#half-pixie!reader

[hoshifighting]

✨🎧 god of the music!woozi x fairy of the music!reader

— SYNOPSIS: after a moment of lost creativity, the god of music accidentally evokes a beautiful music fairy who is willing to help him.

— WC: 6.400

— WARNINGS: winx musa!reader, fantasy + smut, reader have a size of a polly pocket at first (she goes human-sized after), reference to when captain america picks up thor's hammer, shiny cum, he can stimulate reader with his voice + other powers, mind reading, penetrative sex, oral (f. receiving), reader is referred as: little fairy/pretty fairy/pixie, woozi referred as: woozi/god woozi/god boy, sub!reader x dom! woozi.

this god, sitting there with his head in his hand like the weight of the whole damn universe was gonna break his neck. the throne he sat on was ridiculous, all sharp edges and glowing veins of gold, like someone tried to make it scream power but forgot comfort was a thing. his other hand held this pen—this otherworldly thing, like it was plucked from the cosmos. the handle was black obsidian, smooth as sin, and at the top, a sparkly feather. shimmering, iridescent, like it could hum if you got close enough. it wasn’t just a tool; it was him. his power. and now it clattered against his marble table like it wasn’t worth shit.

he groaned, deep and low, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up like that would fix anything. “fuck’s sake,” he muttered, voice heavy like a bassline that shook your chest. “who the hell’s supposed to help me? i’m the god of this shit. who can i even turn to?”

you almost tripped over the sharp corner of an s etched onto his scroll. the lyrics sprawled out beneath your boots, some half-written, some already glowing like they’d been sung into existence. your little red boots—thank god for those, you weren’t about to ruin your feet for a god’s hissy fit—crunched against the shimmering ink, leaving tiny sparkles in your wake. your wings fluttered behind you, catching the light like shattered glass, but you kept your head down, pushing on. he didn’t need to know you were here.

but then you heard it: the hitch in his voice, that broken sigh that made you stop dead in your tracks. you glanced up, your aura glowing faint blue, like the soft hum of a melody in a quiet room. his eyes were still closed, lashes stupidly long for someone so divine. his face, though—sharp jaw, lips pressed into a thin line like he was biting back every curse he wanted to throw at the universe. your chest tightened.

“oi!” you shouted, your voice barely carrying over the expanse of the table. no response. figures. you huffed, stomping on the o of “hope” like it owed you rent. “oi! big guy! you gonna sit there and sulk, or are you gonna pick that fancy-ass pen up and get back to work?”

his eyes snapped open, golden irises swirling like they held every song ever written. for a second, he looked confused, head tilting like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. fair enough, you thought, wings giving a little buzz. it wasn’t every day a music fairy decided to trespass on godly property.

“what the…?” his voice rumbled, like thunder tuning itself into a melody. he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring down at you. “you’re... tiny.”

you crossed your arms, boots planted firmly on the glowing e under your feet. “and you’re a fucking drama queen. what’s your point?”

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t know how. “who the hell are you?”

“musa,” you said, wings fluttering behind you. “fairy of music. and you, mr. god-of-all-sounds, look like you’re about to throw a tantrum ‘cause your pen won’t do the work for you.”

he blinked, then sat back again, rubbing his temple. “i don’t need a fairy.”

“clearly, you do.” you pointed at the lyrics, your sparkles spreading like wildfire with every step you took. “this shit? half-assed. what’s got you so pressed you can’t even finish your own damn song?”

“and you think you can help me?” he scoffs, his golden eyebrows lifting under his perfect blonde hair. you gasp, loud and dramatic, arms stretching out like you’re about to deliver some life-changing monologue. instead, you just sulk, feet stomping on his paper with tiny smacks, your boots crunching the shimmering ink. “don’t be a dick!” you huff, fists clenched as you glare up at him, wings flickering behind you.

he leans back in his throne, clearly amused, that godly smirk pulling at his lips. “oh, i’m the dick? you’re the one stomping on my lyrics like they’re trash.”

“they are trash,” you snap, spinning on your heel to fly toward his pen. the damn thing is practically glowing with untapped power, bigger than your whole body. you hook your tiny arms around it, wings buzzing like crazy, trying to lift it. nothing. the pen doesn’t even budge. “ugh, come on,” you groan, digging your heels into the paper for leverage. still nothing.

his laugh fills the air, the vibration of his voice making your wings shake. “you’re gonna hurt yourself, pixie. maybe stick to critiquing from the sidelines.”

“shut up,” you snap, giving him the nastiest side-eye you can muster. he smirks down at you, all smug and insufferable, like he already knows he’s won.

but then you close your eyes. you pull every ounce of energy you’ve got, feeling your aura pulse, faint blue and purple light spilling over the pen. it moves. barely—like, not even a full inch—but it fucking moves.

his smirk drops instantly, replaced by a sharp inhale. his eyes narrow, gold swirling serious, or even worried. “wait. you—” he doesn’t finish, watching like a hawk as you strain, wings fluttering so fast they’re almost a blur. but the pen won’t go further. you let out a shaky breath, hands dropping from the cool obsidian.

he exhales too, shoulders slumping. “thank fuck,” he mutters under his breath, glancing at the pen like it betrayed him for even considering you.

you shoot him a glare, crossing your arms. “what’s the matter, god-boy? scared a little fairy might show you up?”

he snorts, leaning forward now, elbows on his knees. “hardly. but you still haven’t explained how you plan to help me, pixie.”

“for the last time, it’s fairy!” with a frustrated huff, you fly straight up until you’re level with his face. his nose twitches the second your sparkles hit him, and before you can even deliver some sharp retort, he sneezes.

“ACHOO!”

the force of it makes you tumble mid-air, wings flapping wildly to steady yourself. “seriously?!” you yell, zipping back to his eye level.

he blinks at you, nose crinkled. “what the—why are you so sparkly? it’s like breathing glitter.” he rubs his nose, voice muffled. “couldn’t you warn me or something?”

“maybe next time don’t breathe through your nose when a fairy is trying to help you, genius.” you roll your eyes, but before he can argue, you press a hand to his forehead. the touch makes your body vibrate until you fade, and suddenly, a beam of light shoots from your palm into his pineal gland.

“what the fuck—” he freezes as the light connects, his body rigid, eyes wide.

“relax,” you mutter, your voice now echoing inside his mind. “just making a little connection, no big deal.”

“no big—get out of my head,” he growls, the words coming out half-stuttered as he smacks his hand on his temple.

“can’t help you if I’m not in here, dumbass,” you snap, floating deeper into his consciousness. the light around you pulses, shifting into a kaleidoscope of melodies and half-formed ideas. it’s chaotic, but there’s brilliance buried in the mess. “wow,” you mutter. “your brain’s a disaster.”

“gee, thanks,” he grits out, rubbing his temples. “and why the hell are you shaking my head?”

“because this part sucks.” you jab at a sour note in the melody, the whole space vibrating as you try to shift it into something better. his head jerks like he’s been hit, hands gripping his throne as he steadies himself.

“stop doing that!” he barks, glaring at the empty space in front of him.

“then stop writing garbage,” you fire back. but as you dig deeper, tweaking and smoothing out the rough edges of his thoughts, something starts to click.

his fingers twitch, reaching for the pen again. this time, it flows. lyrics spill from the tip, glowing with every stroke. your light pulses in time with his writing, the melody building, making him close his eyes and even languidly let his head follow the melody with lessen shakes.

by the time you pull your hand away, the song is complete. he sits back, staring at the paper, chest rising and falling like he just ran a cross-kingdom race.

“holy shit,” he mutters, golden eyes flicking to you. “you actually… helped.”

you smirk, brushing imaginary dust off your boots. “told you so.”

you watch him from the edge of his ridiculous throne, eyes narrowing as you spot the heavy energy clinging to his shoulders. two globes of black aura hover there, fuzzing and sparking like they’re actively pissed off that you’re even in the room. “no wonder you’re all hunched over,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “music’s not supposed to make you look like you’re carrying the world’s worst hangover.”

he tilts his head at you, golden eyes narrowing, lips quirking into this half-smirk. “easy for you to say. you’re tiny. flying around like a bug with no problems.”

your wings snap open indignantly, your hands flying to your hips. “excuse me? are you mocking my size?”

“mocking?” he echoes. he crosses his arms dramatically, shoulders hunching as he shakes them to mimic your movements. “oh no, look at me, i’m a tiny little fairy, fluttering around, telling gods how to do their job!”

“ha! real original,” you scoff, stomping over to the middle of the papers and plopping yourself down. the glowing ink beneath you sparkles faintly as you lean back on your hands, wings flicking. “if I were you, i’d focus more on fixing those depressing-ass vibes on your shoulders than making fun of me.”

he leans forward now, his stupidly perfect face breaking into a smile. “you’re so small,” he muses, holding his hand out like he’s measuring you against his fingers. “look, you’re barely the size of my thumb.”

“don’t you dare,” you warn, already catching the glint in his eyes.

too late. his hand moves faster than your wings, scooping you up like you’re some kind of doll. “put me down!” you yell, thrashing against his fingers. his grip is annoyingly gentle, like he’s toying with you.

“what are you gonna do?” he teases, bringing you closer to his face, eyes gleaming. “punch me? you’d break your hand.”

you don’t think, you just bite. your teeth sink into the side of his palm, and he bursts into laughter, the sound shaking his chest. “that tickles!” he laughs, pulling his hand away and shaking it gently like you actually did any damage. “are you always this rude to gods?”

“maybe!” you say, wings buzzing angrily. “you deserved it.”

he quirks an eyebrow, still grinning. “you’re lucky I’m nice. I’ve got more powers than just writing lyrics, you know.”

“like what?” you challenge, arms crossed as you hover in the air.

his smirk deepens. he snaps his fingers, and in a blink, you’re no longer floating midair. you’re human-sized, sitting right on the edge of his desk, as you swing your legs. your wings twitch behind you, still shimmering under the golden light of his realm, but the sudden weight of your body makes you gasp.

“what the fuck?” you sputter, looking down at yourself. your tiny red boots now fit your feet perfectly, and your skirt—shit, it’s so short now that your pussy is almost on his face. you clamp your legs shut instinctively, cheeks burning as you notice his eyes briefly flicker there before darting away.

“see?” he leans back in his throne, folding his arms behind his head. “now I can actually see you properly without all the sparkles.”

“oh, how generous,” you deadpan, tugging at your skirt. your top doesn’t help much either; it’s cropped just high enough to show the underside of your boobs, and his gaze catches there for a second too long. “did you have to make my clothes stay this small? perv!”

his grin widens, unabashed. “not my fault you dressed like that, fairy. besides, you should be thanking me. now you can really help me without me worrying about sneezing you into oblivion.”

“oh, please.” you roll your eyes, crossing one leg over the other, the movement causing your skirt to ride up even higher. “this is just an excuse to stop me from calling you out for being a stressed-out mess.”

his eyes linger on your face now, taking in the pout that’s settled there. “still, I’ll admit you look… different like this.”

“different how?”

“you’re…” he hesitates, tapping his chin. “less annoying when I’m not worried about stepping on you.”

you flick one of your boots at him, the sole clacking against the throne. “and you’re just as annoying no matter the size difference.”

he laughs again, this time softer, his eyes trailing over you as you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to be sneaky about it. his golden hair moves faintly, like the gravity in this room doesn’t quite work the way it should. his clothes are black, gauzy enough to show the hints of muscle underneath, way buffer than any of the little elves from your village. his fingers tap a melody on the arm of his throne, a quiet rhythm that seems effortless.

do the big guys do it better?

the thought comes unbidden, making your head tilt slightly as you wonder.

like, are they… bigger everywhere?

his fingers stop mid-tap, and he raises an eyebrow. he straightens in his seat, narrowing his eyes. “you know I can hear you, right?”

your eyes widen, your wings stiffening.

“huh?! no, you can’t!”

he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sound sharp and mocking. “oh, I definitely can. clear as day.”

you feel the color drain from your face. before you can even try to stop it, it’s like a floodgate bursts open, and every single intrusive thought you’ve been trying to suppress spills out.

his hands are so big… i bet they’d feel insane running down my tits.

oh my gods, imagine those fingers. fuck, they’d probably ruin me.

i wonder what his tongue tastes like. would it feel hot? does he even—

no, no, stop it, but like… what if he just pinned me down on that table and—

holy shit, i want him to eat me out.

like, bad.

you slap both hands over your mouth, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts. in fact, it’s like your brain takes the panic as a challenge and just doubles down.

that stupid smirk. i’d kill to bite that lip.

i bet he moans. like, right in your ear. shit, he’d—

“wow...” he interrupts, his voice dry. his head tilts slightly as his golden eyes bore into youe. “you’re… a lot. i don’t even know where to start unpacking all of that.”

you yank your hands away from your mouth, pointing at him accusingly. “you’re lying! there’s no way you can hear—”

“what were you expecting? i’m a god after all,” he says, his tone so smug it practically drips off his words. his golden eyes twinkle with fun, and he leans back in his throne, arms casually draped like he has all the time in the world to gloat.

you glare at him, wings twitching behind you as your indignation bubbles over. “oh, yeah, sure, big scary god who writes music and apparently spies on everyone’s thoughts and turns fairies into—”

his laughter cuts you off, rich enough to make you shiver. “if you keep talking, you’re going to spend your whole life here,” he says, grinning as your words falter.

your mouth opens and closes a few times, but nothing coherent comes out. instead, you huff and turn your head away, arms crossing as you sulk. “whatever. it’s not like i wanted to be here in the first place.”

he doesn’t miss the flush creeping up your neck, though. “do you know what else i can do?” he asks, his voice dropping just enough to make the air around you feel heavier.

you blink, still facing away, trying to ignore the way his tone slides over your skin like silk. “what…?” you mumble, sneaking a glance back at him.

he straightens in his seat, clearing his throat with a soft “ah-ah~.” the sound is nothing but a casual warm-up, but the second it leaves his lips, the vibrations seem to travel directly to your pussy, buzzing against your clit making you jump, gasping.

“h-haah…!” the sound escapes you involuntarily, and you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with shock. your thighs press together instinctively, one hand darting to your lap to cover yourself as your skirt shifts dangerously high, leaving you feeling far too exposed.

his eyes sharpen, a grin tugging at his lips as he watches you squirm. “something wrong, fairy?” he asks innocently, though his gaze is anything but.

you shake your head quickly, refusing to meet his eyes as your legs shift restlessly. the vibrations haven’t stopped; in fact, every hum he makes, everytime he talks, seems to resonate deeper, sending little shoves of pleasure that make it impossible to sit still.

“hmm~,” he hums again, dragging the sound out, and you feel the ripple of it like a physical touch.

“nghh—!” you bite your lip, a sharp gasp escaping before you can catch it. your hips twitch forward involuntarily, and you grip the edge of the desk with one hand, the other still futilely trying to shield yourself.

“oh?” he says, tilting his head as his smirk broadens. “is that all it takes to get you worked up?”

“s-shut up!” you snap, though your voice comes out breathy and weak. your thighs part just a fraction, almost without your permission, and the vibrations seem to grow stronger in response, buzzing relentlessly against your clit. “stop—ahh—stop doing that!”

“but why?” he leans forward. “you seem to be enjoying it.”

“i—mmh…!” your hips roll forward unconsciously, your wings tremble behind you, your grip on the desk tightening as your body betrays you further, your legs parting even more in front of him.

“tsk, tsk,” he murmurs mockery. “such a shameless little fairy. look at you, moaning like that. do you even realize what you’re doing right now?”

your cheeks burn, and you shake your head, trying to stifle the whimper that escapes as his voice seems to play with your clit with more strenght “ahh—s-stop…!”

but he doesn’t stop. instead, he leans back again, one hand lazily tracing patterns on the armrest of his throne as he hums another note, watching with fascination as your body reacts helplessly.

the vibrations feel relentless now, your clit throbbing with every sound he makes. your legs spread wider, your hand no longer able to fully cover yourself, and your hips rock forward in a rhythm you can’t control.

“nnngh-fuck!—a-ah…!” you moan, head tilting back as your grip on the desk tightens.

“tell me, fairy—how much more can you take?”

your arms tremble, not able to hold your weight. you gasp, your body betraying you, and before you realize it, you’re slowly sinking back onto his desk, the cool surface pressing against your wings. your back arches instinctively, hips canting forward as if begging for more, your legs spreading wider until you’re completely uncovered. the realization burns you with embarrassment, but your body refuses to obey your mind’s frantic protests.

you can’t bring yourself to look at him, but you feel his gaze, heavy, raking over every inch of you. “oh,” he hums, “even your cum sparkles. everything about you shines, doesn’t it?”

a pitiful whimper escapes your lips as you try to close your legs, mortified at how vulnerable you are. but his hands are quick and strong, smoothing over the delicate skin of your inner thighs with a touch that makes you shiver. he presses gently, coaxing your legs apart again as he clicks his tongue.

“don’t hide from me now~” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of your thighs as if to emphasize his point. “not when you’re this pretty, dripping like that for me.”

“p-please…” your voice is a soft whine, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for. the words die in your throat as his gaze drops lower.

“ah... look at this..” he says, almost to himself, as his eyes trail over the mess between your thighs, glistening and utterly shameless. his fingers ghost along your cunt. “you’re already soaking through my papers, little fairy. how do you expect me to concentrate on anything else when you’re like this?”

your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping as you squirm beneath his touch. “i—I can’t…” you manage, though even you’re not sure what you’re trying to say.

“you can’t what?” he asks as his fingers press just a little firmer, enough to make you gasp. “speak up, sweetheart. i want to hear you.”

“i can’t… ahh—s-stop—!” the words spill out in a breathy rush, your hips roll toward his hand betrays your real feelings.

“stop?” he echoes, tilting his head as his smirk grows. “but you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”

you whimper again, heat flooding your cheeks as your body arches helplessly under his gaze. his hands shift, one sliding down to trace the edge of your slick folds, and the lightest touch has your legs twitching.

“you’re so soft, so wet. i bet you taste just as sweet as you look.”

“ah-ah!” your breath catches, and your hips jerk involuntarily as he leans down, his golden hair brushing your thighs.

he pauses, his lips ghosting over your skin as his breath fans against you. “tell me,” he says, “do you want me to taste you? or should i keep teasing until you can’t even think straight anymore?”

“p-please,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling and high-pitched. your hands clutch at the edge of the table, knuckles white as you feel yourself twisting further. “please—don’t tease…”

he hums, his lips press against you, leaving a wet mouth-opened kiss, the first swipe of his tongue is slow, too slow, collecting all of your juices insidethe little bowl formed inside his tongue.

your head tilts back, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your thighs tremble. his hands keep you in place, thumbs pressing gently against your skin, holding you open for him.

“you taste even better than i imagined.” he murmurs against you, his tongue diving back in to lap up every bit of you.

your back arches again, your wings fluttering uselessly against the desk as the pleasure builds, white-hot and enormous. “ahh—p-please… i can’t—!”

“yes, you can,” he whispers, his voice sending another vibration under the little hood of your clitoris as his lips and tongue work tirelessly. “you’re doing so well, little fairy. let me have all of you.”

your body tightens, every nerve aflame, your legs shake, your hands scrambling for purchase as you feel the coil deep in your belly snap, the pleasure tearing over you, leaving you crying out his name, your body trembling in his hold.

his tongue and lips coaxing you through every aftershock, kissing your cunt messily, until you’re left out of breath and boneless on his desk, weary. his golden eyes meet yours as he finally pulls back, his lips glistening as he sneers.

when his lips part again, and the first syllable of his voice goes straight to your puffy clit. you cry out, the overstimulation dragging you further into desperation.

“ahh—please, stop!” you manage, your voice cracking.

“stop?” he drawls, his voice honey-smooth and deadly, the vibrations coursing straight to your clit again, making your body arch. “but you’re so sensitive, little fairy. wouldn’t it be cruel to stop now?”

your hands scramble to the hem of your skirt, twisting the fabric in your fists as your head tilts back, wings fluttering erratically. “nngh—s-so much—ahh…!” the sounds tumbling from you are broken, whiny, your chest heaving.

and then, as if sensing your limit, he stops. not just the words, but the power behind them—the vibrations cut off like a switch, leaving you gasping for air, your body twitching in the sudden silence.

“better?” he rises from his throne with an unhurried grace, and your breath catches as his presence looms over you.

he’s massive. not just his height, though he towers over you, but the sheer weight of his aura, his power pressing down on you like gravity itself. his hair gleams in the low light, his black, nearly sheer garments clinging to his broad shoulders and lean frame. his muscles shift, and your eyes flicker down to his hands, strong as they rest on either side of the desk, caging you in.

“what are you thinking about, hm?” he asks, almost coaxing, though his smirk tells you he already knows the answer.

your fingers fidget with the hem of your skirt, tugging at it as if it could somehow shield you from his gaze. but his eyes are relentless, sharp and knowing, and you feel the heat crawling up your neck as his question hangs in the air.

“n-nothing,” you stammer, though the word rings hollow even to your own ears.

his smile widens. “nothing, is it?” he murmurs. “then why do you look like you’re about to combust just from me standing here?”

your cheeks burn hotter, and you force yourself to look away, but it’s no use. his hand lifts, brushing your chin with the barest touch, guiding your gaze back to his.

“let me guess,” he says, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosts over your skin. “you’re curious, aren’t you?”

you blink up at him, heart pounding, unsure how to answer.

“curious about what’s been under your nose this whole time,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, richer. his hand trails downward, stopping at the waistband of his sheer pants. “you didn’t notice, did you? too distracted by everything else.”

your breath catches as he pulls the fabric down, just enough to free himself, and your eyes widen as the truth hits you. it had been there the whole time, half-hidden in his lap, slightly concealed by the translucent material. but now, with nothing obscuring it, you can’t look away.

he’s huge, his cock thick, long and flushed, curving upward with an intimidating weight that makes your thighs clench instinctively. veins trail along the length, pulsing faintly, and the sheer size of him makes your head spin.

“is this what you’ve been thinking about?”

you swallow hard, unable to speak, your hands clutching at the desk as your wings flutter weakly behind you.

“well?” he presses, leaning closer until his golden hair brushes your cheek. “go on, little fairy. say it.”

your voice trembles as you finally manage to whisper, “y-you’re… so big…”

he chuckles, the sound vibrating through your body in a way that makes your thighs squeeze together again. “and you’re so small,” he replies mockingly, though there’s an undeniable thirst in his eyes now.

he shifts closer, his hand reaching for you, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “are you afraid?”

you shake your head quickly, though your heart is racing, your body trembling as you lean back against the desk. “n-no…” you whisper.

“good.” he murmurs, his smile softening just slightly as his hand moves higher, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin just below your skirt.

woozi hears it—feels it—the relentless pulse of your arousal like a drumbeat in his head. It’s maddening.

his cock twitches, an almost painful throb that draws a frustrated sigh from his lips. he slides his thumb over his slit, smearing the beads of precum that gather there. It’s meant to offer some relief, but it only makes the ache sharper, the sight of you sprawled on his desk only fanning the flames.

and then he feels it—a gentle spark, tiny but potent, that dances across his wrist. his gaze snaps down, and there you are, your hand hardly covering a fraction of his skin, glowing faintly with your unique magic. the pulse of it travels through him like a ripple, and for a moment, he stills, captivated by the delicate power in your touch.

“god woozi,” you murmur, he tilts his head, watching you as your fingers curl slightly against his wrist.

“yes?”

you swallow, your cheeks flushing as you meet his gaze. “please, let me… help you.”

his brows lift, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his hand shifts, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your fingers. “help me?” he repeats. “and what exactly do you think you can do for me?”

your eyes flicker down, catching the way his thumb strokes himself again, and you bite your lip. the sight makes your thighs clench, and you force yourself to look back up at him.

“you’re suffering too, aren’t you?” you say softly, your voice gaining a hint of confidence as you lean closer. “i can feel it.”

his smirk falters, but he doesn’t respond, his silence almost daring you to continue.

you take a shaky breath, your hand sliding up his wrist, leaving a faint trail of glowing sparks in its wake. “you’ve done so much for me already,” you say. “let me return the favor, god woozi.”

“you’re awfully bold for someone whos used to be so small,” he murmurs. “but boldness doesn’t always mean you’re ready for the consequences.”

“then show me,” you challenge softly, your fingers brushing against his palm, his skin impossibly warm under your touch.

a chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head, his golden hair catching the light. “you really don’t know what you’re asking for, do you?” he says, though there’s no malice in his tone—just a quiet, almost entertained resignation.

before you can respond, his free hand moves, sliding beneath your chin to tilt your face up to his. “if you’re going to offer yourself to a god,” he says, “you’d better be ready to handle what comes with it.”

you nod, swallowing hard. “i am,” you whisper, the weight of your own voice surprising you.

his smirk returns, and he leans closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. “then let’s see how much you can take, little fairy.”

before you can process his words, he shifts, his cock pressing against your thigh, the heat of him searing even through the thin barrier of your skin. your breath hitches, your wings fluttering erratically as his hand slides down, guiding himself between your legs.

the first press is slow, and you gasp, your fingers clutching at his wrist as your body adjusts to the sheer size of him. “oh—god…!” the sound spills from your lips, high and breathless, and you feel him watching you.

“taking me so well.”

your cheeks burn, but the fire pooling in your belly only grows as he moves, his hips rolling, his tip kissing your cervix in insistent careful rubs. your hands grasp at his forearms, your shiny nails digging in as you whimper, your wings trembling against the desk.

“does it feel good, pretty fairy?” he asks. “tell me.”

“y-yes—ahh, yes god woozi!” you cry, your voice breaking as he thrusts deeper.

his smirk widens, and he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “then take it,” he growls softly. “all of it. every inch.”

your wings flutter wildly, your cries filling the room as he takes you higher and higher, his name spilling from your lips, echoing like a beautiful song note.

his hands trace the curve of your waist, teasing the sensitive skin there before they slide upward, brushing just under the hem of your top. his fingers ghost over your underboobs, the touch featherlight, then, with a slow motion, he pushes your top higher, revealing more of your flushe body.

when your breasts spill free, he watches, entranced, as they bounce with each sharp thrust he delivers. his cock moves each slide drenched in the testimony of your past orgasm. the wet, slick sounds fill the air between your whimpering cries, blending with his low groans.

“you’re a mess,” he says, his thumbs come up to circle your nipples, brushing them with a maddeningly soft touch before pinching, tugging just enough to draw a strangled moan from your throat.

your back arches off the desk,your body trembling under his hands. “ahh—fuck, woozi—!” you cry, your voice breaking on the edges.

he smirks, his eyes half-lidded, drinking in the sight of you. every twitch of your body, every gasp and whine, seems to spur him on. his head tilts slightly, his blonde hair falling into his face as he leans closer, his lips parting just slightly. And then he blows.

a soft, glowing aura escapes his lips as he exhales, a warm, golden light that drifts down, guided by some unseen magic. it swirls in lazy circles, a hypnotic dance as it floats lower and lower, until it reaches the swollen, sensitive bud at the apex of your thighs.

the moment it touches you, you swear the world tilts. the aura massages your clit in circles, the warmth of it spreading through you like liquid fire. your breath hitches, your eyes rolling back as a fresh orgasm crashes over you, your thighs trembling.

“oh—oh my god—ahh!” you cry, your voice pitching higher, your hands clawing at the desk for some kind of anchor, but it’s no use. you’re lost, spiraling further into the haze as his magic works over you.

his thumbs continue their torment on your nipples, pinching and rolling the sensitive buds, your chest heaves as your head lolls back, your lips parted in a silent scream as the pleasure mounts, agonizing and perfect all at once.

“that’s it,” he growls softly, his eyes closing briefly as he listens to the melody of your cries, each note sinking into him like a drug. “sing for me, little fairy. let me hear everything.”

your voice breaks as you sob his name, your body convulsing under the force of your orgasm. the magic at your clit seems to pulse in time with your release, dragging the pleasure out, making it endless.

“fuck, you’re beautiful. beautiful my pretty fairy...”

his hips stutter as the tight heat of you squeezes around him, pulling him closer to his own edge. his hands never leave you, his touch grounding you as you fall apart.

his hands squeeze your breasts firmly, jolting you back from the fog of pleasure you’re lost in. your eyes flutter open weakly, your breath hitching as the sight of him comes into focus. his head is tipped back slightly, blonde hair sticking to his damp forehead, and the throaty sounds he makes vibrate through the room. it’s deeper than before, louder, and you can feel the his release as the pulse of it fills you.

the space around you seems to shift, the room vibrating with his climax as a warn, a golden glow radiates from his body. the black auras that clung to his shoulders earlier unravel in an explosion of furious, dissonant notes, fading into silence as woozi finally lets himself go. his hips press into you one last time, burying himself so deep you swear you feel every inch, and then you feel it—the hot, heavy rush of his cum spreading inside you.

his forehead drops forward to rest near yours. “you... you’ve ruined me, little fairy.”

you feel it too—the way his cum fills you, a glowing sensation blooming in your belly. you glance down weakly, and your eyes widen at the faint shimmer under your skin, like your body is glowing with the power of him.

“you’re... shining,” you whisper.

his chest rises and falls against yours, his hands still cradling your body like he’s afraid to let go. he lifts his head to meet your gaze. “so are you,” he says quietly, his voice tender. “you’re radiant.”

your lips part, but no words come out. he leans down, brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss. this kiss feels like gratitude, like reverence, like something divine, his tongue for sure tastes different by the way.

when he pulls back, his eyes scan your face, taking in every detail. “you’ve done more for me than you realize,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “i’ve carried that weight for so long... those damn shadows. but you—” he pauses, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “you’ve made them disappear.”

you blink up at him, your heart pounding as his words sink in. “i didn’t... i mean, i wasn’t trying to—”

he cuts you off with a small laugh, leaning back slightly as he runs a hand through his tousled hair. “you didn’t even know you could, did you?” he teases, his smirk returning. “typical. little fairy, barging in, turning my world upside down without a clue.”

you pout, your cheeks heating up as you cross your arms weakly over your chest. “you’re welcome, by the way,” you mumble.

his laughter deepens. “oh, i owe you more thanks than i can ever give,” he says, his tone softening as he looks at you again. “but i think we’re past formalities, don’t you?”

you shrug, trying to play it cool, but the heat in your cheeks gives you away. “yeah, well, i guess saving a god’s sanity makes us even or something.”

his smirk widens, and he leans down to press another kiss to your lips, softer this time. “even?” he murmurs against your mouth. “not even close, little fairy. you’ve given me clarity, peace... and, frankly, the best fucking inspiration i’ve had in centuries.”

you can’t help but giggle at that, the sound light and breathless. “glad i could help.”

he grins, his eyes glinting. “you’ve done more than help. you’ve changed everything.” he leans back, his hands brushing over your thighs as he straightens, his expression growing thoughtful. “now,” he says, his voice turning playful again, “how do you feel about sticking around? i think i could use a muse like you.”

you blink, taken aback by his words, but before you can respond, he adds, “oh, and i promise—no more turning you human-sized without warning. unless, of course,” his smirk returns, too devilish for a god, “you’re into that.”

you smack his chest weakly, your laugh echoing through the room in funny notes.

inspired by this request/drabble

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ cloud nine. ✦ 」

Mattheo riddle x reader [part2]

Summary: The "jinx girl," as they call her, is said to bring bad luck. However, when Mattheo Riddle decides to get to know the school's most neglected girl and takes matters into his own hands, Y/N's life is turned upside down in a mere night.

