#lessons on expulsion

[rosejuicewonderdrunk]

[fawnaura]

Sometimes between sleep and waking life I think I’m in another city. The mornings taste like bruises.

Erika L. Sánchez, from Lessons on Expulsion, ‘Crossing’

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Wendy Cope Summer Villanelle / Clementine von Radics Mouthful of Forevers / Pierce the Veil Caraphernelia / Erika L. Sànchez Spring; Lessons on Expulsion / Yves Olade Bloodsport / 방탄소년�� BTS 134340 / Taylor Swift All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor's Version) [From The Vault] / pinterest / Mahmoud Darwish Memory for Forgetfulness (tr. Ibrahim Muhawi) / Car Seat Headrest Happy News for Sadness / Amanda Rose I Don't Think People Love Me / Taylor Steele Shocker

[smokefalls]

What is the soul / but this endless circuitry, / the bright and pitiful idea / you carry of yourself?

Erika L. Sánchez, "Letter from New York" from Lessons on Expulsion

[hsnlv]

nerd bestfriend!jake teaching you how to squirt… with his dick :)

a/n: uhm, im not back. but this shit is too good to not share😞

>>>>>>>>>>

“okay, so—fuck—” jake hisses, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, fogged up from sweat, “so the, uh, the anterior vaginal wall is—shit—right here.”

he adjusts his grip on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees press to your chest, your pussy stretched wide around him, flushed and dripping. he’s buried deep, almost too deep, but you can’t think, can barely breathe, your hands fisting the sheets as you stare up at him.

he’s panting, face red, brows furrowed behind his glasses as he tries to keep himself from moving, trying to keep the “lesson” under control, but his cock keeps twitching inside you.

“j-jake,” you whimper, trying to move your hips, but he pins you down, glaring.

“stop, i’m teaching,” he snaps, but his voice is high, strained, as he tries to regain composure, pushing his glasses up with one trembling finger.

“a-anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat, “the g-spot is around two inches in, towards the belly button, and—fuck—when you stimulate it with the right pressure and rhythm—”

he shifts, pulling back slightly before rolling his hips forward, grinding against that spot, making your eyes roll back.

“you—ah, you feel that?” he stutters, his breath hitching, “th-that’s the—fuck, that’s the spot.”

your hands fly to his forearms, nails digging in, your body arching, “oh my god, jake—”

“and when you keep stimulating it, the skene’s glands—” he gasps as he thrusts again, “can cause—f-fuck—expulsion of fluid, which is—squirting—”

his voice cracks on the last word, his hips stuttering forward, cock dragging against your sweet spot again and again, your cunt fluttering around him.

“you’re clenching—shit, baby, you’re clenching too hard,” he moans, loud, glasses sliding down again as sweat drips onto your chest.

“jake, please, please—” you whine, tears pricking your eyes, your thighs shaking violently.

“s-shit, i’m—i’m trying to teach, okay?” he whines, loud and embarrassingly needy, “you just—fuck! you feel too good, it’s—so hard to—fuck!”

his hips snap forward harder, faster, despite himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tries to keep talking.

“n-need consistent pressure—like this—” he pants, grinding his cock deep, making you sob, “and—ah—angle towards the belly button, right there, right—fuck, right there—”

your vision blurs, a tight coil snapping as you scream, your body locking up before a sudden gush of liquid spills out around his cock, soaking his thighs, the sheets, everything.

“holy shit—holy fuck—” jake chokes out, hips jerking, cock twitching inside you as he pulls out fast, wrapping his hand around himself.

he strokes himself frantically, eyes wide behind his fogged glasses as he cums, thick ropes spilling over your pussy, your stomach, some of it dripping onto your folds, warm and messy.

“s-sorry, fuck, sorry, you just—” he whines, shivering as his cum leaks between your thighs, “you just feel too—fuck! too good.”

you’re both panting, your body still shaking, your pussy still leaking from your first squirt, your skin sticky with his cum and your own mess.

he looks down at you, cheeks flushed, hair a sweaty mess, glasses crooked, before letting out a soft, breathless laugh.

“so, uh,” he says, clearing his throat as he pushes his glasses up again, “that’s… how you squirt.”

you smack his arm weakly, but you’re laughing, tears slipping down your cheeks, your heart pounding, your body warm, your best friend looking at you like you just gave him a reason to live.

