him with a smirk, but you tightened your grip a little, enough to make him moan — a deep, almost broken sound. "... little viper..." he muttered, his voice a thin thread between pleasure and torment. You giggled, dropping his boxer

"I don't think I'll last long..." he confessed with a restrained growl. You got even closer, your voice a whisper in your ear. "Then do it. Show me how much I ruin you." sunghoon was literally ruined. What he had dreamed of for months-perhaps since you launched your first poisonous joke in the Prefects ' corridor-was now real. And with your hand moving slowly against his cock, he could no longer think.

He slightly grabbed your shoulder, looking for an anchor point to reality. Hi voice trembled. "Y/n....i'm coming.."

"I know," you whispered with a devilish grin, accelerating the pace and barely squeezing. He sprinted forward, a restrained groan that became a growl. "You're a little viper."

"And this viper is making you look like a loser, Park." It was the end. One last, hoarse moan and yelled your name, your head bent back, your body contracted. His forehead leaned against your shoulder as he barely trembled, his breath broken.

His abdomen, the clear line of the V, was marked by the pleasure you had just caused, little pearly and slimy filaments ripped through his shiny abs and then he bent over, still panting, and whispered something in your ear — sweet words, but laden with desire, broken by his own astonishment. They made you vibrate inside. You, without saying anything, picked up with a finger the most noticeable trace of his sperm and, looking straight into his eyes, slowly brought it to your mouth. You sucked it with malice. "You are sweet, "you said," but slightly salty."

"You're sick," he muttered, halfway between the amused and the ruined. "And you're in love," you replied, laughing, gracefully stepping down from the table. You took him by the wrist, with your usual Slytherin confidence, and dragged him to the bed in the middle of the little house in the woods. "The principal really created a work of art. Ideal for couples to do smutty things."

He chuckled, but upon hearing the word couples, his heart skipped a beat. You didn't realize it — or maybe you did, but you didn't say it. You let yourself fall between the pillows with a naturalness that would make even a Veela pale. Your breasts moved slightly as you settled down. You looked at him with feigned impatience. "And you? What are you doing standing there?" Sunghoon shook his head, a smirk on his lips, still stunned by you. "You are impossible."

"And yet you are still here." He moved, climbed over you, with almost reverent slowness, and for a moment there was no more bickering, no game, no war. Just him and you, skin to skin. Sunghoon's dark tufts fell untidy on his forehead, damp with sweat and desire. You extended a hand, touching his cheek with your fingers, soft and slow, as if you were trying to memorize every line of his face. Your eyes were half-closed, loaded with something beyond provocation: a shred of vulnerability that you almost never showed.

He paused for a moment to look at you-as if he could not believe that you were really there, under him. Then, with that cheeky half-smile you knew all too well, he began to descend again, kissing every inch of your skin. When he got to the edge of your pants, he said nothing. Only the metallic sound of the zipper sliding down spoke for him. He whistled softly. "Fiery red panties, huh?"he said, raising an eyebrow. "And then you accuse me of being a pervert."

"Shut your mouth, Park," you admonished him, trying to sound superior. But your tone trembled a little.

"Open your legs."

"No."

His eyes became darker. "Stubborn to the last. Classic from Slytherin." And without waiting, with glacial calm and strong fingers, he opened them to you. His big hands wrapped around your thighs, slowly pushing them outward as you cast a poisonous glance at him. "I knew," he muttered.

"The whole scene." Then he lowered his head and began to kiss the skin of your inner thigh. Soft, quick bites marked his path, igniting every nerve beneath the surface. Every now and then he would stop and look at you from under his eyelashes, as if studying your reactions like an ancient spell. And when he got to the center of you, he said nothing. Just one kiss, one, full, slow. A groan escaped from your lips before you could stop it, and your back involuntarily arched. Sunghoon stopped, satisfied.

"And tell me now," he whispered against your skin, in a hoarse voice, "who is the loser, princess?" His fingers grazed the thin cloth, finding you exactly as he expected. He looked at you defiantly and triumphantly.

"Completely wet. For me." Then he bent over again, and your eyes lost all focus — you could only see his dark hair, his head between your thighs, and you could only feel the slow, firm pace with which he was tasting you like you were the only thing in the world. Your breath broke, a groan rose from your bowels, and his name escaped you like a prayer and a curse. "Hoon…" His tongue was a forbidden temptation. Every movement, precise and darn slow, made you falter as if a spell ran under your skin. He drew little eights with his tip, as if he wanted to draw your name on him-and you, with your lips ajar, groaned quietly, babbling his name like a supplication.

"H-Hoon ... what... what are you—"

"Shut up, viper," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and sharp. "I've never heard you so... true." And without warning, he slid a finger into you. A slow, exploratory motion that made you arch your back against the pillows. Your body reacted before you could even fight back.

"Park, I -" you tried to admonish him, but it was useless. He smiled, looking up just a second, his eyes lit up by something wild. And then, with a bold gesture, he brushed your center with his teeth. A light bite, calibrated. But it was enough to make you completely lose control. You screamed his name, fingers intertwined in his hair, looking for a foothold in reality.

"I bet you can get another one, right?"he whispered with a mischievous note. "Show me how good you really are."

"Yes..." you answered, in a broken voice. The second finger joined the first, and began to move with increasing pace. His eyes peered at you, hungry, and when you moaned louder, lips ajar and body trembling, he giggled. "Who is more beautiful, princess? Me ... or my fingers ruining you?» You bit your lip, not wanting to answer. Slytherin pride was hard to bend, even now. And he stopped. He left you there, suspended, a moment from the abyss. "No ... continue, Park!" He degraded you, in a low, provocative tone, but his gaze barely trembled. And when you gasped: "You are beautiful. And ... good at everything,"

he smiled for real, with a flash of triumph and a shadow of sweetness in his eyes. "I know," he replied. But his tone, this time, was less cold. More sincere. Almost amazed. "And you ... are my worst spell." His touch was fire. Every movement of his fingers inside you sent you into orbit, and despite the severed breath, you could not hold back the words. You yelled his name like it was the only spell that could keep you alive. Your hands were now lost in her hair, pulling them with force with every wave of pleasure that passed through you. He didn't stop. In fact, he seemed hungrier, more determined. He looked at you with those icy eyes that were now burning, and his voice, hoarse and confident, stuck in you.

"Come for me, Y / n ... I want to see you collapse. I want to know that no one can make you feel that way. Nobody but me." His words were the spark. Your body strained, the pleasure exploded like a liberated curse, and you let yourself go completely — trembling against his mouth and fingers. He did not look away even a moment, as if he wanted to stamp that moment in focus in the mind. When he stood up, he had the look of someone who has just won a war. He kissed you slowly, forcefully.

He gnawed at your lip as if he still wanted to taste you. "You know too much good," he muttered against your mouth, and the tone had something dangerously sweet. You barely moved, rubbing against him — your body still shaken, but eager for more. You felt his cock against you, still encased in his boer Your eyes rested on him and, in a bold and mischievous tone, you teased him: "All this ... because of a Slytherin." Sunghoon threw a fierce look at you, jaws clenched.

"Shut up." But you laughed slowly, enjoying the tension you had ignited. You pushed your hips against him and his breath broke. His body reacted instinctively, as if it had been enchanted by you all along. "Do you really want it?"he whispered, in a voice so low that it almost sounded like a threat. "Because if I sink into you now... there will be nothing left to hide. I'll take everything."

You looked at him, his pupils dilated, his heart in his throat. "Then do it, Ravenclaw. Take."

The only thing you really felt was him. Hoon. Every inch of his body pressed against yours, and every slow but deep push made you gasp, scratch, seek more contact, more friction. More than him. "Look how you take me..."he hissed at your throat, biting your skin as if he wanted to leave his signature there, indelible. "So tight, so wet. Is that what you want? To be used by me as a good, dirty Slytherin?"

"Yes..." you moaned, your voice almost broken with pleasure. "Yes, Hoon, please..." He lifted your leg, bending it against his side with controlled force, and sank back into you with a jerk that made you scream, your head falling backwards against the wall.

"Well" Another push, deeper.

"Do you feel how full your fucking pussy is?" Another one.

"You like it, don't you? Being fucked by one who treats you like a spoiled princess."

"I am..." you stammered, unable to lie. "My Slytherin princess version slut," he growled, grabbing your chin to make you look him in the eye. Cold eyes, precise. Calculator. But now, they were just burning for you.

"I bet you dream of being bent over a bench in empty classrooms. To enjoy me in the aisles while you're still wearing that damn green tie." Every word was a slap to your pride, but instead of breaking you, it made you shiver more. "Do you like it when I tell you that you are worth nothing but to be fucked? That behind that queen face of yours is only you, hot, trembling, hungry for me?"

"Yes ... Yes, Merlin, Hoon ... make me yours..." He pushed you even harder, making you moan louder and louder. One hand on your throat, to squeeze slightly, while the other crept between your bodies to touch you. Two experienced, cruel fingers brushed the spot where you were most sensitive, and you screamed without restraint. "Hear how you scream..." he hissed, excitedly. "I bet the owls in the woods are wondering who is the little slut who is taking me so well."

"Only you ..." you moaned. "Only you make me like this..."

"Damn, Y/n, you're made for this," he grunted, his thrusts faster and faster. "To be taken like this. Destroyed so. From me. From a Ravenclaw who never believed in anything but control. Look what you got me to do." Hoon's blows became fiercer, his breath more labored, and you could no longer hold back. The pleasure mounted inside you like a storm, and the scream escaped from your lips before you could even control it. "Hoon-I'm ... I'm going to—"

"Come for me." His voice was a hoarse order, full of lust and domination. "Make a mess. Dirty all this bed, so the headmaster is an idiot if he thought that leaving us alone in this little house would not lead to this." He smiled, kissing you hard as he continued to push into you with measured brutality.

"A bed, a bathroom, a tiny kitchen..." he laughed, panting ,"...like I didn't want to fuck you on all surfaces." It was at that moment that you screamed his name, trembling as the orgasm overwhelmed you with a power that emptied your breath. Your body clasped around his, and your legs snapped like traps around his waist. But he did not stop. Not yet.

"Look how tight you are ... still," he hissed, his voice now broken by the pleasure that approached even for him. "I make you mine, for real now. I want you full. Full of my cock and cum, you little snake."

"Hoon... no - not inside..."

"Shut up." His voice became dark, dirty with desire. "You are mine. And I want to fill you. Until you drip on everything you touch." He took you with deep, raw blows, until his breath broke against your skin. And then, he came. Hot, heavy, inside you. You felt his body shake against yours, his fingers clasping your hips as if he wanted to carve you into the flesh. His cum trickled slowly down your thighs, as you both gasped in the dark load of moans and sweat. He came off slowly, with his last breath still against your chest, then dragged you with him to the bed still disheveled. He grabbed you by the side and pulled you against his chest, sinking his face into your neck, as if that contact held him anchored to reality.

One of his hands lazily moved towards your face, long thin fingers caressing your cheek still reddened. You, still half distraught with pleasure, let yourself go on his chest, setting your head against his. "Little viper..."he whispered with a tired smile. "I don't know if I want to strangle you or marry you."

"I hate you..." you murmured at him, a smirk on his lips.

"Mmh. Lie. You're obsessed with me." He gave you a slow kiss behind the ear.

"And you from me."

The next morning, the world outside the little house felt muffled. Snow was falling slowly, silently, and the crackling of the fireplace was the only sound filling the room. You woke up to the lingering scent of burning wood in the air and Hoon’s warm body wrapped around yours.

His bare skin against yours was a silent reminder of everything that had happened just a few hours earlier. His slow, steady breathing made his chest rise and fall gently, and you nestled against him a bit more, as if that simple movement could somehow let you stay there forever.

You lifted yourself slightly, carefully, trying not to wake him. You looked at him—really looked at him.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains, allowing you to take in every detail: the long lashes, the slightly parted lips, the faint crease between his brows. And then, his moles. The ones you had memorized long ago, like a secret map meant only for you.

Your hand moved on its own, without thinking. Your fingers brushed lightly over the small mole beneath his left eye. Then the one on the bridge of his nose, just above the curve. The tiny one on his cheek. And finally, the one beneath his ear, invisible unless you knew exactly where to look.

“Mmh…” he murmured sleepily, a half-groan in his throat. “Still tracing my moles? Haven’t you gotten tired of mapping my face like you’re trying to decode some ancient script?”

You smiled softly, not stopping your touch, and your eyes met his—still a bit drowsy, hazy from sleep.

“I’m just cataloging you, Ravenclaw… Don’t they serve some kind of purpose? Like little stars placed just right to be studied.”

“Studied, huh?” he chuckled, his voice rough and deep. “Or worshipped?”

“Don’t get cocky.” You rolled your eyes, but your gaze had softened more than you intended.

He stretched lazily, then moved closer, fingers tracing idle lines across your back.

“My viper’s going soft… should I be worried?”

“She’s just sleepy,” you murmured.

He gave a half-smile—the one he saved only for you. The one that said nice try, I see right through you. Then his voice dropped, a bit more serious now:

“Do you think that from now on, when you smell Amortentia, you’ll catch my scent?”

Your heart skipped a beat—subtle and sudden. You looked at him, your fingers drifting back to the mole beneath his eye.

“If I start smelling old books, wet moss, and… mint tea? Then I’ll know who to blame.”

He smiled again, this time more softly.

“And I’ll always smell that scent your skin carries after you’ve spent hours teasing me. The one that reeks of trouble.”

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[sqvishii]

My personal headcanon is that the way Fae asks for their lover's hand in marriage is by weaving them a flower ring and proposing to them, they either cast a spell to not wilt or to change the flower ring regularly

So imagine the shock when you jokingly proposing to any of the diansomia boys with a flower ring

(This applies to qny of them, but i had silver in mind)

(Also just dumping my tjoughts here)

THIS IS SO CUTE I ☹☹

fuck ir this is so cutr im doing all of them

♡

• sebek zigvolt

both of you were walking in the garden, while he was talking about how great malleus is, you busied yourself with a flower ring

it was a bit simple to make, you wondered if your half fae boyfriend would like your little creation

while he was still talking, you went in front of him and presented him the ring, making him stop for a moment.

his reaction was priceless, just a blank stare with blown eyes once he realized what it was LMAOOO 😭

"HUMAN! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, PROPOSING TO ME WHILE WE ARE STILL SCHOOLING?!"