Warnings:fluff,smut, angst

Words: 11.2k

The whispers followed me like a shroud, a constant murmur that swirled around the edges of my existence. "The jinx girl ," they hissed, punctuated by snickers and pointed fingers. Bad luck, they believed, clung to me like a second skin, a misfortune I carried wherever I went.

Hogwarts, a place that promised magic and wonder, had become a labyrinth of avoidance. Empty seats flanked me in Potions, desks strategically moved away in Charms, and hushed conversations abruptly stopped when I entered the room. I was a pariah, a freak, the girl who supposedly brought misfortune upon anyone who dared come close.

Every dropped potion, every sprained ankle, every lost Quidditch match - all blamed on me, Y/N Y/L/N, the harbinger of bad luck. Hogwarts, once a dream, had become a prison. Even the ghosts seemed to cower at my presence.

Professor Flitwick, a whirlwind of energy and charm despite his diminutive stature, announced a project for our Charms class.

"Partnering up for a Conjuring Extravaganza!" he squeaked, his voice a high-pitched melody. "Showcase your enchanting skills with a partner of your choosing!"

The room erupted in excited chatter, students scrambling to find their partners. I, however, remained rooted to the spot, a familiar ache twisting in my gut. Who would want to pair up with the cursed child? As if sensing my despair, Professor Flitwick's bright blue eyes twinkled in my direction.

"Don't worry, Miss Y/L/N," he chirped, "there's always a perfect match for everyone!"

His words offered little comfort. The pairings continued, each giggling duo a stark reminder of my isolation. Just when I resigned myself to another solo project, a voice cut through the din.

"I'll pair with Y/L/N ."

The classroom fell silent. Heads swiveled in unison, disbelief etched on their faces. It was Mattheo Riddle, the Slytherin prince with a reputation as sharp as his intellect .

Professor Flitwick, however, beamed like a firework had gone off in his tiny fist. "Excellent choice, Mr. Riddle!"

My jaw dropped. Mattheo Riddle? Partnering with me ? the jinxing girl ? It was as unexpected as a dragon hatching a pixie. A ripple of surprised murmurs coursed through the class. Did he just volunteer? Was this a cruel joke?

stole a glance at Mattheo, half expecting a smirk or a sly wink that would shatter the illusion of kindness.

But instead, he met my gaze with a genuine, albeit hesitant, smile. It was a rare sight on his usually stoic face, a flicker of warmth that sent a jolt through me. He sauntered over, his confident stride somehow softened as he approached me.

"Fancy working together, (Y/N)?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. It was the first time he'd ever addressed me directly, to talk to , and the informality sent a wave of heat rushing to my cheeks.

"I... I uh, sure," I stammered, still struggling to process the situation.

Professor Flitwick launched into the specifics of the project, outlining the different magical creatures we could try conjuring. Mattheo, however, seemed more interested in me. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper.

"So," he began, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "what kind of magic are you most comfortable with love ?"he said, pulling up a chair next to me.

My heart skipped a beat. No one had ever used that term – "love" – with me before. It was a small word, but in that moment, it felt like a lifeline thrown across the chasm of isolation.

A hesitant smile tugged at my lips. "I, uh, I'm actually quite good with summoning charms," I confessed, surprised by my own boldness.

His smile widened. "Excellent," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "I'm more of a transfiguration specialist. We could combine our strengths."

Combine our strengths? The thought of working alongside Mattheo, of learning from him and maybe even teaching him a thing or two myself, sent a thrill through me.

A comfortable silence settled between us as we delved into the project details. Professor Flitwick's lecture faded into background noise . Mattheo surprised me with his easygoing nature, his sharp intellect tempered with a dry wit that made me laugh, a sound that felt foreign escaping my lips.

Finally, Professor Flitwick called out the end of class. "Alright, class! Dismissed! Remember, be creative, be precise, and most importantly, have fun!"

My heart still hammered in my chest, a mixture of trepidation and a strange, exhilarating thrill. Mattheo gathered his books, and as he turned to leave, he caught my eye “ see you around Y/L/N “

The crisp autumn air sent a shiver down my spine as I settled onto the worn wooden bench in the school gardens. pulled out the book I burrowed from the library earlier , determined to bury myself in its intricacies and forget the entire debacle.

The rhythmic crunch of gravel on the path drew my attention. I glanced up, bracing myself for another encounter with Pansy and her posse, only to find Mattheo approaching. His expression was unreadable, a mix of curiosity and something I couldn't quite decipher.

He stopped a few steps away, a silent question hanging in the air. Surprised, I stammered, "M-Mattheo? What are you doing here?"

A hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice softer than I was accustomed to hearing from him.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Was this real? "I, uh, sure," I managed, gesturing to the empty space beside me.

He sat down, our shoulders brushing slightly. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words. Stealing a glance at him, I noticed his gaze fixed on the book in my lap. "Studying for the Charms exam?"

I shook my head. "Actually, this is more of a personal read. It's about obscure magical creatures."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh? Intriguing. Anything interesting?"

Hesitantly, I explained the book's exploration of Fae lore, their connection to emotions and the delicate balance they maintained with the human world.

To my surprise, Mattheo listened intently, occasionally asking insightful questions that sparked further discussion. We delved into the complexities of Fae magic, debated the ethics of human interaction with these mythical beings.

A playful glint flickered in his dark eyes, and a hint of a smile danced on his lips as he listened to my passionate explanation of Fae lore.

"Why – why are you smiling like that?" I asked hesitantly

"You just look so passionate about it," he explained, a genuine smile gracing his features.

"Actually, it’s totally my uncle fault he was the one who got me into it," I confessed, a fond smile playing on my lips. "He used to read me Fae tales before bed when I was young. Now here I am, analyzing their magical properties."

"Are you close with your uncle?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, very close," I replied, then hesitated, a shadow crossing my face.

He picked up on the shift in my mood. "Everything okay?"

Taking a deep breath, I blurted out the question that had been gnawing at me since the library. "Why are you doing this, Mattheo? Is this a dare or something?"

He frowned, genuine confusion etched on his face. "Why would you say that?"

"You know," I rambled, gesturing at the empty garden around us. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Afraid of what?" He tilted his head, his dark eyes holding a hint of amusement.

My breath caught in my throat as he reached out, a playful glint in his eyes. He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, sending shivers down my spine. "Me?" I whispered, barely a breath escaping my lips.

He smirked, amusement flickering across his face. "You look pretty cute to even scare a fly, love. Why should I be afraid of you?"

His words, laced with a hint of flirtation, left me speechless. His touch, light as a feather, lingered on my cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

"You don't understand," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Look at the garden, no one is here because I'm here. They believe... they believe —"

He cut me off before I could finish my frantic explanation. "But I'm here, aren't I, love?" he said, his voice a husky murmur. My heart pounded like a drum solo, the world around us seeming to fade away.

"You shouldn't be," I managed, my voice small and breathless. "I don't understand why."

"I'm not playing games with you, I promise," he replied, his voice firm. I hesitantly nodded, closing my eyes as the weight of his words settled upon me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, a heavy sigh escaping my lips.

"Don't be," he said softly. "I understand. And you know what? I don't care what they say. And to be honest I don't even care if it was true..."

smiling , I looked up , meeting his gaze."So you're the first "

He leaned back, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "Let's just say," he began, his voice low and intriguing, "I know you weren't the reason Ronald broke his leg before the last Quidditch match."

A surprised laugh escaped my lips."And," he continued, his smile widening, "I also know that the explosion in Potions last year was entirely Harold's fault, not yours."

I burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet garden. The weight of the whispers seemed to lift with each peal, replaced by a lightness I hadn't felt in years

"You were just there, like everybody else," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "So why would you take the blame for that?"

He leaned forward, his face so close now that my laughter subsided, replaced by a nervous flutter in my chest. "You know what they say about what happened in first year," I began, voice barely above a whisper.

"It stays with you till your last," he finished the saying, his dark eyes holding mine. A grateful smile tugged at my lips.

"So when Charlie from down the street brought the rumors from our neighborhood to school, and then spread that story about me jinxing Seamus during his first Quidditch practice.. and let's just say Neville's unfortunate Gillyweed incident didn't help my case too so a that everybody seemed to believe it ," I explained, finally voicing the truth I hadn't thought anyone would ever be interested in hearing.

"That's not fair," Mattheo said, his voice firm.

"Yeah," I sighed, "but as my Nana always says, some children are born with tragedies in their hands." A bittersweet smile crossed my lips. "And by some children, she means me."

"She sounds like a cruel woman," he muttered.

I laughed, a touch brittle. "If you think my Nana is cruel, you should've met my mother then."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, a confession I hadn't meant to share. My cheeks burned with a sudden, hot shame. Mattheo, however, didn't seem repulsed. In fact, his expression softened further.

My voice trailed off, the weight of the past suddenly overwhelming. Sharing a secret like that felt like opening a wound I'd painstakingly hidden for years. The air hung heavy with unspoken words, the setting sun casting long shadows across the quiet garden.

"I-I think I should get going," I stammered, pushing myself out of the chair, my resolve shaky at best.

A cool hand gripped my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. My breath hitched as I turned to face him , his gaze a storm of emotions swirling within its depths "Don't run away yet."

My cheeks burned even hotter, but I couldn't seem to tear my gaze away from his. "I'm not running," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't release my wrist. Instead, his grip softened, his thumb gently stroking a soothing circle against my skin. The simple touch sent a shiver down my spine, a stark contrast to the cold isolation I'd grown accustomed to.

"Then can I interest you in some Butterbeer tomorrow evening?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful charm. "Three Broomsticks, perhaps? We could continue our discussion about Fae magic, or maybe you could tell me more about your Nana and your… interesting family history."

A surprised laugh escaped my lips. The idea of spending another evening with Mattheo, outside the confines of a school project, sent a thrill through me.

A smile, genuine and unrestrained, bloomed on my face. "I'd like that," I replied, my voice a whisper against the backdrop of the settling evening.

Sleep that night was a distant dream. The events in the garden replayed in my mind on an endless loop. Mattheo's hand in mine, the warmth of his touch lingering like a phantom sensation, his unexpected concern for my story – it all sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

The morning sun filtering through my dormitory window found me wide awake, staring at the ceiling with a tangled mess of hair and a giddy smile plastered on my face.

But then came the most agonizing decision of the day – what to wear? My trunk overflowed with the usual witchy robes, all shades of black and grey. None seemed appropriate for a… date? Was it a date? My cheeks burned at the thought.

Finally, I settled on a compromise. A dark green skirt that swirled around my knees, a crisp black blouse , and my trusty black boots. It wasn't extravagant, but it felt… me.

The walk to the Three Broomsticks was a mess a disaster as I was trying to figure out the right direction . As I pushed open the creaky oak door,I tried to breathe and calm my self down, My eyes scanned the room, searching for Mattheo amidst the bustling patrons.

And then I saw him, tucked away in a corner booth, a solitary figure amidst the chatter and laughter. Relief washed over me, followed by a jolt of something warmer as our eyes met. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gestured for me to join him.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I walked towards him, a self-conscious fluttering in my stomach. Reaching the table, I slid into the booth opposite him.

his gaze lingering a beat longer than necessary on my face. "you..," he finally said, a low whistle escaping his lips. "You look..." he trailed off, searching for the right word.

My cheeks flushed a rosy hue . "I look?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "Radiant," he finished, his voice a husky murmur.

My breath hitched. No one had ever used that word to describe me before. "Radiant?" I repeated, a nervous laugh escaping my lips.

"Absolutely," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Though, I have to say, for a second I thought you weren’t coming “

“ oh I’m so sorry I was just trying to find the way I, uh, I've never actually been to the Three Broomsticks before," I admitted, hoping to deflect from his unexpected compliment.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Never? But it's practically a Hogwarts tradition!"

. "I guess I've been more focused on the library and…avoiding crowds."

A flicker of understanding crossed his face. "Well, consider this your official initiation," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Prepare to be overwhelmed by sticky tables, questionable singing."

The waitress returned with our drinks, placing them carefully on the table.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, momentarily shattering our peaceful bubble. A boisterous group of students, their laughter echoing through the room, flooded in. My stomach lurched as I recognized them – Charlie Spinnet , flanked by his usual entourage of Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, her face twisted in a sneer.

Unlike the usual sneer of Pansy Parkinson, Charlie's expression was a confusing mix of anger and… was that a hint of disappointment ? He locked eyes with me, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of something more complex in his gaze before it hardened back into a scowl.

Before I could decipher the meaning of it all, Pansy spotted us. Her voice, dripping with her usual malice, sliced through the warm bubble we'd created. "Look who is there," she drawled, directing a flirtatious smile towards Mattheo. "Hello there, Riddle."

Mattheo responded with his trademark icy drawl, "Parkinson. Always a pleasure."

She gave a curt nod before returning to her group. Charlie, however, didn't follow. His gaze remained fixed on me, an unsettling intensity in his eyes. I met his stare, a knot of unease forming in my gut.

"He's jealous," Mattheo said casually, leaning back in his seat. My jaw dropped.

"Jealous? Of what?" I stammered, completely bewildered.

"He likes you ," he replied with a knowing smirk.

A bewildered laugh escaped my lips. "He likes me ? Mattheo, the boy ruined my life" I interjected, my voice laced with a sharp edge. In truth, life hadn't been a cakewalk before Hogwarts either.

Just then, a loud shattering sound erupted from our table, sending shivers down my spine. My cup of butterbeer, which Charlie had probably targeted with a stray jinx spell , lay in pieces on the floor. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the pub as everyone turned to stare

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to control the spike of panic rising in my chest. This was exactly what I'd feared. when I opened my eyes again, my gaze met Mattheo's.

Unlike me, he wasn't angry. Instead, a mischievous glint sparkled in his dark eyes. he was smirking.

"So, you said this is your first time at the Three Broomsticks, love?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips as he stood up. I felt a pit forming in my stomach, unsure of where this was headed.

"Yeah," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then let's make it unforgettable," he declared, his smile widening. He turned towards Charlie's table, his gaze locking onto Charlie's. Pansy, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and apprehension, suddenly looked terrified.

Mattheo strolled over to their table, a confident swagger in his step. Reaching down, he casually lifted Charlie's untouched butterbeer He held it out to me with a charming smile. "Here, love," he said, not sparing Charlie a glance.

Charlie watched the exchange, his jaw clenched. "Is there anything you want to say, Spinnet?" Mattheo asked, his voice deceptively calm. Charlie just shook his head.

"Do you like toads?" Mattheo asked again a question so out of place it left us all speechless.

"S-seems like I do," Charlie stammered, his voice barely a squeak.

"Good," Mattheo said simply.

Then, in a blink, it happened. A blinding flash of light erupted from Mattheo's outstretched wand, enveloping Charlie. Before anyone could react, the speechless Charlie had vanished, replaced by a , green toad hopping comically on the table.

My scream was lost in the cacophony of shouts and gasps. Pansy let out a bloodcurdling shriek, scrambling back in her chair. Crabbe, for once, looked utterly bewildered.

Mattheo remained calm amidst the chaos, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Ignoring the stunned patrons, he reached for his pocket and placed a couple of pills on our table.

"I would take him back to the castle if I were you," he said to Pansy with a chilling smile. "Unless you prefer the company of amphibians."

Pansy was speechless, her face pale with a mixture of fear and fury. All she could manage was a strangled, "Merlin's Beard!"

Turning back to me, Mattheo offered his hand with his usual nonchalant charm. "Shall we go, love?" he asked, his voice a gentle contrast to the chaos he'd just unleashed.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, following the familiar path towards the Black Lake. Finally, we reached the water's edge, the gentle lapping of waves against the shore providing a soothing counterpoint to the earlier frenzy. Mattheo gestured towards a large, flat rock nestled under a willow tree. "Mind joining me?" he asked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

I nodded, still processing the events of the evening. Charlie's transformation, Pansy's terror, it was all a bit surreal. Sitting down on the rock, I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

"So," Mattheo began, a playful lilt to his voice, "first date, and I turn your potential bully into a toad. Not exactly the charming introduction I was hoping for."

I glanced at him, surprised. "Date?" I stammered, a blush creeping up my cheeks.

His smile softened. "Well," he began, " we did ditch the project discussion for butterbeer and…, then turning someone into a toad… definitely not your typical Tuesday."

I couldn't help but laugh, My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I… I never thought…" I stammered, completely flustered.

He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch sent shivers down my spine. "Neither did I," he confessed, his voice surprisingly soft.

"Thank you," I said, taking a deep breath, " it's the first time anyone has ever defended me like that. Not since my Uncle."

Mattheo's smile softened. "Well," he said, his voice gentle, "consider me your knight in slightly-unconventional-Slytherin-armor then."

I laughed a blush crept up my cheek

Silence descended between us, broken only by the gentle chirping of crickets and the lapping of the lake.

"You mentioned your Uncle," Mattheo said, his voice curious. "Tell me about him."

"He's a bit of a character," I began, a smile playing on my lips. "He travels the world, studying ancient magic. He's probably in some remote location right now, chasing myths and legends he’s so brave ."

"Sounds fascinating," Mattheo commented, his voice laced with genuine interest. "But you're not close with anyone else in your family?"

The question hung in the air, and I hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. But something about the sincerity in his eyes, made me want to share a part of myself I rarely opened up about.

"Well, I'm not exactly their favorite," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "You see, my arrival wasn't exactly... welcomed."

Mattheo's brow furrowed in concern. "What do you mean?" he asked gently.

Taking a deep breath, I plunged into the murky waters of my past. "My mother ,she found out she was pregnant with me. At the same time, she learned about my late brother's… illness. He died tragically, just two days before I was born."

"She… she blamed me," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "She believed I somehow took his place, that I was the reason he was gone."

He squeezed my hand gently, as if offering silent comfort.

"And your father?" he asked, his voice low and controlled.

"My father," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "He said I stole his son's place. He never showed me any affection, always seeing a shadow of my brother instead of me."

My throat tightened, and I struggled to continue.

"But then there’s nana … well, she is a healer," I began, taking a shaky breath"She believed in a strange kind of balance. She used to say, 'A soul for a soul.'" A shiver ran down my spine as I recalled the chilling words. "'Sometimes,' she'd say, 'life takes one thing and gives another’. She just wished it had been my brother who lived."

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and serious. "That's a terrible thing to say to a child. None of that is your fault. You didn't ask to be born, and you certainly didn't cause your brother's illness."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. The weight of their rejection, the constant reminder that I was somehow unwanted, had always been a heavy burden to carry.

Then, with a tenderness that took my breath away, he brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. The simple gesture, so full of empathy and understanding, felt like a dam breaking inside me. The tears that I'd been holding back spilled over, flowing freely down my cheeks.

Mattheo didn't flinch. He didn't pull away. He simply sat there, his hand cupping my face, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that both scared and excited me.

In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "They don't deserve you , Not your mother, not your father, not sure your weird grandmother . They are blind to the incredible person you are."

His words, sincere and heartfelt, washed over me like a soothing balm.

"You are strong," he continued, his voice husky with emotion. "You are brave. You are kind. You carry the weight of their cruelty, yet you remain kind. That is a strength they will never possess."

His thumb continued to brush away my tears, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

As he spoke, the space between our faces seemed to shrink. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips, his gaze holding mine captive. The air crackled with a tension that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Then, before I could even think to stop him, Mattheo leaned in closer. The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his hand on my face and the anticipation building within me.

His lips met mine in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a fleeting touch, barely a whisper, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through me.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. A nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.," is this your first kiss? “ he murmured, his voice husky.

A slow nod confirmed his suspicion , he leaned in again, this time deepening the kiss. This kiss was different – moving with a rhythmic dance that spoke volumes of unspoken emotions.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and slightly dazed, a blush crept up my cheeks. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo echoing in the quiet night.The taste of his lips lingered on mine, a sweet and intoxicating sensation that left me craving more.

"So," he said, his voice slightly breathless. "Forget everything I said about first impressions being unforgettable. Maybe this is a better way to start things off."

The next weeks unfolded like a whirlwind. Mattheo became a constant presence in my life, his shadow seemingly falling across mine with an uncanny frequency. Whether it was bumping into him "accidentally" on my way to Herbology, finding him "coincidentally" seated across from me in the library buried in the same obscure text on Fae magic, or him "miraculously" appearing just as I was leaving the Great Hall, it was clear he was making a concerted effort to be around me.

His tactics, though slightly obvious, were nonetheless charming. He started leaving small gifts on my desk – a fascinating book on Veela lore, a single perfect white rose

No one had ever gone out of their way to make me feel special before. Mattheo was doing just that, chip by chip, breaking down the walls I'd built around myself.

His "accidental" helpfulness extended to academics as well. He started leaving me beautifully illustrated books on ancient magic, conveniently "forgotten" on my desk. During Potions, he'd mysteriously materialize behind me just as I was about to accidentally add Flobberworm mucus to my Amortentia potion (a near disaster that could have had…interesting consequences).

One afternoon, while struggling with a particularly complex Transfiguration spell, Mattheo walked in on my frustration. He didn't laugh or poke fun,Instead, he sat down beside me, his patience as impressive as his knowledge. He explained the spell with a clarity I hadn't experienced before, his hand brushing against mine as he pointed something out on my parchment.

By the end of the week, I'd not only mastered the spell but found myself drawn to Mattheo in a way I hadn't before.

Mattheo's efforts extended beyond "accidents." He started introducing me to his friends. Theo and blaise ,Then there was Enzo, Mattheo's half-brother. With his playful demeanor and infectious laugh, Enzo made me feel welcome within their circle. I found myself enjoying their company, their camaraderie a stark contrast to the loneliness I had grown accustomed to.

One evening, while studying in the common room, , Enzo, sauntered over , He slid into the seat next to me, ignoring Mattheo's glare.

"Hey there, love," Enzo said, his voice dripping with a flirtatiousness that made me feel uncomfortable. "Studying hard?"

Before I could respond, Mattheo spoke up. "Enzo, perhaps you haven't noticed, but Y/N is busy."

Enzo simply chuckled. "Relax, brother. Just trying to be friendly." He leaned in closer to me

Enzo whispered, "He can be quite possessive, don’t you agree?" I couldn’t help but laugh, which was Mattheo’s last straw.

"Back off, Enzo," the words laced with barely contained anger , Enzo smiled and with a shrug and a playful wink at me, he sauntered away.

The most surprising consequence, however, was the complete absence of whispers. The rumors that had plagued me since childhood seemed to vanish overnight. Not a single snide remark, not a single pointed finger. The silence was deafening, and yet, strangely comforting.

Was it fear of Mattheo, or something more? Either way, I didn't question my newfound peace.

The stolen moments with Mattheo became a cherished secret language.

One particularly rainy evening, after a long and tedious double Potions lesson, Mattheo found me huddled in the deserted library, desperately trying (and failing) to decipher a particularly cryptic passage in a dusty old tome.

"Having trouble with the love language of Goblins, love?" he drawled, his voice a welcome sound in the quiet of the library.

I looked up, startled, my cheeks flushing at the sight of him. "Mattheo, you scared me!"

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Just offering my expertise in the finer points of ancient languages," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

He pulled up a chair next to me, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. As he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he attempted to translate the passage, a spark ignited between us.

Emboldened by the privacy of the deserted library and the frustration of the Gobbledegook text, I turned to face him, my lips brushing against his ear as I pointed to a particularly confusing line.

Suddenly, the air crackled with unspoken desire. Mattheo's hand cupped my cheek, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw. His gaze held mine, a storm brewing in its depths.

"There's another way to learn this language," he murmured, his voice husky with suppressed longing.

Before I could respond, he closed the gap between us. The kiss was different this time. It was slow, searing, filled with a raw emotion that sent shivers down my spine. It was a kiss that spoke not just of affection, but of a growing possessiveness, a silent claim on my heart.

We pulled away breathlessly, foreheads resting together. The quiet of the library thrummed with the intensity of the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"Maybe Gobbledegook isn't so bad after all," I finally whispered, a shy smile playing on my lips.

Mattheo chuckled, a deep sound that resonated within me. "Perhaps not," he agreed, his eyes lingering on mine for a beat longer than necessary.

One blustery afternoon, while seeking refuge from a sudden downpour in a hidden alcove near the greenhouses, we found ourselves alone. The air crackled with unspoken tension as we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, the rain drumming a steady rhythm on the stone walls.

He cleared his throat, his gaze flickering from my face to the storm raging outside. "This weather is something else, isn't it?" he said, his voice barely a whisper above the wind.

"Unpredictable, like magic itself," I replied, my own voice barely a murmur.

Suddenly, he turned to face me, his eyes a storm brewing within them. Before I could react, he cupped my face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down my spine. The space between us evaporated as he leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek.

"You're unpredictable too, Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with something raw and primal. "In the best way possible."

And then, he kissed me. It was a kiss unlike any I'd ever experienced. It was fierce and passionate, filled with a yearning that mirrored my own.

I was hunched over a particularly dense text on Herbology, wrestling with the intricacies of magical plant growth, when a shadow fell across the page.

Looking up, I met Mattheo's gaze, a teasing glint in his dark eyes. "Lost in the world of Venomous Tentacula again, love?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

I swatted playfully at his hand, a smile tugging at my lips. "These Bulbadox Bulbs are more stubborn than they look," I grumbled.

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Maybe they just need the right touch," he murmured, his breath warm on my ear.

Before I could react, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against the offending passage. A jolt of electricity shot through me, my heart skipping a beat. He lingered for a moment too long, his touch sending goosebumps erupting across my skin.

"See?" he said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sometimes understanding comes from a different kind of connection."

His words were a playful jab, but the intensity of his gaze held a deeper meaning. I felt my cheeks flush, a secret smile spreading across my face.

"Maybe," I replied, unable to tear my gaze from his.

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Mattheo leaned in further. His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a wave of warmth cascading through me.

It was a soft, lingering exploration. He trailed a finger down my neck, sending shivers dancing across my exposed skin. My breath hitched in my throat, and I leaned back into his touch, a helpless moan escaping my lips.

He chuckled against my skin, a low, throaty sound that sent a delicious tremor through me. "You should see the way you blush, Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

My cheeks burned even hotter. This wasn't the stolen kiss under the moonlight, this was something more intimate, more raw. It was a secret shared between us, a confirmation of the growing connection that thrummed beneath the surface.

Suddenly, the library door slammed open, shattering the intimate moment. Madam Pince, the stern librarian, swept in, her beady eyes scanning the room. Mattheo and I both straightened up, a sheepish grin on his face.

"No hanky-panky in the Restricted Section, young man," Madam Pince barked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Mattheo, ever the charmer, flashed her a boyish grin. "Just helping a friend with her research, Madam Pince," he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes at us for a moment longer before muttering something about "frivolous students" and disappearing behind a towering bookshelf.

As soon as she was gone, Mattheo let out a low whistle, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like we've been caught," he said, a hint of regret in his voice.

I couldn't help but laugh, the tension broken. "Maybe we should stick to the Herbology section next time," I teased, butterflies still fluttering in my stomach from his touch.

He took my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. "Maybe," he agreed, his eyes holding mine. "But who knows what secrets lurk in the Restricted Section?"

Suddenly, a voice broke through my concentration. "Y/N!"

I looked up to see Charlie Spinnet standing awkwardly in front of me, a hopeful smile plastered on his face. My stomach lurched, a flicker of unease coursing through me.

"Charlie," I stammered, unsure of what to say.

"Hey," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Before I could answer, mattheo’s voice cut in, laced with a dangerous edge.

"Actually, she can't," Mattheo drawled, His eyes narrowed at Charlie, a dark glint flickering within them.

Charlie gulped, his hopeful smile faltering. "M-Mattheo," he stammered. "I just wanted to…"

"Whatever it is," Mattheo interrupted, his voice low and cold, "it can wait."

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. My heart hammered against my ribs, caught between the awkwardness of Charlie's unexpected presence and the possessiveness radiating from Mattheo.

"But—" Charlie began, but Mattheo cut him off again.

"No buts, Spinnet," Mattheo said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Now, if you'll excuse us,"

He took my hand possessively, his fingers wrapping around mine with a force that left no room for argument. Before Charlie could stammer another word, Mattheo practically dragged me away.

We walked in silence for a moment, the only sound our hurried footsteps echoing through the empty corridor. My cheeks burned with a mixture of annoyance and a strange sense of… satisfaction?

"Mattheo, that was a bit harsh," I finally said, breaking the silence.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face me. His gaze was intense, a storm brewing within its depths.

"He shouldn't have bothered you," he said, his voice low and possessive.

"He was just trying to talk to me," I pointed out, a hint of defiance creeping into my voice.

"And what exactly did he want to talk about?" Mattheo challenged, his jaw clenched.

"I don't know," I admitted, shrugging my shoulders. "But I should have been allowed to find out, shouldn't I?"

Mattheo seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, his emotions flickering across his face. Finally, he sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away.

"Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I just… don't like the idea of someone else getting close to you."

My heart skipped a beat. Was he… jealous?

"Why not?" I couldn't help but ask, a teasing smile playing on my lips.

He hesitated – a rare sight that sent a thrill through me.

"Because…" he stammered, searching for the right words. "Because maybe you mean more to me than I care to admit."

The words hung in the air. A smile bloomed on my face, wider than it had in weeks.

"Is that so, Riddle?" I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a newfound vulnerability. Leaning in closer, he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face with his thumb.

"Maybe it is," he murmured, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to mine.