©️all rights reserved | hsnlv | 2025

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

The misunderstanding of carpe diem + physical harm in dps makes me absolutely crazy

Knox stalks a girl, doesn’t take no for an answer and gets hurt because of it (gets punched by Chet). He deals with physical harm. He ends up getting the girl, but he had a price to pay, a punishment to endure. Chet threatened him, he could have been in danger. Knox didn’t think he did anything wrong. He apologized to Chris, but with the stalking and such, it never went through his head “hey this might be kinda fucked up” while he was doing it.

That’s not what Keating said. He didn’t told them to be careless and act on their impulses even if that might get them in danger.

Charlie pulls his “phone call from god” prank and many things happen. One, when he first published the article he revealed the club (although not its members or activities) without anyone else’s permission. Two, he could have gotten expelled. Three, he got hit by Nolan, a physical punishment. Just like knox, he dealt with physical harm and risked expulsion. Charlie didn’t think he did anything wrong.

Keating himself told him that he flew too close to the sun, than he didn’t mean that in his lessons. Carpe diem is not choking on the bone.

Neil seemed to understand Carpe Diem, he was just desperate. It’s not than he was impulsive, or careless, he was just incredibly desperate, and that’s somehow worse. Neil goes behind his father’s back and joins a play. He writes a letter pretending to be him, sneaks off to rehearsal. When his father finds out, he has a price to pay (his father enrolling him on military school and forcing him to stop acting) and ends up dying by shooting himself (physical harm). Neil definitely knew, and thought about what would happen if his father discovered, but he was so desperate to live, to do something he wanted for once, he didn’t care, he began hoping he would manage to keep it hidden. Neil thought he was in the right (which, honestly, he was). He didn’t see anything wrong in what he did, simply wanted to fulfill his passion, passion than didn’t hurt anyone, passion than didn’t involve anyone else other than himself. The contrast with Charlie/Knox and yet, still having the same consequences… Peter Weir I’m hunting you down.

This is not what Keating encouraged. Remember how Keating asked him to talk to his father? Remember how he asked him if he talked to him (and Neil lied and said yes) and he was very happy and supported his decision about the play? Remember how, before knowing his father “agreed” Keating didn’t tell Neil “oh you’re already in the play, go through with it, carpe diem, who cares what your father says?” but instead told him “talk to your father. If he says yes then you can continue with the play with no worries, and if he says no then wait until you’re out of school and he won’t be able to control you as much anymore. You have options, this is not the end of the world. Either talk to him and come to an agreement or wait.” Remember that? Keating didn’t want Neil to go behind his father’s back, because he knew the consequences this would have.

(Interesting how, out of all the physical harm than the misunderstanding of carpe diem caused, Neil’s is the only one inflicted by himself to his own body. I’m definitely very normal about this.)

Charlie, again. He punched Cameron. Acted on impulse, didn’t think of the consequences punching another student on school grounds, on school hours, actually meant. He got expelled. He suffered a punishment. But now he didn’t receive any physical harm, but rather caused it. To Cameron. He didn’t think he did anything wrong, he thought Cameron deserved it.

Cameron. He’s the hardest to understand. He wants to seize the day, in his own way. After all, he joins the club despite not really having to, but he simply seems too scared to actually carpe that diem. He ends up seeing this as dangerous. After what happened to Neil (dead), and after seeing what happened to Charlie (almost expelled) and Knox (ended up with a bloody face) he gets scared. Damn, this might actually be dangerous. It’s a good reasoning. 3/7 members got hurt. Not half of them, but almost. He misunderstood carpe diem based on the consequences seizing the day had in the others (the others who misunderstood what it actually meant) and so he snitched to nolan. And this is what causes him physical harm, what causes him to be punched by Charlie. He loses something (his friendship with the other poets) and gets physically hurt. So, so, sooo interesting how despite this being considered the complete opposite to seizing the day, it’s framed in the exact same way as all the other instances where carpe diem takes part. He suffers the same consequences as everyone else. He believed himself to be doing the right thing, to be saving the others’ academic lives and doing now what he couldn’t have done for Neil before (protecting others from keating’s influence).

Keating never meant for carpe diem to be dangerous, or hurtful, or scary.

But then Todd.

Todd’s carpe diem is just becoming more confident. Reading his poems aloud, becoming more sociable and comfortable around his friends, accepting than he’s allowed to receive love, to rely on others, to believe in himself, to stand up for himself and his beliefs (refusing to sign the paper and saying no to his parents and nolan).