"sebek what."

turns out you didn't know a thing about fae stuff and all that, he calmed down and accepted the ring

.. silver saw him staring at the wall blankly with tears running down his eyes before looking out the window, revealing you messing around with ace

he was a bit sulky once he found out you didn't know a thing about fae culture and actually thought you were proposing 😭🙏

keeps the ring on, you can see his flustered face whenever he walks around and lilia is teasing him about it

♡

• silver vanrouge

as usual, silver was asleep in the garden. typical

while bored out of your mind, you decided to make a flower ring for your sleepy boyfriend so you can surprise it with him once he wakes up.

with your fingers delicately working on the flower and stickig it onto the ring, you felt silver wrapping his arms around you

his head resting on your shoulders as he asked what you were doing while he was still half asleep, his eyes widened a bit once seeing the object in your hands as you showed it to him.

"[name], are you sure you want to marry me? im not an ideal husband, but i can try to provide and such. if we were to have kids then-"

"silver wtf are you on about."

oh. yeah, you didn't know anything about fae customs.

he was taught about fae culture from lilia lolz, he embarrassingly hid his face from you as you put the ring on his gloved hand.

he wears it daily and often asks lilia to cast a spell on it whenever he sees it withering.

♡

• lilia vanrouge

while you were out somewhere, probably at sams shop, you saw a pretty looking flower ring.

thinking of lilia and how he would rather enjoy the small gift you bought for him, you purchased the said items alongside a few more.

walking back to the campus, you could only be fnaf jumpscared by lilia who popped up in front of you, upside down, like a bat.

recovering from your surprise, you quickly boop him on his nose, makig him laugh before standing up like an actual human being.

sitting down on the ground, you showed him everything you purchased. from antiques to books.

once you showed him the flower ring, his smile turned into a straight line as he stared at you.

it wouldn't be long until he smiled sadly, knowing you didn't know a thing that you just did.

"are you trying to propose? haha, in fae culture, we usually propose through flower rings."

"oh.. then, consider this as my promise to marry you!"

.. just like meleanor.

he could only laugh as he puts it on, did the shine in his eyes get larger?

he wears it wherever he goes, he hopes the day of your actual proposal is soon.

♡

• malleus draconia

you were staying in your dorm before you heard the knock, like, the knock. your boyfriend is here to take you out on a nightly stroll!!

grabbing your jacket, knowing it's a rather chilly night, you noticed the flower ring your made yesterday for him. bringing it with you, you opened the doors and saw him patiently waiting.

holding your hand in his, the moon shining its light down on the pavement the both of you stepped on, the both of you either talked or kept on walking in comfortable silence.

the next moment you brought on a new topic, you pulled out the ring, making him stop taking a few steps forward as he stood there in shock.

it wouldnt be long until fireflies decorated the area near you two, giving it a melodramatic scene as you stood there, utterly confused.

"i accept, man of child."

"malleus what do you mean 😦"

turns out you knew nothing, not even a shred of fae culture.

the fireflies would be gone and it would start raining LMAOOO

he thought you were serious, well, you were; about the whole ring thing, but he didn't think that,,,, ☹

very well then, he shall be content with the trinkets he has now.

having the ring on him, he gets all giddy now whenever he looks at it and never takes it off.

[juliet-017]

Incommensurate - T.R.

Tom Riddle x fem!reader

Minors DNI!!

Warnings: dubcon (consensual sex under imperious curse), begging, unprotected p in v(? Kinda? Tom casts a spell so?), cream pie, tit play, pussy slapping, degradation, slight spanking

Synopsis: As Tom starts to feel a slip in control he becomes harsher with you, more distant as well. It's bloody tortuous, the growing distance and silence between you both driving you crazy. Making you bring up a proposition that you wouldn't have thought of prior.

A/n: yeah so.. here's this instead of that mattheo work (you guys can thank my wife @viperify for that). Side note, I might js get rid of my current wips on my nav as well so I feel less tied down?? Idk but I have so many old drafts I need to get through. Anyways enjoy!!

w/c: ~1.5k

Tom liked control, it was obvious from the way he bossed his mates around, not even scared that they'd retaliate or leave. It was.. fascinating to say the least. You pondered on whether it was because of his time at the orphanage in his formative years, he didn't speak of it much but you presumed that being a charge there wouldn't be anything close to fun.

You'd still give him shit, teasing him for being so bossy at times. A few times when you two had sex you'd fight your way on top for a few seconds before he'd roughly push you off and take to fucking you doggy style, your face shoved into his bed.

Normally things were fine, he'd take your taunts in stride, fucking your attitude out of you till your throat was raw from either screaming or being used.

**

You've noticed how he's been acting.. off lately. Snapping more, not taking kindly to anyone mouthing off. Not even the first years could escape his wrath.

He wasn't vulnerable so asking him right out wouldn't do anything in your favor. Observing him overworking himself, skipping meals as a result, and falling back into old habits.

You start slowly, trying to give him massages or attempting to pull him into bed. When none of it works you decide to just be blunt.

“Tom? What's wrong?” You ask from your perch on his bed, lying down as he studies.

“Nothing. Why.” He responds coolly, barely sparing you a glance. Hunched over, elbows on his desk as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“You're tense.”

“I always am.”

“Not this tense.”

He scoffs, finally looking over at you. “What do you want?”

“The truth. Or I'm going to sleep in my room tonight.”

You both know it's an empty threat, but Tom gives in. “You're too good for me.”

You freeze, trying to read his expression, grasping for a response.

“You can't leave me, you know.”

“Yeah… I know.” You murmur, sitting up and debating on approaching him. “M’yours, Tom.”

“Hm, you think your words matter? Fascinating” He scoffs, rolling his eyes before looking back at the open book at his desk.

It's unfair how wet his words made you. Especially when they're degrading.

You wait a second before getting up, leaning up against his desk and toying with his wand.

“Just what do you think-” He starts harshly, reaching out to take his wand back before you leap away.

“Remember that one night, where you mentioned wanting me to just be even more.. submissive?” You hum, raising a brow.

“How could I not? You were even more of a fucking brat afterwards.”

You grin, still playing with his wand and waiting for him to get the hint. And oh the rush that goes through when he does, moving quickly and towering over you, yanking his wand out of your hold. “And just how are we going to go about that, hm? Never can get you fucked out enough to just go along with it anyways.” He mutters, backing you into a wall, lifting your chin up with this wand.

Your stomach flips as you look up at him, hesitating before continuing. You know you've seen him cast it before so.. what's the big deal, right?

“The imperious curse.” You reply quickly, spatting the words out before giving yourself a second to think. You watch his reaction, studying

He smirks, and you can’t help but melt. “You sure? You know I won't relinquish it every five seconds to check on you, right?”

You nod. “I know. Just.. same rules as usual, m’kay?”

He nods, running the wand down your body, watching your face. “Ready?”

“Uhuh..” You nod, looking up at him, feeling his wand press to your temple.

Before you know it you feel otherworldly, listening to his simple hypnotic commands. Opening your eyes and kneeling like he commands. It shouldn't make you even wetter but it does.

Kneeling whilst undoing your shirt, your bra. Your mind foggy as you finish stripping. He strips too, finally removing his boxers before hold an open palm in front of you. “Spit.” He instructs smoothly, catching your saliva, using it to stroke himself, becoming even harder. “Open.”

You comply, opening your mouth, letting him find refuge in your mouth. He almost immediately gives you all of him, not even giving you a second to adjust, mindlessly drooling around his cock. Grasping your hair he thrusts, allowing you to go slack jawed as you moan around him.

He isn't sure if it's out of pleasure or defiance, but he ignored it, focusing on his release. Tom reminds himself that you agreed to it when he came so deep inside your throat that you had no choice but to swallow.

Pulling out of your mouth slowly, Tom watchs himself leave you with a pop, your eyes glassy and tearful. Only making him even harder than before. Leaning against the wall as he catches his breath. “Such a good little thing.” He praises quietly, patting your head before brushing your hair back as he looks down at you.

He steps out of the way, almost admiring you. “Crawl over to the bed.” He instructs softly, your body moving without a second thought.

You make your way over to the bed, getting on all fours whilst Tom walks around it. The silence painful, listening to Tom as he ends up behind you, squeezing your ass before landing a sharp slap.

Whining you look over your shoulder, feeling him grab your hips and pull, causing you to lay mostly flat save for your hips holding your ass slightly up.

“Beg for it.” He hums, his voice tantalizing whilst his shadow looms over you. “C’mon be a good girl and beg straight from the heart.”

“Please Tom, I need you.” You whine, the words leaving you effortlessly. “I'll always need you, please.”

He ruts into you with one deep thrust, groaning. “Such a good fucking slut, so tight f’me.” He groans, slapping your ass again as he thrusts, leaning over you to pin your wrists to the bed. “My favorite little fucktoy.”

You moan loudly, feeling him hit deeper than ever, hitting your cervix. The bit of your coherent mind grasps the concept that it'll be bruised by morning, but you can't bring yourself to care.

“Fucking love your pussy.” He groans, gripping your wrists even tighter as if fighting to ground himself, his thrust growing messier as his manicured nails dig into you like some animal. “C’mon be loud.” He encourages you, squeezing once more.

“Mm Tom,” you gasp, head to the side as you try to rut your hips. “So.. fuck, so deep.” You moan, practically screaming, the curse not letting you even try to muffle it. Your face heats in shame.

“That's it, such a good girl, letting everyone know how good I fuck you.” Freeing your wrists he wraps an arm around your waist, causing you to kneel as he still thrusts in and out of you, his free hand reaching down to play with your clit. Heat forms in your lower stomach at that, only making you more desperate.

His one hand now slides up to play with your tits, your moaning and arousal only seeming to turn him on even more. “Fuck, you're close aren't you? I can feel it, you and your greedy little cunt.” He growls into your ear, slapping your clit and causing a shot of pleasure to run through you. He gives you another slap, a sort of warning. “Answer me unless you want me to stop, that is.”

“Yes’sir.” You whimper, nodding. “I'm close.” You moan, trying to match his pace but deciding it best to go limp, allowing him to use you like the doll you are.

Lost in a bliss you barely hear his command, too dazed to even fully comprehend. “Cum for me.”

You weren't prepared for the earth shattering orgasm that wrecks your body, feeling Tom finish deep inside of you, feeling him coat your cervix you let out a small squeal.

Laying you down, Tom slowly pulls out. You hear him mumble something, the curse lifting as you look around in slight shock.

Tom hushes you immediately, gently pulling you into his hold. “You okay?” He murmurs, pulling your head against his chest and casting a charm to clean the both of you. You presume the other is a contraceptive. “It wasn't too much, was it?”

Nodding you hum, too dumbed out to even think of how to word it. “Nice. It was nice letting go for once.” You murmur, lifting your gaze up. “You liked it too, right?”

Tom lets out a warm chuckle, a rare commodity. “Course I did, got to have you all dumbed out on my cock, not able to mouth off.” He mutters, giving your hair a light tug as he takes to playing with it. “But I don't want to make it a common thing, if you do want to do it again that is.” He hums.

“Course I do.” You hum before the scent of sandalwood alongside Tom’s warmth, lulls you off to sleep.

[wonderjanga]

Spell Craft

As the literal Champion of Magic, you’d think Billy would be able to make spells. And he can! He takes advantage of this gift as much as he can. It’s not his fault that wizards are always weirded out when he does.

Marvel and Zatanna: *talking and walking to the kitchen*

Marvel: “Hold up-” *waves hand at kitchen counter* “Sandwichio!”

Zatanna was then greeted with a sandwich literally making itself. It was a simple ham and cheese sandwich. Two pieces of bread were slapped on the counter (just straight up on the counter, not even on a plate or napkin) and a piece of cheese floated onto one slice, and a piece of ham floated onto another.

Zatanna: “A sandwich spell? …Huh.”

Marvel: “Was the “huh” a good thing? Cause I made the spell myself.”

*silence*

Zatanna: “You… you created an entirely new spell simply for making a ham and cheese sandwich?”

Marvel: “Yeah! I have one for peanut butter and jelly, and peanut butter and banana too!”

Zatanna: “What.”

Marvel: “Disandwichio! Trisandwichio!”

Sure enough a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a peanut butter and banana sandwich were made right in front of Zatanna’s eyes. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but Marvel did give her both of the sandwiches so she wasn’t exactly complaining.

or

Marvel: “Fleuria!” *snaps fingers and a dandelion on a table turns into a lily*

Magician 1: “He’s been at this for twenty minutes…”

Marvel: “Fleuria!” *snaps fingers again and the lily changes to a poppy*

Magician 2: “Hey, why’s he doing this again?”

Marvel: *starts spamming the spell but gives up on snapping his fingers*

The two watched as the flower changed over and over and over.

Magician 1: “He said he wanted to give the perfect flower to give some lady named Ms. Bambi to thank her for help with something.”

Magician 2: “Oooooh. You know, I’ve never heard of that spell.”

Magician 1: “I hadn’t either. Turns out he apparently made the spell up. Every time he casts it, a random flower will appear.”

Magician 2: “So he’s just endlessly spamming the spell, huh?”

Magician 1: “Yeah, but I think he’ll find the perfect flower. Maybe. Eventually.”

Billy did.

Anyways, after multiple more incidents, the magical community eventually just settled on the fact that the Champion made rather interesting spells. Certainly none that someone of his caliber should even deign to make, but nonetheless, they were still interesting.

Eventually, one day, Billy realized that he’s made a lot of spells. So he decided to write them down so he wouldn’t forget. That’s how a really interesting interaction with Dr. Fate went down when the man caught him writing down the spells in a book while slouched on one of the couches in the one of the rec rooms.

Marvel: “It’s just a book to keep track of spells I’ve made, Mr. Dr. Fate Sir.”

Dr. Fate: “Exactly! This is a grimoire!”

Marvel: “Okay…? You know, awfully enthusiastic about this… why?”

Dr. Fate: “How could I not be? You haven’t made a grimoire over 5000 years!”

Marvel: “Do you want a copy…?”

Dr. Fate: “You would do me that honor?!”

Marvel: “Sure. You’re my friend, aren’t cha?”

Dr. Fate could later be found showing off the grimoire all proud.

[nanenna]

This Phone Call Could've Been a Text

More Sleepy King Here

-----

Batman moved to sit at the table in the kitchenette, his hand absently moving to adjust a cape that wasn’t there. He pulled out a tablet and brought up the camera feed for the bedroom, the audio from the bugs he’d planted in his ear. Nearby the JLD had finished agreeing on their plan and were setting it in motion, it seemed Dr. Fate was the first to go cast spells at the boy.

Diana came into the room. “The boy has several blessings.”

That caught everyone’s attention. “What kind of blessings?” Constantine asked warily.

Diana shook her head, “I couldn’t tell, I just know he has several blessings from powerful beings.”