Before we could explore that maybe any further, a loud cough echoed through the corridor. We sprang apart, startled, to see a smirking Enzo leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

"Oh please don’t let me stop you ," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mattheo scowled, his usual bravado returning. "Get lost, Enzo," he snapped.

Enzo, unfazed, simply chuckled. "Just making sure you're not neglecting your studies, brother dearest," he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Professor Flitwick wouldn't be happy if he caught you missing his lecture because you can’t keep your hands to yourself those days "

My cheeks burned even hotter. "We weren't… ," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Enzo chuckled. "Whatever you say, sweetheart . But don't worry, your secret's safe with me." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Though, if you're looking for a more private place next time, I know a few hidden alcoves that are perfect for… well, you get the idea."

"Thanks, Enzo," I said smiling trying to get away from this conversation as fast as possible .

"Anytime," he replied, throwing a playful two-finger salute before disappearing back down the corridor.

Mattheo and I stared at each other for a long moment, the tension thick in the air.

"I think I need to go …" I began, unsure how to proceed “ see you at ummm….”

"...Great Hall," Mattheo finished my sentence, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment. Though his earlier possessiveness had surprised me, I couldn't deny a flicker of warmth at his reluctance to see me go.

"Yeah, the Great Hall," I confirmed, unable to meet his gaze for too long. The lingering confession, the stolen moment almost-kiss, hung heavy between us.

As I sank deeper into the worn armchair, a group of giggling Gryffindor girls approached, their chatter drawing my attention.

"Y/N!" Lavender Brown announced, her voice bright with excitement. "Did you hear? There's supposed to be a total lunar eclipse tonight!"

My heart skipped a beat. A lunar eclipse? A shiver of excitement ran down my spine. For the first time in years, I hadn't even been aware of such an event. But more importantly, they were inviting me.

Parvati Patil chimed in, her dark eyes sparkling. "We're all planning to gather near the lake to watch. It's supposed to be incredible! Are you coming?"

"I…" I stammered, unsure how to respond.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Padma, Parvati's twin, nudged me playfully. "It'll be fun! We can all gossip and make wishes under the moonlight."

A lump formed in my throat. It was a simple question, but it felt monumental. An invitation to not just witness a celestial phenomenon, but to be included, to be a part of something.

For a moment, I simply stared at them, my mind struggling to process the shift. Was this real? Did they genuinely want me to join them?

"I don't know," I mumbled, looking down at my shoes. "Maybe…"

"Don't worry, Y/N," Lavender reassured me, sensing my hesitation. "It's up to you. But if you do decide to come, we'd love to have you."

With a warm smile, they turned to leave, their excited chatter fading as they descended the stairs. I watched them go, a wave of indecisiveness washing over me.

The rest of day went by quickly as I was still thinking about the invitation then mattheo I looked around searching for him

I spotted him by the courtyard, leaning against a stone pillar, his usual air of nonchalance masking a hint of concern. As I approached, he pushed himself off the pillar and met my gaze.

"Hey," he said, his voice laced with a question as his eyes scanned my face.

"Hi, Mattheo," I replied hesitantly.

"Everything alright?" he asked, his brow furrowed. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my eye with a gentle touch .

Taking a deep breath, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "There's a lunar eclipse tonight, did you know?"

He blinked, surprised by the abrupt change of subject. "A lunar eclipse?" he echoed.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Apparently, it's supposed to be the biggest one in years. Everyone's going down by the Black Lake to watch it."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Everyone, huh?" he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Well," I admitted, feeling my cheeks flush, "not everyone. But some people. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil invited me, and…"

I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. Did I dare ask him to join me?

"And?" Mattheo prompted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"And," I mumbled, looking down at my shoes, "I was wondering… would you maybe want to come with me?"

The playful smile vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "With you?" he echoed.

I looked back up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yeah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "If you want to, of course."

He held my gaze for a long moment, the silence stretching between us. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, warm and genuine.

"I'd like that very much, love ," he said, his voice a low rumble.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and pink, I made my way towards the Black Lake. The crisp autumn air buzzed with excited chatter as students from all houses gathered, blankets and snacks in tow, eager to witness the celestial spectacle.

A warm hand brushed against mine, sending a jolt through my system. Turning, I met Mattheo's gaze, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. He wore a casual smirk, but the way his hand lingered on mine spoke volumes.

he breathed, taking in the scene before him. "Didn't expect the whole school to be here."

I chuckled. "Apparently, lunar eclipses are kind of a big deal."

We weaved through the crowd, Lavender and Parvati waving to us over Theo , Enzo even Blaise was there too that was really unexpected . We settled in, surrounded by the cheerful chatter and laughter.

As the moon began to cast its silvery glow, a hush fell over the crowd. Everyone turned their eyes skyward, captivated by the gradual darkening of Earth's natural satellite. Mattheo, however, seemed more interested in me than the moon. His hand brushed mine again, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

Leaning closer, he whispered in my ear, his voice husky and warm. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze from his face. "It is," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to mine. Just as I thought he was about to kiss me, his voice dipped even lower.

"come with me. "

The surprise on my face must have been evident. "Where?" I stammered.

he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Trust me, it'll be worth it."

We walked for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional rustle in the bushes. The air grew thicker the deeper we ventured, and a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of my excitement. Just as I was about to voice my concerns, Mattheo came to a stop in front of a section of gnarled oak trees, their branches intertwined in an almost unnatural way.

"Here?" I asked, eyeing the dense foliage with suspicion.

He smirked, his eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight that filtered through the canopy. "Here," he confirmed, stepping forward and pushing aside a thick curtain woven from the very leaves themselves.

To my astonishment, a hidden passage unfolded behind the makeshift doorway. A narrow path, barely wide enough for two people, stretched into the darkness, illuminated faintly by glowing mushrooms that dotted the damp stone walls.

My initial apprehension warred with the budding trust I felt for Mattheo. Taking a deep breath, I gripped his hand tighter. "What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Just trust me," he murmured, his touch surprisingly gentle.

We walked in silence, the air growing colder and the earthy scent more pronounced. The path eventually led to a sturdy wooden door hidden within the rocky wall. Mattheo pushed it open, revealing a sight that took my breath away.

It was a small, circular room, but its crowning glory was a large, arched window that took up most of one wall. Through it, the eclipse was on full display, the shadowed moon hanging in the inky black sky. But unlike the darkness of the forest, here, the view was clear and breathtaking

I breathed, my surprise echoing in the stillness of the night.

Mattheo chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. "Told you it was worth it."

"This is…" I stammered, searching for the right words. "Amazing."

Mattheo smiled, his hand moving to brush a stray curl from my face. “We found this place a while back," he explained. "It's kind of a secret."

He pulled me towards the window, his arm wrapping around my waist, stood behind me , gazing up at the celestial phenomenon unfolding above us. The darkness, once menacing, now seemed like a vast, inky canvas upon which the eclipse played out.

"It's even more breathtaking from here, isn't it?" Mattheo whispered, his voice warm against my ear. , his words laced with something more than just the wonder of the eclipse.

I could only nod, my throat suddenly dry. The beauty of the celestial spectacle was undeniable, but it paled in comparison to the feelings Mattheo was stirring within me.

A warmth bloomed in my chest, a response that surprised even me. Mattheo's presence, so close and unexpected in this hidden haven, sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

As if sensing my shift, his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of the crackling fire.

Then, his lips brushed against my ear again. This time, the words were different. Softer, more intimate. "You're even more breathtaking," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my neck.

My eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze reflected in the moonlight filtering through the window. The eclipse, forgotten for a moment, seemed to cast an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

Before I could form a coherent thought, his lips met mine. The kiss was tentative at first, a soft exploration that sent a wave of warmth through me. Instinctively, I reached up, my fingers finding purchase on his arm.

A contented sigh escaped his lips as he deepened the kiss, his hand finding mine and intertwining our fingers. The touch sent a jolt through me, a current of electricity that ignited a fire within.

When he finally pulled away, a breathless gasp escaped my lips. My cheeks burned, my heart hammered a wild rhythm against my ribs. A shy smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

His gaze never left mine.He leaned down again, his lips trailing a path of fire down my neck. He paused at a sensitive spot just below my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

Unable to hold back a moan, I arched my neck into his touch, a silent plea for more. His hand reached down, skimming the curve of my hip before settling lightly on my lower back as I felt the wall behind us

He was going to stop I know that he was going to hold back again "Wait," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. Looking into his eyes, I saw a storm of emotions – frustration, amusement. It was a look that made my heart skip a beat, a look that made me feel a dangerous mix of power and surrender.

"I want to " I stammered, unsure how to articulate the jumbled mess of emotions swirling within me.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice husky with suppressed desire.

Taking a deep breath, I blurted out, "I want this, Mattheo. I mean…I've never done this before, but I trust you. And I want it."

"Let's take things slow, alright?" He whispered softly in my ear and i nodded, his lips finding their way back to my neck, tracing over the mark he had just left behind.

"Mattheo," I moaned when he nipped at the same spot again, his teeth sharp and his lips unyielding.

"God my name sounds like heaven from your lips" he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

"Have you ever touched yourself, love?" His question caught me off guard, my breath catching in my throat as I shook my head. I had wanted to try but never mustered the courage.

"It's okay, my love," he reassured, his hands sliding under my top, caressing my skin with a tender touch that sent shivers down my spine.Then he gently pushed me up, settling me on the nearest table. "I'll take care of you."

Pressing more kisses to my neck, his hands moved to my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he lifted my skirt slightly. "Is this alright?" he asked, his breath hot against my neck.I smiled at him and nodded again

“I’m going to touch you now, Just tell me when you want to stop, and I promise I’ll end it,” said with determination, his fingers brushing my cheek i nodded leaned forward to kiss him instead of just responding.

He did as he told , his fingers sliding into my pants proceeded slowly, finding my most sensitive spot, eliciting pleasurable sensations that made me arch my back and cling to him.

slowly rubbing circles around it. He used light pressure, but it felt amazing. His gaze intently watched my response, figuring out what i like.

He picked up the pace and pressure, sending pleasurable shocks through my body. my back arched as the ache between my legs increased. 

“God you’re so wet for me." he whispered, his voice filled with awe and desire. "Does it feel good?"

“ Yes , it feels so good.” I moaned softly, my voice barely audible as waves of pleasure washed over me.

"Can I?" he asked, seeking my consent.

"Yes, please," I begged, my desperation evident in my voice.

"It might feel strange at first, but I promise it will get better quickly," he reassured, and I nodded in agreement. With my consent, his finger slid between my folds, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. My hands found their way to his shoulders as I rested my head against them.

"Breathe, my love," he whispered, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of pleasure. I obeyed, inhaling deeply as a symphony of moans escaped my mouth, each one a testament to the pleasure coursing through my body.

"Mattheo," I moaned, his name a mantra on my lips.

"Yes, love. Talk to me," he encouraged, his movements slowing to allow me to catch my breath.

"There's something..." I tried to say, but pleasure engulfed me, leaving me speechless.

His lips found mine, his kisses distracting me from my thoughts as I succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure he offered.

"Just let go for me," he whispered against my lips, his breath igniting a fire within me that sent me spiraling into bliss.

His thumb applied pressure to my clit, sending electrifying waves of pleasure through my body. I gripped his shoulder tightly as he carefully added another finger, causing me to close my eyes in ecstasy.

"Don't close your eyes, love. Look at me," he urged, his voice filled with desire and a hint of command. I obeyed, locking eyes with him as his fingers found that specific spot inside me, unleashing a sensation I had never experienced before. It was so intense that I couldn't contain my scream of pleasure, feeling like I was soaring among the clouds.

He continued to target that spot, his gaze fixed on me as if he could read my every reaction. With a satisfied smile, he spoke soft words in my ear , reveling in my response.

His touch remained gentle yet firm, guiding me through the waves of pleasure until I reached the pinnacle, my body trembling in his embrace as I experienced a euphoric release unlike anything before.

"It's alright, I'm here," he murmured, his words a soothing balm as I surrendered to the pleasure that consumed me.

As I floated back to reality, I found myself in his arms, his gaze filled with tenderness and adoration. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a deep, passionate kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken emotions.

"Maybe you mean more to me than I care to admit too , riddle," I repeated his earlier words. But what I truly wanted to express was that, ,I think I'm in love with you, Mattheo Riddle.’

From that night onward, everything shifted, and my life transformed into a fairy tale. The intensity of my feelings for him grew so profound that a day without seeing Mattheo felt like an eternity, leaving me yearning for his presence. He cherished me as if I were the most precious gem in his life, and to say that I loved him would be an understatement; my emotions ran deeper than mere words could express.

Despite our unspoken declarations of love, we refrained from exploring further sexual intimacy after that intense encounter. However, the desire and longing between us only grew stronger, leaving me yearning for more moments of intimacy with him. Each kiss, touch, and gaze across the room spoke volumes of the love we shared, even if the three words were never verbalized.

The end-of-year party hosted by Slytherin was a legendary affair, whispered about in hushed tones by those who had attended in previous years. Despite hearing countless tales about the extravagant festivities, I had never been tempted to go, for me, it had always been an off-limits fantasy , one I didn't dare to try and make true.

As the "jinx girl", stepping foot into such a renowned event felt like a risky move. The thought of facing judgment, scrutiny, and potentially being ostracized by my peers held me back from even considering attending.

However, in those few months everything changed. I found myself shedding my inhibitions and fears, stepping out of my comfort zone and embracing new experiences. The bonds I formed with other Slytherins grew stronger, and I even made friends outside of Mattheo's circle, feeling more at ease and confident in social settings.

The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was as legendary as the end-of-year party itself. This year, however, a shared misfortune had united the two houses in a grudging camaraderie. Professor Flitwick, bless his innocent heart, had stumbled upon Blaise Zabini and a very surprised Gryffindor tangled together in a rather compromising position in a dusty basement corridor. Let's just say, both houses lost a significant number of points, paving the way for Ravenclaw to snatch the coveted House Cup in a landslide victory.

So, as the day of the party approached, a thrill of anticipation danced in my stomach.

"Mattheo," I said, catching his attention as I approached him and his friends. He gently guided me to sit next to him, holding my hands with a tender touch

“ yes love ? “

"Are we… are we going to the party tonight?" I asked, trying to gauge his reaction.

He looked up, surprise flickering across his face. "The party?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You… you want to go?"

I felt a flicker of self-consciousness, but I held his gaze. "Yeah," I admitted.

“Honestly, Y/N," he said, "it's a bit… childish."

"Childish?" I repeated, surprised. "But everyone says it's a lot of fun!"

Enzo, chimed in with a shrug. "He has a point. It's mostly just first years causing mayhem."

There it was , that hesitation. Mattheo rarely said no to anything I asked.

He studied me for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. He glanced at Enzo, exchanging a silent communication that left me puzzled.I don’t really understand I know they used to go every year .

He looked at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine. Then, a slow smile spread across his face.

"Alright then love ," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "If you want to, then we'll go."

The Slytherin common room was a whirlwind of emerald and silver. Green streamers snaked across the ceiling, enchanted banners proclaimed Slytherin victory in various forgotten contests, and a cacophony of music and laughter filled the air. My heart pounded with excitement, a delightful mix of anticipation and nerves.

The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with laughter and music. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to have me there, chatting and mingling as if I had been a regular attendee for years.

However, what struck me as odd was how Mattheo and Enzo never left my side. It was as if they were guarding me, anticipating something that I wasn't aware of. Despite their usual easygoing demeanor, there was a sense of alertness in their actions that left me curious and slightly uneasy.

As the night progressed, I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, not in a malicious way, but more like a protective gaze. Mattheo and Enzo's constant presence by my side felt both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

I tried to brush off my unease and enjoy the party, engaging in conversations and joining in on the festivities. However, the nagging feeling that something was amiss lingered in the back of my mind.

It wasn't until later in the evening, when Mattheo and Enzo exchanged a meaningful glance, that I realized there was more to their protective behavior than met the eye.

Chaos erupted in the common room as Charlie Spinnet, stormed towards Mattheo. "Get her out of here now ," he growled, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Or I'll do it myself."

Before Mattheo could respond, the room fell silent. A Slytherin seventh-year, Adrian Pucey, stood on a nearby table, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hold on there, Spinnet ," he boomed, his voice cutting through the tension. "This year, we're doing something a little different… a play!"

A cheer erupted from the Slytherins, many of them eager for a change from the usual prank wars. Mattheo , however, remained unconvinced. He narrowed his eyes at Adrian, suspicion etched on his face.

As the play began, I couldn't help but notice the similarities between my name and the name of the girl portrayed in the story. It didn't take long for me to realize that the play was about a jinxing girl, and it described in vivid detail everything I had confided in Mattheo about my family and my troubled past at the lake that night.

Panic clawed at my throat. I stole a glance at Mattheo, but his face was a mask. He reached out a hand towards me, but I flinched back instinctively .

The room fell silent, every eye glued to me and the unfolding drama.

Onstage, the actress portraying me continued, her voice dripping with drama. "…driven by ambition, she stole her brother's place, but a terrible curse followed. Wherever she goes, misfortune befalls those around her. She's the jinx girl, a harbinger of bad luck!"

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Whispers erupted like flames, spreading fear and suspicion. I felt them scorching my skin, their judgment a suffocating weight on my chest.

Suddenly, a new scene unfolded on stage. A group of actors, portraying Hogwarts students, stood center stage. "Here's the dare," boomed one, a mock sense of bravery in his voice. "The boy who approaches the jinx girl and brings her to the party… wins!"

Suddenly, a commotion arose from the back of the room. Enzo and Theodore Nott , their faces grim, pushed their way through the crowd towards the makeshift stage. "Stop this!" Enzo said, his voice laced with fury. "This is out of line, Pucey!"

The actors scrambled off the stage, bewildered and slightly scared. The common room dissolved into chaos. Accusatory whispers turned into heated arguments. Pity and fear flickered in averted gazes. I even overheard someone mutter, "Did she really kill her brother?"

The roar of the party faded behind me as I sprinted down the Slytherin common room's hidden corridor, tears stinging my eyes despite my desperate efforts to hold them back. Mattheo's voice calling after me, pleading, only fueled my desperate need to escape.

"Y/N, please!" he shouted, but I ignored him, my feet pounding a relentless rhythm against the cold stone floor.

"Y/N!" he called again, his voice closer this time. Panic surged through me, lending me fresh bursts of energy.

Just as I reached the portrait leading out to the dungeons, a strong hand clamped onto my arm. I spun around, ready to lash out, but it was him – Mattheo, his face etched with a desperate worry I'd never seen before.

He tried to reach for my hand, but I recoiled violently. "Don't you dare touch me!" I screamed, my voice raw with hurt and betrayal.

He flinched, his hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. "Y/N, love, just hear me out," he pleaded.

"Love?" I spat the word back at him, incredulous. "Don't call me that." The weight of everything that had just happened crashed down on me. The staged play, the public humiliation, the sickening realization that it had all been a dare.

"It's not what it seems like," he stammered, trying to explain. "I—"

"You what?" I interrupted, my voice rising. "It was all a lie, wasn't it? "

"No, no, I swear," he said urgently. "Everything that happened between us was real. My feelings for you…" His voice trailed off, his eyes pleading for me to understand.

But the damage was done. The carefully constructed trust – it had all crumbled to dust in the face of this cruel betrayal.

"Don't," I choked out, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "Don't lie to me anymore."

A sob escaped my lips, and despite the anger burning within me, a part of me ached for the connection I thought we shared.

"Just give me a chance to explain," he pleaded, but I shook my head, unable to bear the sight of him anymore.

The truth, however distorted, was clear. "Wouldn't you deny it was a dare?" I challenged him, a flicker of defiance sparking in my tear-filled eyes.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. For the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine pain cross Mattheo's usually guarded features.

"No," he finally admitted, and I felt a wave of numbness wash over me.

As I turned to walk away, he continued, "It was at first, but I swear that from that night at the Broomsticks, everything was real. I even forgot about that stupid dare. Everything that happened between us was real, you know that."

I scoffed, wiping angrily at my tears. "I don't know anything anymore," I said.

"Foolish me. That's why you didn't want Charlie to talk to me that day, wasn't it? Because he was going to expose you?"

""No, Y/N, I just didn't want you to get hurt __“

"You what?" I cut him off again, my voice trembling with fury. "How generous of you," I said sarcastically. "But look, you win now, Riddle. Won't you go celebrate? It was their dare,"

"I don't care about anyone else but you," he said fiercely.

I stared at him, incredulous. "Then why does it feel like you care about everything else more than me right now?"

He took a hesitant step forward, but I didn't back away this time. I met his gaze head-on, my heart a tangled mess of emotions.

"I can't lose you," he whispered, his voice filled with desperation.

"You already have," I said, the words like shards of glass in my mouth. I wanted to hurt him, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain I was experiencing.

"I ___ i love you," he confessed, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Love. The very word felt like a mockery.

I looked him straight in the eye, my voice surprisingly calm despite the storm raging within me. "And I hate you, Mattheo Riddle," I said, each word laced with the bitter taste of betrayal.

With that final declaration, I turned away, leaving him standing alone in the darkened corridor, the portrait swinging shut behind me.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅

[mooki3-bear]

late nights (paige bueckers x black!fem!reader)

Blurb

Warnings: Kind of suggestive

summary: you love talking to Paige at night

1 AM

“Paige, what if I told you I was pregnant” I say laying in our bed, readjusting my bonnet on my head.

“You’re not,” Paige replies half asleep.

“How would you know?” I asked, turning my body towards her.

“Cause I don’t have the equipment for it” she says.

“You right…you right” 

2 AM

“Paige! What would you do if I got a pixie cut” I say, tapping her shoulder.

Paige turns her body towards me once more, examining my face. “I mean…sure”

“You think i’d look like Nia long in the 90’s”

“Baby, I think you look better than Nia long” she says leaning in, giving me a quick kiss before turning back over.

“Hoe don’t lie to me. No one looks better than nia long”

3:45 AM

“Baby, you up” Paige asks

“Kinda…why” i say turning over to look at her

“I can’t sleep,” she says, running her hand down my body.

“No Paige! I'm too tired for that” I say, grabbing her hand away from my ass.

“You don’t even gotta do anything! I’ll do all the work” paige defends, kissing my neck.

“Fine” I say with a smile on my face

4:58 AM

“Are you sure you can’t give me a baby?” I ask, wrapped in Paige's arms as we lay there naked.

“I'll try harder next time,” she says with a chuckle.

“Thank you mama” I say with a yawn as we finally drift to sleep.

9:32 AM

I wake up to the smell of pancakes coming from our kitchen. I find one of Paige's shirts on the floor and a pair of my shorts and make my way to my girlfriend. I walk up behind her and give her a kiss on her shoulder as she makes eggs and bacon.

“I love our night talks”

“Me too, baby” She says with a tired smile on her face.

[leeknow-thoughts]

୨୧ YOUNG AND INNOCENT

𝝑𝝔 cw : virgin reader, daddy!minho, p in v, mentions of oral, shower sex, overall pretty vanilla!

𝝑𝝔 a/n : miss mocha @yongbun wanted me to @ her !! And also holy shat guys i'm at 900 followers??? that's so insane to me!! I love you all so much :3

It was no secret, you were Lee Know's favorite member. He was never crude to you, mostly because you were one of the only members who never annoyed him.

And you were sweet, the second youngest member in the group who without fail remembered every birthday and anniversary and planned accordingly.

And you were innocent, the fact drove him crazy.

It drove him crazy how you sang Red Lights on stage and you would get embarrassed over it, how you would walk around the dorms in the flimsiest pair of sleep shorts and camisole ever made, how you would blush and get all embarrassed when fans would call you hot or sexy.

It drove him up the walls insane, your innocence. He was patient, for the most part, unless it came to you. He was protective, especially when it came to you.

You always assumed boys never asked you out because of your looks, but little did you know it was really because Lee Know would stare down any man with romantic or sexual intentions who came within a five meter radius of you.

After years of living with men, you had become quite accustomed to seeing male anatomy. Whether it was because the leader of your group was comfortable walking around shirtless, or because you had accidentally walked in on someone in the shower a few times, you became pretty desensitized to seeing naked men.

At first it would embarrass you, but after a while it just became part of life. But these men were your friends and coworkers, so when you would see them without their shirt on honestly it just started to feel like seeing your friends in a bathing suit.

And although you had gotten used to seeing male anatomy, your group mates would gawk and stare every time you showed even the slightest bit of skin. "What are you wearing?" Seungmin gawks when he sees you in your regular pajama shorts and cropped tank top, cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie.

"Pajamas?" you retort, not knowing why exactly it would cause him to freak out.

"God, y/n," Seungmin gaffs, "you need to get laid."

You can't help the blush that creeps up onto your face, "w-what?"

"You heard me!" Seungmin persists, "listen, I'm not trying to be rude but you're the only member of the team who is still a virgin."

"So?" you cross your arms, "why is that such a bad thing? And what does this have to do with my pajamas!"

"Because you're twenty-something-years-old and you've never had your first kiss," he explains, "listen, we need to find you a boyfriend or something, only your boyfriend should see you in those kinds of pajamas, half your ass is practically hanging out!"

"I d-don't need a boyfriend," you huff, turning away from him, refocusing on the television.

"Then what is stopping you from y'know getting some?" Seungmin poses.

"W-well g-guys aren't really that y'know, into me?"

"Oh bullshit, I could set you up with someone, one of my friends," Seungmin proposes, "only if you want to."

"I-I mean y-yeah that's fine," you can't help but stutter.

"Good, I'll give him your phone number," Seungmin promises.

You couldn't help but get excited with the idea of going out with a boy. A thought that terrified you as much as it exhilarated you. "Pixie?" you call out to the boy who is currently playing League of Legends on his PC, the glow of his pink and purple LED lights illuminating his features as his fingers rapidly click against the keyboard.

"Hm," his head shoots up, looking to where you stood in his doorway, "hey, what's up?"

"I need to talk to you, and I hoped it would stay between us?"

"O-oh okay, yeah come in, shut the door," he says, he watches you flop down on his bed after shutting his door, "so what's wrong?"

"Okay well Seungmin is setting me up with one of his friends and I d'know - I'm just really awkward, I don't know how to talk to guys, like at all, and I d'know what to do," you confess to the blonde freckled boy who is swivelling around in his gaming chair that you bought him for Christmas, his right leg bouncing up and down.

"You're good at talking to me, how different can another guy be?"

"Pixie, you know it's different," you huff, sitting up, "please, I just need your help."

"Maybe you should go to Chan, or maybe Minho, I think they could help you more," Felix tells you, "but I think you should just y'know, be yourself, you're pretty and you've got a good personality and any guy worth anything is gonna see that."

"But w-what ab-about s-" you pause, hiding your face in your hands,"sex."

"What about it?"

"Well I haven't y'know?"

"Trust me, that much is obvious," Felix teases, "but really, most guys don't care much about virginity, some guys even find it hot when girls are still virgins, they get off on the fact that they're a girl's first," he informs you, you're hands moving away from your face, staring at him, "I know you may think that's weird, but it's the truth."

"But I don't know what to do."

"That's fine, some guys also find that hot, like with blowjobs you just need to make sure you take it slow at first, get used to it, then after that speed up, and don't be afraid to take deep breaths and breaks. And as far as sex goes the guy is mostly the one doing the work, you just lay back and relax," Felix explains, "unless you're riding him, but I wouldn't recommend doing that during your first time. Sex isn't that scary y/n, just think of it as two people just wanting to help the other feel good."

"T-thank you Lix," you smile at the boy, "t-that helped me feel a bit better."

"Anytime," he smiles that pretty smile of his, "oh, later do you want to get dinner with Jeongin and me?"

"Oh, no thanks, Minho is making me dinner tonight," you smile, you stand up from his bed and walk to the door, "thank you Lix, I owe you."

"Don't mention it," Lix smiles, refocusing on his monitor.

You were going to lose your virginity, you were dead set on it. And that was truly terrifying, but you tried to ignore that feeling of fear that pooled in your abdomen. It was just sex. At least that's what Felix said.

"Hi hi," Minho greets you when you walk into the kitchen, he was standing over a pot of water on the stove waiting for it to boil.

"Hi Min," you hum, taking a seat on the couch, "so what are you making? Do you need any help?"

"We have the rule to not let you in the kitchen for a reason, but thank you for the thought, I'm making your favorite," he says it like it isn't a truly heart warming gesture.

"Thank you Minho," you thank him.

"Mhm," he simply hums, refocusing on the stove, "so what was your day like? Do anything interesting?"

The words leave your mouth before you can even register what you're saying, "virginity."

This makes Minho's face turn to look at you, his eyebrows knit together with a look of utter confusion, "virginity?" he questions.

You hide your face in your hands, a rosy blush on your face, "y-yeah," you squeak, "I-I'm going to lose my virginity," you confess.

"Like today?"

"W-well no, but someday soon," you inform him, "I-I'm going to lose my virginity."

That was not okay for Minho, not at all, but you couldn't know that, you sounded scared enough. And that was when Minho got the best worst idea he has ever had. You could lose your virginity to him.

"Who is going to take your virginity?" he asks.

"Well I haven't exactly worked t-that part out yet," you confide, "but to someone, someone soon."

"It should be someone you trust," Minho advises you, "it shouldn't just be a random hookup, maybe it should be a friend, someone you already know, in a no strings attached kind of way."

"Maybe you're right," you ponder for a moment before shooting your head up, "do you think Felix would have sex with me?"

Minho can't help but choke on pure air, doubling over, "e-excuse me?"

"Minho! I'm being serious!" you whine, "Felix is my best friend an-and I trust him!"

Minho eventually regains his composure, "you shouldn't fuck your best friend, that always ends up messy."

"You're right," you agree, another idea coming to your mind, "I should ask Chan if he'll have sex with me."

"That's also a terrible idea, did you forget that he's already seeing someone?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, fuck," you groan, "what should I do, because if I don't lose it to someone else, I'll end up losing it to one of Kim Seungmin's friends."

"You could just fuck me," Minho proposes.

You can't help the way your jaw practically hits the fucking floor, "wh-what? You'd do that- w-well technically me?"

"I mean yeah, you're my friend, and I just want what's best for you," he reassures you of his intentions, "I'll teach you everything you want to know."

"Oh, well when c-can we?" you watch as he adds the noodles to the boiling water, "you know-"

"How about tonight? If you want to, I'm in no rush, you can choose when and where," he cuts you off.

"Tonight," you affirm, "tonight."

"Okay, tonight," Minho agrees, "you decide what we're doing."

"I want you to decide," you confess, "I just want this to be nice and y'know intimate?"