His final stand, his seize the day moment, is at the end of the film. He’s the first one to stand on the desk. This is the perfect rebellion. Meaningful, happens for a reason (Keating getting unfairly fired), doesn’t harm anyone else and doesn’t harm himself (doesn’t cause him nor anyone else physical pain). No danger (he might get in trouble, but I doubt he could face expulsion for standing on a desk). Charlie’s act on Neil/Keating’s memory was one of anger, impulsive, one that drew blood and ended in expulsion. Todd’s was one of defiance, impulsive, but that hurt no one and ended well. It’s more, it caused happiness (Keating felt better, saw his contributions).

The one who felt more scared to go through with it at first is the only one who truly understood it.

Then with Meeks/Pitts idk honestly. They don’t really have a big moment. I guess at the end, standing on the desks, but they’re not the ones who start it or are particularly important in that scene. The radio scene, perhaps, but I don’t really see what was stopping them from building a radio before. If the radio scene was their carpe diem, though, then another example of someone understanding what it truly meant. The scene ended well, didn’t hurt anyone or involved anyone who was unwilling, they didn’t get any punishment after, etc.

[roarieluz]

Who Do You Smell? (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Summary: Sebastian Sallow has had a crush on Y/N for a while now, this isn't news to him but when a strong batch of amortentia is made for potions class it is hard to keep his mind clear of anything that isn't about you and what he wants to do to you.

Warning: contains mild smut as this is about Sebastian's fantasies while in class.

Rushed footsteps trekked along the cobblestone hallways of Hogwarts, echoing into excessive sounds of pitter-patter and endless conversations.

“We have an exam…TODAY?!”

“Did you hear about what happened in Hogsmeade yesterday?”

“You’ll never guess who I saw Poppy Sweeting with!”

Countless students made almost a sea of cloaks as they tried to make it to their next class on time without any pestering ghosts or moving stairs to slow them down. It was almost daunting to try and part the waves of children and teens, Sebastian thought. It was so daunting that he couldn’t help but at least acknowledge the nagging pit of a feeling that told him he would be better off droning away in the undercroft for an hour or two. Alas, Headmaster Black had already warned him that if he missed one more lesson there would be worse things than detention waiting for him.

How dramatic.

The Slytherin made his way to class nonetheless, not due to the threats of expulsion but rather the company that awaited him. If he had ditched, Ominis would give him a terrible earful no doubt, which would be a shame as that would get in the way of all the other trouble their little group could find themselves in. There was also the issue of leaving his potion’s partner, Y/N alone. How could he leave her all by her lonesome? After all, who would give her quippy one-liners to help pass the time in that dreary class? Gareth Weasley? The thought alone almost made him laugh.

His feet paused, finding himself now in front of the open door to the potions classroom. He always needed a moment before trudging into the smoke-filled haze of a room. It was always hotter than the other classes, almost on par with the humidity that suffocated him in herbology. Deep in the classroom, he could already spot his partner despite the slight fog between them. She was talking to Ominis, who sat at the desks in front of them. Her cloak was off, he noted, thrown to the opposite side of their table like a forgotten rag. He took in the sight of her leaning against the table to whisper something into his friend's ear. Her long sleeves rolled up to help combat against the heat that radiated from the cauldron centered on their table.

This is why I come to this class.

“Sebastian! There you are!” Y/N said as she looked up to see him still standing in the hallway. She waved him over with a warm smile still plastered on her lips, a smile she always had reserved for him…at least he’d like to think so.

“Just in time too.” Ominis commented, his tone comparable to a mother.

“Yes, yes, hold your applause.” Sebastian playfully replied as he took his seat next to Y/N, his tower of books hitting the hardwood of the table with a thud. She rolled her eyes at him but the smile didn’t fade away from her lips. It was a look he knew all too well, in fact, he looked forward to it. What could he say to make her roll her eyes in the back of her head? What comment could his mind come up with to make her so facetious? It was a fun game of his, one where he had to carefully walk the line if he wanted to keep her beautiful smile in his sight.

“Sit down, class is about to start.” Professor Sharp announced with a deadpan. He walked in front of his desk, leaning on the stable wood as he stared into the classroom, noting who was present or not. To his surprise Sebastian sat with a smug grin next to Y/N, even giving the professor a little wave, as if he knew he was shocked to see him. He wasn’t amused by the notion, but kept on with the class, not wanting to give him any more attention to his childish antics.

“Would anyone like to explain to me why they might think this month might be one of the most dangerous months of the year?” Sharp asked as he studied the fifth-year’s expressions of puzzlement.

Sebastian raised his eyebrow at the question. Dangerous? What could make February more dangerous than any other month of the year?