“The boy or the king?” Raven asked.

Diana shook her head again.

“Something else for us to look into,” Zatanna said with a tired sigh. Discussion between the JLD members picked back up, kept carefully hushed, as if afraid the boy (or the king sleeping inside him) would somehow hear.

Diana came and sat down next to Batman, he changed the angle on the tablet so they could both watch. That’s all either of them could do right now, sit and watch.

Diana sighed, “He looks content.”

Batman turned his attention from Dr. Fate casting his spells to Danny, seemingly dead to the world as magic flashed over him. “He does.”

“I hope it stays that way, I hope we are able to find a solution before he wakes.”

Batman simply nodded, he hoped so as well.

Dr. Fate finished with his spells and quietly made his way back to the kitchenette. There was a brief discussion from the group, then Zatanna was taking her turn.

Their discussion continued even after the Sorceress Supreme left, Batman catching brief snatches of magical jargon. He technically knew the definitions of the words he heard, but he knew his understanding was surface level at best.

Dr. Fate approached their table. “Wonder Woman, you said the blessings were laid by powerful beings?”

Diana nodded, “Yes, quite powerful.”

“Can you describe how powerful?”

Diana’s brow furrowed as she thought the matter over, “I believe they were on par with the gods, though it didn’t feel divine.”

Dr. Fate nodded, then returned to the huddle to discuss the matter further.

Batman and Diana watched as Zatanna finished her round, then conceded to Captain Marvel. They expected him, as the champion of magic, to have the most insight, yet when he walked back into the room he looked quite disappointed as he shook his head. “I fear the wisdom of Solomon has failed me.”

“Is it perhaps the same block that has kept us from noticing Amity Park?” Diana asked, standing up to join the JLD in their huddle.

“Most likely,” Zatanna agreed. “I couldn’t even get a read on the blessings you spoke of.”

“Was there anything you could scry?” Diana asked.

While their discussion continued, debating whether it was better to figure the block out or attempt to blindly work around it given their unknown limit, Batman kept his eye on the feed of Danny’s room. Clark leaned forward, the blankets shifted, then Danny was sitting up while yawning and stretching.

“Danny’s woken up,” Batman said.

The room fell silent.

Constantine sighed and nudged Raven, “C’mon, luv, let’s get outta the way.” He waved a hand and the lights dimmed. “Remember, keep him half awake as long as possible. And try to look like you’re here for a reason, make a cuppa or something.”

There was a mild flurry in Constantine’s wake as the others bustled about making a quick cup of tea or popping off-brand toaster pastries into the provided toaster. Not a bad plan, it’ll make the room smell homier and would give the magicians an excuse to be there.

Diana placed a half full glass of water near Batman, sitting down with her own steaming mug. The kitchenette now smelled of warm tea, toasting pastries, and ozone. Batman closed out of the surveillance and switched over to a note taking app.

Clark eventually entered, gently guiding Danny along. The boy had Batman’s cape over his shoulders but it was dangerously close to slipping off one, Clark fussily rearranged the cape as the bleary eyed boy shuffled slowly into the room. Danny hadn’t even seemed to notice his audience as he slowly made his way to the table and plopped gracelessly into a chair.

Marvel handed off the quickly plated pastries to Clark, which he gently placed before Danny. Zatanna offered a steaming mug, which Clark also gently placed in front of the boy.

“There we are, Danny, you hungry?”

Danny mumbled something as he absently picked up his pastry, chocolate this time, and began nibling it.

There was an exchanging of glances between the room’s occupants, as if unsure how to proceed. Then Zatanna and Dr. Fate both lifted a hand each, inscribing runes into the air.

“How are you feeling now, champ?” Clark asked awkwardly.

“Mmm… better,” Danny mumbled, crumbs tumbling from his mouth. He followed it with a yawn, yet again moving his hand as if to cover his mouth and missing far and away too much to hide his sharp fangs.

Clark glanced down at the mug, then nudged it closer. “Have some hot cocoa.”

Danny hummed in agreement and reached for the mug, just holding it in his hands.

Batman glanced back at the magicians. It seemed Zatanna was having difficulty with whatever spell she was attempting, and from the similar expression on Marvel’s face he was in the same situation. Or perhaps all three were attempting a combined spell.

Danny slowly lifted the mug and took a careful sip. “Hmmm… s’good.”

“That’s good,” Clark said with a gentle smile. “Eat up, you’re a growing boy.”

“Still growing,” Danny mumbled, but did as he was told. He held his pastry back up and nibbled more.

Batman felt the hairs on his arms raise despite being covered head to toe, the tension from the three magicians’ combined spell clearly filling the room.

The tension broke suddenly with a gasp at the same time a faint jingle played in the room. Batman frowned, unsure what had caused that. From the wide eyed stares from Marvel and Zatanna, they weren’t sure either. Or perhaps they knew exactly what was going on and were shocked.

The jingle played again, this time Batman placing it as coming from Danny’s direction. He watched as Danny absently reached up to touch his ear, a white ear piece with a little arm and neon green mic on the end simply appeared.

There were choked gasps, Batman spared a quick glance to find all three magicians reeling back in stunned shock.

“... ‘llo?” Danny mumbled.

[hellsslibrary]

Hellooooo!! i just saw your post asking for requests and stuff, so uh

here i aaaaam :3

i was wondering if you can do sub! lucifer or barbatos :p

you can do like literally whatever but i am STARVED for sub composed men that eventually are not-so-composed (i wanna see grown men cry)

"Shh... Don't think that water will save us from others."

#a.n. : I'M SO FERAL ABOUT THIS ONE SHOWER CARD OMG.... So shower sex with Luci where you drive him crazy lol.

!!Warnings: Top!Dom!Male!Reader, Sub!Bottom!Lucifer, fingering, finger sucking, shower sex obviously, praise, teasing, a little crying, overstimulation (this is not mentioned but implied), no penetration, Reader is MC, this all take place after the events of the card with skateboards, open final.

The sound of groans and slight squelching sounds was heard in the bathroom. But everything is easily hidden from others outside this room by the sounds of water and a spell cast on the walls.

Your fingers have been moving inside Lucifer for God knows how long, and you made no attempt to stop. Not that Lucifer minded; the stamina of demons is much higher than that of humans, but damn, this was getting too good.

How many times did he cum? He doesn’t remember anymore, and you didn’t count either. Just the fact that you finally managed to convince him to take a break after he worked so wonderfully on creating the best skateboard is already a miracle. But Lucifer himself understood that he deserved it... And how could he disagree when you were so sensitive to making sure he took breaks while working earlier?

"M-MC...Are you ever going to stop?" He asks, still being able to somehow spit out a complete sentence without almost stumbling over the letters.

"Mmm... No, I guess. You're not even at your limit yet, why should I stop?" A rhetorical question comes from your lips, which makes Lucifer’s legs tremble with excitement.

He is clearly not at the limit of his strength, far from it. But you will spend a very long time here if you want to bring him to this line, which is what you actually wanted. You just wanted him to break, in the nicest sense of the word.

Your fingers slid so perfectly inside his already soaking wet walls, each time pressing on a tiny spot that made him moan with pleasure. His dick was constantly rubbing against the shower wall, smearing his cum from several orgasms all over the wall. Lucifer’s palms lay lazily on the wall, and he rested his forehead on them to hide his red little face, which of course you didn’t want, but you didn’t really mind.

"Are you already brought to a complete state of bliss, if you understand what I'm hinting at, Luci?" The only answer to your question was a shake of the head.

But little did you know that it was a lie.

Lucifer felt like he was ready to dissolve, turn into a puddle from the movement of your fingers in him. He felt his entire being being torn apart in the most pleasant sense of the word. He felt like his whole brain was ceasing to function, because he had not been aware of it for a long time.

He's not even sure he can control his own body. A rare moment of vulnerability for him.

Lucifer realizes that his mask will soon crack. It will break like a crack in glass that will break it sooner or later. His self-control will burst.

Or rather, it has already done it.

“Are you crying, precious? Very good, relax, no one will hurt you here...” You whisper when you see tears running down the part of his downward-leaning face that you can see.

He groans when he realizes your fingers are playing with his tongue, making him whine. Such a humiliating sound for him, the Avatar of Pride himself. He shouldn't make sounds like that, but honestly? Fuck it all.

His head leans back, resting on your shoulder. His back collides with your torso. His hips try to match the movement and rhythm of your fingers, moving with them. And his mouth sucks your fingers, as if his life depended on it... Although he will obviously remember this for a long time later.

“Come on, let go,” You whisper in his ear, kissing his cheek, feeling the salty taste of his tears and looking down, slightly surprised that he came at that very second, but absolutely satisfied.

Lucifer hums around your fingers in mock displeasure when you don't slow down your movements even for a moment. He understands that he will regret this.

But it feels so fucking good.

“MC... You... will break me...” He whispers, muffled by your fingers, barely able to form a simple sentence as he feels your fingers deliberately aiming specifically for his prostate.

“Hush, baby,” You coo, he wants to drown in your voice, he realizes that he can’t even hear the sound of water. "Just relax, I won't eat you, you're so fucking good."

He nods. The movement is convulsive, clearly not smooth, and so unusual for Lucifer. You just smirk at this, kissing his neck, making him whimper, wiping away his tears.

After all... Maybe he won't regret this experience as much as he thought.

[mssorceressupreme]

Moth to a Flame | F.W

———

Pairing: Weasley twins x reader

Summary: You’re two-timing the Weasley twins, and it all goes well. Until one day, they decide you need to be punished for this.

Warnings: 16+ minors DNI, smut, fingering, blowjob, masturbation, orgasm, praise kink, dom male, switch female, hickeys, kissing, two-timing

A/N: ik Hogwarts doesn’t have any phones but let’s just assume they do here lol also I was kinda inspired by the song Moth to a Flame by the Weeknd so yeah 😅 PLZ excuse the smut I don’t write too much smut so not that experienced with it

———

The morning light streamed softly through the curtains, casting golden rays over George’s peaceful face. His ginger hair was tousled, his expression serene, as he lay beside you in his bed.

You watched him for a moment, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic. He looked beautiful like this, vulnerable, calm, utterly unaware. His dorm mates were also fast asleep, you were glad that you managed to draw no attention to yourself so far.

Carefully, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, the faint glow illuminating a new message.

Fred: Can’t wait to see you later love. Study session at library after lunch? ❤️

Your breath caught, guilt settling like a stone in your chest. You glanced back at George, still sound asleep, oblivious to the chaos you were carrying. Quickly, you replied to Fred then turned off your phone.

You: Sounds perfect, see u then 🫶🏼

The twins didn’t share a dorm, thank Merlin, which made slipping between their rooms seamless. Spending the night with either was simple enough, as long as neither suspected the truth.

Slipping out of bed, you kissed George softly on the forehead, his lips twitching into a sleepy smile. Grabbing a piece of parchment, you scribbled a note:

“Went to breakfast with Hermione. See you later, handsome x”

You left the note on his nightstand before tiptoeing out of the room.

———

In the Great Hall, Hermione sat waiting, her arms crossed and her expression laced with disapproval.

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” she said the moment you slid onto the bench beside her. As she was the person you trusted the most, Hermione was the only person who knew about you two-timing the twins. Well, it started off as an innocent mistake but who knew this knot would get so messy.

You groaned, helping yourself to some toast. “Don’t start, ‘Mione.”

“You’ve got to tell them. This…whatever this is…it’s cruel. You can’t keep dating them both.” She whisper-yelled, leaning closer to you, and making this conversation was as quiet as it could be.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” You counter, glancing around to ensure no one overheard. “I…I didn’t know how to say no to either of them, and now, I love them both. I couldn’t just reject one of them, they’re my best friends!”

Hermione raised a skeptical brow, “You can’t keep this up. It’s going to blow up in your face.” "But the thing is, I told the each of them I wanted a private relationship, to keep it solely between me and each twin, and they agreed, so I'm certain the twins don't know I'm two-timing them." Hermione stared blankly, "And what happens if there's an event that you need to attend as their "girlfriend" and they both need you, what then? A duplicating spell?"

You exhaled, taking a large bite of your toast.

“Look, I’m worried about you Y/N. It won’t just hurt them, but yourself too. This could take a toll on your metal health, keeping up with two relationships sounds exhausting.” She placed a hand on your back.

“I’ll tell one of them,” you mumbled, biting your lip. “Eventually…when the time is right.”

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “The ‘right time’ doesn’t exist for this. The longer you wait, you’ll only dig yourself deeper.”

You nodded slowly, concurring. She gave you a soft smile, “But honestly, you do look good with both of them. You’ll make a fine couple with whoever you end up with.” She giggled, before the both of you continued eating then changing the subject.

———

Later that afternoon, you found yourself tucked away in a quiet corner of the library with Fred. Books lay open between you, though neither of you had made much progress. His hand rested on your knee under the table, his warm touch making your mind foggy and filled with inappropriate thoughts, too inappropriate to be having this early in the day.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You’re awfully distracted today, love." He began planting peppered kisses on your neck, sucking on a particular sensitive spot you had, you bit your lip holding back a moan.

"Just tired, I guess." You managed to croak out, once he stopped and picked up his quill to continue studying.

Fred’s eyes then searched yours, and he tilted his head. "Where were you this morning? I stopped by your dorm, but you weren’t there."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Oh, I woke up early," you lied, keeping your voice steady. "Thought I’d get a head start on studying."

Fred frowned slightly, but before he could press further, George appeared. He dropped into the seat across from you, flashing his lopsided grin.

"Fancy seeing you two here," he said, his eyes lingering on you just a moment too long before unpacking his notes. "Couldn't find a spot in the library for ages, it’s like everybody's suddenly interested in studying today."

Your stomach twisted into knots. Sitting between them felt like balancing on the edge of a knife, the tension suffocating. It never felt this way before, but now that you were essentially dating both of them, you constantly felt wary.

"Yeah we're lucky we even managed to find a table." Fred replied, before the twins carried on studying. As you were reading your textbook, Fred placed his hand on your thigh again, inching his hand further up your thigh with each paragraph you read. The words were becoming blurry, none of the text registering, you mentally cursed, knowing you'd have to revisit these pages again. Your breathing became heavier as he stopped at your entrance. Wearing a skirt granted him easy access to your undies; he teased your folds over your undergarment, slowly stroking with two fingers. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, desperate for him to just plunge inside you. You glanced at George, who appeared to be immersed in taking notes, looking back and forth between his parchment and the Potions textbook. You then turned to Fred, who, to your surprise, was poker-faced, reading through some study notes. Fred smirked to himself, his fingers making their way through your undies and coming into contact with your folds. You inhaled sharply, looking at him but he carried on reading. He rubbed circles around your clit, your eyes fluttered, back arching involuntarily, but you played it off as stretching. Without warning, he plunged two fingers into you, pumping slowly and then picking up the pace gradually.