"Okay," Minho hums, moving to strain the water after the noodles had boiled for their needed time.

Minho eats with you, and cleans up the mess afterwards, you were on edge the whole time, not knowing what to do or what to expect. Practically vibrating with nerves and excitement all mixed into one.

"Y/n," Minho calls out to you.

You practically jump out of your chair, looking up at the man, "listen, you need to relax, let's take a shower," he proposes.

"O-okay," you agree.

You follow him into you and his shared bathroom, Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin having their own bathroom. Minho was the first one to completely strip and that's when you saw it. His cock. That big thing was supposed to fit in you, there was no fucking way.

"Minho th-y-your cock," you gawk, if it looked this big and this intimidating like this you could only imagine what it looked like when he was actually hard.

"Don't worry," he grins, "I'll get you nice and prepped before I put it in."

His cock was nothing to joke about, big and fat with a slight curve, so meaty and girthy it was intimidating just to look at and he wasn't even hard yet.

Minho watches as you strip your clothes off, and you search his face for a reaction to your nudeness, you get one, "no wonder you have so many fanboys and fangirls," Minho grins.

He's offering you a hand, which you take, now standing under the water of the shower with him, becoming soaked from head to toe. He is quick to sink to his knees and start lapping at your cunt until you're painting his face with your cum before he's holding you still, making you give him another orgasm.

It hurts when he puts it in, you're whining and whimpering and falling apart, feeling like you're being ripped open by his fat length. He's gentle with you though, holding you delicately, kissing the back of your neck, stilling inside you and letting you adjust to his length.

"Jagi, that's only the tip," he hums, rubbing soft circles on your hips, "tell me when I can move, jagi."

It takes a few minutes before you're comfortable with him moving even more, but eventually you give him the go ahead. You're having to bite down on your tongue so you don't scream, "there you go, kitty cat, bigggg stretch," Minho coos, his hips stilling, "there now you're halfway done."

Your legs feel so wobbly like they could give out as Minho takes your virginity in the shower, "Min-daddy please move!" you gulp.

"Oh, I'm going to ruin you," Minho groans, pushing his cock in until his fat mushroom tip is pressed against your cervix, "gonna stretch you out all good and nice, no other cock is gonna fill you up quite right."

"Daddy!" you're practically screaming when he starts moving.

He's slow and delicate with you, taking his time, savoring every stroke in your tight virgin cunt. It hurt, it hurt so fucking good. You felt the ripples of pleasure shooting down your spine, the sound of skin slapping on skin being all that resonated around the shower room. "Oh my fucking God!" you yelp when his cock presses against that spongy spot inside you over and over and over again.

His cock has you seeing stars, and you're thoroughly convinced this is the best you've ever felt. No wonder people always talked about sex when it felt like this.

With every thrust of his hips he's bringing you closer and closer making you feel hotter and hotter. Your body is writhing around, he keeps a firm grasp on you, holding you still for him. "Atta girl," he hums, "you're taking my cock so well, jagi, like your little cunt was made for it."

"Daddy!" you're basically wailing, tears of pleasure streaming down your face, it just feels oh so good, you never want it to end.

When his hand wraps around your body to rub rub rub your clit you're doubling over, pleasure racking your body.

And that's when the band building up in your stomach finally snaps. Glancing down to watch the stream of clear liquid drip out of your pussy onto the tile of the shower. "Daddy!" you whimper over and over as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"That's it, jagi," Minho groans his cock slipping out of you before you feel hot ropes of his cum painting your ass followed by Minho's groans.

"Minho-" you whine.

"Oh, jagi," Minho is mumbling before he's turning you around and pulling you close to him, "I think I'll have to keep you, your cunt is just too sweet," he plants a kiss on your hairline as water from the shower hits your back.

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Guilty Pleasures

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader Rating: Mature/Explicit (NSFW) Warnings: Male masturbation, sexual fantasies, angst with no real resolution, mutual pining, Halsin not being able to relax and take a break for once in his life. Absolutely NSFW. Maybe kinda sort Sub Halsin? Summary: With the shadow curse and the threat of Ketheric Thorm looming over him, Halsin manages to find a bit of solitude in his tent and indulge in his inner most fantasies. Word Count: 9.7K A/N: I’ve always loved Halsin’s line of “that was something I had dreamed about for some time” after spending his first night with him. So, naturally, you can’t tell me this man absolutely didn’t fantasize about the player while alone in his tent at night.  I also want to apologize in advance because I know parts of this feel rushed, but admittedly I've been working this piece for a few months here and there and I'm ready to see it off. I am still pleased with how this turned out, but admittedly isn't my best work out there. I've also developed a cold at the time of proofreading, so I apologize for any errors but I *think* I've gotten them all. Read on AO3 here!

The sharpened steel of a heavy sword clanged to the cobblestones below, the sound resonating through the area, deafening everything to an eerie silence. Halsin stood stone still, his breath coming in heaves as he downed the final foe on the battle field. The shadow-infested husk of a Harper collapsed to the ground at his feet, smoking tendrils dissipating into the air as the essence of what was once a person faded into the darkened sky. Halsin's eyes darted across the landscape, a sudden wave of guilt washing over him as he stared into the never-ending darkness ahead. Bodies, both old and new, littered the streets ahead, having succumbed to the curse that held the land in an ironclad vice for a century.

The feeling of guilt wasn’t new, considering he’d dealt with the pain from the moment the curse was born, but there was something more sinister about seeing the curse firsthand again after so many years away. It seemed hungrier, more vicious even, than he had previously remembered and for the time being, the curse was not ready to be lifted. Thaniel had been plucked from the depths of the Shadowfell and after a fair amount of convincing, Oliver had reunited with his other half. Both were resting safely back at camp, progressing well with healing and mending after being apart for so long, but the threat was certainly far from over. 

Halsin stared into the distance, looking past the bodies in the streets and the twisted, knotted roots of corrupted nature that broke through the stones and into buildings, and set his attention on Moonrise Towers. Ketheric Thorm still drew breath and if what Thaniel had said was true, as long as he remained on this mortal plane, the shadow curse would as well. There was some hope that had started blooming within the mind of the druid, knowing that Thaniel was safe and so much progress had been made towards lifting the curse, but admittedly there was still enough darkness in the world that kept him from becoming too hopeful. Ketheric was a formidable foe and defeating him would be no simple task.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles almost turning white from the pressure. Knowing that a seemingly invulnerable man lived once again and had power while so many had died in the past century because of his corruption filled Halsin with a burning rage; one that settled in his bones and set his skin ablaze. Ketheric must be stopped, at any costs, and Halsin knew he couldn’t truly rest until Ketheric lay dead at his feet and she sun shined down upon the land once more. Halsin’s gaze lingered on the towers in the distance, looming over the land like a beacon ablaze with pixie-fueled light all while shadows licked at his perimeters. 

“Halsin?” A gentle voice pierced through the darkness clouding his thoughts, pulling the veil from his eyes so he could see clearly for the time being. A soft, warm touch to his arm soon followed, cutting through the icy cold that had begun to settle on his skin from the air of the shadow curse. The voice had caught him by surprising, causing the druid to jolt slightly at the touch before regaining composure. He finally tore his eyes from the evil of Moonrise, shifting his eyes downward until your concerned look met his gaze.

“Are you all right?” You asked quietly, your hand still gripping his arm. You scanned over his large frame quickly, scanning for any obvious signs of injury or something life threatening and, much to your joy, found nothing immediately wrong. He fidgeted slightly under your touch, his skin tingling at the contact.

“I am,” he said after clearing this throat, “thank you, my friend.” You nodded slightly, your thumb stroking along the crest of his bicep. Halsin was visibly exhausted, dark circles settling beneath his normally bright eyes, which had dulled the past few days. His mind was elsewhere, distracting him from the battles at hand. Despite having your hand upon him, he felt miles away and untouchable.

Since entering the cursed lands, Halsin had been running double time. He wasted no time in leaving camp to sit by Art Cullagh in Last Light and immediately dove headfirst through a portal to the Shadowfell to find Thaniel. You took note of how he refused to sleep the night after Thaniel had been saved, instead electing to remain up for hours to keep a watchful eye on the boy. He only agreed to leave his side once you had suggested he come with you to find Thaniel’s missing half. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you saw Halsin rest and, considering he was seemingly more on edge the closer you came to confronting Ketheric, you were worried for you companion.

“Come on,” you said after a moment, “let’s head back to camp. I think we could all do with a rest.” You motioned to your companions, who were more than ready to retire for the evening.

Halsin’s gaze shifted towards Moonrise once again, look on his face making it clear he wanted to press forward. You were convinced that he’d march straight into the inner sanctum of the tower right then and there if you let him. Your grip on his arm tightened, your fingers slipping underneath one of the bands that was pulled taught around his bicep before giving it a gentle tug to recapture his attention. You stood on the tips of your toes, your lips hovering closely to his ear as he leaned slightly to accommodate for the difference in height.

“I’m afraid that if we keep going in this state,” you whispered softly, “one of us might actually be carrying Astarion back to camp and I, for one, do not intend to be that pack mule.” Halsin’s lips spread into a smile as he glanced towards the vampire in question, who had seated himself on a fallen piece of stone until the party was ready to move forward once more.

“I fear you may be right.” He replied after a moments thought. Halsin returned his sword to its holster resting on his back, sliding it in place with a soft click. You pulled your fingers from his bracers, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and began the journey back to camp. 

As he typically did, Halsin followed in the rear, ensuring that everyone stayed together and did not stray too deeply into the shadows. Despite having the blessing of both the moon goddess and a pixie, he wanted to take no changes in losing those closest to him to the curse; not again. You fell behind slightly, allowing Astarion and Karlach to spearhead the journey home as you took the time to speak with the druid.

“Is something on your mind?” You asked as you walked together, doing your best to match his long strides.

“Ketheric is no ordinary enemy,” he said bluntly, deciding to skip small talk and get to the heart of what was bothering him, “he will not be easily defeated.”

“Nothing with us is ever easy,” you said simply, “but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I promised you that we’d break the curse. And if defeating Ketheric Thorm is how we do so, then that’s just what we’ll do.” You offered Halsin a gentle smile, which was returned with partial enthusiasm. You knew he was worried, and rightfully so, but you were also confident that at Ketheric would be defeated soon enough. But nothing could be done until everyone, including Halsin, were able to rest. 

You and your companions walked the rest of the way to camp in silence and in relative safety, the battles from the day beginning to settle in your bones as your steps eventually slowed the closer you came to camp. By the time you crested the hill that lead to your camp, the sound of children’s laughter filled the air, cutting through the horrific sounds of the shadow curse like a sharpened knife. A smile came to Halsins lips as he watched both Thaniel and Oliver darting around camp, chasing after an excited Scratch with an equally enthusiastic owl bear cub at their heels. Despite their time apart and in the deepest parts of the shadow curse, both boys seemed to be faring well. Seeing them regaining strength brought a sense of happiness to the camp, something that had been sorely missed since entering the shadows.

Halsin stood at the entrance to the camp, simply watching as the boys and animals played in tandem. It was a small sign, but a sign nonetheless that nature had started to heal and had begun lifting the veil of the shadows. You walked to this side quietly, stopping beside him to watch the boys play and laugh with the camp animals as the rest of your companions stopped by their respective tents to unwind for the evening. You glanced up to Halsin, your neck craning to get his face in full view. You slipped your hand around the edge of his, giving him a soft squeeze. After a moment, Halsin pulled his eyes from the scene before him, finally looking down to meet your gaze once more. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, yet the sheer determination to stay awake.

“Why don’t you get some rest? And I mean actual rest, not just a trance.” You asked softly, not wanting to come across as demanding, but firm enough to know you were more than merely suggesting. 

Halsin gave a half hearted smile, exhaustion evident on his face as he placed his hand above yours, sandwiching your touch between his battle weary hands. His thumb stroked your knuckle softly, his gaze settling along your slender digits that had wrapped themselves around his hand and gave another reassuring squeeze. His heart fluttered in his chest at your contact, radiating the same calming warmth that had started when you first brushed against his arm. He’d be lying if he said a long nights rest wasn’t calling for him, but he had a duty to uphold before he could indulge his own comfort.

“I must keep watch over Thaniel and Oliver.” He said as he released your hand and pulled his own from your grasp. You scoffed at his reply, almost finding it ridiculous.

“There are seven people in this camp, myself included, that can keep an eye on two children. We can take turns, rotate out if needed.” You offered, hoping he would take your advice and take a night off for once. Instead, he simply shook his head.

“They are my responsibility. They’ve suffered for too long already while I sat back and did nothing. I cannot and I will not fail them now that they are safe.” Halsin was determined to carry on his camp duties as normal, but you were not ready to back down so easily.

“And how do you plan on protecting them if you’re too tired to stand? Just now on the battlefield someone could have come up behind you because you were distracted. Hells, I managed to startle you with a touch.” Your voice was low, but firm. Gods be damned the man before you could be stubborn. His heart was always in the right place, wanting to protect and serve, but his head certainly wasn’t. “Get a bit of sleep. I’ll bring you a fresh bowl of whatever Gale’s managed to make from a couple of fish heads and a few questionable carrots when it’s ready.”

“You don’t have to coddle,” Halsin said firmly, “I will be fine.”

“It’s not coddling if the attention is required.” You shot back quickly, a lick of frustration to your voice, “Would you not do the same for me if the roles were reversed?” Halsin paused at your question, unable to argue your point. Halsin would do anything you asked of him without question. He’d bring you whatever you wanted and offer aid in any way possible. 

“When was the last time you allowed someone to take care of you?” Your voice had softened by now, eyes scanning his face as he searched for an answer. Your eyes locked onto his cheek, which had been streaked with blood.

Halsin remained silent, trying to come up with an answer for your inquiry, but continually ending up without a decent answer. It had been quite some time since he’d allowed himself a chance to relax and unwind, let alone be cared for by others. His service was always demanded by others, yet very rarely offered in return. The residents of the Grove always turned to him for strength, to lead them in Silvanus’ path while keeping tempers at bay, more often than not never managing to appease everyone who resided there and often led to resentment in some form. Or those same people were coming to him day and night, asking for healing of wounds that ranged from the smallest of scrapes to the precipice of death, despite having multiple healers in the inner chambers. 

He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he gave up control and let someone else take the reigns. He was an Archdruid, a leader, a beacon of light in the darkest of times, but he was also just tired. He admitted to himself that perhaps it would be nice to take a long rest, only awakening when he was ready, and to have you by his side when his slumber ended. To have you seated beside him, a bowl of steaming food in your hands as you offered it to him would be quite the sight. You’d have your usual warm smile across your pretty lips as you sat with him, letting him relax and unwind in your presence. It was a pretty dream indeed.

“You’ll have to let me dote on you one of these days.” You said after a long silence as Halsin had yet to answer your question. You brought your thumb to your lips, swiping your tongue across the pad of the digit quickly until it was lightly damp. Reaching forward, you pressed your palm to Halsin’s cheek and used your now wet thumb to wipe the streak of blood from his skin. You were thankful to not find an injury beneath the blood, but found yourself lingering against his skin, your thumb stroking over his cheekbone. You cared for him, deeply, despite Halsin always finding a way to weave out of your advances. Perhaps you were too forward or perhaps he was simply that consumed with his duties, but either way you craved his attention more and more with each day that passed.

Halsin fought the urge to lean into your embrace, having rejected your advances in the weeks prior during the celebration with the tieflings and not wanting to give mixed signals, but the longer your gentle hand caressed his cheek, the urge became more and more difficult to suppress. Gods how he missed the caring touch of others. It had been too long since the last time he allowed himself the pleasure of sharing company with another, the issue of the curse and the stress of the Grove had made any sort of companionship less than a priority and something he easily could push to the side. However, since being in your company, the ease that he previously had at keeping others at arm length was becoming harder and harder to allow. 

It would be an understatement to say he enjoyed your company. Instead, you were someone he had craved. Every moment he spent in your presence was exhilarating, refreshing and addicting at the same time. The sound of your voice was symphonic, the way you managed to find joy even in the bleak lands of late and managed to keep a genuine smile on your face, given the worst of times, was inspiring. He craved your attention and longed for more than just your friendship for quite some time. It was an ache that tunneled deeper in his chest each night when his head went down to rest and the ability to continually push you away was becoming unbearable. The feeling of your skin against his always sent his heart into a whirlwind, fluttering in his chest like a butterfly tumbling in the wind. Halsin wanted so much more with you than mere companionship, but knew that now was not the time nor the place. Too much was at stake to allow himself distractions of the flesh, no matter how desirable they may be. So, as much as it pained him to do so, he walled himself off and pushed you away once more. 

“Perhaps another time.” He said simply, almost ready to pull away from your touch. His demeanor was stiff and cold, far from the welcoming aura he normally emitted.

You felt your heart drop, falling heavily into the pit of your stomach. Having realized that perhaps you had been lingering a bit too long, you pulled your hand from his cheek and returned them to yourself, awkwardly picking at your nails as silence between the two of you grew. You desperately tried to hide the feelings in you that were bubbling to the surface; hurt mixed with some sort frustration. Halsin was a tricky one to figure out. He was kind, caring, and truly wonderful company to have, but any sort of affection on your part was always met with the same rejection. Always gentle in nature, of course, but certainly there. You were fond of Halsin, more than just a casual friendship, but you were beginning to realize that maybe your feelings were one sided.

Halsin felt his heart stop upon seeing your reaction. You were quick to try and hide your disappointment, but it still managed to slip through for the briefest of moments. He knew you were fond of him, perhaps in more ways than one, and he would be a fool to deny he felt the same. You were precious to him, more so than any other he’d previously had the privilege of calling friend and confidant, and knowing that he had caused you even the quickest moments of sadness made him feel terrible. He wanted to reach up and take your hands in his and press his lips to your fingers, but you had swatted him away before he had the chance.

“Go on,” you said quietly, motioning in the direction of his distant tent with a few waves of your hand, “get some rest. I’ll keep an eye out for Thaniel and Oliver.” You took a step back, inching back as slowly as you could, waiting for Halsin to do the same. As much as you wanted to break through his exterior and get to the heart of whatever was causing him trouble, you respected his need to be alone, as much as it pained you to be kept at arms length.

With a slight nod of his head, Halsin made his leave, not wishing to turn this into a more serious argument. In his heart, he knew you meant well and also knew that both halves of the land spirit would be safe under your watch. He turned to return to his tent after you had also made your leave, walking to the opposite end of camp with a disheartened sigh. He made the agonizingly long walk from the center of camp to his secluded corner of the area in silence, tugging open the flap to his tent in a fluid motion. 

Halsin’s little plot of land in camp was quiet and tucked away from the other tents, offering as much tranquility as the shadow lands would offer, but was admittedly lonely. Despite choosing the spot himself, Halsin had recently begun to regret setting his tent so far from the others. Duty and responsibility came first, so jovial nights around the campfire passing bottles of wine were nothing if not a distraction. Secluding himself would keep him focused on the task at hand and, for now, thankfully keep him out of your sullied gaze.

Halsin stripped himself of his bands and bracers, tossing them into his bed space with a frustrated flick of his wrist. His boots and weapons were left by the entrance, out of the way but close by if they were needed in a hurry. He was frustrated with himself for just how desperately he wanted to be with you but not having the opportunity to do so. It would be a fools dream to think you would still be interested in him once the curse was lifted, considering just how long it would actually take, and now combined with the knowledge that he had wounded your feelings once more. His heart ached at the thought of knowing your delicate heart had been shattered so easily.

He cursed himself as he stepped inside, making sure to close the tent behind him. Halsin stripped himself of his armor, tossing the garments to the side so he could change into his usual night clothes. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were correct. Sleep was sorely needed and any sort of apology or resolution to this new problem would need to wait until morning. Halsin was having trouble concentration, not being able to focus on the task at hand. He ran his hands across his face and into his hair, lightly tugging at his scalp in the process.

With a soft sigh, Halsin laid himself on the ground, nestling his frame against the fabric of his bedroll as he settled for the evening. He shifted as he tried to find a comfortable spot, his shoulders rustling against the ground in an attempt to dislodge any loose pebbles or larger rocks that may be in the way. Eventually, he settled into a position that was comfortable enough for the evening, his hands and arms taking their place at his sides and his eyes closed so he could begin drifting off into a trace or, if he was lucky, a few hours of actual sleep. The rhythmic sound of wind rustling in the tree limbs and leave hanging above his tent and the low hum of sounds from the center of the camp should have been enough to lull him into the beginning phases of a trance, yet he found himself awake and unable to sleep. 

The usual intrusive thoughts were ever present, of course. The imminent dangers of the shadow curse, making sure Thaniel,  and now Oliver, were well and safe, even the mistakes of his past wove their way into his thoughts and sat heavily on his conscious. But tonight they were quieted and offered nothing more than a faint echo in his mind. Instead, his usual thoughts were being drowned out by something much more prominent and enticing to the forefront of his mind; you. Halsin couldn’t deny the impact you had on his thoughts, which had only grown increasingly more frequent and intense as each day passed in your company. Your kindness and eagerness to help others weighed heavily in his mind, but even more so on his heart. To say you were a delight would be doing you a disservice. 

And more than anything, Halsin wanted you completely. He wanted to be by your side in the upcoming fight against Ketheric and the Absolute, but he wanted everything else that came with that. He wanted to enjoy your company in a more intimate way; to be the one that kept your bed warm at night, to feel the brush of your lips against his, and the feeling of his body sinking deliciously into yours. He could imagine the tightness you would offer, the loving and welcoming warmth that would take him completely, even the sweet noises he could elect from you with the correct moments. He ached for you and that was a feeling that was growing with each passing second.

His eyes remained open, scanning the canvas ceiling of his simple tent as he allowed his mind to unwind in an attempt to drift off into a peaceful meditation, soon finding that his wandering thoughts found no purchase in their usual subject matter. Lingering regrets concerning Emerald Grove, the dangers ever present in the shadow curse, and now the problem of the growing illithid infection festering deep within Moonrise Towers were long forgotten as he focused on something much more pressing and mind consuming. Halsin was suddenly overtaken with the memory of your hands running along his skin earlier in the evening. He longed to feel your touch again, if even for a just passing second. 

Halsin focused his thoughts, doing his best to push you from his mind as he tried to settle for the night. You were right when you said he needed sleep and he tried his best to oblige in your request, but the image of you continued to gnaw on his psyche. You were infectious in that sense; able to burrow into his thoughts just as the tadpole had buried itself in your brain. He couldn’t think normally with you flitting around his thoughts like this, but could only imagine the sweetest and most sinful thoughts he’d had in long while.

Halsin’s eyes closed as he allowed himself to indulge in his fantasy, unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He imagined himself elsewhere. Far away from the shadows, away from the ever pressing darkness and chill the curse offered; a place that was warm and bright, nestled somewhere in a heavily wooded forest. Not the Grove, of course, for it was far too political and too demanding with little care going towards what actually mattered. But instead, he imagined a place where the shadows of the present ceased to exist and land could flourish in harmony and tranquility. Perhaps he was dreaming of a world of fantasy and indulgence, but it was a place that brought him inner peace. A gentle calmness washed over his racing mind, bringing the thrum of his heart to a slow, steady pace as he imagined his own back settling against the form of your body in this fantasy world he had created. 

He could almost feel the softness of your body against his back as he reclined against you, his large frame seated perfectly between your legs, his back resting along your chest while his head fit perfectly under your chin. From here, he could imagine himself getting lost in your gentle touches and soft voice. He found himself leaning against you like a drowsy cat in the mid afternoon sun, simply enjoying the warmth of your caresses as your fingers played with his hair, twisting and braiding locks between your fingers with ease. Your cheek rested along the crown of his head, all while soothing his worries with the delightfully gentle sound of your voice. Halsin smiled to himself within the confines of his tent, the image of you being the balm to soothe his restlessness. Instead of sleeping, he simply allowed himself to sink further into his imagination, bringing one of his arms from his side to rest underneath his head, his eyes happily closing as he relaxed into his bedroll once more.

Halsin then imagined your hands cupping his cheeks, mimicking your caress from earlier, your thumbs lightly stroking along his cheek bones with your fingers tracing along his lower lip and chin. You would whisper sweet things against his ear, smiling against the outer shell as your warm breath tickled against his sensitive tips and caused the skin along his neck to prickle. Your plush lips would lightly pepper his cheek with the most tender of kisses, tracing along the shape of his twisting tattoos at a leisurely pace.

The simple thought of having your lips dancing across his skin made his heart flutter in his chest and a light blush to begin forming along his cheeks. He turned his head on his pillow, as if actually giving you access to the tattoo along his neck would somehow manifest you beside him in the tent, but he had gotten too lost in his fantasy to try and rationalize his movements. With his face now turned from the opening of his tent, Halsin’s imagination continued on with his visions, his mind quickly imagining your lips traveling form his cheek to the bright red swirls adorning his neck as the tips of your fingers toyed with the scar that sliced into his lower lip. 

As time inched along at a deliciously slow pace, your demeanor changed. Your kisses were more firm now, making proper, lingering contact with his skin with each passing moment. A shudder rippled down the druid’s spine as he imagined your teeth lightly grazing the skin of his throat, quickly soothing it over with a swipe of your tongue. It wasn’t long before your hands left his face, bypassing his neck and resting near the height of his chest, your nails lightly grazing and stroking along his collar bones.

From the darkness of his tent, Halsin’s hand came up to rest atop his chest, faintly feeling his own steady heartbeat underneath his camp shirt as his thumb absentmindedly ran along the ridges of his attire and took note of the stitching and changes in texture, replaying the feelings that had begun to rise in his chest as you lavished his skin with your touch. Kisses soon trailed back up his neck and cheek, until the flat of your front teeth nibbled lightly against his earlobe. Halsin released a soft a gasp at the imagined contact, his shoulders briefly rising from the ground in excitement, only to settle back down once again.

“When was the last time you allowed someone to take care of you?” Your question from earlier in the evening echoed in his mind.

“Far too long.” He whispered on exhale, his voice low and deep as his tongue flicked across his suddenly dry lips. 

His hand slid across his chest slowly, feeling his way across his body with no sense of urgency or frenzy, simply savoring the feeling of contact against his body that was now beginning to burn with desire. Although these were typically feelings he would suppress when his mind was muddled with duty and responsibility, he allowed himself a quiet moment to bask in his thoughts. Halsin imagined it was your hand that was roaming along his sternum, trying his best to mimic the softness of your touch and mirror your prior movements. Even though his large, calloused hands were nothing like your much smaller and softer ones, the lust beginning to cloud his senses allowed the illusion in his mind to be enough to satisfy his meandering touch. A shuddered breath escaped his lips as the tips of his fingers lightly ran over one of his now hardened nipples, the bud pressing firmly against the interior of his night shirt. 

The sensations cascading over his body were almost electric, given just how long it had been since he’d indulged in a moment of self pleasure, and each touch and swipe of his fingers across his chest sent sharp bolts down his back and the heat that had formed along his cheeks to spread across his throat. Halsin’s hand traveled lower across his torso, pressing more firmly with each movement as he explored the expanse of his pectorals, still fantasizing that it was your hands worshiping his body in such a way; touching and caressing with a gentleness only you possessed, easily undoing his hardened resolve with the faintest tease from your fingertips.

“You’ll have to let me dote on you one of these days.” Your phantom voice whispered against his ear, almost shaking with your own desire as your hands continued to explore his clothed chest.

“Please.” His voice was almost a whine, the long suppressed desperation finally beginning to crack Halsin’s all too serious exterior. He answered honestly, finally letting what he’d wanted to tell you out into the open, even if he was the only one to hear.

Halsin envisioned both of your hands running down the length of his chest, your palms pressed firmly against his camp shirt as you made your teasingly slow descent across his torso. Your hands stopped midway, parting at his middle and moving to his sides before sliding up towards his neck once again. Halsin’s own hands followed suit, mimicking his vision as accurately as possible as the path you had created in his mind continued over and over again, each time reaching just a bit lower than before. 

By now, Halsin had gotten lost in his fantasy. His face and neck were now properly flushed, burning with a bright red instead of the light flush just moments prior. His ears burned with excitement and a light layer of sweat had formed along his upper lip, which was occasionally licked away whenever the druid tried to swallow his excitement. A flutter appeared in his chest each time he visualized your form above him, smiling down at him sweetly as your hands continued their exploration of his body. The flutter would skip on occasion if he ever indulged himself enough to imagine you leaning down over once in a while to peck his lips with your own.

Halsin’s thoughts broke momentarily as his fingers brushed along the upper seam of his trousers, making his lower body twitch and buck into the air at the contact. His eyes finally opened as he explored his lower half, glancing down to see that the whole of his now hardened and throbbing cock pressing uncomfortably against the confines of the leather pants. He tentatively ran his palm along the outline of his bulge, feeling how his aching length traveled along his mid thigh and twitched at his touch, stifling a moan at the contact. Halsin’s hand quickly moved to his opposite thigh, squeezing and stroking at the leg of his trousers while taking deep, slow breaths in a quickly failing attempt to take his mind off the intense need to touch himself more. As the throbbing in his cock turned into a much harder pounding, each exhale was met with a low rumble in his chest. His stiffened length strained against his camp clothes, making the sensation borderline painful as he continued his ministrations along his thigh and back towards his lower abdomen. 

A wetness began to coat his thigh where the tip of his cock rested, the head weeping early traces of his spend as it ached and begged for another touch. Halsin succumbed to his desires once again, slowly running his hand along his arousal in attempt to soothe the throbbing. This, of course, only encouraged the lust and desire to bloom more, making his trousers more and more uncomfortable the longer he palmed himself. Eventually the sensation was too much to handle, the desire and intense need for friction had grown too strong and there would be no chance of getting a second of rest until Halsin came to a release. 

It wasn’t long before Halsin began unlacing the ties that lay at the front of his trousers, his fingers shaking with need and fumbling with the tassels. With a frustrated grunt, he finally managed to roughly pull the opening to his trousers apart, almost ripping the eyelets from the fabric with the force behind the tug. His chest heaved with excitement as the cool air that seeped into his tent made contact with his now fully exposed length, which had already begun dripping his spend in anticipation for a touch.

Pretending it was indeed your hand instead of his, Halsin tentatively reached out and brushed his fingers across his hardened cock, electing a soft groan from the contact. His fingertips danced in the slick that had weeped from his tip and begun dripping down the length of his shaft, coating his fingers until they were well lubricated. He gasped softly at the touches, the feeling almost foreign to him considering just how long it had been since he’d touched himself. His hand eventually wrapped around the base, giving himself a light squeeze and squirming at the wonderfully prickly sensation that settled in his spine.