He looked over at Y/N, confusion all over his face, hoping to get insight from her. She’s only faced more danger than anyone else in the room besides perhaps the professor himself. If anyone would know, surely it would be her.

She simply met his expression with a quizzical look of her own, shrugging her shoulders stiff, not a single thought to the question. He quickly looked in front to see Ominis, hopefully, he might know instead then. His best friend had his eyes closed and arms crossed as if he was in deep thought….or in a deep sleep. Whatever the case was it was obvious he too was left in the dark like the rest of the class.

Being so deep in thought Sebastian hadn’t realized the sweat that started to form on his brow. The heat in this room got to him a little earlier than he expedited it to. It was almost suffocating and he had only been here for a couple of minutes.

“Nobody? Not a single soul has one idea as to why,” Sharp continued to ask, hoping for someone to at least try and spit out a wrong answer. However, only the sound of bubbling cauldrons and burning crackles from the flames answered him back.

“Amortentia,” the professor simply let out a heavy sigh that oozed with disappointment as he pushed himself off his desk to make his way around the class. Sebastian mentally facepalmed

Of course, February! Valentine's Day was in this blasted month.

“I only teach this potion with its antidote. So don’t get funny ideas for next week,” Sharp warned his students, pointing at every student in his room. “Every year a handful of you try to use a love potion on some sorry soul and every year they get in trouble. So you will know what's good for you if you have any sense.” He added before going into more detail about the potion itself.

He talked about how it was formed…the ingredients they would need…the order to brew. Sebastian heard the words.

Truly.

But as Sharp’s lecture rang on in the background Sebastian’s eyes wandered to his left. Y/N sat there looking up at their professor with half-closed eyelids, her long lashes hanging over her beautiful eyes. She rested her head on her closed fist, her body slightly turned to face Sebastian though her attention still faced Sharp. She thoughtlessly played with her hair, her expression almost dreamy as if she was openly lost in her mind. The air started to feel heavier with the murky haze that filled the room the longer he looked at her. He pulled at his collar as he noticed a dollop of sweat sliding down from Y/N’s collarbone into her blouse. Her cleavage taunting him.

The heat of the room practically boiling in him now with such an image of her.

“I’m bloody hot, are you?” Y/N asked in a hushed whisper as she attempted to fan herself, she glanced at Sebastion when she noted his stare.

“I always am..” He responded without hesitation.

Y/N rolled her eyes again as she had before class started, playful and casual. He wondered what she would look like if he was able to roll her eyes for a different reason. He imagined her leaning over their shared desk looking more disheveled than appropriate. Her pretty eyes rolling in the back of her head as she lets out a deep moan, her lips still forming a devious smile. The thought makes him feel a twitch below his belt as he realizes a small ache had been forming the instant he saw her today.

Sebastian had always had a crush on Y/N, this wasn’t exactly something new to him. There had been plenty of times he worked himself over just by looking at you. Though he would like to think that he would build himself over the entire day… definitely not in just 5 minutes.

“As you line up to smell the Amortentia in the cauldron on my desk you may notice the…. effects…of the potion. Once you leave the classroom they will subside since you haven’t drank the potion. This stuff is so strong, the smell alone can affect you.” Sharp informed the class.

Of course, the potion.

Sebastian awkwardly coughed as he stood up, thankful for his cloak. He was sure every boy in the class must be praising the heavy fabric if the potion was as strong as the professor said. Y/N, Sebastian, and Ominis made their way in line to smell the concoction, waiting their turn. Sebastian noticed that while a couple of people mentioned what they smelled, there were a few who kept that information to themselves. He wondered what it was that made them so quiet. Either way, the damned thing smelt different to each person for some reason. Wasn’t it just meant to make you fall in love with someone? If only he would have been able to pay attention to what Sharp had been saying but he had been a tad distracted by his partner.

Speaking of which, Y/N was the first of the little trio to stand in front of the rather old-looking cauldron. She closed her eyes as she let her hands help waft the smoke toward her. As she took a deep breath in, her eyes shot open as if she had recognized the smell almost instantly.

“What is it? What do you smell?” Sebastian asked with curiosity oozing from his voice.

“I smell…old books, burning candles, and butterbeer.” She said softly as she glanced at the two boys, a blush creeping up her ears as her eyes met Sebastian.

“How quaint.” Ominis commented through a grin as if he knew precisely who smelt like such a strange combination.

Sebastian didn’t think that could be the smell of love though he didn’t exactly know what he would say the scent of love would be like but definitely not old books. Perhaps floral like roses or sweet like cherries? Love in a bottle had to be stereotypical, it made the most sense to him.