You grabbed his thigh for support, squeezing it slightly. It took everything in your power to not moan, especially because George was sitting opposite you, and the library was quiet. Did I mention quiet?! Dead silent. "Yes!" You thought aloud then hummed, you needed to vocalise something, to let loose. You could feel yourself getting close, but you did not want to come in a library so for the sake of your dignity, so you slowly pushed Fred's hand away. Fred stopped, turning to face you, so did George. "Finally understand this paragraph!" You toned it down, laughing slightly to play it off. A few moments later George's leg started brushing against yours, stroking your leg with his from under the table. Again, you felt yourself melting at his touch, wanting more. You made eye contact with him and bit your lip, but shook your head forcing yourself to stop. Thank Merlin this table was huge, you could barely see what was happening underneath, making it easy to camouflage your actions. You froze when you came into sudden contact with both of them at the same time. Fred's hand back on your thigh, and George's leg interlocking with yours.

Taking on one of them was easy, especially with the other distracted. However, both at the same time? You can bid yourself farewell. You stammered something about needing to check a book and practically fled the table, leaving Fred and George behind. “Um yeah, I’ll catch you guys later!…” you mumbled before scurrying out the library. Not once turning around to look at them, you mentally slapped yourself for being so hasty. ———

You found Hermione and Ginny in the courtyard, their chatter a welcome distraction. Ginny was practically bouncing with excitement as she shared news of a party in the Ravenclaw common room that evening.

"You’re coming, right? Luna said she'd love to have us there." Ginny asked, nudging you playfully.

You hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. Why not?"

You needed a distraction. And this was definitely it.

———

The party was everything you needed, loud, lively, and carefree. Harry, Ron, Neville, and a bunch of students from every house were there too. Music pulsed through the room, and laughter echoed over the clinking of butterbeer bottles. You found yourself relaxing as you chatted with Luna, Cho, Hermione, and Ginny, letting the chaos around you drown out your worries.

Until you received a note.

"Meet me in the 7th year study room upstairs – your fav Weasley ;)"

You laughed softly, folding the parchment. Of course, it had to be Fred. Or was it George? The handwriting wasn’t distinct enough to tell.

Excusing yourself, you made your way to the Ravenclaw study room for 7th years, as the twins were 7th years you supposed they were allowed in those study rooms. The door creaked as you pushed it open, and your heart skipped a beat when you stepped inside.

Your eyes went wide, you momentarily froze, eyes darting back and forth from the two figures seated in front of you.

Both Fred and George were there. George was seated casually on the edge of the table with his arms folded, and Fred leaned back on one of the couches, manspreading. Their identical grins stretched wide, their eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Y/N," George drawled, standing and walking toward you. "We’ve been waiting for you."

Panic set in as the pieces clicked. "I uh-... I should go," you stammered, turning to leave, but George was quicker, his hand catching your wrist.

"Not so fast," he murmured, his voice low.

"You’ve been naughty," Fred added, standing now, his gaze fixed on you.

Your stomach churned. "What are you talking about?"

Fred chuckled, stepping closer. "Don’t play coy, love. Two-timing us? Did you really think we wouldn’t figure it out?"

They both now towered over you, George shut the door behind you and you gulped, your only opportunity to exit, gone.

"I..." Words failed you as Fred cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin.

"You’ve got us all tangled up, Y/N," George said, his voice softer now as he moved to stand beside his twin.

Your knees felt weak as George leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple.

"We should be angry," Fred whispered, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"But we’re not," George finished.

They both smiled, their warmth almost overwhelming.

"Because we love you," Fred said.

"And we’ll share, if that’s what it takes to keep you," George added.

Before you could respond, Fred’s lips captured yours in a heated kiss, George’s hand resting gently on your waist.

Your heart raced as their affection enveloped you, leaving you breathless and utterly lost between them.

“But we’re not going to let you off that easily…” George spoke.

Fred pulled away from the kiss, which left you slightly disappointed, “…You need to be punished.” He finished George’s sentence.

“What? How? Please—guys, this isn’t necessary. I was going to come clean I swear-” You pleaded but George interjected,

“Relax, we’re not going to hurt you love. Just, follow our lead.” George found you amusing, all flustered, like a prey about to get eaten by its predator.

George walked behind you, while Fred stood in front, pressing his body against yours.

Your core began to heat up, feeling a rush of adrenaline as the two boys were mere inches away from you.

George began kissing your neck, sucking on your sensitive spot but with extra pressure, leaving love bites. “Mhm, George…” you moan, tilting your head back as you grab hold of his neck behind you.

Fred massaged your breasts sensually, his hands roaming every inch of you then slid down your body, slowly making his way to your core.

“Wearing a short skirt to the party tonight eh? Who are you trying to look good for hm?” Fred teased, as he began massaging your throbbing core. You felt yourself getting wetter by the second, craving more of both their touch.

You were too lost in pleasure to respond, head thrown back while George continued kissing your neck, making his way up to your jaw.

“Answer me.” Fred demanded, before forcefully shoving two fingers inside your entrance which earned a unholy groan from you.

“You-...both of you.” Your breathy responses and subtle twitching resulted in a satisfied hum from Fred, he continued pumping his fingers in you, which were now coated because of how wet you were.

“Don’t stop Fred, please.” You moaned, as he picked up the pace, pumping faster.

You could feel yourself getting closer, your climax mere seconds away.

“You feel so good around my fingers, so tight for me love.”

“Fred…” you hummed, moaning again. “I’m getting close, please, I’m so close.”

Eager to make you come, he continued pumping, “That’s it come for me. Come around my finger.” Fred cooing into your ear was your tipping point, sending you over the edge and finally you were done. Your walls clenched with arousal as you reached your climax, a cloud of ecstasy and pleasure washed over you as you groaned.

Fred removed his fingers from you and George stopped, both of them now moving to stand in front of you. You felt all to powerful, the two twins at your mercy now.

The twins looked at you, smirking. As though you read their mind, you spoke, “Alright alright, now it’s your turn I suppose.” Your shirt was tight and revealed your cleavage, you smirked to yourself as you bent down, exposing more of your breasts to them.

You saw George shift slightly, adjusting his pants. “You, sit.” You pointed to George. “…And you, watch.” You addressed Fred.

George sat on the couch, and you knelt in front of him, unbuckling his pants, exposing his length, which was now fully hard and dripping with pre-cum.

Fred leaned against the table, stroking himself to the sight in front of him.

You planted kitten licks on his tip, which earned a low groan from him. Slowly, you slid your tongue down from his tip to his base, doing so a few times to tease him.

“Merlin, Y/N…” George threw his head back, breathing heavily.

You then took him, slowly bopping your head up and down his length, you glanced at Fred who was busy pleasuring himself, and made eye contact with him as you sucked George off.

Fred groaned at your eye contact, “Bloody hell Y/N when you look at me like that…” You swear you could hear him mutter your name under his breath a few times while he continued pumping his length but you brushed it off.

Satisfied, you hummed looking back at George, gazing up at him, his eyes were half-lidded, lost in pleasure but he managed to gaze down at you, while he guided your head.

“Faster…” you bopped your head faster. Your neck was hurting slightly from how fast and hard his dick was hitting the back of your throat but at the same time, it felt too good to stop. You wanted to be the reason he was moaning under your touch.

“Fuck you feel so good, your mouth looks so pretty around me.” George moaned, and you felt a rush down to tour core, being praised like this gave you all the more motivation to continue.

You began sucking harder and faster, and George bucked his hips, “Shit I’m getting close, I’m gonna-…”

George let out a loud moan, “Fuck.” He grunted, releasing down your throat. You swallowed the warm liquid and he gently wiped your mouth while you looked at him.

Fred finished seconds later, “Bloody hell…” he muttered.

You sat down, collapsing on the floor, underestimating how much energy this would take from you.

Fred smiled warmly, walking over to you and picking you up bridal style, “Is my Y/N tired?”

He gently placed you on the couch next to George, then brushed out a few strands of hair from your face.

“Let us take care of you now. We’ll take you up to your room yeah?” George hummed softly before placing a kiss on your forehead.

[verstappensrealwife]

Silver Springs - Ex!Oscar Piastri x Singer!Reader

[oscar piastri masterlist  / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... oscar goes to his ex girlfriends concert after cheating on her.

ʚɞ angst -> fluff? ending.  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 900 words + SMAU

ʚɞ warnings: NOT an oscar ending, cheating, oscar's sisters are made to be much younger (like under 10). lana del rey faceclaim.

ʚɞ poll at end of fic to decide who she dates next!

(PART TWO HERE)

༻❁༺

When you and Oscar split up, it wasn’t amicable like he told the media. He broke up with you, and you were distraught. Going black out on social media for months before announcing a new single. It wasn’t long before writing the song that you found out the reason it all really ended. He had said, “Mclaren says no more distractions,” You soon found out that just meant “No more you.” 

This revelation came a few weeks later when he was seen posted up with a girl. The timelines of your relationships overlapping. Distraught was now the understatement of the year.

༻❁༺

༻❁༺

The release of the single marked a turning point in your narrative. The song, dripping with raw emotion, resonated deeply with listeners. The lyrics were painfully direct, a window into your heartbreak and the betrayal that followed. Fans dissected every line, piecing together the story and speculating about who it was written for. 

The album followed, a cohesive story of love lost and the journey back to self. While some songs still bore the weight of your pain, others hinted at healing, even defiance. Critics hailed it as your most vulnerable and mature work yet. Headlines shifted from speculations about your personal life to accolades about your artistry.

Meanwhile, Oscar stayed silent, perhaps believing the storm would pass. But the scrutiny on him intensified, especially as the timelines between his relationships were publicly examined. The girl he was seen with became a topic of conversation too, though you never once mentioned her. Your silence in interviews about him spoke volumes; you let the music say it all.

As the months passed, you began to flourish in ways that no longer revolved around heartbreak. 

By the time the album tour rolled around, you had fully embraced your own narrative. On stage, in sold-out venues, you exude confidence. The heartbreak that once defined your every move was now just one chapter in a bigger story—a story of resilience, transformation, and unapologetic self-love.

༻❁༺

༻❁༺

Oscar’s sisters sat on either side of him, laughing and chatting as they waited for the next song, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing on stage. To them, this was just another concert—a chance to see one of the biggest stars of the moment, someone they might have even admired from afar before all of this. They didn’t notice the way your gaze had frozen the moment you spotted him in the crowd. They didn’t feel the heat rising as you stared him down, the room suddenly smaller, suffocating.

The intro to Silver Springs started, and the audience quieted, the opening chords rippling through the venue like an unspoken promise of something extraordinary. As the spotlight shifted back to you, the weight of the moment settled. You gripped the mic tighter, your knuckles white, your shoulders tense. You knew the song would hurt to sing. What you didn’t expect was how much it would hurt him.

You began softly, your voice trembling with emotion

"You could be my silver springs...

Blue-green colors flashing..."

Your eyes found him immediately. The spotlight didn’t extend to his seat, but you didn’t need it. You could feel him, your gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade. For a moment, he looked back at you, then quickly away, shifting uncomfortably. His sisters kept chatting, oblivious, swaying gently to the melody.

But as the song built, so did your intensity.

"Time cast a spell on you,

But you won't forget me..."

You leaned into the words, your voice growing sharper, angrier, the crackling edge of your heartbreak evident in every syllable. You didn’t just sing the song—you lived it, every word a pointed accusation. Oscar shifted again, staring at the stage now, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable but tense. His sisters seemed utterly at ease, clapping politely during an instrumental break, their chatter not stopping for a moment.

And then the line came:

"I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you..."

You let the words hang in the air, staring directly at him. The audience roared, swept up in the passion of your performance, but you didn’t even register them. This was personal, a message delivered with precision and fury.

Oscar’s sisters finally caught on to the awkward tension between you and him, but they only exchanged confused looks, still clueless as to the weight of what was happening. They turned to him, whispering something, but he didn’t respond. He just sat there, staring at you with a mixture of regret and defiance.

As the song reached its emotional crescendo, you pushed through to the final verse, your voice soaring. By the time the last note faded into silence, you stood there, staring into the dark where he sat, breathing hard, your heart pounding.

The audience erupted into applause, breaking the moment. You straightened, taking a deep breath and allowing a small, almost imperceptible smile to cross your face. You turned and walked offstage for a brief interlude, leaving him there, knowing he’d felt every word.