Your imagined figure hummed softly against his the crown of his head as your cheek settled there once again, nuzzling against him gently while you hand began to slowly stroke along his length. Halsin’s eyes closed again as his hand soon fell into a steady rhythm, pumping leisurely with his hand all while the opposite continued to run along various parts of his body. 

“Rest now,” you spoke sweetly to him, your voice soft and low, “I’ll take care of you.” Your thumb circled the tip of his cock, making him squirm against your phantom frame as well as against his bedroll. Halsin fully submitted to his fantasy and desires, his stoic nature dissolving more and more with each passing stroke of his hand. 

He felt wonderful, more than he had in quite some time. Stress and duty had weighed so heavily on him for many years, allowing guilt and an untold amount of pent up frustrations to build with no way of release. But now, simply lying alone in his tent and imagining your company in such a way was almost euphoric. The only thing that could have topped the experience would be to actually have you pressed against him. He not only wanted to hear your voice and feel your touch, but he wanted to smell your scent and feel the heat within your own body begin to build. Sharing a bed with you seemed like a distant dream, especially with how he had seemingly hurt you earlier, so dreaming of you seated behind him while stroking his cock would be the closest thing he could have to your companionship for now, if ever. 

His thoughts were broken as Halsin could almost feel your lips against his neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses against his skin. He fantasized that you would even latch onto him every once in a while, biting softly and suckling against the flesh of his broad shoulder until haphazardly placed purple bruises began to form. He wanted to feel your arm draped across his opposite shoulder, letting your fingers toy with the hair on his chest that was beginning to crest over with sweat before pressing the whole of your palm flat against him and pull his frame into yours tightly. Perhaps you would even drag those teasingly deft fingertips of yours up his throat and against the bottom of his chin, tilting his head to face yours so you could plant sloppy kisses against his mouth. Your tongue darting across his lips, slipping skillfully into his mouth to lick across his teeth before tangling with his own. All of this happening in tandem with the strokes coming from your opposite hand, which would glide effortlessly and skillfully against his throbbing cock.

You would take your time in his fantasy, having nowhere to be and no mind flayer invasion to stop, giving you plenty of time to explore whatever your tender grasp could reach. Halsin tried to mimic the low, thoughtful pulls of your hand against his cock as best he could, trying to immerse himself as best he could in his thoughts. Pleasant tingles ran across his lower abdomen the further Halsin reached into the opening of his trousers. He continued until a significant portion of his forearm had slipped beneath the fabric, the flaps on the opening of his trousers brushing against his elbow as his hand loosely gripped the base of his cock. His grip tightened as he drug his hand along his length, cupping the head with an almost painful grasp before releasing back down as he returned down again.

Halsin’s legs began to bend at the knee, having previously been laid flat from his attempt to trance, and he placed his feet flat against the ground. The muscles in his thighs began to tighten the longer he stroked his hand along his length, his hips starting to writhe under his ministrations. Halsin ran his thumb over the slicked, weeping tip of his cock, his head arching against the pillow of his bedroll as a desperate groan formed in his chest. The sound caught in his throat, dying down before it could escape his lips, for which he was thankful. In this moment, Halsin didn’t want to be found. Instead, he wanted this moment to last as long as possible, where he could exist in his sinful fantasy until his duties pulled him into the realm of reality once more. He couldn’t afford for a stray cry or moan to slip through the opening of his tent and bring forth the whole of camp to his abode.

It was a selfish thought, but one that the elf embraced with all his might. He wanted, if not needed, this moment of self pleasure. To bring himself to a blissful release with you in the center of his minds eye. There were parts of him that protested and urged himself to stop now, but he carried on, stroking his cock at an increase paced with each moment that passed. Just one moment; one precious, well deserved moment is all he needed to release many weeks worth of pent up frustrations and desires and set his mind right once more.

Halsin’s nails roughly scratched along his chest, digging into the thick fabric of his camp shirt as a wave of ecstasy washed over his belly, making his stroking stutter briefly. His hips lifted from the hard ground, bucking upwards to meet his hand and the mental image of your own. He dreamed of your legs swinging over his hips only to press firmly against his own squirming legs, keeping the thick walls of muscles in place to allow you to continue your stroking and pleasing at your own pace without him interfering, which had significantly increased since his visions first began. It wouldn’t take much to over power you and reverse the roles, given his size. To pin you beneath him and take you properly would be an easy feat, but one he did not want to act on. Instead, deep within the confines of his fantasies, Halsin wanted you to take control and dote on his aching body as you had suggested earlier in the evening.

His heart ached at how badly he wanted you to lead him to orgasm by being the one in power. He had spent the better part of a century leading others and having to be the one to bear the crushing weight of responsibility, even when he didn’t want to. But now, lying on the cold floor of his tent, he relinquished control and let you have your way, even if it was only in his mind. 

Your hand had begun to pick up speed, not quite frantic, but much more than the easy pace you had previously set. Although not knowing much about your previous experience with partners in such a situation, simply seeing how skilled you were in battle with a sword as well as how nimble you were in combat told Halsin all he needed to know about how wonderful you were feel. You would be firm in your grasp, yet gentle enough to not cause harm. Your wrist would flick in just the right way so you would tug gently along his cock while allowing him to feel every bit of your fingers and palm as you continued in long, fluid strokes. You were compassionate enough to listen to worries and fears in camp, so there was no doubt that you would listen to his moans and gasps and adjust your pace or grip accordingly; slowing down with a looser grip if he came too close to completion or speeding up with a tighter grasp if he bucked against your hand for more contact. Generous with his pleasure, yet fully in control and taking the weight of responsibly away from him so Halsin could simply enjoy the feelings festering in his body.

His free hand quickly left his chest and clamped into the fabric of his bedroll, his grip hardened and his knuckles white as the string of pleasure that had been woven in his belly was pulled taught, teetering on the precipice of snapping. Halsin’s hips bucked wildly into his hand, taking his pleasure based more on touch than the actual imagine of you in his mind, although that did not deter him from thinking of you. You were there, holding his large frame against yours, pressing his back into your chest firmly as your hand pumped along his throbbing, aching cock as a fevered pace. Your voice was in his ear, panting white hot breaths against his skin as your voice dripped with your own ecstasy. You begged him to release, to spill his seed against your hand and take his pleasure how he wanted. His incredibly hazy mind imagined you coaxing him along, telling him just how desperately you wanted to see and feel his orgasm ripple through this body. How you wanted to feel his tired muscles twitch and shake as he finally released himself for you.

Sweat dripped quickly from his temples, running along his neck where you could so easily lick it up for him if you were actually there in his tent, stroking his cock from behind as you whimpered and whined sweet promises in his ear. You would offer to clean the mess that was made before laying him down and letting him find pleasure within your body. Halsin could practically feel the heat radiating from your body while his mind burned with desire, imagining your own expression to be blissed out and hazy in anticipation of finding your own orgasm simply from witnessing his. He desperately wanted to watch as you unravelled for him, brought to the brink just from how you touched along his body and whispered in his ear. 

You would seat yourself nicely atop him, fingers gently clawing down his chest as you sunk down on his cock, your own breath heaving as toyed and teased him. From here, his hands could roam your body as he pleased, touching and caressing every bit of your body. Halsin wanted to run his hand along your stomach and chest, inching upwards until his thumb reached your lips, dampening the digit with a swipe of your tongue in a similar matter to how you had earlier in the evening. He could see your hips rolling against his, head thrown back as you gasped for air, teetering on the edge of being in completely control to losing every bit of sense you had while riding out an orgasm.

The disciplined portion of Halsin’s mind that had yet to be fogged over with desire argued with the fire burning in his belly, causing a battle in his mind over what was morally right and what was physically wrong. He wanted you more than anything he’d wanted in so very long, yet Halsin did feel a twinge of guilt in his self pleasure in knowing it was your image that was bringing him so close to release despite the sadness in your expression only moments prior. What would your reaction be if you could see him now sprawled on his back in the solitude of his tent, arm buried deep in his trousers, palming his strained cock at a fevered pace all while imagining you? He would like to think you were be flattered, but deep down he knew you were would be disappointed, disgusted even. To have the courage to turn you down repeatedly, sending you away from him time and time again, yet thrusting into his hand to your image like an animal in rut would be a slap in the face. 

He could feel his pleasure mounting, his cock twitching and throbbing against his hand as his body prepared to spill his seed along his hand and stomach while whimpering your name. A few more strokes would be all he needed to finish, to finally release the built up feelings he’d harbored for so, so long. His legs shook, hips thrusting wildly into the air as his free hand trembled in excitement and small moans slipped into the air. However, the more rational portion of Halsin’s mind finally took control, stopping him before he could finish. 

He flipped over quickly, pressing his stomach firmly into the ground beneath him, trapping his violently twitching cock between his body and the fabric of his bedroll, still wrapped tightly by his hand. Halsin’s hips stilled, his head coming to rest atop his free arm as he caught his breath, the closeness to orgasm slowly ebbing away the longer he stilled. Ragged breaths tore from his lungs, panting into his pillow as he released a frustrated shout, letting the fabric beneath him muffle the majority of it. He was frustrated, angry even. He wanted, if not needed, to complete his task and feel an orgasm finally tear through his body, but he couldn’t allow himself to continue. 

It would be wrong, he decided, to finish the deed. The urge was only natural, but not like this. He had allowed himself to be distracted enough as it is as well as causing you harm, so he deemed himself unworthy of a wonderful release. It needed to wait until after the curse had been lifted and he had gotten in your good graces again, if possible. As much as he wanted it now, he knew that waiting until things were right would be kinder to his conscious and even more blissful once he could finally release.

Halsin remained in his spot, his breath slowly regaining a normal speed as he allowed his orgasm to ebb away. He could feel the more frequent feelings of frustration begin to fester in his mind once again, his still throbbing cock sitting in his hand certainly didn’t help matters. Neither did the sudden sound of your laughter breaking through the silence of camp, making its way to Halsin’s secluded tent off in the distance. The melodious sound of you enjoying yourself made Halsin grind his hips into his hand, causing him to moan loudly at the feeling. Your laughter had spurred him on once more, the idea that you had found joy once again this evening and possibly not sitting somewhere upset due to his actions brought back the feelings of lust. 

Each little snippet of sound he could hear from the far off center of camp made him thrust into his hand even more, particularly if your voice seemed closer than before. Halsin’s breaths had become deeper and heavier with each downward thrust of his hips, the occasional muffled cry coming from his throat if his hips came down at just the right angle. His fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his pillow, his nails threatening to rip the material apart the closer he came to his release. His muscles were wound tightly, rippling across his back with each roll of his body against his own hand and into his bedroll. By now the fabric of his camp shirt had been soaked with sweat, the material clinging to his body and creating new sensations across his skin as the friction increased. 

Halsin’s fogged mind imagined it was you clinging to him instead, your hands sliding against and caressing his arms and back as you were pressed firmly beneath him. The sweat that rolled lazily down his neck was your tongue lapping at the tender parts of skin and the feeling of his ragged breaths beating against his pillow and recoiling to touch his face instead your own sweet breath panting into his mouth. With eyes shut tightly, Halsin’s hips increased their speed and began audibly slapping against the slick that had coated his hand, letting anyone who came close to his living quarters acutely aware of what his was doing from within the confines of his tent. His moans had become more audible, his senses having long been lost.

Your name tumbled from his lips as his release drew closer, saying it over and over again as if he were begging you to let him finish. Each time he said your name he imagined his own name coming from you, being panted in his ear as he trust into you, your bodies colliding into each other at a fevered pace. He could feel your fingers intertwining with his hair, tugging at his scalp as you moaned and cooed in his ear. Your voice wavered as you whispered for him to release, Halsin imagined you growing closer to your very own peak as you encouraged and begged him to finish for you. And much to his happiness, it was long before he obliged your request.

With a final heavy thrust and one more warbled cry of pleasure, Halsin’s orgasm washed over his body in searing hot waves of pleasure. Halsin’s body stiffened with his orgasm, curling in on himself as his spend finally shot from the tip of his pulsing cock. His grip tightened around his length, feeling each spurt that erupted from his tip land across his hand onto the bedroll beneath him, the occasional rope landing somewhere along his abdomen if his cock twitched at the right time. He let out a gasping breath with each passing release, each one decreasing in intensity as he rode out the last remaining moments of his orgasm.

After the last ropes of his spend were spilled onto the ground beneath him, Halsin took in a final sucking breath, utterly spent and exhausted. The ironclad grip he’d previously had on his pillow finally released, the same hand pushing up his weight so he could sit up and rest on his knees. His opposite hand released his length, now quickly softening as he came down from the high of his orgasm. The druid still struggled to catch his breath, his chest slightly heaving as he wiped his hand clean with the edge of his blanket before resting both hands on his still trembling thighs. He took another deep breath in, his head falling back against his shoulders as his eyes closed until he was facing the ceiling of his tent. 

By now, the illusion he had created for himself had faded. Halsin was no longer seated happily in a tender patch of grass nestled between your thighs, but was instead alone and hovering over his bedroll that rested on a rather hard bit of earth. The warmth of the sun kissing his face had been replaced with the coldness of the shadow curse and the darkness of the inside of his tent. The tender caress of your wonderful hands along his body was now nothing more than his own guilt and shame clawing at his heart once again. He heard nothing but howls and screams in the distant shadows instead of the soft, intoxicating sound of your voice against his ear. The heat from his skin was beginning to dissipate as well, allowing the coolness of the night air to lick at his exposed skin. 

With a soft sigh, Halsin opened his eyes, disappointed to not be greeted with the image of your face, although not entirely surprised to only be greeted with the tattered fabric of his makeshift home. Despite being still sensitive to the touch, Halsin tucked himself back into the confines of his trousers, lacing the ties on the front with a slight hiss at the contact. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand as he looked at the mess now waiting before him. Not wanting to deal with the aftermath of his self pleasure, Halsin simply rolled his heavily soiled bedroll into a tight bundle, tossing it to the back end of his tent and decided to either clean or dispose of in the morning. 

He pulled open the flap of his tent, letting in the last remnants of light from the campfire into his abode as he prepared to finally rest for the evening, the exertion from his orgasm having finally worn him out enough to indulge in a bit of sleep. He shivered at the abrupt feeling of the cool night against the warmth he had created in his tent. The camp had gone quiet, the rest of his companions having seemingly turned in for the night, and the earlier sounds of children laughing and animals barking seemed to be silenced as well. Halsin brushed the straw bits of strained that coated the floor of his tent into a smooth layer so he would have a bit of cushion against his tired bones. He had finished smoothing down the outer edge when something small caught his eye. 

Sitting neatly beside his discarded camp gear was a small bowl of stew, still billowing steam from the surface. Halsin simply stared at the bowl, which had been placed on a small saucer with an accompanying spoon and a hearty chunk of bread. It didn’t take much thinking on his part to know you had been the one to leave the bit of supper by his tent, although he couldn’t be quite sure when you had dropped it off. He had admittedly been too caught up in his fantasy to begin to hear you shuffling about outside, which made him question just how much of his guilty pleasure you had heard. 

Perhaps you had herd nothing and merely wanted to leave his undisturbed under the pretense he was asleep. However, the much more likely scenario considering just how hot the stew was, was that you had walked up right as he was chanting your name while at the height of his pleasure. He felt an all too familiar heat creep up his neck as he eyed the bowl. He sat back on his knees once more, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he imagined a dozen scenarios he’d be having with you come morning. But for now, Halsin simply took the bowl of stew in hand and ate it quickly, ready to finish his meal and finally take a bit of well deserved rest.

Tag list: @thoughts-of-bear @mothermoth92

[ceoofsammonroe]

Wake the Dead - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: You meet Sam during his shift at the local video store on a search for something to make you feel alive and decide to drag him to the old cemetery.

Warnings: sexual acts in an open grave, mentions of murder, talk of the dead, handjob (Sam receiving), public sex, fingering (reader receiving), defiling a gravesite, smoking, reader is kinda “manic-pixie-dreamgirl” coded my bad.

Masterlist

Sam Monroe hated his job.

Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst in the world. He could’ve been made to wear a ridiculous uniform and flip burgers at the local diner down the street. Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be restocking the same ten family movies all day every day.

Nobody ever came into the video store for anything interesting. It was always middle-aged moms with their whiny children, asking him where some shit Disney film was located while giving him disapproving glares.

Sure, maybe he always had vulgar music blaring through the speakers while some gory slasher played on the television, but what did they expect? He’d drive a stake through his own eye before he’d be forced to listen to some nonsensical bullshit about princesses and happily ever after.

The new Deftones record was his current pick, the music filling the silence of the vacant store as he leaned against the counter and sorted through the returns.

The excruciating sound of the bell above the door chimed through the grunge rock, making Sam cringe and curse underneath his breath. He didn’t even bother turning around as he mumbled, “We’re closing in five minutes.”

“Guess I’d better get to looking quickly, then,” you said, shrugging and smiling to yourself at the grumpy store clerk. You could only see the back of him, but he piqued your interest.

The sound of your melodic voice made Sam’s ears perk up and he finally turned around. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of you, not expecting to see someone his age. Especially not someone so pretty.

Your eyes traveled over the length of him as he turned to face you. He was cute — in that “I’m a total punk” kind of way.

Sam’s throat felt scratchy as he swallowed, his tongue fiddling with his labret piercing. He quickly turned down the music, giving you a sheepish half-smile.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as a flush creeped up his neck and said, “Yeah, I guess so. I can help you search for something. We have a pretty big selection, though, so you might have to narrow it down a bit.”

His eyes scanned the length of you, hoping against hope that you wouldn’t ask him for the romance section or something equally as disgusting. He knew you’d never been in this store before, at least not when he’d been working. He definitely would’ve remembered you.

“I’m looking for a good scare,” you said, hooking your thumbs through your belt loops as you grinned at him. “Something to really get your pulse racing, ya know?”

Sam’s eyes lit up with excitement as he beamed at you. You were hot and into horror? He nearly came in his pants right then and there.

“Well, the horror section is right over there,” he said, pointing over to the corner. “You like found footage? I’d recommend that if you wanna get a decent scare. Unscripted, unedited, pretty terrifying.”

“Ah, so you’re a Blair Witch kinda guy, huh?” you asked, your lips quirking up in amusement. “Good to know.”

Sam’s grin grew as he nodded and said, “The Blair Witch Project was groundbreaking for its genre. It really had the entire population convinced that they were watching these kids die right in front of their eyes.” He leaned forward against the counter, trying to play it cool as he added, “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Monroe.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, repeating his full name.

You couldn’t help but notice the soft blush on his face that brought out the bright blue of his eyes. The color nearly matched the vibrant streak in his black hair. He had the whole look going for him — the eyeshadow, the painted nails, the clunky rings.

Sam felt flustered under your gaze, shifting nervously as he asked, “So, you got a favorite horror flick, or is this your first time diving into the abyss?”

You smirked and said, “Ironically, considering your whole ‘what’s your favorite scary movie’ question, I’m a sucker for a good slasher. Scream, to be exact.”

“Scream, huh? Classic. You’ve got good taste,” he said, raising an impressed brow. He pushed off the counter, walking around to stand next to you. “Let me show you some of my favorites, then.” He walked toward the horror section, gesturing for you to follow. “You’ve got your classics like Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween. Oh, but one of my favorites would have to be Saw. There’s something about the torture and games that just gets me.”

Sam’s hands gestured wildly as he spoke, his excitement evident in his eyes. His heart raced, both from his love of horror and from being so close to you. He searched one of the shelves before deftly flicking one of the cases out and holding it up for you.

“The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he said, presenting it to you. “This one’s something else. Give it a watch. It’ll make your skin crawl.”

You stuffed your hands in your back pockets, shrugging coyly as you stepped closer to him.

“I saw the 25th Anniversary in theaters,” you smirked, beaming proudly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he whistled, impressed.

“Damn, you’re a true horror fan,” he nodded.

He nervously licked his dry lips, trying to think of something to say next.

“So, what do you think? Are you gonna pick up any of these tonight, or should I recommend something else?” Sam asked, his eyes searching your face as he hoped to find interest in his suggestions.

You leaned closer toward him, glancing down at his lips before grinning and reaching around him to grab a movie from the shelf.

Sam’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering down to your lips before following your gaze to the movie you pulled.

You held up a copy of Creep, waving it back and forth.

“Found footage, right?” you winked, turning around to walk back to the counter.

“Found footage, exactly,” he croaked out, releasing a shaky breath. “Good choice.”

He quickly followed after you, going back around the counter to ring you up. His fingers fumbled clumsily on the keyboard as he said, “Your total comes out to $4.50.” He took the money and handed you the bag with the movie inside. “If, uh, if you ever need more recommendations or anything, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He licked his lips, giving you a small smile as he added, “It was nice meeting you.”

You took the bag from him, letting your fingers brush against his as you did. You nodded with a smile and said, “You, too, Sam Monroe.”

You turned around and began walking toward the door, but you stopped short. You shifted back toward him, gazing at him curiously.

You cocked your head and asked, “You wanna get out of here?”

Sam’s eyes widened as his throat went dry. He nodded, vehemently, and said, “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He glanced up at the clock, grinning sheepishly. “We’re technically closed now, anyways.” His grin grew as he stepped away from the counter. “Just give me a second to lock everything up.”

You nodded and walked outside, leaning against the hood of his car as you lit a cigarette. You took a drag and exhaled the smoke into the air, leaning your head back with a sigh.

Sam quickly locked up, the bell above the door jingling as he stepped outside. He caught the sight of you sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, and thought he must be dreaming.

He walked over, his gaze drawn to your lips as he asked, “You smoke?”

You opened your eyes, gazing up at him as you blew a puff of smoke in his direction.

“No,” you grinned, bringing the cigarette back to your lips to take another drag.

Sam’s lips curved into a grin and he raised a brow as he said, “Liar.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing your face as he took the cigarette from your lips. He brought it to his mouth, taking a long drag before exhaling and handing it back.

“So, what do you want to do?” Sam asked, moving to lean on the hood next to you. “I know a few bars that are still open.”

“Bars are boring, Sam Monroe,” you groaned, dramatically, throwing your head back. You inhaled the smoke again, releasing it in a sigh as you looked up at the full moon. “Why do you think I showed up here tonight?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head in confusion as he answered, “Because you wanted to rent a horror movie?”

He took another drag from the cigarette, his curious gaze never leaving your face.

“That’s just the surface of it,” you told him, turning your head to face him. “I wanted something that could make me feel alive. I wanted to feel a spike of adrenaline, to get my pulse racing. A horror movie is a quick, easy fix — but a night of spontaneity with a stranger? That’s the ultimate risk to take.”

Sam’s heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing as he stammered, “Y-you want to take a risk with me?” He swallowed, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Where do you want to go?”

His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge your intentions, but the excitement bubbling within him was undeniable.

You grinned, taking the cigarette back from him and drawing in one final breath before putting it out with your foot against the pavement.

“C’mon, Sam Monroe,” you said, grabbing his keys out of his hand and walking to the driver’s side of his car. “I know just the place.”

Sam blinked in a daze as he watched you get into his car. He walked, dumbfounded, to the passenger seat, climbing in as he gazed at you.

“Lead the way,” he said, shrugging as he shook his head with a small laugh.

You flicked on the radio as you pulled out of the parking lot, a low grungy melody playing through the speakers.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you began, reaching over to play with the rings on his fingers, “why do you like horror movies?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he glanced down at his hand. Your fingers felt soft against his skin and he cleared his throat as he glanced back up at the road.

“Horror movies are about more than just gore and jump scares. They’re about the human condition. They’re about fear itself, a primal state, and there’s something so raw and real about that.” He looked over at you a smile tugging at his lips. “The adrenaline, the suspense, the sense of danger…it’s all just an escape for me. A way to feel something real when everything else around me feels so fake.”

“Spoken like a tried and true broody punk,” you grinned, glancing over at him. “I get it, though. Sometimes you’ll do anything just to feel something.”

“I guess so,” he shrugged. “It’s better than feeling nothing, right?” He leaned back in his seat, watching the passing streetlights. “So, what about you? What gets your heart racing?”

“Picking up random strangers from sketchy video stores, obviously,” you joked, trailing your fingers up and down his arm.

Sam smiled, looking away as a blush tinged his cheeks.

“This place you’re taking me to,” he said, glancing back at you, “is it a secret or can I know where we’re going?”

“See for yourself,” you smirked, pulling off the road and parking the car. You turned the lights off and got out, walking around to where Sam stood by the passenger side. “C’mon, this way.”

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you led him through a small trail in the woods. As you walked through the clearing, a grin pulled at your lips at the sight of an old, dark cemetery.

Sam followed, his heart pounding as his eyes darted around the darkness. He swallowed thickly, squeezing your hand a little tighter as he stared up at the rusted gates, warily.

“A cemetery?” Sam questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath before steeling himself and nodding. “Alright. I’ve never been one to turn down a dare.”

“That’s the spirit,” you grinned, tugging him further inside. You winked at him, pulling him closer to you as you whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the scary ghosts.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam smirked, feeling his heart stutter as he was pulled into you. “So, what do we do in a place like this?”

His eyes took in the graves, the headstones, the darkness encompassing you. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as he leaned closer to you, seeking comfort.

You pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on, shining it on the headstones. You saw one that called to you and you drug him towards it, reading the engravings.

Sam followed, his eyes drawn to the flashlight beam. When you stopped at the grave, he crouched down to get a better look.

Mary Hester

1934-1976

“What do you think her story was?” you asked Sam, nudging his shoulder.

“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. “Maybe she was a victim of murder. Or maybe she was the killer,” he mused, a grin playing at his lips. He glanced up at you and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you smirked, leaning forward to dust off the stone. “There’s no way that death is just a done deal, especially if you had unresolved dealings left on earth.”

Sam nodded, listening as he picked at some moss stuck in the writing.

“Besides,” you sighed, staring at the engraving, “if my entire life was reduced to a tiny dash between dates, I’d haunt the shit out of this world, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I guess we’ll never know until we reach the other side, huh?”

You laughed and shook your head, pulling him off to venture further through the old graves.

As you walked through the cemetery, occasionally stopping to check out the headstones, you kept spouting off different theories and stories of these lives past lived.

Your eyes widened as you saw a fresh pile of dirt near an open hole, and you pulled Sam toward it.

“Holy shit,” you gaped, looking down at the six-foot rectangular hole in the ground. “It’s a freshly dug grave.”

“That’s…that’s morbid,” Sam shivered, leaning closer as his curiosity got the best of him. “Do you think it’s for a new burial?” His grip tightened on your hand and he glanced around, his eyes flickering between the trees and the graves. “We should probably get out of here.”

“What’s wrong? Scared?” you teased, inching closer toward the grave. You shined your flashlight down into it, seeing nothing but dirt. “Relax, there’s nothing in it.”

“I’m not scared,” he scoffed, though his voice shook as he spoke. “I just don’t wanna get caught trespassing.”

He stepped closer, his eyes following yours as you shined the light into the grave. When he saw it was empty, he let out a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on your hand.

“Let’s go before someone sees us,” Sam said, tugging on your arm.

“Live a little, Sam Monroe,” you laughed, squeezing his hand playfully. “We’re not gonna get caught—”

You stopped mid-sentence, seeing the lights on a police car slowly patrolling the cemetery.

“Shit,” you cursed, smiling amusedly. “Spoke too soon, I guess. Hurry, let’s hide.”

You pulled him toward the vacant grave, crouching down before jumping into the hole.

Sam’s eyes widened, his heart racing wildly as he looked between the grave and the police car. He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he jumped into the grave after you. You turned off the flashlight, bathing the two of you in darkness as you pulled him close to hide.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “I can’t believe we just did that. Do you think they’ll search the graves?”

“Not a chance,” you laughed, breathlessly, as you felt your adrenaline pumping. You placed your hand on his chest, grinning as you said, “You feel that? Feel how your heart is racing? It’s crazy. The irony of feeling so alive while standing in an open grave.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of exhilarating,” Sam breathed, his bright eyes never leaving yours. “Now what? Do we wait for the coast to be clear, or do we climb out and hope they don’t see us?”

You gazed up at him, biting your lip as you studied his face in the pale blue moonlight. You tugged on his arm, pulling him closer until his body was pressed against yours.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you said, your voice low and playful. “Have you ever kissed someone in a cemetery?”

“Uh, can’t say I have,” he said, swallowing thickly as he released a shaky breath. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips as he added, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Right you are, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to you.

You pressed your lips against his in a steady, sure kiss, letting one hand trail up to the back of his head.

Sam’s lips met yours eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him as the kiss deepened.

He moaned against your lips, the taste of you intoxicating him. He broke the kiss, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

“I think we should climb out of here,” he whispered. “We could get caught down here.”

“That’s half the fun,” you smirked, pushing him back against the wall of dirt and kissing him again.

You moved your hands underneath his shirt, feeling the taught skin of his abdomen as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

Sam groaned, his lips parting as his mind grew hazy with lust. He didn’t protest any further, his body arching into your touch as he kissed you, hungrily.

You moved your hands up to his chest, kissing across his jaw. You nipped at his earlobe before trailing open-mouth kisses down his neck.

“What do you say, Sam Monroe?” you breathed, trailing your tongue along his pulse point. “Wanna defile a grave?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he bit his lip, gripping your hips tighter. He tilted his head back as you kissed his neck, breathing out a soft moan.

“I…I’ll defile a grave for you,” he nodded, swallowing thickly.

His body was trembling with adrenaline and desire. He wanted nothing more than for you to keep touching him, the fear of being caught a distant thought.

“Good,” you grinned, leaning forward to kiss him again.

You let your tongue push past his lips, exploring his mouth as a soft moan sounded from your throat. You pulled him away from the wall of dirt, turning the two of you around so that you were the one pressed against it.

Sam’s moan echoed your own as his hand roamed over your body, his tongue tangling with yours. He stumbled back, allowing you to turn the both of you around, his body following your lead.

“Kinda poetic, isn’t it?” you panted, breaking the kiss to look up at him. “Performing a ritual of fertilization in the place where the dead will be laid to rest?”

“I’m all for some poetic justice tonight,” he breathed, leaning in to claim your lips again.

You could feel your heart pumping as you kissed him, fueling that need for something to make you feel alive.

You bit down on his bottom lip, soothing it with your tongue as you slid your hand down over his jeans to cup his erection.