༻❁༺

༻❁༺

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

I hope this was good 🫣 I’ve not done an SMAU before

-- part 2 (MAX)

Click here to be added to the tags list ❤️ 

tags: @uhhvictoria @anamiad00msday

[kokii-omii]

Random fun facts with my Twst ocs pt.2

(yuu edition)

Pt.1

Yuki Shiroi

has 7 older brothers and is the youngest child (often pampered by them)

is a pop idol

wants to become an actress in the future

has a really hard time saying no to people

her mother is her manager so she dictates whatever is on her schedule

desperately wants a boyfriend

surprisingly all the nrc students are nicer to her, well ws nice as they can be (and that's on pretty privilege)

visits pomefiore the most

has had her food poisoned once and it ended with her being in the hospital for a week

the moment before she got taken by the carriage (got run over) she was at a school photoshoot to advertise their play where she was the lead

her understudy was jealous of her and tried to attack her with a box cutter but an upperclassman who walked in stopped her and told Yuki to run away and not look back

as she was running out of school the carriage came in and suddenly she's in Night Raven College

Rin Yutsuka

is a mangaka and fanfic writer

total shut in

she lives with her dad who is usually off on business trips so most of the time she's alone at home

she was a special guest at a convention because her manga was getting serialized

is really good at doing makeup (she cosplays sometimes)

is VERY socially anxious, she stutters a lot when she speaks (she's more confident when in cosplay)

fujoshi

works at sam's shop as one of his assistants, she tells him about what's trending and sometimes does social media marketing for the shop

visits ignihyde often (they have great wifi)

when she found herself in twisted wonderland the first thing she checked was her laptop to see if it survived (it was fine)

she immediately clocked that she got isekaid and tried to cast a spell but got disappointed when she found out she was magicless

was absolutely dying during book 4 (she is not built for the heat)

Yumeko Ibara

is a florist

she lives with her three aunts who run the flower shop

a prince fell in love with her after she helped him hide from his guards, they went out for a month or two before the carriage took her

was almost about to become a princess because the prince was gonna propose

she thought she was dreaming when she first came to twisted wonderland and tried to go back to sleep hoping that would solve the problem

she often talks to the animals in the forest near ramshackle, she thinks she's gone crazy for doing so

the animals often come help with cleaning at ramshackle

visits diasomnia a lot and mostly hangs out with malleus

her golden hair shines in the sunlight

sometimes gets called silver's twin because they're both sleepyheads

[Book 7 Yumeko]

during Lilia's dream the human villagers sometimes mistake her for Queen Leah (she bears a heavy resemblance if it wasn't for her hair)

she's had to wear a hood so uninformed fae dont strike her when they see her golden hair

Meleanor's words were twice as venomous when she was speaking to her (her hair just makes Lilia's dream so much worse for her)

Ryuuko Shibano

She lives alone in an apartment but sometimes babysits her neighbor's kid when she has free time

was literally just walking home from work before she got hit by the carriage

has a TERRIBLE temper

after Crowley explained everything to her she immediately started going at him and possibly filing a case for kidnapping

ramshackle dorm was 60% fixed by the first month she was in there because she made a whole list about the hazardous things that are in the dorm and threatened to sue Crowley for neglect if he didn't fix this thing

after she learned about riddle's home life she told him she would take his mom to court if he asked her to (he said no)

either way riddle is her son now and eats tarts with him on the weekends (and the rest of heartslabyul but its mostly riddle)

once took over heartslabyul for the day when riddle was sick and needed rest (it was like he never left)

was in the military for 3 years

suplexed Leona when he was overblotted

threatened Azul with a lawsuit on mostro lounge once during book 3

has a pet raven that got attached to her after she saved it when it was stuck on the fence (she learned how to communicate with it)

often has tea with malleus with Lilia occasionally joining

malleus is also her son now, she teaches him stuff and scolds him like a mother would do

everyone in diasomnia listens to her orders like they're from malleus himself (since malleus listens to her the rest of them do)

throws things at lilia when he pisses her off

once threw a whole table at him

sometimes partakes in silver and sebek's training and asks lilia to spar with her (no magic ofc)

[book 7 Ryuuko]

often partakes in combat during Lilia's dream

wacked a silver owl on the head with a thick branch and stole their sword

silver gave her a diasomnia uniform so she could move better when she was fighting

when she held malleus's egg, it glowed in response to being held by her

would've literally died for the egg even if she knows it's a dream (those maternal instincts are not helping)

--------------------------

maybe next I'll do not so fun facts about all my twst ocs

[my-castles-crumbling]

anticipation - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 570

Up until this moment, Remus had been doing spectacularly well at avoiding embarrassment, if he did say so himself. At least in this particular way. He'd been slowly peeking around corners, casting detecting spells, never walking very close to Sirius...all to avoid the predicament the was in now.

"Looks like mistletoe," Sirius sang teasingly, pointing up at the magical plant over the door that had forced both of them to take a pause in their entry to their dorm room.

What arsehole had hung some there? Surely not a House Elf. Was this James's idea of a joke? Either way, Remus frowned, because now he had a decision to make.

Mistletoe didn't permanently freeze you underneath it. It didn't magically force you to kiss the other person. It just caused you to freeze for a few moments, so there was no way you could deny knowing you'd been underneath it with someone else.

So now was it better for him to refuse kissing his friend? How would that make him look? Surely, if he didn't have feelings, he would have been able to withstand a quick peck with a chuckle and a shrug. But laughing off a kiss from Sirius seemed as terrible as refusing one.

His decision was made for him when Sirius took a bold step closer to him and wrapped two arms around the back of his neck, pressing their chests together. For some reason, all of his earlier amusement seemed to have been wiped from his eyes, replaced by something akin to nervousness. Except Sirius Black didn't get nervous, so Remus didn't understand. "We don't have to..." Remus mumbled, both trying to give himself and Sirius an out.

But the shorter boy just tilted his head to the side. "I never said I didn't want to, Moons," he mumbled, bringing his head closer. "I mean...do you? Want to?"

And Sirius was so close. Gray eyes gazing into Remus's soul, lips so close Remus could feel his warm breath as he thought about the way he could count each of Sirius's perfect, long eyelashes when they were close like this.

Hands quivering with anticipation, Remus brought them to Sirius's waist, body erupting with heat as his thumb brushed against a small sliver of exposed skin by the seam of Sirius's t-shirt.

"I..." What should he answer? It was hot, the air so think he could've cut it with a severing charm, and his entire being was begging him to lurch forward and claim Sirius's lips in his own.

Sirius, eyes flickering up and down between Remus's mouth and eyes, licked his lip for just a moment.

And something occurred to Remus as his mind swirled in a haze. "Did you put that up there?" he demanded, hoping desperately that he was right. That Sirius had wanted this as much as he wanted Sirius.

But before the shorter boy could answer, thundering footsteps caused both of them to turn, pulling back from each other.

"Oh, no! Mistletoe!" James screeched as he entered, placing a sloppy kiss on Sirius's cheek and winking at Remus. "Just trying to find reasons to kiss me, Pads?"

"Of course," Sirius replied a bit weakly, pressing a kiss to James's forehead and walking away, looking put out.

But as Remus stared after him, all he could think about was that Sirius's hadn't just kissed him on the head and been done with it. Why?

[shorthaltsjester]

doing questionable things like rewatching a bard’s lament for “fun” and scanlan and vex you will always be famous. the fact that scanlan brings up that they’ve travelled across planes to fix vex’s daddy issues but then it’s vex’s daddy issues that ground her rebuttal to scanlan when she tells him to stop treating kaylie like an object. and god. vex’s “fuck him! fuck him for not saying anything sooner. and fuck us for not asking.” in the immediate aftermath, and then once she has time to put her walls back up, vex’s “my take-away from scanlan is that we all talk too much.”

the fact that vex was the one who made that comment that without his magic scanlan is just some guy but he’s also the some guy that vex spends the campaign looking up to (even if she does it through barbs and snark), the fact that when vex was fighting against saundor hearing things like “unproven ally” scanlan was all jokes until he realized how much vex believed what was being said to her. the fact that when scanlan comes back, it’s vex who literally sees through his disguise.

what do you mean scanlan was a deadbeat father who discovered a daughter that he did love but loved only as an object until vex called him out on it? what do you mean vex was a woman who struggled to forgive in part due to her crapshoot father and she was the first to forgive scanlan when he came back?

vex and scanlan also have such interesting interactions in terms of the balance of snark, silliness, and sincerity. it’s not uncommon from any characters of sam or laura’s since they are both silly little guys who also love drama and roasting each other especially when it comes to character rp, but as always it’s so dynamic when it’s the two of them bouncing off each other, especially when they’re doing so through scanlan and vex who are already bitchy characters (affectionate) with humour as a deflection method. but it’s a silly and deeply sincere moment when vex finally puts the witch hat scanlan gave her back on with his promise that he won’t run away from the final battle. it is one of my favourite laughable moments in c1 but it also reeks of sincerity when scanlan asks vex if she prefers planetar scanlan or normal scanlan and vex tells him he is fucking hot as a planetar, but she loves him like he was and he’s her favourite when he’s just himself.

like. they’re insane do you understand. the dawnfather asks vex to prove herself and scanlan turns her into a dragon to help her succeed, pelor asks vox machina what vex means to them and scanlan says she’s greedy and mean and the most perfect of them all. the knowing mistress asks scanlan to prove himself and vex escorts him on a broom he unlocked for her and then she picks an impossible lock for him, ioun tries to remind scanlan that his strength is the joy he provides to his friends and he makes a deflective quip that he’s really powerful and vex undercuts his deflection with a sincere assertion that he is. scanlan cast his last wish spell letting her see her brother on her wedding day. vex sent herself across the continent alone with her worry and grief while scanlan’s corpse lay awaiting resurrection to ensure that his daughter could be there to either bring him back or say goodbye.

they are the platonic chosen soulmates of all time to me. i make a post like this like once a year minimum and it’s because they Haunt me. both sam and laura said what if we made high charisma characters using their charisma as a shield and humour as a weapon and they saw through each other’s masks but they never explicitly talked about it to one another. good riddance to talks machina but i will never forget the episode post bard’s lament with laura and sam where sam revealed that vex was the only one who said anything that actually got through to scanlan and another episode where laura revealed that the reason vex was so angry and sad when scanlan left was that vex felt like her and scanlan had a unique bond where they were the only two who really saw one another’s masks for what they were. also laura providing the insight that while vex was actively working on being more forgiving, another reason she was so open and happy with scanlan when he came back was that vex didn’t want to scare him away again.

what am i supposed to do with all that? be normal about scanlan and vex? literally impossible

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 2: food play | wolfstar

smut

TW: NSFW oral (fem receiving), fingering

You just came back from your date in Hogsmade, Remus was carrying a heavy bag full of candies, while Sirius held your hand. You didn’t quite understand why they decided to buy so many candies, but you thought it only made sense: it was Halloween season, there wasn’t such thing as too much sugar.

Once at their dormitory, you sprawled on their bed, while they locked the door. Soon, they were on the bed, one of them on either side of you.

"You look gorgeous, love" Remus was gazing into your eyes, making you blush slightly. Sirius trailed his hand slowly on your arm, then brushing his fingertips over the exposed skin below your navel, making you squirm: you couldn't help it, when you were near them, you always felt a deep rooted need.

You saw them exchanging a knowing look, before casting a silencing spell.

"Now love, are you going to be a good girl for us and undress?"

You nodded, slightly confused: they usually started off slowly, but you didn't mind them ordering you around, it was quite hot honestly.

You obeyed, unbottoning your jeans and taking off your shirt. You felt slightly exposed, they were dressed while you laid there in your panties and bra: you had to resist the urge to cover yourself.

"You look like an angel"

"Me and Remus had an idea" Sirius cut him off, getting up to pick up a pack of his favourite gummies and one of chocolates.He looked at you with a devilish grin "Now, love, you will stay very still for us, and we will make you feel so good" You nodded frantically.

Remus picked up the bag of chocolates, opening it with his teeth. He then proceeded to work on the front clasp of your bra, exposing your breasts.

"So beautiful" You blushed, waiting for their next move. The fact that you didn’t have a clue on their plans made you even more aroused, the power dynamic making you nearly feverish with need.

Remus started to position the sweet treats all around your nipples and in the valley between your breasts. Every touch made you want to squirm, but you knew that you couldn't, they said to stay put.

Sirius covered the line from your breasts to your mound in candies. "We thought of a little game. We’re going to play with you, but if you let even one of these candies fall, your orgasm will be denied, so stay put, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes I understand"

Sirius fingertips grazed your clit slightly: you knew he was testing the waters, wanting to know how much you were willing to obey. You stayed still, even though your body begged to squirm, you didn't.

He then put a little more pressure on it, while Remus started to suck on the chocolate right next to your left nipple, then dragging it on your chest, writing an "R" on it. Every touch seemed to be amplified; the soft texture of the gummies being dragged on your sensitive skin made you feel on fire.

Sirius lowered his head on the candy right above your most sensitive area and sucked on it. Then, slowly, he dragged it right on your clit, applying even more pressure.

You knew you couldn’t move, and you hated them for this, because they knew how responsive you were to their touch. You’ve always hated being restrained, but now you wish you were, that way you wouldn’t be thinking about staying still and actually enjoy their touches.

“Now love, you seem a little distracted, we should do something about it” Remus then started teasing and sucking your right nipple, his other hand now pinching the other one. He knew how sensitive you were. He stopped to chew on the chocolate, winking down at you, then resuming to kiss your skin.

Meanwhile, Sirius had lowered his head on your core, and was beginning to suck on your clit, while his index finger teased your whole slightly.

If they kept this up, you were sure you were bound to come soon, the stimulation being nearly overwhelming.

“I’m… Sirius”

“Aw, you’re about to come already, love?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, they both stopped touching you altogether, making you whine desperately. “Remi, she tastes sweeter than usual, you should really try”

Remus reached for Sirius collar, and they started to make out right above you, the sight of them together so hot, you thought you might come by just watching them.

After a while, they finally went back to focusing on you, switching positions. “Angel, you were so good  for  us, we’ll let you come now”

Remus started sucking your clit, while Sirius entered you with one of his fingers, and you soon felt the orgasm nearing, they sensed it. “Let go for us, love. You’ve been such a good  girl, listening  to us. Come for us, angel”

And you did, Sirius kissing you while they both worked you through it, stopping when you clearly got overstimulated.

As soon as you got your breath under control, you opened your eyes. "Wow, that was-"

"We know, we're the best boyfriends ever, you got so lucky, yada yada, now come here, we're going to have hot shower sex" Sirius picked you up, throwing you on his shoulder, taking off for the bathroom.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (three)

requested here; (one); (two)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (the duff inspired) word count: 5.4k

You hadn’t planned for that kiss to happen the other day.

It was supposed to be all part of the game, of the plan.

You just wanted to learn things properly. Right? But you knew, you had wanted it, and worse, you had liked it.

God, what the hell were you doing?

He was Rafe Cameron. Cocky, rich, your nightmare with a reputation that should have sent you running in the opposite direction. And yet, here you were, feeling the ghost of his lips against yours, wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t pulled back. If you hadn’t let the spell break.

"Focus," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head like you could shake him off too. You had bigger things to worry about—like Nate.

Remember Nate? The whole point of this was to get him to notice you, to finally realize that you were more than just the girl he studied with. You weren’t supposed to be getting caught up with Rafe Cameron’s sudden vulnerability or, God forbid, catching feelings for him.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as you turned down the street toward your apartment. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the thought of Rafe stayed with you for hours, sneaking its way back in every time you thought you’d pushed it out for good.

What was it about him, anyway? He was hot, sure. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was seeing something deeper. Like there was more to this than either of you were willing to admit. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe you were starting to want him to see more.

By the time you reached your door, you had spiraled enough to know you needed a distraction. So you did what any girl in your situation would do: you grabbed your phone and texted Harper back.

You: Movie night better include wine. Lots of wine.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Harper <3:  “Already taken care of, babe. See you soon.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling a little better. It was exactly what you needed. Maybe after a few glasses of wine and some cheesy rom-coms, you’d finally stop thinking about that stupid kiss.

As you closed the door behind you and flopped onto your bed, your phone buzzed again. Expecting it to be Harper, you lazily reached for it, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Rafe’s name instead.

Rafe: got your notes ready for tomorrow? or should i just show up and charm my way through it?

You stared at the screen for a second, unsure whether to laugh or throw your phone across the room. Why did he always have to do this? Act like nothing had changed when everything felt different?

Not that you were any better.

Finally, you typed back.

You: “depends. can ur charm get you through an entire chapter on portuguese colonization?”

His reply came almost instantly. Like he’d been waiting for yours.

Rafe: “we both know my charm can get me through anything.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the stupid smile tugging at your lips.

You: “let’s not test that theory. see you tomorrow.”

You tossed your phone aside, willing yourself not to overthink the fact that just seeing his name pop up on your screen made your heart race.

You were going to get through this. Nate was your goal. This thing with Rafe was just a detour. A very distracting, very complicated detour that you’d handle... eventually.

But tonight? Tonight was for your girls, your movies, and drowning out the chaos in your head with as much wine as it took to stop thinking about blue eyes and stupid smirks.

Later that night, you found yourself sprawled out on Ava’s couch, surrounded by blankets and popcorn, watching some cheesy rom-com that Harper had picked out. The glow of the TV cast a soft light over the room, but your mind was still elsewhere. Even with your best friends beside you, laughing and making snide comments about the movie, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

It wasn’t just the kiss—although that had definitely been messing with your head lately—it was everything. The way he’d been acting, the things he’d said, the stupid nickname that you couldn’t seem to shake. Harper and Ava had a point, but they didn’t know Rafe like you did. Not anymore, at least. You’d seen sides of him recently that no one else had, and while you weren’t exactly sure what to make of it, there was something there. Something more than just the cocky rich boy everyone saw.

You sighed, reaching for another handful of popcorn, but Harper, ever the perceptive one, caught the look on your face before you could hide it.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, nudging your leg with her foot. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Yeah, you’ve barely roasted this movie,” Ava added, throwing a piece of popcorn at you. “That’s not like you.”

You didn't want to get into it, “Just tired, I guess. Long day.”

Harper wasn’t buying it, though. She turned the volume on the TV down and sat up, crossing her legs underneath her. “Okay, spill. This is about Rafe, isn’t it?”

You groaned, covering your face with a pillow. “Can we not talk about him ?”

“Nope,” Harper said, yanking the pillow away. “Not until you tell us what’s going on. I know a liar when I see one."

Busted.

“Did something happen?”

You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. They were your best friends, and you knew they only wanted what was best for you. But the whole thing with Rafe felt complicated, like more than just a stupid crush. Still, you couldn’t keep it all bottled up forever.

“Fine,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “There was... a kiss.”

Harper’s jaw practically dropped. “A kiss? With Rafe?”

“When did this happen?” Ava demanded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“I was scared!” You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again as you thought back to that moment in the library, “He knew I never kissed anyone and offered.”

“Wait, what? Your first kiss was with Rafe freaking Cameron?”

Ava gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “He offered? What the hell does that even mean? Did he just, like, present his lips to you like some weirdo?”

You groaned, wishing you could shrink into the couch and disappear.

“It wasn’t like that, okay? We were talking, and it came up. I told him I hadn’t kissed anyone, and then he was all, ‘I can fix that,’ or something. It just... happened a few days later.”

“So, what was it like? Was it good? Did he use tongue? I need details, girl.”

Harper elbowed her. “Ava! Let her breathe, she’s clearly still processing.”

You felt your cheeks heat up even more as you fidgeted with a loose string on your sweater. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was good, okay? Really good. But it’s Rafe, and now everything’s weird, and I don’t know what to do.”

Harper’s expression softened,  “Okay, I’m trying to wrap my head around this. You’ve hated Rafe for, like, ever, right? And now, all of a sudden, you’re kissing him? What about Nate?”

“I know!” you groaned again, throwing your head back against the couch.

Ava looked like she was about to explode. “So... do you like him? Because it sounds like you’re starting to like him.”

“No! Maybe? I don’t know.” You buried your face in your hands. “I wasn’t supposed to like him. It wasn’t part of the plan. But then he had to go and be all... different. Like, he’s still Rafe, but sometimes he’s—I don’t know, sweet? Ugh, that sounds ridiculous.”

Harper sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Babe, if you’re getting all messed up over a guy like Rafe, this could be a problem.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. You didn’t want to like Rafe. He was the last person you should be catching feelings for. 

“Guys like him? They’ll pull you in, mess with your head, and leave you confused as hell.”

“I know,” you said, hating how true that sounded. “But it’s not just that. There’s something else. Like, when we’re alone, he’s— I don’t know. He lets his guard down, and I see a side of him that I don’t think anyone else does. He's weirdly honest."

Harper raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not catching feelings?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t even know anymore. I thought this was just a stupid kiss, but now it feels like everything’s different. And it’s so dumb because I should be focused on Nate!"

Ava and Harper exchanged a glance, both of them looking concerned. Harper was the first to speak.

“Okay, maybe this is a sign you need to figure out what you really want. Do you want to keep chasing Nate, or... do you want to see where things go with Rafe?”

You blinked, the question hitting you harder than you expected. What did you want? Nate had always been the plan—nice, safe, uncomplicated Nate. 

It wasn’t just the kiss. It was how you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His stupid grin, the way he’d tease you but also get serious for like, two seconds, just long enough to make you question everything.

You sighed, pushing your hair out of your face, “This was a terrible mistake.”

Harper crossed her arms, studying you. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Call him.”

“What?!” You sat up, heart racing. “No way. I can’t just call him out of nowhere.”

“Yes, you can,” Ava chimed in, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Here’s the test—if he picks up right away, it means he’s been thinking about you too. If he doesn’t? Then maybe he’s just playing games.”

You stared at them like they’d just suggested jumping off a cliff. “Are you guys serious? There’s no way I’m doing that. You're not serious."

Harper smirked, grabbing your phone off the table and holding it out to you. “Do it. Right now. Trust me, if he cares, he’ll pick up.”

What kind of fucked up science was that? Rafe? Liking you? It was ridiculous. There was no way. Not when he'd been with so many girls, kissed even more, and never gave you a second glance. You were just...there.

Your stomach twisted in knots. “What if he doesn’t answer? What if he thinks I’m weird for calling at night? What if I just— explode from embarrassment?”

Ava waved her hand dismissively. “If he doesn’t answer, then you know where you stand. But if he does... well, that’s another story. And I highly doubt you’ll explode. Just call him and see.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your phone like it was about to bite you. It felt reckless, terrifying even. But you were curious too—what would happen if you actually did it? Would he care? Would he answer?

“Fine,” you muttered, grabbing the phone from Harper and quickly finding Rafe’s name in your contacts before you could change your mind.

Ava grinned, leaning in. “Ooh, this is gonna be good.”

“I thought you hated him—"

“Call him!”

You hit call, holding your breath as the phone rang once, twice—

And then, to your absolute horror, it stopped. He picked up.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice came through, “Everything okay?”

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both staring at you like this was the most exciting thing to ever happen. You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal, like you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes freaking out about calling him.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, cringing at how awkward you sounded. “I just... wanted to see if you were ready for tomorrow’s study session.”

Lame. So, so lame.

Rafe chuckled softly. “You called me at night to ask about studying? I didn’t know I was that irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

He laughed again, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Too late. Anyway, I’m ready for tomorrow. Was studying really the reason you called?”

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both nodding furiously, encouraging you to say something—anything that wasn’t study-related.

“Well... maybe not just that,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

There was a pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, more serious. “I’m glad you called.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just muttered, “Yeah, me too.”

There was another moment of silence, like you were both trying to figure out what to say next.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Rafe said, his voice a little lower, almost... warmer? “Night.”

“Night,” you replied, and then the call ended.

You dropped your phone onto the couch, staring at it like it had just turned into a bomb.

Harper squealed. “He picked up right away! And he was flirty! Oh my God, he likes you!”

Ava clapped her hands, bouncing on the couch. “I knew it! He’s totally into you. Nevermind what we said earlier. Rafe Cameron is into you. We were wrong. Scratch the whole 'he’s just messing with your head' thing. He’s definitely catching feelings.”

You scowled, “Where’s your backbone? Five minutes ago, you were all, ‘Rafe’s trouble, don’t fall for it,’ and now you’re practically shipping us?”

Harper shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, but that was before he picked up right away and sounded all soft. That’s different, babe.”

“Exactly!” Ava chimed in. “Nate who?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. He’s... safe. And uncomplicated. Why am I even entertaining this idea of Rafe?”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Because safe doesn’t make your heart race. And it sure as hell doesn’t make you stay up all night overthinking. If you were so into Nate, you wouldn’t be calling Rafe at night. Or letting him kiss you!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. They had a point, as annoying as it was. Nate might’ve been the goal, but Rafe was what had your head spinning. You groaned again, flopping back against the couch.

Sure, maybe he’d been acting a little off lately. Like, sometimes he’d actually ask you how your day was or show up when he knew you’d be around. You didn’t think much of it, though. That’s just how it was with guys like Rafe—he probably wanted something, or maybe he was just bored.

You huffed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “It’s just so stupid. He’s Rafe. He’s... ugh, he’s complicated, and I don’t even know if he’s serious, or if he’s just bored, or what. And now I’ve kissed him, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and—”

“And now you’re realizing that maybe Nate isn’t what you really want after all,” Harper finished.

You sighed, hugging a pillow to your chest. “What am I supposed to do now?”

He’d flirt, he’d flash that stupid grin, and then he’d move on like nothing ever happened. Why would you be different? 

“Easy. You figure out what you want. Not what Nate wants, not what Rafe wants. You. And until then, just... enjoy. No one said you had to decide everything right now.”

Harper nodded in agreement, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah. Take it slow. And for tonight, let’s just not overthinking every little thing, okay?”

Yet, you thought about him all night. You’d seen the way he treated other girls. He’d throw them those lazy smiles, the ones that practically screamed I’ll forget your name by tomorrow, and it always seemed to work.

They all fell for it—why wouldn’t they? Rafe was good at getting what he wanted, and he never stuck around long enough for things to get messy. You? You were invisible up until recently. He only paid attention when he felt like pissing you off. Your friends had to be reading too much into things.

This was Rafe. The same Rafe who was impossible to figure out, who never took anything seriously—least of all you. There was no way he liked you. 

But the next day came way too fast, and you were paying for it. Hard.

You groaned as you dragged yourself into the library, sunglasses on like they were going to somehow shield you from the pounding headache.

Harper and Ava had insisted on one more glass of wine, which of course, turned into two. And now, you were here, praying Rafe wouldn’t notice that you felt like death.

As you slumped into the chair across from him, he immediately raised an eyebrow, “Rough night?”

You gave him a look, your head already throbbing too much for his sarcasm. “Don’t even start, Cameron.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in your state. “Wow, I can smell the regret from here. You look like you partied with a bottle of tequila and lost.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It was wine, thank you very much. And yeah, it was a little too much.”

He chuckled softly, flipping open his notebook. “A little? You look like you just survived a war zone. Was the study session that boring to look forward to?”

“Ha ha, so funny,” you muttered, wincing as you reached for your bag. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Barely.” He tilted his head, clearly enjoying every second of it. “I’m impressed you made it at all. Should I have brought a bucket? You know, just in case?”

You glared at him from behind your sunglasses. “I hate you so much right now.”

Rafe just grinned, unfazed. “Trust me, it’s mutual. But seriously, you need water or something? You’re about two seconds away from face-planting on that table.”

You bit your lip, knowing he was right but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Still, your mouth felt like a desert, and the thought of anything cold and hydrating sounded like heaven.

“Maybe… a coffee?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh? No?”

“You’re not drinking coffee before you eat.”

You squinted at him, thoroughly annoyed. “Rafe, I’m hungover, not five years old.”

He just raised an eyebrow, clearly not swayed.

“Hungover means your brain’s working even worse than normal, so yeah, I’m pulling the adult card here. You need food before coffee.”

You rolled your eyes, regretting it instantly as your head throbbed harder. “Fine. I’ll get food after the coffee.”

He shook his head, already getting up. “Nope. I’m grabbing you a bagel or something.”

“Rafe, seriously—” you started, but he was already walking away, not even bothering to let you finish.

You slumped back in your chair, groaning under your breath. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and your stomach was twisting in a way that wasn’t just from the hangover. But it was so typical of him to boss you around, like he knew what was best for you. He seemed almost too serious about all this, like it wasn’t just about breakfast or caffeine. Was he actually… worried?              

He was being so over-the-top about something so simple. Maybe he noticed things you didn’t even realize were slipping—how little you’d been eating, how tired you always seemed. You didn’t want him to worry, to get so wrapped up in how you were doing. But the fact that he did… 

Rafe returned, dropping a bagel in front of you. “Eat. Then you can have your coffee.”

You blinked at the bagel, caught off guard. “You actually got me food?”

He gave you a look. “You really thought I wouldn’t? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“A pain in my ass?” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it. You unwrapped the bagel, taking a cautious bite, and, annoyingly, it actually helped. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Now, once you finish that, we’ll get started on actual studying. You might wanna take those sunglasses off too. It’s not that bright in here.”

“Stop being so smug about it,” you grumbled, but you took another bite of the bagel, your headache easing just a little.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out like he owned the place.

“Hey, if you’re gonna drink like that, you should at least have someone who can take care of you after.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. “Is this your way of saying you care?”

“Eat your bagel.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the flutter in your chest. Why was he always like this? One minute he was the biggest pain, and the next, he was sweet? You took another bite of the bagel, trying to ignore the way his comment made your stomach do a weird little flip.

Rafe just watched you, arms crossed, looking smug as ever. "I'm not saying anything," he teased, leaning forward slightly. "But you did call me last night."

You nearly choked on your bagel. "That was for studying!"

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth pulling into a grin. "Oh, right. You totally call guys at night to talk about history."

You threw a balled-up napkin at him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Don't start with me, Cameron. You texted me first!"

"Fair enough," He caught the napkin effortlessly, still grinning, like teasing you was the highlight of his day. He was holding his hands up in surrender, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes. "Don’t know if it’s the kiss or maybe you’re just starting to realize I'm not all bad."

You scoffed, trying to brush off how much that actually hit home.

"Please. You're still an entitled jerk, Rafe. One kiss doesn’t change that."

But the truth was, maybe it did change something. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since. And now, sitting here with him being all unexpectedly considerate, it was getting harder to pretend like there wasn’t something going on.

“So it hasn’t been keeping you up at night?”

“Why would it? It was just a kiss. Happens all the time, right?”

His smirk widen, “So I didn’t get your panties in a twist?”

You were going to throw a book at his face.

"You’re so full of yourself," you muttered, trying to act unbothered, but your pulse quickened.

Rafe leaned in a little closer, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m just saying, it seemed like more than ‘just a kiss’ with the way you keep getting flustered. You sure it didn’t mean anything?”