Sam gasped against your lips, a needy groan sounding from his throat as he pressed his hips into your hand.

You reached down and undid the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper and pushing the material down his thighs. You pulled him out of his boxers, slowly stroking him as you grinned at his impressive size.

Sam whimpered as he felt your soft hand wrap around him, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Oh…” he moaned, dragging his teeth over his piercing as he looked at you with hooded eyes. “I need you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed, squeezing your fist around him as you stroked him faster. You swiped your thumb across his sensitive tip to gather the precum that had beaded there, causing him to hiss.

Sam’s hips bucked into your touch, his body trembling with desire. He gripped your hair, his head spinning with pleasure as he whispered, “Fuck, yes. Please.”

You used your free hand to guide his fingers to the button of your jeans, smirking at him as you continued to touch him. You leaned forward and kissed his neck again, sucking a sensitive spot until it left a deep purple mark against his pale skin.

His fingers fumbled with your jeans as you sucked on his neck, a groan escaping his lips as he tried to undress you.

“Touch me, Sam,” you panted, squeezing him tighter as you let your tongue trail up his neck, stopping to kiss the spot just beneath his ear.

“Anything for you,” he breathed, reaching his hand inside of your underwear to touch you. He moaned as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You let out a soft moan into his ear, arching into his touch as he teased you. You grabbed his face and turned him back to you, kissing him with fervor as you stroked him.

“I guess cemeteries really do it for me,” you joked, laughing into the kiss.

“Mm, definitely,” he groaned, his hips bucking into your fist.

His fingers slid inside of you as his thumb stroked your clit, his free hand grabbing your leg and hiking it around his waist.

You whimpered, quietly, against his lips — his fingers striking all of the right chords. You used one hand to tug on his hair while the other moved faster over his length.

Sam moaned loudly, his breath hitching as his hips stuttered.

“Shh,” you grinned, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll wake the dead.”

“I don’t care about the dead right now,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss your neck as he curled his fingers inside of you.

You tilted your head back, moaning as you rocked your hips against his fingers. You held his head as you stroked him, twisting your fist over his tip each time.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he moved his fingers faster, repeatedly brushing against that perfect spot inside of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too,” you whimpered, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. The adrenaline was coursing through your veins, your heart racing as you chased the edge together. “Come with me. Let’s make these souls roll in their graves.”

“Fuck, yes, I’m right there,” he panted, moaning against you as he neared the precipice. He flicked his thumb in fast circles against your clit, his voice breaking off into a string of whimpers as his hips bucked. “I’m gonna…fuck.”

You pulled his head back, looking into his eyes as the band finally snapped. You clenched around his fingers just as his release spurted out of him and onto your hand. He voiced a strangled moan as he came, working you through your own high as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

You both milked every last drop from each other, your bodies sagging together as you came down.

Sam leaned against you, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. You leaned back against the wall of dirt, grinning lazily as you said, “Well, that was a much better method of getting my heart racing.”

He trailed small kisses up your neck before kissing your lips softly as he whispered, “I’m glad I could make your heart race.”

You smirked up at him, bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his release off of it. He watched with lust-blown eyes, biting his lip. You grabbed his hand, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up to your lips as well. You opened your mouth, sucking around them and moaning at the taste.

You pulled him into another kiss, letting him taste your combined flavor on your tongue. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you close to him.

You broke the kiss, glancing up out of the grave.

“I think the cops are gone now,” you giggled, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Good,” he grinned, laughing softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

He gave you a boost before climbing out as well, the both of you brushing the dirt off and adjusting your clothes. You walked back through the trail in the woods hand in hand, strolling peacefully in the moonlight.

When you got back to his car, you tossed him his keys back with a grin and got into the passenger side. He laced his fingers with yours as he drove back toward the video store, occasionally bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

“This has got to be the strangest night I’ve ever had,” he laughed, softly.

“You’ll never forget it, though, will you?” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Sam shook his head, smiling as he said, “Never.”

He pulled back into the parking lot of the store, dimly lit by the flickering sign. He parked the car, turning toward you with a tender look.

You leaned forward and softly whispered, “Thanks for making me feel alive, Sam Monroe.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your lips press against his.

“Anytime,” he whispered. “Can I get your name—?”

He opened his eyes, but you were no longer there. He glanced around, frantically, trying to see where you could’ve gone.

It was only then that he realized that his car had been the only one in the parking lot the entire night.

[luimagines]

The Legend of Baldur's Gate (1800 Follower Raffle)

Our first prize winner was @prumby!

They asked for a DnD Reader who happened to be from Baldur's Gate 3 where the chain goes to their world. Keep in mind, I have never played the game. But I am familiar with the concept and have a friend who very happily beta read this to make sure the characters weren't too OOC.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

When they all exited the portal at first, they didn’t inherently assume there was a problem with the land in front of them. The trees were all the same. The sounds of the river happened to be closer than they thought; but they were already accustomed to moving between many, many years as well. The terrain lives as much as the people do. That river could have been there for hundreds of years, or it could be a new development. It would be hard to say.

The only thing that they had to tip them off was the acrid and bitter taste to the air around them. 

Hyrule’s air was sweet. The inherent magic of the land had permeated through the air itself, giving it the taste of sugar or rock candy. It was soft on the senses and invigorating to the soul.

The air here was nothing of the sort. 

Sky coughs to the side, wheezing and bending down in an effort to catch his breath. Warrior is instantly by his side, patting his back and offering what support he can.

“Do you guys hear that?” Twilight relatively puts his hand on the hilt of his sword.

It had been relatively quiet until Sky had lost his breath. No one had noticed anything. They all go still once Twilight speaks, going in edge without a second thought.

You step forward from the portal at last, letting it close behind you without looking back. You take a deep breath and seem to relax almost at once. “Oh.. it smells like home.”

All eyes turn to you.

“What is that supposed to-”

BAM!

Suddenly a large creature barrels out of the treeline, heading right for the group. It’s a huge four legged beast, covered in feathers with the face of an owl. It roars defiantly, shaking the ground as it charges.

You don’t hesitate, throwing spells left and right as the boys struggle to get their bearings on the beast. You also charge the beast, slashing it with your blade without a second thought. Twilight follows on your heels, having somehow gathered that there was a creature nearby before you even arrived on the scene.

One by one, the boys all begin to pull their weight and fight back this strange creature that they had never seen before. It roars, throwing back each of them. Four crashes into a tree. Legend gets a gnarly slash on his arm from the beak of the beast. You slide closer, using the momentum from a push that allows you to slide under the creature, slicing it from below.

The battle doesn’t take much longer after that.

“What…” Wild pants, haphazardly throwing magic potions at Hyrule so he could heal the others. “-wa  that?!”

“Owlbear.” You wipe the sweat from your brow. “I’m not sure where we are exactly but I can tell you this-.”

“There you are, Darling.” A low growl comes from the man that approaches your group. He’s pale, unnaturally so. His white seems to be parted over to one side. His clothes flair around his wrists and neck, the deep cut of his shirt accentuating his diamond cut muscles. His red eyes are piercing with no amount of humor in them despite his earlier tone.

You flinch and grimace. “....I can explain.”

“Oh, you will.” He glares. “Do you have any idea how long we were looking for you?”

“Astarion-”

“That blasted wizzard Gale wouldn’t shut up about finding you.” He crosses his arms, putting one of his hands up, curling his fingers like a diva. “And don’t even get me started on Scratch. The bloody hound was even worse. And mutt can’t even talk.”

That last one was like a slap to your face. “I can explain what happened.”

“Well then, by all means!” Astarion opens his arms with a flourish. “Be my guest. You can start with why you’re surrounded by half elf children who smell like pixies.”

You huff and put your hand on your hips. Ignoring his jab at the boys next to you, you turn to your friends and gesture to the vampire. “Guys, this is Astarion. A friend of mine. Astarion, these are the Heroes of Hyrule. These are the ones that I’ve been traveling with while I’ve been gone.”

“He seemed very concerned over your disappearance.” Legend rolls his eyes, tugging it away from Hyrule’s grip as the healing spell ends.

“Stop it.” You point at the Vet, with a stern glare. ”Don’t you start. He has seniority.” 

“I’m not old.” He turns his head as he grumbles. “I’m only a few hundred years old. Honestly. It’s a lot less than a few others can say and you know it!”

You bite back a smile and point to the dead owlbear in the vicinity. You’ve missed his attitude. It’s both hard to take him seriously sometimes and all too easy to talk to him. “Yours, I presume?”

“It was going to be.” He says tensely, looking at the group around you. You instantly know why he’s apprehensive.

“It still can be!” You say, gesturing wildly to the corpse of the owlbear. “It’s not like I want it! Are the others nearby?”

He puts his hands on his hips. “We’re camped close enough.”

Arf! Arf! Arf!

You perk up at once, the barking making even Link’s head look in the direction of the sound. You jump up, flinging two of your fingers to your lips and release a shrill whistle.

A white dog comes bounding out of the underbrush at the call, b-lining right to you without so much as a second glance at the newcomers you’ve brought into the world.

“Scratch!” You catch the dog, petting him with complete adoration. The dog continues to bark, his tail wagging wildly enough to sprain it later if the poor thing keeps this up. 

“I’ve missed you so much, buddy! You’re such a good boy! I’m so sorry I left so suddenly. I have so many new treats for you!” You cry out, wrestling with the creature playfully. Wind, Time and Sky all come closer to say their hellos to the dog. Scratch was a bit wary at first, no doubt confused by their strange smells, but your confidence helped put the animal to ease. New friends are still friends after all!

“Hello? Astarion? Are you here?” Another familiar voice calls from the tree line. “Scratch took off like a bat out of the seven hells after we noticed we were gone.”

“Gale!” You jump up, running to meet your friend halfway before he could come out into the clearing.

Astarion makes his way over to the owlbear to feed at last now that everyone’s attention is on someone else for a change.

The brunette screams when he sees you, startling the cat off of his shoulders. He cries out your name and hugs you fiercely. Enough so that the sound of the thunk had Warrior and Legend wincing on your behalf. “It has been too long! Where on Faerûn did you go running off to?”

“Gale.” You laugh. “You’re not going to believe half of the magic I’ve witnessed in the past few months I’ve been away.”

“Months?!” He jolts and grabs you by your shoulders. ”My dear it’s only been three weeks! What do you mean months!?”

This causes you and the group of heroes behind you to freeze. Your jaw drops as you equally hold Gale at an arm's length from you. “...Gale, what are you sure? I’ve been gone for three months, at least. …Admittedly, I haven’t been exactly counting, but it’s certainly been more than three weeks.”

“No, no… It’s been three weeks.” He says softly. “...My goodness, this is certainly worth discussing over a cup of tea. Come come come. You and your-” He pauses and looks over the gang of Hylians that all looks around feeling incredibly misplaced. “-...friends. And we can all have lunch!”

“Um- actually, Gale, I don’t know if they can eat-”

“Allergies?”

“No, no- they’re just from another world-”

“Another world?!”

“Yes!”

“Oh that’s splendid! All the more reason to behave as good hosts should!” Gale gets a familiar gleam in his eye and you fear that you’ve awakened the slumbering scholar. “That is of course if they don’t mind answering some questions.”

“...It’s Shad. That’s who he’s reminding me of.” Twilight deadpans.

“Oh, do you cook the food?” Wild asks hesitantly. “...I’m the cook of the group. I don’t mind filling in to feed us since I don’t think it would be very polite of us to use up your resources. I’ll just need the fire.”

“We can both make dishes of our worlds and then compare for sake of sharing a meal with one another.” Gale all but jumps around in glee, picking up his cat and placing her back on his shoulders. You can already see him trying Wild’s cooking and taking notes like the nerd he is. “Come Tara! We must welcome our new guests!”

You sigh and call the group to follow. “We might as well. There’s others I want you to meet.”

“Like your friend Shadowheart that you’ve mentioned once or twice?” Four tilts his head, running up to catch up to you as you begin to leave.

“Yes, exactly.” You grin. “She’s going to yell at me, I’m sure.”

“She sounds delightful.” Hyrule ruffles his hair.

“Don’t take too long, Astarion! Or you’ll miss out on the chaos!” You grin as you yell that over your shoulder, not commenting on that. You see him lean away from the owlbear, the faintest hint of blood on his lips. “Be there in a moment!”

Wind tugs on your tunic in haste. “Is that-”

“He’s fine.” You wave off the child’s concerns. “...In every way that it counts.”

“Oh please tell me not another one.” Legend groans. “The Captain is bad enough.”

“Hey!”

“He knows it.” You laugh, patting your thigh to signal for Scratch to follow you. “Come on, Gale will no doubt want to take your ear off.”

“So long as they know that we mean no harm.” Time says as he walks behind the group on your other side. “We’re not here to make enemies. It wasn’t our intention to come here at all.”

“It’ll be fine.” You stress.

At the very least, you hope it will be.

[jester-lover]

Reverse of the ask where TWST bois pick the reader up: Reader is surprisingly strong and scoops *them* up.

I think the bigger the dude, the funnier, but Riddle’s reaction would be hilarious to me as well.

Somewhere in the distance, Ashton Vargas just found his new favorite student…

OG Post! Something similar for the Jack fans!

Buff Girlfriend Casually Lifting Them

Featuring! - Riddle, Jack, Malleus, Sebek

CWs/ Fem! Reader, fluff, humor

Riddle

“Unhand me at once!”

Riddle is shocked, appalled, and redder than a strawberry the second he feels you hook your hands under his knees and neck and pick him up like a bride. His hands immediately flail around and land around your shoulders, increasing his embarrassment tenfold.

His demands quiet down once the shock of the situation soaks in. His girlfriend is lifting him up and carrying him around like he weighs nothing. He has always been aware that you’re physically strong, but he didn’t know you were this strong!

Riddle usually won’t like being carried, but on the rare occasion, after a long day of school and his duties, he’ll ask for a piggyback ride back to his room. He’ll use a very standoffish tone while asking, but the way that he presses his head against the back of your shoulder lets you know he likes it.

Jack

He is so flabbergasted. Jack is in shock.

While he is aware that you’re into fitness—maybe the two of you even train together—he never knew you were this swole.

Jack is blushing; if you look close enough, his hands are shaking. He’s just realized he’s found the ideal woman for him—kind, gentle, who could break him in half like a pixie stick…

Bragging isn’t in his principles, but he might have to gloat a little bit with his track teammates when you’re literally running around with him thrown over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I mean, you’re not even exerting that much energy; he’s astounded!

Jack will (very quietly) ask for you to lift him again, just because he can’t believe it and he needs confirmation that he didn’t just make up the situation in his brain.

“Wanna join me for my morning run? It’ll be good cardio.”

Malleus

He’s getting the princess treatment. Very happy to know he’s your favorite lizard.

Since Malleus is very tall and imposing, he’s not used to such blatant displays of affection.

Having a physically stronger girlfriend would be a point of great pride for Malleus, particularly if you were a human, because then your strength would have been something you'd worked hard on. Something you’ve earned.

Being carried around is no problem for him; he may laugh a little at your strange human whimsy, but he happily agrees to being carried about at any time.

By any time, I mean any time. You could pick him up in the middle of a crowded campus hallway, and he’d just wrap his arms around you, place his head on your shoulder, and let you lead the way.

“Child of Man, be sure to drop me off at my alchemy class; perhaps I’ll let you pick me up and take me to Spelldrive Practice afterwords…”

Sebek

“How dare you, human!”

Sebek is appalled at the absolute gall you’ve got to have to do something so unabashedly romantic; don’t you see he’s too repressed for something so affectionate?

His face turns so red, and he tries to shake out of your ridiculously strong vice grip. Once he leaps off of you, get ready for an hour-long lecture. Sebek is shaking in his boots, explaining to you how inappropriate your actions were and how if you wanted his attention, there were better methods.

Midway through, he kind of realizes how hot it was that you were literally able to pick him up and carry him away like it was no problem, which makes Sebek quieter than you’ve ever seen him before, contemplating his words.

He quietly asks you to pick him up again because he wants to test your human endurance! (Ignore the way his eyes lock in on your defined shoulders, okay?)

[descendantsramblings]

Sunday Night

Morgie le Fay x Pixie!Reader

Pronouns Used: she/her/hers

Summary: After his friends let him down Morgie runs to his girlfriend for comfort and she convinces him to come try meeting her friends instead. (slightly inspired by that post about how Morgie would be sweeter than Bridget if the AKs took him in instead of the Vks)

Warnings: Sfw dominance (she does undo his scarf and shirt for him though), reader is a touch possessive, Morgie is a touch insecure, a few swears here and there, Uliana and the crew treat Morgie awfully, a touch of angst/ hurt/comfort, the reader snaps and then literally throws Uli, literally so many pet names (Mainly used by the reader), Morgie has mommy issues (If Morgana won't properly baby Morgie his gf will).

Word Count: 3.6K

Left, right, down, flick! 

      On any normal Sunday night, Morgie would be tucked around his girlfriend as she did her weekend homework. Sat in her lap with his legs dangling behind her and his face tucked into her neck as she worked, whining for her to finish her work faster. Her reading the things she was studying out loud to him if they both took the class, in hopes of helping raise his grades (something he’d hate to admit was actually working).  He’d laugh when she was finally done, dragging her to the bathroom connecting her dorm to her neighbor’s with excitement so they could do skin care together. Sundays, to the pixie, were for preparing for the week. They existed to prepare yourself for what the week had ready to throw at you, both physically and mentally. For her boyfriend, Sundays were for being babied by his girlfriend, and she’d never tell him otherwise. It was her favorite part of their relationship and anyone who knew her knew it. She’d grown too used to the feeling of having gentle kisses placed on her shoulder and neck while she worked; to sit there without them was driving her crazy. Maybe she owed her boyfriend an apology, always teasing him that she couldn’t focus when he was sat on her lap. Turns out, Morgie might have been the only thing keeping her focused. Somehow the pixie had made her one hour of homework turn into two and a half as she kept letting her eyes flicker to her door. Willing her boyfriend to appear behind the wood.

    Left, right, down, flick! 

   Finally she succeeds in making the stupid pillow in the center of her bed fly back to its set spot on the headboard. It wasn’t exactly the spell in how they’d do it for the test on Tuesday but she hoped it would be close enough. Morgie would’ve cheered for her by now, groaning out a teasing “finally” beforehand. She didn’t realize how much she’d miss that with him gone for only one weekend.

    It made her feel selfish in a way, she got an invite to the birthday party that Morgie was throwing for Uliana tonight. But he knew the second he extended it that she’d never take it.  Maybe if the party was for Hook she’d be there, she might even grin and bare it for Maleficent if she had to. But her hatred for the sea witch stopped her from being willing to go, even in support of her sweet boyfriend. (Y/n) regretted that now, realizing just how much her Sunday nights depended on him. Sundays were supposed to be the day that she excitedly waits for all week, instead it left her feeling lonely. The Black Lagoon wasn’t that far, she could go now. It wouldn’t draw too much attention if she just slipped in now. There’s a moment, as her lip rests between her teeth and her fingers drum on the desk in front of her that she considers this. How long was Morgie planning to keep the party going? Did she have the time to get an outfit on and get to the Lagoon before it was over? With the way Hook partied, there had to be. But how would Uliana react if she showed up without a gift? Did she really want to deal with that? And what would she even wear? One of Morgie’s nice button ups should be hanging in her closet, surely she could find something to do with that if she wanted to. 

     Her fleece blanket starts to slip down her shoulders and she reaches up to grab it, pulling it back up her arms, solidifying her choice for her. She wanted to be with the person she loved, even if she had to deal with assholes too. Not that she’d get the time to get ready though, instead stilled as a shallow knock hits the hollow wood of her dorm room’s door. 

     She could recognize the sound trying to be the way that her boyfriend knocked. The familiar two knocks, pause, one knock, pause, three knocks that she heard multiple times a week but it was too timid. (Y/n) pauses, heading to her door with furrowed brows. Her eyes drink him in, looking over the person she had just longed for with a new heat bubbling in her chest. Hazel eyes gleamed a little too green in the bloodshot and wet sockets that held them, making the color stand out against a splotchy red and tear stained face. “Oh, Darling,” she reaches out for him, pulling him in the room and closing the door behind him. Morgie opens his mouth to respond, letting it fall closed when the only thing he can manage to get out is a voice crack. He sits down on her desk, hands pressed to the cold, polished wood as he lets out a slow, shaky breath. She slots herself between his legs, soft hands cradling his face as she wipes away the stray tears that still clung to his soft, heated skin. The sorcerer's hands slot onto her waist, clinging to her as if she’d float away. Or maybe using her touch to ground himself, she couldn’t be quite sure if she was honest.   

     “What happened, sweetness? Who upset my boy?” The corners of his lips flicker up for a moment as she coos at him, eyes scanning over her face. “She,” his voice cuts out and he pulls her closer, letting his forehead lean gently against her shoulder, “Why do I try?” Her arms wrap around his shoulders to hold him, one hand resting on his back while the other softly scratches at his scalp. Morgie relaxes slightly into his girlfriend’s touch, fingers toying with the hem of her pajama top as he tries to steady his breathing. “What did she do, Darling?” (Y/n) does her best to keep her voice gentle, her focus had to be on him right now, not whoever hurt him. 

     “None of them showed up, they were all at Uliana’s dorm instead. They all forgot I planned a party for her,” he pulls back slightly from her shoulder so he could look at her, “They all forgot about plans we’d had for a month and then didn’t even invite me to their other plans.” Uliana hadn't forgotten, that's something the pixie was sure of. Her hand on the back of his head slides down to cup his jaw, forcing him to keep eye contact with her. “Oh Morgz,” she breathes, doing her best to keep her face even as she looks him over, “You put so much effort into that party.” He lets his eyes flicker from hers, “I just want them to see me. Wanted to, I don’t know.” He nearly whines as she lets go of his face, hands instead moving to his scarf. Undoing the fabric and placing it down on the table beside him. Fingers moving back to his neck, with her thumbs brushing over his now exposed flesh in gentle circling motions. An action that made him relax into her touch with a needy whine and closed eyes. 

     “I hate the way they treat you,” her voice is soft, eyes ghosting over him, “You’re too sweet to hang around villains.” He hums, “It’s better than when the hero kids were just staring at me all the time. They’re the only people who would take me in. Ya know, my mom and all.” Hazel eyes flicker back open to look up at her again, “Other than you. Sometimes I don’t know why you want me around when even my friends don’t.” That one was a stab into the chest, they’d made him so insecure that he didn’t even think she wanted him around? Because what? His shitty friends that treat him like a dog didn’t? That was her boy, how dare they make him feel that way? 

      “Oh no Sir,” (Y/n) gasps, her hands falling down to the buttons on his shirt, “Don’t you dare think like that.” “Why not?” His eyes are still glassy as he stares at her, voice weak and soft. Her fingers start to work over the buttons and Morgie leans back to give her better access to them. “Because,” she hums, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his collarbone, “Unlike those idiots,” another kiss is pressed to his shoulder as she pulls the fabric off them, “I know that you’re better than how they have ever dared to let themselves see you.” She presses a kiss to the column of his neck, “I know that you’re funny,” another kiss to his jaw, “And gentle,” his cheek, “Kind,” his forehead, “and so much better than they are in every way.” As she got further up on his exposed skin she could taste the salt that lingered on it, a mix of the misty air at the black lagoon and the tears staining his cheeks. She presses her lips to his nose next, “I know you deserve more than your friends, and your mom, have ever given you.” Another kiss to his other cheek, “And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I will want you forever because I am so proud to be your girl.” A final gentle kiss to his chin, “Because I am so proud of you.” 

     His hand slots forward against her jaw, pulling her down into a real kiss. It’s needy, lips working against each other’s with passion. Rough and emotional and raw as if he needed her. He did, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he did need her. The way her hands rested on him like his body was made for her to hold onto, how her voice sounded like an angel’s choir. Everything about her seemed to set him on fire, and he loved to burn. She was proud of him. She took pride in people knowing he was hers.  “Do you,” he’s a touch breathless as he pulls away, letting a hand fall to one of hers that rests on his bare chest, “Do you mean that?” She hums, nodding her head as she softly cradles his face, “I’ll mean it forever, Darling.” His face leans against her palm, nuzzling against it. “How about you get some of your pajamas out of the drawer and come meet me in the bathroom to do skincare, huh? Let me get you all cleaned up?” 

    He nods, letting his grip slip off of her, his eyes following her as she walks away. Paying close attention to every detail of her as if trying to mark her into his memory. The black and gold shorts she had on, the forest green tee shirt that nearly covered them, decked out in colors he loved as if she was dressed for him. Surely that was one of his shirts, not that he’d complain.  She could take all of his clothes if she wanted, he’d get more. Drinking in the soft bounce in her step that made it seem as if she’d take flight at any given moment. Sometimes he saw himself as lucky that she couldn’t, he could barely get close enough with them both bound to the ground, he’d hate it if she was able to fly. “I can feel your eyes on me, Sweetie, best get changed.” He nods seemingly to himself as he slides off of the surface and over to her dresser, toeing off his shoes as he goes. Hands reaching out for the top drawer of her dresser, grabbing a golden toned tee shirt and dragging it over his head. He shuffles through the drawer as he uses one hand to undo his pants, letting them drop as he finds the pair of sweat shorts he’s looking for and pulls them on. 

     Morgie makes a b line from her dresser to her bathroom after that, letting his hands slot back onto her waist the second he reaches her. “Took you long enough, Darling,” she turns in his arms with a wet rag, softly brushing it over his face. “I wanted to make you miss me.” She hums, dropping some of her face wash into her hands and rubbing them together before touching them to his face. Her fingertips work soft circles over his skin, gently rubbing off the salt on his skin. He leans into her touch, enjoying each and every gentle touch or teasing word that she’d give him. Any ounce of praise or affection had him falling deeper and deeper for her. “I missed you all night, no need to prolong it,” she presses a quick peck to his lips as she finishes rinsing his face off, “There we go.” He smiles, reaching behind her to grab her face mask brush and the small container. “Can I put yours on?” She bites her lip, eyes flickering from the arabian mud mask he’s delicately holding to the excited look on his face. “Do not get it in my eyebrows this time, Morgz.” “Ma’am yes ma’am,” gives her a playful salute, smiling as he watches her climb up on her sink, beckoning for him to start. 

                           ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

    “You staying with me tonight?” (Y/n) finally asks as she taps his eye cream onto his under eyes. Usually it wouldn’t be a question, Morgie loved to sleep over and she loved to have him. It wasn’t like there was much time to be all over each other in any other scenario. The VKs hated that they were together at all, let alone how much she “babied” him. So on the rare occasions he got her to come hang out with them the most they did was sit with interlocked pinkies or his arm around her waist or shoulders when he much preferred to cling to her. And with the way that his friends acted towards hers, Morgie was scared to be around them for too long. But with how upset he’d been, (Y/n) didn’t want to make any assumptions, his friends could be a touchy subject.

     “Do you want me to?” She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck, “If it was up to me, we’d be roommates, Sweetie. You know that.” Morgie nods, his lip finding its way between his teeth as he looks up at her from his place between her legs. “Sweetness,” she coos, prompting him to look her in the eyes. “Can I request something from you?” “Anything,” he moves closer, his hands falling lazily to her hips as he hangs onto her words. “How about you ditch your friends tomorrow? Come hang out with me and my friends.” He doesn’t respond, pulling away from her. “Morgie.” He looks to her with big eyes, “Can we go lay down please?” 

    (Y/n) slides off the bathroom counter with a sigh, following him to her room. She lays down, opening her arms for him to come lay on her chest. Morgie’s face fits into the curve of her neck, as if he was built for it, arms wrapping around her to pull her as close as he can. Humming as he feels her hand softly start scratching at his scalp, pressing a needy little kiss to her neck. “Pretty boy,” her hand slips up under his shirt as she talks, tickling his skin. “Yes, baby?” “I’m serious, you should come out with us tomorrow. You’re not a villain, why keep hanging around them if they don’t even treat you right?” “Because, my mom is a villain.” She tuts, gripping his hair slightly to pull his head back. Eyes searching his as he patiently waits on what she has to say. “Morgie le Fay, you are not your mother.” He opens his mouth to argue but lets it fall back closed. Instead settling back into her neck. “One day, and if they hate me then I’m staying with my friends.” 

     She hums, deciding not to argue with him. Her friends would love him, sure Ella might have her qualms but Bridget accepts everyone with open arms. And Charming was cool enough, he could get along with anyone. He could have better people hang around him than a sea witch who uses him and her crew of lackeys. But the conversation dies, (Y/n) instead focusing on scratching his head, humming to him as she soothes her lover to sleep. Morgie tries to ignore the nerves in his stomach, falling into a tranquil state as his mind begins to focus on her. He notices the way she hums “So This Is Love”, a sweet little love song that he’d only ever admit to her was his favorite. His girlfriend had him exactly where she wanted him and they both knew it. 

                           ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

    Morgie came to realize how ridiculous his nerves were when he actually sat down with her friends at lunch the next day. “Ladies, Charming,” she bows to both of the playfully before putting an arm around her boyfriend’s waist, “Hope you don’t mind but I wanted to bring my boyfriend today.” Charming gives him a slight nod, as Bridget reaches over to place a cupcake in front of the boy. “Oh,” he takes it, eyeing the pretty pink frosting and chocolate pearls that decorate the top of the  rich red cake, “Thank you.” “Of course,” she chirps, sitting back in her spot between (Y/n) and Ella, “(Y/n) talks about you all the time. I’m so glad you finally decided to give us a chance. She’s always going on and on about how sweet you are and how your friends don’t deserve you.”  His eyes cut to her, taking in the soft blushed hue that warms her cheeks. “Bridget, please,” she whines, letting her face nuzzle into his shoulder. 

     “You talk about me when I’m not around?” Ella rolls her eyes, “She never shuts up about you. You’re like,” she waves her hand as she talks, “Her only conversation topic.” (Y/n) pulls away from her boyfriend’s shoulder to glare at her friend, “As if you’re any better without Charming around.” “Hey!”  Her friends are more playful than his, teasingly pushing each other, but never enough to hurt them. Sharing snacks and homework answers, warning each other about stupid questions on tests. Is this what normal friends were like? Morgie couldn’t help but fear that he’d been missing out. 

     “There you are,” the thick accent causes all five of them to turn. The villains are standing behind them, looking over the couple with distaste. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here?” Uliana raises an eyebrow as she stares him down. “I,” he tries to explain himself but he has no clue what to say to her. “Well? You what?” 