You narrowed your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

“What do you want me to say, Rafe? That I’m totally falling for you? That I can’t stop thinking about the kiss? Because that’s not happening.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back again, but something shifted in his expression. He was still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity now, almost like he was testing the waters.

“Good to know. Guess I’ll just keep doing my thing then.”

“Your thing? What, being an annoying, arrogant jerk?” you shot back, though there was less bite in your tone than usual.

Rafe’s lips twitched, “I’d hate to think I’m keeping you up at night.”

Ugh. Why was he like this? Why was this working on you?

You rolled your eyes, trying to stay focused on the whole reason you were here in the first place: studying, Nate, anything but this. But the way Rafe was looking at you right now, like he could see through all the walls you put up... yeah, it was messing with your head again.

"Can we just study now?" you grumbled, flipping open your textbook, praying the conversation would shift before your cheeks got any redder. "I didn’t drag myself here to talk about your ridiculous fantasies."

His grin softened into something more genuine, and he shook his head, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. Let’s get started before your brain melts from that hangover.”

But as you pulled out your notes, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long. And worse, you knew your heart was doing the same—stupid fluttering and all.

There was something about this back-and-forth with him that was starting to feel... different. And maybe, just maybe, that scared you more than you were willing to admit.

As the two of you dove into the study session, you tried—really tried—to focus on the material in front of you. But every time he leaned in a little closer or cracked a joke that made you roll your eyes, your mind wandered back to that kiss. To the way he looked at you when no one else was around. To the fact that, as much as you hated to admit it, Rafe Cameron was making you feel something you hadn’t expected.

“Do you remember that bonfire when we were sixteen?” he asked all of a sudden.

You raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment. “Which one? There were like, a million bonfires.”

“The one where you dumped your drink in my face.”

Your hand froze halfway to your mouth. Oh. That bonfire. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the memory came rushing back, clear as day.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s not exactly something you forget. One minute I was talking to you, and the next, I was soaking wet with a face full of—what was it? Lemonade?”

“Spiked lemonade,” you corrected, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “You deserved it.”

“Deserved it?” he echoed, leaning forward, clearly enjoying this trip down memory lane. “I asked if you wanted to hang out by the water. How’s that deserving a drink to the face?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the old annoyance bubble up again. “You asked me to hang out after you and your friends had spent the whole night making fun of me."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, maybe we were a little rough back then. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a dick that night.”

“You were always a dick,” you muttered, but there was no real heat behind your words. Sixteen-year-old you had despised him and his cocky attitude. 

He smirked, “You were so pissed off. Your face was all red, and you were shaking with anger, like you couldn’t believe I’d even dared to speak to you.”

“You had it coming.”

“I probably did,” he agreed, a softer look crossing his face. “But I remember thinking, even back then, you were different. You didn’t take shit from anyone.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “Wait, are you actually complimenting me right now? What is happening?”

Rafe just grinned, leaning back again, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “I’m just saying, you’ve always had more fight in you.”

Your stomach did that weird little flip again, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the crumbs left on the table. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t been such an ass, I wouldn’t have had to.”

“I think that’s why I liked messing with you so much.” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “You always pushed back.”

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond to that. The Rafe you remembered from back then was all arrogance and teasing, but this... this was different. It was like he was admitting that he’d seen you in a way no one else had back then. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching cut your conversation short. You glanced up, thinking it might just be another student passing by, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Nate walking toward you and Rafe.

Rafe’s smirk faded instantly when he spotted him approaching.

“Hey,” Nate greeted with a casual smile, though his eyes flicked quickly between you and Rafe, “Didn’t know you guys studied here too.”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal even though your brain was racing. “Yeah, uh, just catching up on some work.”

Nate’s smile wavered slightly as his gaze lingered on Rafe, then back to you. “Mind if I join? I was just gonna find a spot to get some work done, but...” His voice trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

For a second, you were torn. Nate was here, right in front of you—the guy you’d been chasing for months, the one who was supposed to be the plan. But Rafe was sitting across from you.

He leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms with that signature smirk creeping back onto his face. “Yeah, sure, the more, the merrier.”

You shot him a look, silently pleading with him not to make this worse, but he just raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the situation.

Nate pulled out a chair, setting his bag down, “What’re you working on?” he asked, glancing between you and Rafe.

Before you could answer, Rafe spoke up, again, “Just a little review. Nothing too complicated, right?” His eyes flicked to you, daring you to answer.

You swallowed hard, feeling both their gazes on you. “Yeah, just going over some notes. We’re almost done, actually.”

Nate’s eyes lingered on Rafe for a beat longer than necessary, like he was sizing him up. “Right. Cool. I guess I’ll just... grab a spot over there.” 

“You do that.”

“Rafe.” you grumbled under your breath, kicking him under the table.

"You wanna grab lunch after? I was gonna head to that new sandwich place, and figured you might want to come."

For a split second, you hesitated. Lunch with Nate was the safe, easy option—exactly what you’d been trying to hold onto. But the way Rafe was watching you now... Nate’s invitation wasn’t just about lunch. It was a claim, a reminder that he was the one you were supposed to be into.

"I, um—” you started, but the words were stuck in your throat.

You’d just spent the last half hour trying to convince yourself that Rafe didn’t matter. That this whole thing with him wasn’t a big deal. But now, with Nate standing right here, it felt like your brain was short-circuiting.

Rafe stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Well, looks like you’ve got plans," he said, his voice flat. He glanced at you, before grabbing his notebook. "Catch you later, I guess."

Before you could say anything, he walked away, his footsteps heavy as he left the library. You stared after him, your heart doing this weird thing where it felt like it was both racing and sinking at the same time.

Nate raised an eyebrow, watching Rafe go. "That guy’s... intense," he said, his tone light, but you could tell he was fishing for something.

You forced a smile, "Yeah, that’s Rafe for you."

But even as you said it, your mind wasn’t on Nate. It was still stuck on Rafe—on the way he’d looked at you before he left, like maybe he’d been hoping you wouldn’t just go along with Nate’s plan. Like maybe he’d wanted you to choose something different.

"So, lunch?" Nate asked again, his smile back in place, but it didn’t feel the same. Not anymore.

You swallowed hard, nodding automatically. “Sure, lunch sounds good.”

But as you followed him out of the library, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you’d just walked away from something important. 

[brittle-doughie]

Downstream Part 2: Frigid Lies

The cards come tumbling down

[Part 1]

“And with just a little ingenuity…”

You snapped the rocks together to form enough of a spark to light your fire, Affogato Cookie’s eyes widen as the fire roared amidst the wood.

“You have yourself a strong fire that will get you through the night.”

“Why give it so much effort when I could simply create a fire with my magic. It would save you the trouble..”

“You can use fire spells?”

“Well, I…..”

You gave him a look as Affogato immediately surrendered.

“I don’t.”

“If you want to help me next time, I can give you a hands-on lesson on how to make a fire like I do! It can go a long way to ensure you last out here in the snowy tundras.”

“A hands-on lesson?”

“Yeah, y’know. I put my hands over yours and I direct you on what to do!”

Just imagining your more firm, stronger hands over his made his face flush as he tries to hide it from you.

“O-oh, I am…well aware of what that term entails. I am simply asking if it’s necessary.”

“Are you saying you can handle it on your own?”

“Yes, yes. I can assure you that I can start a fire on my own.”

He takes the rocks from you and gathered leftover sticks and leaves into a pile before trying to replicate what you did. With obvious results.

His form was hampered, he wasn’t placing enough force between the rocks to get that spark going, and he wasn’t holding them firmly enough to begin with.

You creeped behind him and reached forward, holding your hands on top of his as you grip the rocks. This catches him off guard as his face darkened with blush.

“Let me show you how to do it.”

“Spare me the words, I could’ve handle it on my own.”

“Yeah, right. Here.”

You let go at just the right moment for Affogato Cookie to place enough force between the rocks to get a spark going and ignite his pile.

“See? Nothing too difficult for me to handle~”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Affogato. Come on, these rations aren’t going to cook themselves!”

—————————————————

As night approaches, the two of you sit near your fires as you heated your cacao nibs porridge while Affogato preferred what you made for him back at the cabin, a fine serving of rainbow jellies.

He looked away from his meal to look at you, you were gazing at your bowl of porridge with a look of content and….a hint of longing.

“You’ve packed much better than what you have, yet you insist on eating…that.”

“Well, I guess a part of me still misses my time at the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Heh, as much as these things are hardly enough to sustain me long term, they just..bring back my memories serving as the Eighth Watcher.”

“But why look back on a kingdom that’s long turned their back on you? They talk of loyalty, yet showed none for you when they casted you out.”

“Maybe I’ll never know the extent of what I had done to get myself banished, but I respect my King’s decision nonetheless. However unfortunate, he wouldn’t want me to give up so easily and that’s what I plan to do. No matter what, I’ll continue to watch over these snowy lands as the Cookie of the Ridge, from what the locals call me.”

“Eh…..”

He remembers that day, a memory he once looked back on with pride was now a memory he wished he could forget with how things are now.

And with that memory came too his paranoia again.

The Dark Cacao Kingdom will have reorganized and with that will come the possible search parties that will track you down to bring you back. And if he’s with you, an added bonus that the kingdom will charge him for his crimes against them.

He did NOT want to see that come to fruition, especially if that pest was going to be there to personally see him off to the dungeons.

He had to keep the front up. It was either you found out, which was soon. Or the kingdom finds you two, which would be way later.

The choice was clear to him.

“Well, shame on them. Really! They wouldn’t know what a more loyal Cookie looked like if it walked right in front of them!”

“It’s okay, Affogato. I’ve come to accept my circumstances now, but…”

You turn to him with a smile.

“I appreciate you trying to lift up my spirits. Truly.”

“Well, I am simply stating the facts. You are a Cookie that was undeserving of your treatment by that kingdom. You’re better off without them.”

You looked up at the moon in the night sky.

“I wish them nothing but the best.”

—————————————————

You were not alone in your moon watching. Somewhere in the forest, another Cookie was watching the moon from her campsite.

“It’s been a while since I’ve set out on my search, is it even possible to find them here at this rate? Are they even still among these snowy lands?”

Caramel Arrow Cookie was sat in front of her fire, hugging her legs as she looked down at the flame. The more time that went by without progress was time that her worries grew.

She didn’t want to think of the worst. You were a Watcher, being able to live off the land was what you were trained to do. Even so, just where could you be? Were you..hiding from her? That can’t be right, you two were anything but distant back at the kingdom.

She catches herself slightly smiling as she thinks back to those times, where the two of you would spar in the training grounds or when the two of you would go out on missions together to aid the nearby villages.

It really felt like that you were her other half that she didn’t think she could ever be apart with, which only made this mission to look for you all the more dear to her.

She wanted those times back.

She wanted those missions together again.

She was not going to give up!

With a determined look, she stood up and looked at the moon with a clenched fist to her chest.

“No! I won’t give up! No matter what! Y/N Cookie never gave up on me before, so I shouldn’t either!”

And then, as if fate had finally allowed it, she looked down at her surroundings and can faintly make out two smoke stacks in the far distance as she narrows her eyes at them.

“A sign? I have to take it! Hang on, Y/N Cookie. Coming to you.”

She clears out her fire and grabs her things before sliding down the snow hill and hurrying to the direction of the smoke stacks.!

This was it. It had to be!

—————————————————

You and Affogato Cookie were sharing a laugh about another one of your silly little adventures out in the snow when you noticed that both fires were start to wear down and you’re out of firewood.

“Ah! Looks like we’re out of wood.”

“Hmm, it seems so.”

“I’ll be right back with more, don’t get the chills before I return!”

“Please, I’ve never felt warmer, hehe~”

You laughed off his remark as you got your axe and headed out to get some more firewood, leaving Affogato to look into the small fire that was left. With him alone, he felt like this was an opportunity to try to alleviate some of the guilt he was hanging onto.

—————————————————

Caramel Arrow Cookie was coming up on the smoke stacks when a voice makes stop before a bush, she remained still as she listened in.

“Look, I didn’t mean to have this happen to you, it was just misfortune circumstances!”

“No, no…uh, it was a simple mistake. I had not intentionally tried to hurt you…”

“It’s not my fault, simply it was how they managed things in the Dark Cacao Kingdom!”

Caramel Arrow Cookie rolled her eyes as she recognized the voice to be Affogato Cookie’s. He can stay out of the kingdom for all she cared, but what was he even talking about with his-

“Things can work out, Y/N Cookie. If you’re willing to try…”

It was like something snapped in her mind.

He did it….

It all made sense now…

She was not the first to be sent away…

And now here he was, feeding and poisoning you the same way he had done to her King….

Was he the reason you didn’t come back?

Did he mention her?

Was he trying to drive a wedge between you and her?

No….

No no no……

She won’t allow it, she can’t allow that SNAKE to take away someone she held dear as she readied her bow….

—————————————————

Affogato Cookie was standing at the porch to your cabin home, the two fires having since been put out as he watches the snow fall.

He watch the individual bits of snow fall onto the ground softly as he sighs. He knew that it was only a matter of time before you discovered who he really was, he didn’t know what you would do if you did.

Kick him out to fend for himself?

Personally execute him yourself?

Understand him?

Welcome him still?

He doesn’t like to look back fondly about the past, when you were only just another Watcher. Oh, how wrong he would end up being after your time together with him…

It was only a matter of time…

Should he wait until you found out?

Or maybe…he should just confess himself? Would you hate him less for that?

All he could do know was try to lighten up the guilt by confessing to the fire-

*CRACK!*

“GAH!”

An arrow had struck the wooden beam of the cabin mere inches from his head, shocking Affogato Cookie as he stumbled to the side.

Another arrow is shot, but he manages to conjure a shield to block it.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

“I knew it was you…”

A growling voice replied back as Affogato’s attacker emerged from the snowy trees.

“AFFOGATO COOKIE!”

“Caramel Arrow Cookie?!”

He stumbled back against the door to the cabin as Caramel Arrow Cookie slowly approached him, her eyes blazing with anger as she drew another arrow.!

“Y-you found me already?!”

“Already?! Do you know how long I’ve spent trying to look for the Cookie I held dear the most only to see you here?! And just what were you talking about it being a simple mistake? I should’ve known I wasn’t the first, that it was YOU that did this!”

“N-now, now! If you just give me a moment to explain-SUBMIT!”

Affogato Cookie quickly shot a spell at Caramel Arrow, but she simply dodged to the side and shot her drawn arrow at him, which knocks his staff out of his hand.

He goes to reach for it, but Caramel Arrow beats him to it by kicking the staff off further away.’

“It’s over! Now you’re going to tell me where is Y/N Cookie.”

“I don’t know what you’re-“

She grabs his outfit and gets him against the cabin wall, not having any more of his nonsense.

“WHERE ARE THEY?! WHERE IS Y/N COOKIE?!”

“T-they-“

“Alright, Affogato Cookie. I’m back with the fire…wood?”

You had come back from the forest, ready to keep the fire going only to see Caramel Arrow Cookie having Affogato against your cabin wall, the both of them looking at you wide-eyed.

“Caramel Arrow Cookie?”

“Y-Y/N Cookie?”

“Oh dear….”

[na0koz]

HIIIIIII

I was thinking about a reader who’s either equally if not more obsessed with jinx? (Sorta like love Quinn and Joe from you-) and so they’re both stealing stuff from each other, extremely jealous, and super super obsessive but trying to keep it from each other 😭

hi guys….this is not my best work, apologies in advance.. i definitely could have made reader crazier but i just COULDNT!!!! writers block is one hell of a drug. i hope this satisfies yall while i work on a couple other requests. they should be better, hopefully..

this is the request where i had a few other similar ones! i hope everyone who requested the similar ones is happy with this lol.

toxic!jinx masterlist

the thing with jinx was that she was always just a little less aware than the average person. you always thought you weren’t all that discreet about how obsessed with her you were, but she never really caught on. to be fair though, she was much more obvious about her own obsession.

it kind of cancelled yours out, hid it from her. she wasn’t completely open about it, she did absolutely everything she could to hide certain aspects of her behaviour that she knew (thought) would scare you. what she didn’t know was that you were doing practically the same thing.

whatever she hadn’t taken from you, you had taken from her. one time, she was cleaning herself up after somehow exploding an egg all over herself while trying to cook for you. you took your opportunity as your eyes trailed over all of her stuff that she’d strewn over your apartment. clothes, her boots, her bag and its contents.

you locked your eyes onto one of her boots, the ones she wears every day. you creep towards it and unlace it, completely pulling the string out. quickly, you pocket it and dig around in your drawer for something to fill the space with. to your luck, the ones you had were the exact same as the one in her other boot. you thread it through the holes in the worn leather and hurry back to where you had been standing.

she comes out of the bathroom with steam billowing around her frame just a few seconds later. she looks so pretty you could literally burst into song and dance. you smile at her and shove the lace deeper into your pocket.

“all clean?” you sing at her. she nods enthusiastically and starts clawing around in your closet for some clothes to wear. she looks so pretty with her hair down, strewn over her bare back in wet clumps.

you snatch your phone from the counter and snap a photo of her. you save it into your folder full of hundreds of photos of her from all kinds of different angles.

she turns around after pulling one of your tshirts on and skips over to you. she leans forward onto your shoulder as you shove your phone into your other pocket, hoping she doesn’t notice your hasty movements.

“brush my hair f’me?”

you can’t say no to her, not with those eyes and that smile, that hair, that waist and.. anyway. you nod and she cheers, going to grab her your hairbrush. she flops herself down in front of you on the couch and flicks her wet, tangled hair into your lap. you have no idea how she managed to get it to grow so long.

you start to brush her hair, when a few strands of jinx’s cerulean hair loosen themselves and find their way onto your clothes. you make an effort to keep it stuck to you to add it to your collection, you were just so fascinated with how blue her hair was.

that same night jinx manages to cut a small lock of your hair off while you slept peacefully. she intertwines it with a lock of her own. to the average person, she would look like an absolute psycho casting a spell on you, but she’s just… you know… making sure you stay in love forever. no similarities to spell casting at all.

strange how you do practically the exact same things to each other, yet never realise.

———

jinx often contradicts herself. she needs to know every single detail about everything you’ve ever done and will do and are doing, yet if she’s going somewhere she almost never tells you where or when or for how long. in her mind, if it doesn’t directly involve you then you don’t need to know.

you’ve mentioned it to her a couple times, and she’s said she’ll try remember to tell you. she never does, so you take matters into your own hands.

she had mentioned something about a market a couple days ago, so you thought you’d check there first; you knew it was definitely on today. after some scouting around, you catch a glimpse of her typical blue braids. ducking behind a stall, you mentally applaud yourself for being sooo smart and tracking her down.

you watch her from a distance, just as she does to you. not once does she notice you, just as you do when she does this. the pair of you are much more similar than you both realise.

it was almost comical, how both you followed each other, stole each other’s stuff, basically stalked one another and were so so obsessed, but neither of you knew about the other’s actions. you wonder what would happen if jinx caught onto you, and she wonders the same thing.

after a while of her skipping around, jinx stops and leans against a wall. she watches people pass by her as she nibbles on whatever sickly sweet pastry she had bought. she often gets pretty overwhelmed in crowded spaces like this one, and has to withdraw like she’s doing now. you know that. you notice pretty much every tiny thing about her. you hope she does the same.

you watch her, unblinking. any other (sane) person would feel at least a smidge of shame from doing this, even freaking out and labelling themselves as a gross perv. but you don’t even have it in you to do that, not when you love your girlfriend so much. you just can’t let her roam around by herself, what if she needs you?

you’re only doing it because you love her.

she only does it because she loves you.

once jinx decides she’s ready to venture back into the crowd, you notice her scanning over a stall covered with trinkets and jewellery. she eventually picks up a necklace, holding it up and swinging it in front of the old woman running the stall. it caught the sunlight and shimmered as jinx paid for it and skipped off.

you realise she’s headed home so you have to take off in a sprint to make it back before her. you may not be ashamed of your obsession but you don’t really like the idea of getting caught. you know jinx is a liiiittle crazy, and you’re not really sure how she’d take it.

a couple hours later, after the two of you had dinner, jinx jumps up from her seat.

“i got you somethin’!”

she comes back with a small box, decorated by her no doubt. the paint splattered over it, a wonky, graffiti-style heart in the middle, gave it away.

she opens it and holds up the necklace you watched her buy that same afternoon. she dangles it in front of you as she did to the woman she bought it from, a big grin on her face.

you tell her you love it as she clasps it around your neck. you glance down at the shoelace wrapped around your wrist, the one you pulled from her boot a few days earlier. when jinx asked where it was from, you told her you got it on vacation when you were younger. close one.

it is really goddamn difficult to act like you’ve never seen that necklace before.

[esotericbluntbaby]

a sense of agency

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: being assigned with another agent in order to find the lead on a string of murders and disappearances, your patience was wearing thin on hamzah's stubbornness, impulsivity, and arrogance with the case. a sudden change of heart after a mission almost gone horribly wrong creates an argument arising. agents aren't supposed to be romantically involved, causing conflicting emotions to navigate through a dilemma of either falling behind on your tasks or falling for each other.

mentions: specialagent! hamzah x specialagent! reader, ANGST ANGST ANGST, forced proximity, blood/violence, argument, forbidden romance

skyfall by adele

--

being an agent meant taking risks.

and sometimes, those risks felt like they weren't worth it; like the cost was greater than the benefit.

you had been in the agency for as long as you could remember, being gifted in your craft. like a dancer, the field was your stage; known for your talents in acrobatics and timing, you ranked higher and higher with each mission. you were a magician in the camouflage and secrecy of the espionage, pulling tricks out of your sleeves and bombs, instead of rabbits, out of your top hat. however, you worked alone. you had always mentioned how the job always comes first; how getting closer to other agents would do you no good, nor would do them any justice if they were killed in the dangerous acts throughout your own personalized versions of heaven and hell combined.

that was, until you got assigned with agent al-emad.

from the very beginning, he was as cold as frostbite in antartica; possibly, even colder than you were. you noticed his knack for his own stubbornness and how he refused to do certain things that you had asked from him; your face grew red with anger with how he was actually correct about refusing the tasks you gave him. in addition, it would also occur with him rubbing his knowledge of the field in your face, even worse than a simple "i told you so." not to mention his complete lack of communication when it came to planning out infiltrations and whatnot. he was cold. he was arrogant. he was narcissistic. he was impulsive.

you liked it.

you enjoyed your lack of enjoying in his personality; it made it easier for you to detach since you never were attached to him in the first place. in fact, you didn't even know his first name, referring to him as either "agent" or "al-emad." he was simply a man you had to your work with; a co-worker, at most. there was nothing friendly about the relationship between you two, casting spells of hatred at each other with wands of words and actions. you thought that you would get the mission over with and would never have to see or interact with your partner ever again.

except, it wasn't as simple as that.

--

as you were both attempting to sneak out of your target's mansion after looking for more clues on his next plan, the two of you failed to realize that the house was rigged with explosives. so, after you tripped on wire, you were met with an explosive to your ribcage and a stinging, raw, and painful sensation; your knowledge of bombs told you that your wounds were pretty bad.

as your partner navigated throughout the house, he turned around as the loud bang from the propellant explosive going off, catching you as you muffled your own scream of agony. helping you limp out of the house and into the van that you two used for transportation, the two of you traveled back to the motel room you resided in with the vehicle's air being filled with complete silence.

your boss wanted this mission to be as inconspicuous as possible, causing the two of you to share a one bed, horribly dusty room in a run-down motel on 6th street. the fluorescent lights flickered on and off with each step of the hallway used to get back to your room, as the smell of cigarette smoke and sex filled the air. a light breeze was met with your wounds, causing a shiver to fill your spine. as he still helped you stand straight, he shoved his hand into his jacket's pocket and gabbed his keys, jingling it slightly to get the room key into his hand. pushing the key into the door knob, you were met with a familiar sight from the past three months you've been on this mission.

the air was still the same as the outside, being filled with the previous tenant's lingering cigarette smoke with a hint of bodily fluids. dim lighting echoed throughout the peel off wallpaper and molded ceilings. the sound of the fire alarm beeping over and over again annoyed you at first, before you got used to it after a week of its constant noise.

your partner sat you down at the kitchen's island on a stool that was wobbly and ripped before he rushed to the bathroom, a sense of urgency apparent in his strides and calculated movements of finding the first aid kit. he returned with furrowed brows and, seemingly, a deadpan stare of annoyance.

"lift up your shirt," he commanded.

you blinked out of surprise, "what?"

"are you deaf? lift up your shirt so i can fix you up."

"i can do it myself," you spat.

"no, you can't see. i'll do it."

"fuck you mean 'i can't see?'"

"i mean that there's no fucking mirrors in this room, genius," he scolded, "stop being so difficult."

you unbuttoned your tight, collared shirt, revealing an enormous, throbbing, and bloody gash on your ribcage. a bead of sweat rolled down his face as his expression turned from annoyed to worried.

"what?" you questioned.

"how are you not screaming in pain? this looks horrible."

"i'll be fine," you snapped, "get on with it."

taking a sterile saline solution bottle from the first aid kid, he squeezed it onto a towel before dabbing it lightly onto the wound. you winced as suddenly the room felt hotter as you sweated profusely; the pain you were in was indescribable, yet, you would never let him know that. instead, it was brought upon him by the tremble of your breathing and the nervous gulps you partook in as he cleaned your wound.

"are you okay?" he questioned.

"i'm fine."

"are you sure?"

"i said i'm fine," you retorted, "you don't have to act like you care."

you felt him pause his movements for a moment, "what do you mean?"

"it's obvious you don't like me. you don't have to act like you care just because i got hurt. i can handle it."

"you got hurt because you weren't careful. what were you thinking?"

"oh i'm sorry," you hissed in sarcasm, "did you know shit was rigged?"

"no-"

"exactly. don't blame it on me."

"i'm blaming it on you because you're the one who's hurt. you're the one i have to take care of."

"oh, please-"

he began to put gauze on your wound, "and you're not even appreciative of it."

"i don't have to be appreciative of it because it's all fucking fake, al-emad."

"and how do you know that? hm? you think you know everything, don't you-"

"you're talking? you, out of all people, are saying that i think i know everything?"

he finished putting the gauze on your wound, standing up straight so that you were now looking up at the hard gaze he fixated onto you, "yeah, i'm talking. you think you're so fucking smart all the fucking time-"

"are you seriously- that's all you. you have the audacity to say that i think i'm so smart-"

"you almost got fucking killed. you almost left me on this mission alone."

you scoffed, "oh, please. i'm fine."

"no, you're not," he raised his voice, "you have a deep fucking gash on your ribcage that's going to get worse by tomorrow. what were you thinking being so careless?"

"y'know, you should've just left me to fucking die since i'm such a burden to you."

"don't give me that shit-"

"no, you should've just fucking left me! you should've just left me in that goddamn house-"

"why the fuck would i do that?"

"you're scolding me like i'm some five year old. i'm not. i'm a grown ass woman- not like you'd know anything about women, in general."

"what's that supposed to mean?'

you got closer to his face, "i'm saying that you're a fucking asshole. that's what i'm saying."

"yeah? that's what you're saying- that i'm an asshole, right?"

"yeah, that's what i'm fucking saying. i'm saying that you're an asshole who doesn't know anything about treating a woman at all!"

"yeah?"

"yeah-"

suddenly, his hands grabbed onto your cheeks as he leaned in, kissing you feverishly with a sense of urgency that you only found in him when he was grabbing the first aid kid.

and surprisingly, you liked it.

kissing him like this was your last day alive, you forgot all about the pain in your ribcage as his tongue explored your mouth like a ship using a map to sail the atlantic. not wanting to let go, the two of you took breaths with every open mouth that occurred during the kiss. desperation and neediness filled the air like a dog waiting for a treat from its owner. you felt his hands tighten onto your cheeks as you grabbed onto his waist, still sitting down on the stool as he was standing in front of you.

finally, the thought that this was your partner for your mission popped into your head, causing you to let go.

"we can't do this."

he pressed his lips onto you once more, a magnetic field appearing between two polarized people. his hands made their way to your waist, gripped them tightly as if you were going to fall through them like sand if he didn't. though you didn't want to stop, completely forgetting why you let go in the first place, he let go.

"then, look me in the eyes and tell me to stop."

"i can't do that either."

once more, your tongues met in the middle as you completely forgot who you were kissing. as he let go, you felt his lips latch onto your skin with open mouthed, wet kisses and sucking. stars filled your eyes as the pleasure became overwhelming. this was a man that you hated for his negative traits, yet, when his lips were on you, everything felt correct. letting go after time had passed, though you didn't know how much, you stared at him as his gaze shifted to a much more softer, loving one. however, your own stare foiled the romance and care left in his eyes; you looked at him with impending doom, like someone who realized there was a ticking time bomb strapped onto them. conflict filled your head.

all missions have risks.

this one, however, could be the death of you.

--

authors note

okay guys i am definitely going to make more of special agent reader and special agent hamzah because i fucking love the angst i put into this but give me feedback in the comments pls