     “He’s ditching you,” the words are so perky and sugary sweet you’d think she didn’t know what they meant, “Isn’t that your little group’s thing? Ditching people and leaving them out?” Uliana laughs, shaking her head as she turns to the pixie, “No one was talking to you. And even if I was, what I do is not your concern. He answers to me, he should be with my group. Not running around with your pathetic little friends.” There’s a visible shift in her as she untangles herself from Morgie, back straightening and shoulders stiffening. A grin that rivaled only the Cheshire cat stretches across her face, body turning in her seat to properly face the little group. “Pathetic?” “Yeah,” she says as if talking to a toddler, “Pathetic. I’m sure Morgie would need the definition but I thought you were smarter than that.” 

     Uliana doesn’t see the soft silver glow around the girl’s hand as she lifts it. “You wanna see pathetic, Uli?” She flicks her wrist up, sending the sea witch floating up into the air. “What’s pathetic,” she  rotates her wrist to flip the girl upside down, “Is needing to be cruel to everyone, including people who only want to please you, just so you can feel good about yourself in comparison.” “Aye Lass, put her down,” Hook interjects and (Y/n)’s head shoots to the side to look at him. “You wanna join her, fishbait?” His hands fly up, stepping back in surrender.  So she turns her attention back to the sea witch as she moves her hand, angling Uliana to the bushes on the edge of the courtyard. “You’re so insecure that everyone in this school can feel it. Maybe this year can change that for you, happy birthday,” she flings her wrist forward sending the sea witch flying into the bushes. Her friends run after her, leaving the lunch table in the dust as they go to check on her. 

     “(Y/n)!” Bridget’s voice rings out, making her turn back to her own friends. “You could’ve hurt her!” “Oh please, Bridge, she’ll be fine. It’s amazing she even went that far with how gently I threw her. She needed someone to knock her down a peg.” Her eyes flicker to Morgie, his hazel eyes a mix of worry and adoration. “Plus, she called the people I love pathetic. No one is going to disrespect the people I love.” He reaches out for her, face leaning on her shoulder as he clings to her, “She’s gonna make your year awful now, you know that, right?” She laughs, snaking an arm around him, “Of course she is. Unlucky for her though, I have someone who knows her way of thinking on my side. And even if I didn’t, she’s as scary as a seapony.”

[gamblersdoll]

Could u write a sukuna fluff where he helps reader take down her braids and do her wash day 🙈

“and why do you need my help?” he asks, cheek resting on his knuckles as he looks down onto you. “sounds like a task you can do on your own.”

“you said- nevermind, forget it.” you said, walking off and into your own quarters, having a quick mumble rant about how sukuna can be such a ass, asking him help was fucking pointless.

after about half an hour later, you only had maybe about ten braids down.. when you had about a hundred of them bitches. you were already tired, going through the ‘i could rock a pixie cut or bald’ stage of your routine.

“this is all you got done after thirty minutes?” he rumbled, scaring you to no end. “you havent gotten used to me just lurking around?”

“well, i could be almost done if someone could help.”

he rolls his eyes, mumbling about how you were a brat and always had to have it your way. he stands over you.. only making you realize how giant he was, adding context.

“you–“

“ im not dumb, woman.” he said, taking a braid and taking a rattail comb, starting from the bottom. you certain had no complaints, just doing the opposite side and staying quiet.

and would you look at that, you were done after two hours.

“anything you got to say, brat?”he bends to your level, a expectant look on his face. you roll your eyes, hard and you kiss his cheek.

“thank you for helping me take out my hair.” you grumble, fuck the king of curses and that bullshit. he could go fuck himself, so much of you both being ‘equal.’

“do you want me to help wash your hair too, pup?” he teases in a ass manner, but you knew there wasnt any harm.

“i mean since youre offering..”

“that was not an offer!”

[fa1rydr3ams]

“Holiday Wars”

Submissive Loki Laufeyson x Dom Gn! Reader

| cw: nsfw, humor, mild language, enemies-to-lovers tension

| a/n: day 19 of ficmas check the ficmas tab on the pixie list for the next update!

| wc: n/a

The moment you stepped into the main floor of Stark Tower, you could feel the tension thick enough to rival the snowstorm raging outside. Strings of half-hung lights dangled precariously from the ceiling, and boxes of ornaments were scattered across the room like abandoned chess pieces in a game you weren’t winning. Loki stood in the middle of the chaos, arms folded, his sharp features set in an expression of pure disdain.

“You call this festive?” he drawled, his British lilt dripping with derision as he gestured at the half-decorated room. “It looks like a reindeer vomited on the walls.”

“And yet you’re the one standing there doing absolutely nothing to fix it,” you shot back, dropping the box of decorations you’d been hauling onto the nearest table. You rolled your shoulders, already exhausted, though it wasn’t from the decorating. Babysitting Loki was more draining than fighting off an alien invasion.

He smirked, the kind that made you want to hurl a candy cane at his stupidly perfect face. “I wasn’t aware that babysitting included manual labor. Though I must say, you do look fetching covered in tinsel.”

You glanced down at the stray strand of gold tinsel clinging to your sweater and brushed it off with a scowl. “If I wanted sass, I’d hang out with Tony,” you muttered. “Now, are you actually going to help, or are you just going to stand there and critique my hard work?”

Loki arched a brow, his pale green eyes glittering with amusement. “Why would I sully my hands with such trivialities when you seem so adept at it?”

The audacity of this man. You closed the distance between the two of you, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, heat prickling at the base of your neck. “You’re on house arrest, Laufeyson. You don’t exactly have the luxury of picking and choosing your duties.”

“I am hardly a servant,” he replied, the haughty tone of a prince slipping into his words. “And I have no intention of wasting my divine talents on—”

“Divine talents?” you interrupted, snorting. “You’ve been stuck here for weeks, and the only thing you’ve managed to do is annoy the hell out of everyone.”

His smirk widened. “A skill I’ve perfected, wouldn’t you agree?”

For a brief moment, the two of you stood locked in a silent battle, the twinkling lights around you casting playful shadows on his annoyingly sharp cheekbones. The air between you was charged, not unlike the static that zaps your fingertips when handling too much tinsel. And maybe, just maybe, there was something more simmering beneath the irritation.

“Fine,” you said, breaking the silence with an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re not going to help, you can at least hand me the ornaments while I fix your disaster of a garland.”

“Ordering me around now, are we?” he mused, taking a leisurely step closer. His voice dipped slightly, rich with suggestion. “I wonder what else you think you can command of me.”

You refused to give him the satisfaction of blushing, though his words sent a shiver down your spine. Plucking an ornament from the table, you shoved it into his hands. “Start with this. Then we’ll see how useful you really are.”

He leaned in, his lips quirking at the corners, his voice barely a whisper. “Oh, I assure you, darling. I can be very… useful.”

Your breath hitched, the space between you shrinking with every passing second. But you weren’t about to let Loki win this little game. Not yet.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to back down from the sultry edge in his voice or the spark dancing in his eyes. Instead, you smirked, stepping even closer until you were nearly toe-to-toe with him.

“Is that so?” you said, your tone light and teasing as you reached up and looped the end of a stray ribbon dangling from his collar around your finger. You gave it a playful tug, forcing him to dip his head just slightly. “Then prove it.”

Loki’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second—just enough for you to see the flicker of surprise before he quickly masked it with his usual arrogance. “You truly are a tyrant, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with something you couldn’t quite name.

“Takes one to know one,” you replied, releasing the ribbon with a flick of your wrist. You stepped around him, brushing your shoulder against his arm as you went. “Now, hang the damn ornament.”

You didn’t have to look back to know he was watching you. You could feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of it sending a thrill through you that you tried very hard to ignore. Loki Laufeyson might be infuriating, but he was also intoxicating in the worst way possible.

You busied yourself with the garland, trying to focus on fluffing the greenery and securing the strands that had come loose. But the sound of his footsteps behind you, slow and deliberate, made your hands falter.

“You know,” he said, his voice dangerously close to your ear, “I never thought mortal holidays could be so… stimulating.”

The way he said the word made your stomach flip. You turned your head slightly, finding him much closer than you expected, his breath warm against your skin.

“Careful, Loki,” you warned, though your voice lacked the bite you intended. “You might actually start enjoying yourself.”

He chuckled, low and rich, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I think I already am.”

The tension between you crackled like a yule log in the fire, and you knew you were walking a razor-thin line. Still, you couldn’t help but lean into it, just a little. Maybe it was the holiday spirit—or maybe it was the way his smirk softened ever so slightly when you met his gaze.

“You missed a spot,” you murmured, pointing to a bare patch of garland just above his shoulder.

“Did I?” he replied, but he made no move to step away.

“Mm-hmm.” You tilted your head, eyes locking with his as a daring smile curved your lips. “Guess you’ll have to fix it.”

The room felt too warm all of a sudden, the faint hum of Christmas music in the background fading as the space between you grew smaller.

As Loki's eyes sparkled with mischief, he slowly raised his hands, his fingers brushing against the garland. "I suppose I have no choice but to rectify this situation," he whispered, his voice low and husky, his breath dancing across your skin.

With a deliberate slowness, he began to weave the garland around the banister, his hands moving with an oddly sensual precision that made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but notice the way his fingers stroked the greenery, the gentle tug of the ribbon as he secured it in place.

The air was thick with tension, the silence between you punctuated only by the soft rustle of the garland and the distant sound of holiday music. You felt like you were drowning in the depths of his eyes, the blue seeming to darken.

Loki's gaze never wavered, his eyes holding yours captive as he stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing. You could feel the warmth of his body, the whisper of his breath on your skin, and your pulse began to pound in your veins like a drum.

The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a world of sparkling lights and forbidden desire. And as Loki's hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, you knew that this holiday decorating was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

As Loki's hand touched yours, a spark of electricity ran through your body, and you felt your heart skip a beat. The garland, once the focus of your attention, was now forgotten, dangling limply from the banister as you both stood there motionless.

You held Loki's gaze, your eyes locked onto his, as you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding him in place. His eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and anticipation, but he tried to pull away, a faint pout forming on his lips.

"Let me go," he said, his voice low and petulant, but his eyes betrayed him, flashing with a hint of excitement. You didn't release your grip, instead, you tugged him closer, your fingers tightening around his wrist.

"I think we've decorated enough for one day," you said, your voice low as you leaned in, your breath whispering against his ear. Loki's eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttering closed, and he let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing into yours.

But as your lips brushed against his, he jerked back, his eyes snapping open, a look of mock indignation on his face. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of annoyance and desire.

You just smiled, your lips curling up in a small grin, and pulled him back in, your tongue probing deeper into his mouth. Loki's body responded, his hands coming up to push against your chest, but his fingers curled into your shirt, holding on instead of pushing away.

As you deepened the kiss, Loki's eyes fluttered closed, his body melting into yours, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore his mouth. But even as he surrendered to the kiss, he still tried to maintain a semblance of control, his hands gripping your shirt, his fingers digging into your skin.

You could feel the tension in his body, the conflicting desires warring within him, and you knew that he was torn between wanting to resist and wanting to give in. But as the kiss grew more intense, Loki's resistance began to crumble, his body relaxing into yours, his lips softening, his tongue tangling with yours in a sensual dance.

As you broke apart for a moment, gasping for air, Loki's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with a fierce desire, but his lips still curled into a pout. "I didn't want to do that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but his eyes told a different story.

You smiled, a low, husky laugh escaping your lips as you gazed into Loki's eyes. "Is that true?" you teased, your voice barely above a whisper. "Your mouth certainly didn't make it seem that way." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "It seemed like you were enjoying yourself, like you couldn't get enough."

Loki's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desire, his face inches from yours. "Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and rough, but his body betrayed him, leaning in closer, his lips almost touching yours.

You chuckled, a soft, seductive sound, and Loki's eyes seemed to glaze over, his pupils dilating as he gazed into yours. You could see the conflict within him, the war between his desire for control and his desire for surrender. And you knew that you were winning, that he was slowly giving in to his desires.

Without another word, you leaned in, your lips capturing his in a fierce, possessive kiss. Loki's resistance crumbled, his body melting into yours, his lips softening, his tongue tangling with yours in a sensual dance. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. Loki gave in, completely and utterly, his body surrendering to yours, his lips, his tongue, his every fiber responding to your touch.

As you broke apart, gasping for air, Loki's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with a fierce, unspoken desire. You could see the surrender in his eyes, the acceptance of his own desires, and it only fueled your own passion.

Without a word, you took Loki's hand, pulling him towards the couch. He followed, his eyes never leaving yours, his body seeming to move of its own accord. You pushed him down onto the couch, his back against the cushions, and then you sat down on his lap, straddling him with your legs.

Loki's eyes flashed with surprise, but then his gaze dropped to your lips, and he seemed to forget all about his surroundings. His hands came up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heat, his desire, and it only made you want him more.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "You're so cute like this," you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

Loki's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and desire, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he seemed to melt into your touch, his body relaxing into yours. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

You smiled, a slow, inviting smile, and then leaned in, your lips capturing his in a fierce, possessive kiss. Loki's body arched up, his hips pressing against yours, and you could feel the desire building between you, a desire that threatened to consume you both.

As you kissed, you could feel Loki's hands moving, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, the swell of your hips. You could feel his need, and thought he wouldn’t admit it, he wanted you. You were lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of Loki's body beneath yours, lost in the taste of his lips, the feel of his skin.

You pulled away one last time, your hand pulling through his long black hair, looking directly into his eyes. He looked between each eye, his gaze darting back and forth, and you could see him trying to focus his attention. For a moment, you just stared at each other, the only sound the heavy breathing and the pounding of your hearts.

Loki's eyes were glazed, his pupils dilated, and his face was flushed with desire. You could see the desire written all over his face, the need, the want, the surrender. And in that moment, you knew that you had him, completely and utterly.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, and whispered, "Good job, Loki." The words sent a shiver down his spine, and he smiled goofily, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the energy, and anticipation in his eyes.

suggestions for other fandoms I should write for after ficmas is over?

dividers by @anitalenia !

[dovesdreaming]

Soo, idk if ur still doing Harry Hook requests, but could you possibly do Harry Hook x reader who is the daughter of the cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland? And if you do, I would like it to be Head cannons pls!! :)

Your Cheshire Cat grin

Such a good request! I hope you enjoy what I wrote <3 sorry it took so long and that it’s not as long as it could be!!

Warnings: none

Not proofread

You and Harry as a pair were a dangerous combination. You constantly got into trouble together and would be asked where your other half was if you were seen without the other.

-Your relationship started from being friends and blossomed into a relationship. However your friendship consisted of a lot of flirting and people often mistook you for a couple any way.

-You match each others freak. There’s nothing more to say than that.

-You of course inherited your fathers smile and Harry loved it. He thought it was the right mix of cheeky and cute. He always made you laugh just to see your Cheshire Cat grin.

-Due to your father you also loved playing tricks on people and you often roped Harry in to help you. He would go along with anything you said though he was too lovestruck to care.

-You could disappear and reappear at will and used this to your advantage to confuse people. But you also were a bit lazy and skipped the walk from each class. Harry however would still insist to carry your bag like the gentleman he is.

-You had grown up in wonderland so of course you were slightly crazy but nothing you did ever fazed Harry even if other people were.

-Harry would love to visit wonderland with you and find out more about your childhood. He understood what is was like to grow up somewhere completely different to Auradon and the isle. He knew what it felt like when you were homesick and missed the comforts only your world offered. He would help out in anyway he could, trying to recreate certain foods or teas you had there, he just wanted to see you happy again.

-Harry would happily listen to any stories you had of wonderland and would grow to love the place almost as much as you.

-if you inherited powers to turn into a cat you would live to wonder around in this form. You would always catch Harry off guard and sometimes manage to scare him. Would love to play games of hide and seek Harry doesn’t know he’s part of.

-He would find you sunbathing on a window sill, completely unbothered by how worried he looked by him thinking you had gone missing.

-Would always be willing to protect you and put himself in danger for you.

-You would be classes as the oddball of Auradon (think the Luna lovegood of the school) yet he never took notice of the weird glances you got.

-You always seemed to be off in your dreamworld and he was fascinated by what was going on in your head

-You would happily visit neverland with him and got on with tinker bell very well, she might even lend you some pixie dust which Harry was quite jealous of.

-His friends were a bit confused by his interest in you at first but after spending more time with you saw how interesting you were as a person. You were conniving yet kind and it drew them to you. Harry was pleased that the people he cared about liked you, not nearly as much as he liked you though.

-Would always attend any tea party’s thrown in wonderland and would think they were the best party he had ever been to (though he hadn’t been to many in the first place)

-Found your style of purple clothing very attractive even if others didn’t. Loved how you were never scared to express yourself.

-Would never judge your whimsical behaviour in anyway and would always protect you from the weird glances thrown at you. He would love every part of you and nothing would ever change that.

Thank you for reading 🫶

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Real or not real?

Teaser

James Potter X reader. Slow burn. Warning for domestic abuse and neglect (Black family)(no Lily slander) Around 3.3k words? Fifth year start.

A Spotify playlist of some ambient music!

Autumn in the Scottish Highlands was, in itself a reason to attend Hogwarts. Blue September skies, speckled with wispy clouds. The falling bronze leaves and the red hued sunsets.

This was no less than a second home to most students. A safe haven if you will. It was good to be going home.

She had grown up with Sirius and Regulus so her regular residence wasn't much of a home. Her parents Ignatius and Lucretia (Black) Prewett had left her to Orion and Walburga often so they could travel around France. Noone actually knew where they would be or for how long they would travel. Only that they were always gone for indefinite amounts of time. They never sent letters, maybe an odd postcard or two. Y/N kept them hidden in a drawer in her room. (Call her sentimental if you will.) The terrible house of Black had adored her until she was sorted into Gryffindor along with Sirius. After that, they were both called blood traitors and treated as such. However, being someone else’s child, they treated her with less disdain than Sirius. That being said, they weren't the kindest of people, if at all.

Y/N would bring Sirius half her food when he would get sent to his room early without dinner. (which was quite often.) Sneaking things in her long sleeves and pockets whenever she could. Strangely, Kreacher had caught her once, but he said absolutely nothing and pretended that he saw nothing. (She would not forget this kindness.)

Things only escalated when they reached their, now, fifth year. Y/N always took her yellings, occasional threats, and hexes in silence whereas Sirius would fight back. In a way, she admired him for his bravery, knowing that he possessed the strength that she lacked. Whereas, his admiration for her resided in her refusal to back down, cry or beg. They had a mutual respect for one another. On another hand, she was somewhat envious of Regulus, he was apparently the perfect child who was, (seemingly) loved.

That was until she started to notice the bags under his eyes at the beginning of this year. She hadn’t really had the chance to talk to him, between Walburga’s looming presence and by the younger boy’s being sorted into Slytherin. However, she had the feeling he wasn’t exactly taking up his family ideals to heart.

Ever since fifth year began, Y/N and Sirius had never again called 12 Grimmauld Place home.

~

Y/N kicked her feet rhythmically, leaning her head on Lily Evans' shoulder. Their Hogwarts express compartment was filled with chatter, a welcome distraction from her thoughts. Somehow, over the past four years, she had been adopted into the gryffindor group of girls in her dormitory. Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas, had patiently and painstakingly, coaxed the girl out of her shell. Y/N was truly grateful for their friendship. In the beginning she couldn't help feeling that their kindness was based on pity. That had made it hard for her to trust them. This meant that before fifth year, she had never really interacted with them outside of the Gryffindor house dorms.

Marlene and Dorcras were pelting question after question at Alice, wanting to know the details of her crush on Frank Longbottom. Ever the curious couple, Y/N felt slightly glad that she wasn’t on the receiving end of their questions.

‘You’ll be “Alice Longbottom” one day.’ Y/N grinned teasingly at the girl with the pixie cut.

Alice laughed before shrugging good naturedly, 'We’ll see. Frank is awfully shy. I might have to be the one initiating everything.’

Marlene cut in with her arm around Dorcas, ever a picturesque couple. ‘And Lily’s last name will be “Potter!”’

Y/N stifled a giggle at the comment.

Lily gagged before letting out a sigh, ‘It’s not that Potter isn’t just a complete tool. I’m also just not into men.’

Y/N shrugged. ‘Yeah, you keep making eyes at Emmeline Vance during charms. It’s actually kind of sickening how adorable your pining face is.’

Lily flicked Y/N’s nose. ‘When are you going to start hanging out with us outside the dorms? All you do is go to the library or hide in the kitchens and bake while chatting with the elves.’

Dorcas pouted, adding, ‘You don't even sit with us during class!’

Y/N winced while casting her eyes down. Another thing, she really didn’t like drawing attention to herself or loud noises. Those things usually lead to shouting and maybe a raised hand back at Grimmauld Place. They caused an unpleasant reaction out of the girl.

‘I can’t do crowds, I really am sorry. It’s not that I don't want to, you’re all lovely but-’

‘That's alright, you take your time love. You'll come talk to the rest of us when you're ready.’ Alice gently reassured her, patting the girl beside her on the arm.

Y/N smiled gratefully. The girls weren’t at all pushy about getting Y/N to hang out with them. However, they did always ask. They wanted her to feel and be included. None of them ever took a rejection personally. It was what made Y/N lower her walls all the more.

Lily ruffled Y/N’s hair affectionately. The rest of the girls continued their chat whilst the introverted girl stared out the window, still leaning on Lily’s shoulder, taking in the view and enjoying the company. The dark pine trees that littered the lands surrounding all the lochs, glittered in the rare sunlight. She let out a soft sigh, allowing herself to relax, just for that moment.

~

The hustle and bustle of the students, all ecstatic to see each other again made Y/N giddy. She had, however, skipped the feast, opting to go say hello to all the elves who had finished preparing the feast. She particularly enjoyed Wigby’s desserts. (He was admittedly her favourite house elf.) He made the best sweets which led to Y/N learning all her baking skills from the friendly house elf.

The halls were electric with energy, almost tangible. This year Y/N and her friends were to be taking their O.W.L exams. To be honest, she was completely ready, having already studied up to the N.E.W.T level of all her subjects. Studying and reading at Hogwarts was her escape, truly. She padded into the first class, Potions. She slipped into the seat next to Lily, quickly giving the red haired girl a gentle squeeze on her hand and flashing a smile at the rest of the girls who greeted her enthusiastically. They had convinced her to sit with them during classes this year instead of her usual spot at the back away from prying eyes.

As they continued their conversation, Y/N unpacked her quill, and parchment while waiting for the lesson to start. As she doodled a small picture of a cauldron, a cocky voice crooned out. ‘Ah, my sweet girl, how I’ve missed- Who are you and why are you in my seat?’, James Potter. Lily’s self proclaimed “sweetheart” word vomited at the poor girl.

Y/N gripped the desk tightly, her knuckles turning white. Confrontation, how lovely. As much of an amusing topic of complaint he was that she had heard from conversation with the girls. He was completely unfamiliar to her. She found a spot on the table and stared at it with the utmost concentration, unable to bring her eyes to meet the owner of the voice. Lily also ignored the voice. Instead opting to cover Y/N’s hand with her own, continuing her conversation with Marlene, and Dorcas about the importance of studying for their O.W.L’s

‘Ah, you’ll survive the lesson James, come on,’ a voice drawled, waving James away. A voice which Y/N immediately recognised as belonging to Sirius.

Y/N looked up and turned around, wanting to meet Sirius’s eyes to mouth a, “Thank you” but her eyes met hazel ones instead.

‘Oh.’ James mumbled with wide eyes. He was standing right behind her, not having moved back to his actual “spot”.

Y/N’s eyes darted away immediately before finding Sirius’s. His eyebrows were raised with mirth and he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. She flashed him a small smile before turning around, basically ignoring James Potter. This was new. People didn't usually ignore him. They would at least retort with something witty, but to be completely silent?

‘Mr Potter, I trust you will be able to find your seat?’ Professor Slughorn called out, striding into the classroom, his large belly preceding him through the door. He was Y/N's favourite professor. He was kind to Lily and Y/N. (Probably due to their prowess in potions but nonetheless!)

‘Yes sir.’ James sat down without protest, his gaze lingering on her before his thoughts were interrupted by Professor Slughorn. He hadn’t noticed her before. How had he not noticed someone for four years?

‘Today, we will be assigning our first assignment of the year. An essay on polyjuice potion. Four weeks sounds like ample time does it not?’

As the professor announced their first assignment. James couldn't help but notice how Y/N avoided looking in any direction that wasn't the front or her notes. He leaned in close to Sirius, whispering just loud enough for him to hear amongst the groans of the class,

‘What's her deal?’ He asked, glancing at Y/N again.

Y/N dutifully jotted down the specifics of the assignment, (unbeknownst to her) under James’s gaze, allowing Lily to periodically glance at her notes. She whispered something into Lily’s ear to which the redhead smiled at her and nodded.

‘What are they whispering about?’ James nudged Sirius again.

‘Y/N probably asked if Lily wanted to pair up.’ Remus interrupted. ‘She is rather shy.’

‘You know her?’ James gaped at the sandy haired boy.

‘James, Y/N has been in our classes since first year. She just doesn’t really talk.’

‘Besides, you’re too busy pining over your “Lilypad” to really notice any other women.’ Sirius mused with his arms crossed, feeling slightly protective of his little cousin.

‘And how do you know her?’ James retorted. Ignoring Sirius's quip, however true it could have been.

‘She’s my cousin.’

‘Huh.’ Remus blinked.

‘You didn't know that?’ James glanced at Remus ‘I thought you knew her?’

‘No, I just know she’s practically topping almost every class, she doesn’t really speak to-’

‘Now boys, would you like to share your conversation with the rest of Gryffindor and Slytherin?’ Slughorn called out to the boys, his large walrus moustache twitched above his lip, the man seemingly amused by their chattering.

‘No sir.’ Remus replied evenly.

‘Well then! I shall announce the pairings for the assignment!’ He smiled merrily, ignoring the cries of protest from the rest of the class.

Y/N’s face paled and she whipped her head to look at Lily. Usually they were paired off in their seats, not randomly. Y/N had truly enjoyed his classes up till now but this? Suddenly Slughorn was rapidly losing his status as favourite professor.

Lily looked at her worriedly, “Lets just hear who you have to pair with. If it's someone obnoxious, we’ll go speak to the professor or I’ll swap with you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion at her friend's empathy.

‘I couldn’t ask that of you Lily.’ Y/N whispered, misty-eyed. Kindness was a luxury that Y/N had so often been not able to afford for so long. Seeing it up close and displayed just for her, she couldn't help but be slightly overwhelmed.

‘It’s okay, I’m the one who offered.’ Lily patted her arm, reassuring the fidgety girl.

‘If I could marry you Lily Evans, I would do it in a heartbeat.’ Y/N tugged at Lily’s sleeve, looking down bashfully.

‘Now if only you were into women.’ Lily grinned, squishing Y/N’s cheeks with her hands gently. ‘What a treat you would be.’

‘Lily!’ The shy girl pouted, batting away the other girl's hands playfully.

‘Ms Mckinnon, and Ms Meadowes,’ To which the couple let out a happy cheer.

‘James Potter, and Lily Evans,’ Lily slumped over immediately, letting her head rest onto the desk with a quite audible Thwump! To which Y/N giggled, at her sudden change in demeanour.

James was completely caught off guard when Professor Slughorn announced his partner for the assignment. He had been so preoccupied with the revelation of Y/N being related to Sirius and trying to figure her out that he hadn’t even been paying attention to the teacher. He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at Lily’s exaggerated head bang onto the desk after hearing her own partner. Before he could think of a witty comeback, he heard the next pairing.

‘Sirius Black, and Y/N Prewett.’ Y/N perked up, looking at Lily with bright eyes, shaking her head with a smile. This was one of the people she would be able to work with!

‘Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.’ The two boys subtly high fived. Strangely enough, James wasn’t making a huge fuss over being paired with Lily. Strange enough for even Y/N to take notice, though she refrained from commenting.

Remus took a side glance at James, he wasn't sure if he would regret asking his friend his question.

‘You're not ecstatic over being paired with Lily?’ Remus questioned.

‘I am, I just...’ James shook his head. At this point, he knew Lily wasn't into him. In fact, he wasn't even sure she liked men. He wasn't the only boy in Hogwarts to have ever asked her out. At this point, it was just a long bit and a way to keep other girls from approaching him.

Sirius smirked knowingly. He may have been a lazy student but he sure as hell wasn't stupid. He could tell that after third years incessant rejections, James had no desire to date LIly ever since.

‘Since you all feel the need to cheer at each pairing. I shall leave the list on the board and you can all cheer at the same time. Take this time to move into your pair and discuss your assignment. That'll be all for this lesson. Welcome back students.’ Slughorn's eyes glimmered with amusement, revealing the quip towards the class to be good natured. The professor sat back down at his seat as the class began to disperse once again into chatter and movement. He generously answered stray questions from the students who wandered to his desk in need of assistance.

Y/N stood up and walked over to Sirius’s desk and nudged his foot with her own. Grabbing his attention soundlessly.

Sirius gave her a genuine smile and shoved James with his shoulder.

‘Go over to your “Lily flower”. I’ve got to discuss the assignment with my partner.’

James blinked owlishly at Y/N, still taking in her very existence.

‘Sorry?’ Y/N whispered, looking at him hesitantly.

‘Quite alright,’ James nodded, standing up to walk towards Lily without his signature smirk.

Y/N sat down with Sirius and smiled shyly before asking, ‘Is Potter alright? I thought he would be thrilled to be up partnered with Lily?’

Sirius blinked, ‘You keep up with this stuff?’

Y/N tilted her head from side to side, ‘Not particularly, more like I listen to Lily complain in the dorms. It’s hard to miss. She says he's quite…’

‘Stubborn?’

‘We’ll go with that.’ She quickly agreed, not wanting to rat out her friend.

‘Hey so this means you finally have to talk to me outside of our house.’ Sirius teased.

Y/N grinned at him and retorted, ‘I’m not sharing my food with you here at home Sirius, we get plenty to eat here.’

They shared a smile. Knowing they had each other's backs even without constant catch ups was a good feeling. The unspoken bond they shared wasn’t obvious to outsiders, but Sirius and Y/N knew, and that was enough.

‘So, the assignment. We’re describing how to brew the potion, all the ingredients and for extra credit, we can list out the dangers of the potion such as the errors.’

Sirius sighed, ‘I’m not really good with the-’

‘You’re good at finding information, I’ll handle the writing, you just tell me the information and I’ll make it sound good!’ Y/N nodded excitedly.

‘What do you mean?’ Sirius stared blankly at the girl, completely unconvinced.

‘You always know where, how and who to prank! It's the same thing!’

‘It’s completely different.’ Sirius deadpanned.

‘Where did you learn the hair changing spell?’ Y/N crossed her arms.

‘In a transfiguration textbook. I was putting the books back in the library after Remus and oh-’ Sirius nodded slowly as he came to realise what the girl meant by being “good”.

‘See?’ Y/N smiled at him brilliantly, seeming proud of his (apparent) talent.

‘Y’know, this is nice, why don’t we do this more often.’

‘I don’t do-’

‘Crowds, yeah I know, and at the house, we’re too emotionally exhausted to talk.’

They both let out a heavy sigh before chuckling at their shared experience. Comfortable silences were rare, but with each other, the cousins were able to revel in each other's company. A truly unique connection formed by trauma. 'At least something good came out of it?' They had mused.

As the rest of the class chattered away, discussing the project or just gossiping, Y/N and Sirius decided to meet up after dinner that night and every wednesday. The pair knew they had Defence Against the Dark Arts next. Sirius offered to walk with her to class, to which she accepted gratefully, mentioning Lily and Alice would probably also be with her.

As the class began to filter out, Lily and Alice had walked over to Y/N to wait for her.

‘You’ve got DADA next, with us right?’ Alice beamed.

Y/N nodded, somewhat feeling excited to have people to walk to class with. Being with three people wouldn't be a crowd!

‘There's a new teacher this year!’ Lily supplied this new information.

‘Again?’ Y/N wrinkled her nose. It was rather strange actually, ever since professor Merrythought had retired, it seemed as if every Defence teacher had resigned after a year.

A rather strange situation, but, none of her concern.

‘Who is it?’ She asked as a passing question, not overly invested in the answer.

‘Some guy named Knittingley.’ Remus piped up from behind them, startling Y/N into almost dropping her books.

‘Sorry love,’ he grinned sheepishly, ‘you alright?’

‘Ah, you down right scared the poor thing, Remus. Now she won't ever talk to us again.’ Sirius whined before breaking into a cheeky smirk, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

Y/N considered throwing something at her relative but then decided it would be too much work and that her books weren’t made for throwing.

‘What’s the hold up?’ James questioned from the doorway, calling out to the group, ‘lets go, Peter’s already gone ahead.’

Suddenly it wasn’t only three people anymore.

Somehow, Y/N had been looped into walking to class with five other people. Technically five was a group, not really a crowd, right? Sirius had swung his arm over Y/N, as if preventing her from running away.

Lily and Alice were in the front, enthusiastically discussing the topics of the next class. They were fervently hoping that their first class wasn’t going to be a revision on Boggarts, as they knew it would be in the curriculum.

Meanwhile, in the back, James was asking Remus about something about mandrake leaves and cycles of the moon.

In the midst of her conversation with Sirius, their formation, Y/N noticed. It seemed like almost a barrier against other students? Y/N internally shook her head. Most likely a coincidence, right? Why would it be intentional?

Sirius was babbling on, about the effects of conditioner on hair and how he found it amusing that James would use one that had a charm to make his hair extra bouncy. Y/N had stiffened a chuckle at this while James whined as he heard this and protested that he needed the extra shine and bounce.

‘It makes me look nice!’

To which Y/N nodded along, looking at Sirius, not noticing that James had beamed when she seemingly agreed. Remus looked on with a rather pleased smile, his nose scrunching. He had always wanted to befriend the shy girl. Now that she had somehow mustered up the courage (been practically physically restrained) to keep up with their group. He, along with the rest of the group, was excited to witness this side of the girl they had never seen before.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, her fifth year would be the true beginning of her life at Hogwarts.

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

AND THATS CHAPTER 1 DONE! Lucky for you guys (all like 7 of you) I have the ENTIRE story planned out! All there is, is for me to flesh it out! Please like or comment if you'd like another part! (if not I'll still probably post it, I'm too excited about this!) This isn't inline with my Pethryn story line and I have taken some liberties! I'm sorry again if you don't particularly like this! We will be delving into Remus being a werewolf, the Marauders map and fleshing out Regulus and Snape's characters! (possibly Peter as well. I kinda hate that guy 🤬) ALSO YES THE TITLE IS LOOSELY INSPIRED BY THE HUNGER GAMES!

edit-

Okay, I changed my mind, I want this to be a long form fic- THIS IS NOW JUST THE TEASER

[desi2go]

Chaotic duo

pairing: Seungmin x reader

warning: best friends to lovers trope! fluff

Author's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGMIN <3

Seungmin and you had been best friends for as long as anyone could remember. From the moment you met in kindergarten, your bond had been instant—an unbreakable alliance fueled by a shared love of adventure, mischief, and an inability to sit still. Where one went, the other followed, and together, you became legends in your small town.

The first time you met was in the sandbox. Seungmin, with wild curls and a mischievous glint in his eyes, was building an elaborate castle. You, fiery and bold, with a pixie cut you insisted on because "long hair gets in the way of running," stomped right through it. Seungmin’s jaw dropped, and you had smiled, wide and unapologetic.

“You’re supposed to guard your castle, dummy,” you said with a big smirk.

Seungmin burst out laughing. “Wanna help me build a new one?”

From that moment, you two were inseparable—and utterly impossible to control.

As kids, you were the kind who put frogs in the teacher’s desk or replaced your school principal’s office chair with a whoopee cushion. Your greatest feat was sneaking into the local grocery store and rearranging all the items on the shelves so cereal was in the freezer and ice cream in the dry goods aisle. The townspeople shook their heads, half exasperated, half entertained, because no one couldn hate Seungmin and you. Together, you were the heart and soul of the town’s chaotic charm.

You weren’t malicious, just... menaces. You lit up every room you entered, your laughter infectious, and even when you were grounded for weeks, you still found ways to send secret notes to each other, plotting your next adventure.

Years passed, and the pranks only grew bolder. In middle school, you stole the mascot costume and replaced the halftime cheer with a ridiculous dance routine you made up on the spot. In high school, you snuck into prom, even though neither of you was on the planning committee, and switched the formal playlist with a collection of ridiculous 90s pop songs. The seniors were mortified.

Yet, even as you two caused chaos together, there was something else between you. Something neither of you wanted to admit.

Your friendship was so natural, so easy, that the idea of anything more felt terrifying. You were always the one who would punch Seungmin’s arm when he teased you, and Seungmin was the one who’d toss an arm around your shoulders whenever you were feeling down, pulling you into his side like you belonged there. You were perfect as you were—or at least that’s what you kept telling yourselfs.

But over time, things changed.

By the time you hit your early twenties, the teasing started to take on a different tone. Seungmin would get quiet, almost protective, whenever you went on dates with guys, though he’d never admit it. And you would grow jealous, prickly, every time Seungmin talked about a girl who caught his eye. You told yourselves it was nothing—just the awkwardness of growing up.

It started small.

You spent more time just talking. Late nights on your’s porch, staring at the stars, laughing about old memories, and dreaming about what came next. Seungmin would catch himself staring at you, wondering when your eyes had started to light up his world in a way no prank ever could. You found yourself lingering a little longer when he hugged you, the warmth of him becoming more than just comfort—it was something you craved.

Then came The Party.

The whole town had been buzzing for weeks about it—a summer bash at the lake, a chance for everyone to relax, drink, and dance. Seungmin and you, naturally, had come up with a scheme to make it memorable. You had spent the better part of a week planning how to replace the DJ’s playlist with an embarrassing collection of cheesy love songs and make all the floats in the lake mysteriously disappear.

But this time, something felt different. As you stood together by the bonfire, you leaning against his shoulder, your laughter bright against the crackling firelight, Seungmin felt the weight of all those unspoken words pressing against his chest.

Your’s hair were a mess, your cheeks flushed from the thrill of the night, and he thought you had never looked more beautiful.

Without thinking, he said, “You know, we’re gonna have to top that next year.”

You looked over at him, your grin wide. “Oh, I’ve already got ideas.”

But your voice was softer than usual. The banter didn’t have its usual bite. You turned to him fully, your eyes searching his.

You swallowed hard. The air between you was charged, full of unspoken feelings. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something enormous, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once. “Seungmin... I think—”

“I love you.”

The words came out before he could stop them. Seungmin's eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. You froze, your breath catching.

“I... I mean, I—” He stammered nervously, trying to take it back, but it was too late. The truth was out there, hanging between you like a storm cloud ready to burst.

You blinked, then did what you always did when faced with something huge: you laughed. But it wasn’t your usual laugh. It was softer, more vulnerable. “Took you long enough.”

Seungmin’s heart stopped beating all at once. “What?”

You grinned, reaching out to poke his arm like you always did. “I’ve loved you since the day I stomped on your sandcastle, idiot.”

He blinked, then broke into a wide, disbelieving smile. “Well, this changes things.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Then, before either of you could second-guess it, Seungmin leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and a little too eager, but it was you.

Full of energy, passion, and chaos. The kind of kiss that said, this is what we’ve been waiting for all along.

From that day forward, you were still the same old Seungmin and you. Still a menace to the town, still plotting your next big prank. But now, you did it all with an extra spark between you—the kind of spark that turned chaos into love.

[atinystaypixie]

Puppet Master

Summary: Your viewers love every sex product you make and are always excited to see you personally use and promote them on your stream. Your new sex doll is guaranteed to make them crazy. But, of course that's not all to it.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!, Sex streamer reader, loosely based on canon Choso, "sex doll" Choso, sex, Choso licks readers tears, Choso fucks readers throat, sex while standing, reader is denied orgasm once, NOT PROOFREAD

Word Count: 1.8k+

Everyone thank @calibabii21 because my mootie tootie is the only reason I didn't scrap this whole fic🥰

EXTREMELY late entry to Pixie's Spooktober

They loved every product you introduced to the market. No one had a better line of sex toys than you. The various sized dildos in different colors and shapes, the pocket pussies that felt all too real down to the warmth and wetness, the clit catering vibrators, the vibrating cock rings. There was something for everyone and you made it your dedication to expand on your products.

Fans couldn’t get enough of you especially when you were one to personally demonstrate your new toys. They waited eagerly every week for your lives to start. Every second had them on edge this week because they knew you were finally revealing your newest item. Your horny audience couldn’t wait to see what it was. You told them this would be like no other, something that you put a lot of time and effort into. There were comments already flooding in while the clock ticked, so many guesses on what you were going to reveal, so many eager bodies wanting to give you their money already.

Three, two, one….

“Hi, my lustful loves!” Your lingerie adorned body appeared on their screens greeting them with your bright smile. Someone so pretty making such dirty toys always was the part that drove them crazy. Many wished they were fucking you and some practically were. As a thank you for all the support, your milestone toy release was a limited edition replica of your cunt. They went crazy over it and you sold out within the first hour of the release. 

“As promised, I have a very special reveal today. This is the first of its kind and different from my usual products. I really can’t wait to see what you think.” Your body goes out of shot for a second before you are seen dragging a chair with a life-size figure in it. Chimes and comments roll in fast and it makes you giggle at how excited your audience has become.

“This is a sex doll, BUT not just any sex doll. Meet C.H.O.S.O. short for Charmingly Handsome Operative Sex Official.” A little giggle leaves you. “His name is silly, but don’t be mistaken. Choso is my first edition sex doll. He is programmed to fuck you better than anyone or anything else. He is AI programmed and adapts to its user being able to learn everything about you within the first twenty seconds of interaction.” You pause and read the comments again.

“Okay, okay. I get it, I’ll stop talking so much and get to fucking. It seems all of you are eager for this one, so many of you can’t even wait through the simple introduction.” You laugh again at their eagerness. They’ve been waiting for the reveal and can’t wait to see what CHOSO is capable of. You power him on and connect him and just as you said, within twenty seconds he knew exactly what you needed to be fucked properly. 

Without saying a word, Choso stood towering over you with hooded eyes. It felt like time stopped with the way you froze waiting for him to do something. Everyone was anticipating what he would do, the tension was thick and had you clenching your thighs.

In a split second, he grabbed you by your neck and spun you around with your back touching his front. His grip was firm, blunt fingernails grazing the sides of your neck as he held you. He locked eyes with you on camera before ripping your lingerie in half. The frail material tearing to reveal your pretty skin, your breast spilling out with a bounce, your slit coming into the view for your viewers.

He tilts your head back with his fingers sliding to your jaw, the hold making it go slack allowing him to maneuver it until your lips are parting. His lips pucker and soon after his spit is falling into your pried open jaw, he doesn’t let you close your mouth yet, instead three of his thick fingers are pushed in fucking his spit down your throat. They were so deep that your gurgles and gags were the only thing heard through the screen. His void eyes watch how your wet mouth takes his fingers in, an unnoticeable smirk forming on his lips before he abruptly pulled them out.

You’re panting with saliva leaking from the corners of your mouth, your eyes unfocused and body loose willing to bend to any position Choso has planned for you. Your knees hit the floor before you can register that you are sinking, his large dick coming into eye level with you. You’re positioned so that they can see what is about to happen. 

“Open,” for the first time, he speaks. His voice caught everyone off guard making the comments blow up again. They were so excited you never got to explain just how life like Choso was, he was practically human. He guides himself into your mouth, it isn’t nice, it isn’t gentle, he’s nasty. 

His hands are on either side of your head and just as quick as he pushes in, he is pulling out. A brutal pace being set, bubbles of spit popping from the corners of your mouth from the heavy thrusts he’s giving you. His tip is abusing the back of your throat so good your eyes are rolling back and your hands are clawing at his thighs trying to steady yourself. His void eyes are looking down at you, his balls slap against your chin with every insert back into the depths of your warm cavern. His thrust slows and he pulls out of your mouth showing the thick slob connecting his dick to your tongue, chimes from tips ring loudly upon seeing that. He’s making a mess of you, and he’s barely even started yet.

His hand wraps around his coated member and taps it against your muscle, it’s slippery. He circles his tip from your tongue to your lips. The motion is slow, deliberate and makes your pussy leak. He doesn’t warn you, all you feel is your head snatched back onto him. He holds you there, not thrusting, not bobbing your head, just stretching your throat out on his heavy dick. He’s long and girthy, perfect for fucking your walls in. He’s barely touched your body and you can feel your slick running down your thighs.

Tears start to leak from your eyes and that’s when Choso pulls you off his dick. He leans down and places a long lick on your cheek catching the tears. His tongue starts from your chin and ends at the side of your eye. A sweet kiss being left there makes your heart jump. He’s messing with your head and bad. Using you like a slut then treating you gently.

You love it.

He helps you to your feet and you take a second to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. A wobbly smile being thrown to the camera before Choso is sitting in a chair with you on top of him. He lifts you so that your torso is little further over his shoulder, your pussy is on display to your viewers. You feel his hands grab your ass cheeks and jiggle them making your folds open and close, your glistening pussy being flashed teasing them. 

You hiss at a pressured swipe of his finger passing over your hole and stopping at your clit. The pressure has you whining and squirming but he doesn’t let up and rubs at your clit more. Your viewers are watching intently as your core gets exposed to them.

The stinging on your ass cheek makes you jump, an unexpected sharp slap landing. They’re heavy and loud, not giving your brain time to differentiate between where you were being hit. Your cries are cut off with a hoarse moan when two fingers sink inside of you. Unlike to how he roughly fucked your throat, his fingers massage your insides. They’re curling and rubbing the inside of your walls so well it’s tickling your brain.  

“Ngghhh! Choso, I’m going to cum!” Your whines reach his ears making him scoff.

“Only on my dick.” His arms hook under your knees as he stands with your arms loosely around his neck. Your eyes go cross from the stretch, your pussy opening with convulsions. Choked whimpers pick up on the mic making the viewers stuck between wishing they were either you or Choso when they see him rise to his feet with you in his arms. His strength keeping you from falling out his hold.

His glistening dick is seen pulling almost fully out of you before he swings your hips to meet his. The plopping of your bodies echos perfectly with the squelching of your slick walls, the uncontrollable moans slipping pass your lips, Choso’s raspy grunts, the hypnotizing view of the strong sex doll fucking you while holding you up off the ground. Your head tilted back with your jaw dropped from how good he felt inside of you. Being denied earlier only made the pleasure better, your whole system felt overwhelmed with ecstasy.

“Choso….Choso please…” 

“Go ahead. Be a good slut and cum on my dick.” Your arms tighten around his neck and your hips hump up and down chasing the building release. Tears are running down your cheek again, but that’s not the wetness anyone is focused on. It’s the sound of droplets hitting the floor and the wetness spraying on Choso from your cunt that has everyone’s attention. 

It takes a moment for your ears to stop wringing and your vision to return from white. Choso gently sits you back at the edge of the bed and returns to the chair you originally had him placed. 

“Are you satisfied?” He prompted while looking forward.

“Y-yes. Power…power off.” You are still trying to catch your breath while instructing him. Your attention returns to the chat after a moment.

“Please look forward to the upcoming release of CHOSO. I don’t think I’ve been fucked like that in a while. Join me next week again on Puppet Master. Thank you for watching! Until then, my lustful loves!” You blow a kiss to the viewers and end the stream.

You turn to look at Choso and your body sinks to your knees. Your bright eyes turn dark as your limbs stiffen. Choso rises from his seat and stretches before walking to stand over you. His fingers wrap around your chin turning your head side to side examining you.

“It’s a reason you’re my favorite puppet. Always making me so much money.” He roughly lets go of your chin and walks away into the bathroom to clean himself.

No one needed to know that the actual sex dolls were the hundreds of girls on the site created and ran by him. No one needed to know that the C.H.O.S.O doll being released was modeled after the true creator. 

They never needed to know the secrets of the real Puppet Master.

✨

Thoughts of a Slutty Virgin~🧚🏾‍♀️

Okaaay!! That's the final fic for my first Spooktober🥳👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

It's late, what's new, anyways ENJOY!!

Pixie's Masterlist

Taglist: @444ghosty @un-lawliet @witchbybirth @tophamhat-kyo @nobianna

Taglist is back open if anyone is interested!

None of the images used are owned by me. Credit to original creators and owners. I think I need to start saying that💜

[sobbingsapphic102]

skye riley x reader who isn’t popular

The Art of Small Talk

a/n: by “not popular” i'm assuming you meant not famous and also not many friends. also in hindsight this is more of a headcanon sort of request but… it’s okay. I suck at titles. there are 3 unfortunate uses of y/n. so sorry. and I need to rewatch smile 2 so I can remember how she speaks...

word count: 2.5k

Sitting in an inconspicuous cafe, you drum your fingers along the tabletop while staring blankly at your empty Google Docs page.

You’re sitting in a corner by yourself. You are totally alone, except for the few girls behind the counter chatting away. The lights were dimmed, and candles were lit at the counter and on a few other tables. The warm environment mixed with the hot chocolate you were drinking and the smell of food, you were getting sleepy. You slouch against the plush chair you were sitting in and let out a sigh. You were meant to be writing. 

Here you were, lazily nodding your head along to Eternal Life blasting through your earbuds, tapping away at your table instead of working. At least I’m having a good time, you think to yourself. 

You wonder about your best friends, across the country. Feels like they’re across the world. Ever since you moved to New York to pursue your dreams of becoming a writer, you’ve been so lonely. So damn lonely.

Your train of thought is interrupted when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to this person, removing an earbud at the same time.

You take in the woman’s appearance. Bleached blonde hair in a pixie cut, messy, but in a cute way. She was wearing a navy blue hoodie with an oversized jacket that was just too oversized. Her hood was on, leaving her face shadowy. 

“Excuse me. Hi. Uh… do you have a charging port here? My phone’s about to die and… My table over there didn’t have one. So. Yeah.” She looked at you, and then to your laptop. The sweet smell of her enveloped you, but you couldn’t quite place what perfume she used. Or if that’s just how she smells.

“Yeah. Think so,” you say, a little too coolly. She probably thinks you’re rude, you thought, while looking underneath your table for a charging port beside. “Yeah, there’s one below the table.” 

“Okay, great! Do you mind if I—“ she smiles, almost sheepishly, “— if I sit with you? I won’t bother you.” She fidgets with the sleeve of her jacket. 

“No problem.” You could feel her looking at you from your peripherals, and though it was unfocused, you could’ve sworn she was looking at you oddly.

She sits down opposite of you, leaning over to get the charger in the port. You don’t watch her, but you can hear the inevitable struggle of the metal connectors hitting everywhere except the port. You fail to stifle your smile.

When she finally plugs it in, she sits back up and looks at you. You avoid looking at her. Because you’re afraid you’ll end up giggling at her. She lets out a little huff at that, and does exactly what she says. She doesn’t bother you.

For a little while. She’s scribbling something in her notebook, or maybe drawing? You’re working away at your laptop. But you keep feeling her looking at you. It’s very off putting. Eventually, you look back at her and maintain this weird eye contact.

“Do I have something on my face?” you say, half-jokingly because you were getting a little scared you did have something on your face.

She shakes her head no. With a subtle tilt of her head, she says “I’ve came here a couple times, but I’ve never seen you. What’s your name?” She speaks with an air of casualness, but you felt that there was something about her that was intrigued by you. Or maybe she was being polite and your ego is playing into it.

“Yeah, this cafe is so hidden, I didn’t notice it until last week.” You played with the rings on your index finger absently-mindedly. “My name’s (y/n).” 

She nods. “That’s a pretty name.” You note that she doesn’t mention her name.

 After a brief pause you muster up the courage to ask. “So, what am I supposed to call you?” 

She takes a sip of her coffee, and looks out the window on the opposite side of the cafe. It’s starting to drizzle outside.

“Skye,” she says softly.

“Hm?”

“My name’s Skye.” 

“Oh. Cool.” You raise your brows a bit to acknowledge her, and go back to work.

You can still feel her looking. 

She takes her hood off. You don’t want to stare like a freak, so you continue to aimlessly type words just to look busy. As if Skye could see what you’re doing.

She lets out a breathy laugh after a few moments, smiling out of disbelief. “Do you.. not know me?”

Your brows furrow. “No?”

“Skye. Skye Riley. Does that name not ring a bell?” she laughs incredulously. 

Holy shit. You’ve heard about her everywhere. The scandal of her and her drug problems. The car accident, where her boyfriend died. And she's just… sitting in front of you. Holy crap. She looks different.

“Oh. I thought—“you inhale sharply before saying this, “— she was in a— I mean, I thought you were in an accident. I thought your hair was long.. and dark too. Probably why I didn’t recognize you.”

Her smile falls. She swallows the imaginary lump in her throat, “Yeah. I was. And after it happened, after rehab, I changed my look.” While speaking her eyes were averted, and she wrapped a small strand of hair around her finger. Tugging it once. She looks back at you, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Awkward. So awkward. Why the hell would you mention the car accident? How insensitive could a person be?! You cringe internally, hoping this was all a weird dream and you’d wake up dazed but relieved. There’s a silence that smothers the both of you, and you try to quickly change the subject. Should you apologize and end up dragging it out, or just… Compliment her? You could say something about her hair.

“Hmm. I like the short hair.” You gesture to her head, “Think it suits you.”

She rolls her eyes, “You’re just saying that because you know who I am now.” She doesn't look quite as upset anymore.

 You laughed, “Seriously! You look great. I’m not the type of person to flatter others.” 

She smiles gently, her eyes wandering through your features. You can’t stand when people look at your face for too long. It doesn’t matter if you took your time getting ready in the morning, you felt that she could see the modest asymmetry of your brows, the blemishes on your face. She looked.. perfect. Perfect skin, teeth, brows. Perfect everything. 

You look away from her. “I’ve heard a couple of your songs. Like, on the radio,” you mention. 

You didn’t notice the admiring look in her eyes.

“Oh, yeah? What do you think?” She leaned forward, her elbows on the table as her hands supported her head. A smile plays on her lips. Your eyes lingered on them, and the brown mole just above her lip. God, you thought, she’s so beautiful. You felt heat rush to your ears.

“Makes the other songs sound like shit.” You hide a shy smile behind your cup of hot chocolate, taking a sip and feeling a slight burning sensation on the tip of your tongue. 

She snorts, “Okay, now you’re just flattering me.” But, she was smiling too. “Anyway, why were you just sitting here alone?”

“Because I wanted to write and focus,” you deadpan. “And.. because I don’t have any friends here in New York.”

“Oh. Dumb question. So, where are your friends?” 

“They’re studying in different places. I have two in Seattle, and another friend in Vancouver.”

She nods slowly, like she’s deep in thought. “That sucks. I don’t have many friends either.”

You laugh a little at that. How could Skye Riley not have many friends? “Is that why you sat with me? There’s literally nobody here, you could’ve tried another table.”

“I did check… one table..” she trails off. “Is it a crime to sit with another human being and have a nice conversation?” Skye asks, very defensively.

“Woah there, I didn’t say anything,” you raise your hands in a “settle down” gesture, “What if I ended up being a super fan of you or something?”

“I’d get the fuck out of here.”

“Aw man.” 

She lets out a giggle from your childish response, and the conversation slowly dies out.

This is weird. You, talking to Skye. Like she’s your friend! 

You then notice how it’s begun to rain heavily. How were you meant to get home? This is what you get for taking a walk and helping the planet a little. The rain lashes at the windows, spooking you a little.

“Shit, I have to walk in that rain.”

She perks up all of a sudden. “No you don’t, I can get my assistant to get us home.”

“Uh oh, you’re gonna know where I live.” 

She raises her brows, “Yeah, as if I have the time to stalk you.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, can I have that ride home? Please?”

“Sure, since you said the magic word without me asking,” she teases. Skye goes through her phone and dials someone’s number.

You don’t pay much attention to what she says, instead packing up your stuff in your grey backpack. You pull it on, and practically feel the weight of the world on your back and shoulders. You put your earbuds away too. 

About ten minutes later, you see a black car waiting outside the cafe. 

“Damn, that was quick.”

She shrugs in response, and gestures for the both of you to get up.

You leave the wondrously cozy cafe and the harsh wind and rain whip your face and ruin your hair. Damn it.

A man steps out of the driver's seat and opens the door for Skye, giving her a questioning look. Was it about you? 

“She’s with me.” Skye doesn’t even look at him, and mumbles a “Thanks,” as she gets into the backseat of the car.

You, hesitantly, get in beside her. She’s sitting in the middle of the three seats, and there’s another guy sitting on the opposite side of her, so you have to sit directly next to her. Great.

The seats of the car are leather, and so comfortable. In front of you, there’s a compartment with bottles and bottles of Voss water and, below it, some snacks.

Skye sees you looking at them, “Do you want something to eat?” She’s drowned out by the revving of the car.

You lean closer to her, your ear facing her mouth to hear her better. You hear her say “something to eat” and shake your head no.

When you move away, you catch her smiling at you. The sweetest smile.

“You smell good,” she says. Your heart starts chugging like a train. You smile awkwardly, “Thanks. You too.” You look out the window beside you, and cover your mouth in a casual way so she doesn’t see that the smile didn’t leave your face.

 As the car pulls off the curb, the man beside her starts speaking to you. “So, you’re a friend of Skye’s?” The man asks, leaning forward to look past Skye and look at you, “I’m Joshua, and this is Elizabeth, Skye’s manager and mother.” He motions towards the woman sitting in front of you. That lady and Skye do not look alike. 

“Oh, cool. Nice to meet you guys. My name is (y/n).” 

“Sweet. How’d you guys meet?” Only Joshua is making conversation with you, and Elizabeth is on her phone, looking vaguely frustrated. He looks happy and refreshed, like he got a full eight hours of sleep. Lucky him.

“Oh we.. uh.. just..” You look over to Skye for some help.

“We met at that fundraiser a couple weeks ago, don’t you remember?” The lie came quite easily to her. “Stop interrogating her.”

“Sorry Skye, I didn’t mean to question you guys so much. Also sorry about getting this car instead of the limo. It would’ve dragged too much attention over here.” Joshua says, almost in a panicked way. 

“It’s fine.” She’s very curt with Joshua, you wonder why she was so amiable with you.

A silence settles over the car. You clear your throat before telling Joshua your address, so he would tell the driver and they could drop you off. 

“That’s not a good area to live in.” Elizabeth says. She turns around to look at you and Skye. She already rubs you the wrong way. “Is it safe?”

“Ehh. As long as it’s daytime it’s fine.”

As she turns back to face the front, she scrunches her nose up slightly, as if smelling something rotten. 

You smooth down your hair after the wind dishevelled it. When your hands come down to rest on your lap, you feel another hand on top of yours. It’s soft and warm.

You look down at the hand, and then back up to look at Skye. She mouths “Ignore her.”

Oh. She thought you were upset about what her mom said. You mouth back “It’s okay.” Sweet of her to care.

The weird thing was how her hand didn’t move off yours. It was like you two were in your own warm little bubble. You leaned against her, and she laid her head on your shoulder. When you looked down at her, she didn’t meet your eyes. You hoped she couldn’t hear your heart drumming away.

You could feel Joshua looking, but he didn’t say anything at all. It would be pretty embarrassing if you were already disliked by Elizabeth in the first 10 minutes of knowing her.

When you finally got to the parking lot of your apartment complex, you sighed with relief. You gently got Skye off your shoulder, and opening the door for yourself, you step out and put your hoodie on. 

“Okay, thanks for the ride, Skye.” You turn to quickly dash into your apartment.

“Wait, (y/n)!” Skye says.

You turn around, and stick your head into the car, “Yeah?”

“Can I have your number?” 

You were taken aback. Why did she want your number? I mean… You and her basically cuddled but still. It’s Skye friggin Riley. “Okay, sure. Give me your phone, I’ll put it in for you.”

“Okay. I’ll put mine into yours,” she says.

You exchange phones and put your phone number as a contact. After, you snoop a little and see that she has Beyoncé and Adele in her contacts. Dang, you thought. You’re technically connected to them now.

You hand her back her phone, and she gives yours back to you. 

“I’ll text you. Or call, ” she says. 

You smile at her. “Sure thing. Later!” 

You’re already half drenched from standing in the rain, and you waste no time jogging to the front door where there’s cover. You unlock the door with your key, and wave at the car before heading inside.

As you walk to the elevator, your mind is totally overwhelmed by this experience. Skye completely consumes you, without even being there. You wonder why she even talked to you. You wonder why she gave you a ride home, why she held your hand and asked for your number. Is she just as lonely as you are?

➽──────────────❥

After a few days, you wake up from a nap and see 2 new messages from Skye.

“heyyy how are you”

“are you free next week haha”