Sebastian stepped up, pulling the lid up and letting the fumes wash over him. The mist of the potion overcame him as if he had just walked into a sauna. He felt an urge tingle from the tips of his toes to the very ends of his hair. A rush so strong in his body he could practically count his pulse from the zealous beats his heart made, throbbing in what felt like his throat.

Her.

He could only smell her.

He gulped trying to breathe in anything that wasn’t this potion's musk. The smell was sweet and heavy just like how he thought but it was more than he could handle. He could sink in the delight of it all as if he could be happily drowned in it. He imagined that this would be the very smell that could suffocate him while he was on his knees between your legs.

“Heaven” he blurted out carelessly as the thought of eating you out filled his mind.

“Very descriptive,” Ominis replied, helping Sebastian to get out of his head and back into reality.

“My thoughts exactly. What does heaven even smell like? That could be anything” Y/N asked with a furrowed brow.

Sebastian paused, trying to put into words what the woman in front of him smelt like. It was hard to put into words. The smell was more like flashes of constant memories that reminded him of Y/N rather than what she smelt like every day.

He could smell the rain, the petrichor that radiates from the grass; the image of you running in the storm with him, white blouse drenched and clinging to your chest, raindrops dripping from your hair, the sound of your laughter. What a day that had been, so carefree, so full of joy for just being in the mommet. He kept that memory close to him; a loop he would play when his thoughts went to dark and dreary places.

In the next instant, he could smell the scorch marks from flames nipping at the cobblestone in the undercroft. The heavy smoke poisoned his lungs and filled his mind with such intoxication over the past. The day he had taught you confringo lingering in the back of his mind.

It had been one of the first times he had gotten close to you.

The memory of being pressed against your back, Sebastian’s face mere inches from your soft hair-your locks tickling the tip of his nose. His hand had been wrapped around your wrist as he helped with your wand movements. You had looked at him so innocently then, putting all your faith in him even though you had barely known each other. He could still see the small smudge of soot smudged on your cheek and the way you looked up at him with such big eyes for guidance.

The memory had only gotten sweeter like wine after seeing you master his spell. Seeing you cast it with ease, power, and confidence; that alone would always send shivers down his spine amid battle. He would always be a part of you when you cast that spell…forever.

The smell warped into something else entirely, putting him off guard until he was able to realize the mystery aroma was incense: warm, woody, and thick. It was the same kind that Professor Onai used in her classroom the day she taught palmistry. He had held your hands that day, his large hands engulfing yours in warmth. It had been the perfect excuse to touch you then, so freely and openly with everyone watching. His fingers brushed against your skin softly, his touch could barely be described as a graze but the tension was more than palpable. He had read your palm that day, hoping he could see himself in your loveline. He believes that he did. Even if he didn’t he would find a way to change it to make it so.

“Well, it's certainly not butterbeer,” Sebastian finally responded, putting himself back in the present.

Y/N blushed, flustered by the comment before whacking him on his shoulder. “I should have never told you,” she responded in a huff, making her way back to their desk.

Sebastian followed, chuckling at her reaction but also thankful he was able to avoid having to explain what heaven smells like.

“Does anyone want to know what it smells like to me?” Ominis asked himself as he stood in front of the cauldron alone; the sarcasm and annoyance drowning his words as he found his way back to his desk. Professor Sharp stood before the classroom, waiting for everyone to get their bearings again.

“It seems like some of you are rather open to telling everyone what you find most attractive…that or just the smell of the person you seem to find yourself in a new entanglement in with this week..how brave of you,” Sharp commented with what must be his attempt at an amused grin before going back to his solemn state.

Sebastian glanced at Y/N, wondering who it was for her. Who smelt like old books and could still have her head over heels for them? She had never even brought up liking a person before. His hands formed into fists on the desk, images flashing of someone else being with her the way he daydreamed. He couldn’t even bear the thought and had to quickly stop before he lost himself.

He heard Professor Sharp go into further detail about the potion before teaching how to make the antidote for amortentia. At least that was as much as Sebastian could recall, he knows that was the subject but simply couldn’t tell you how to make the damned thing. His attention was more on you than the class itself. He needed to get out of this classroom and fast before he reached his limits. Even with the cauldron covered the smell seeped and filled the classroom, working its magic on everyone in it. He couldn’t even imagine how he would be if he actually drank it. He understands why people who had been under its effects would practically throw themselves at the person in question now.

You sat there a complete tease and were none the wiser. The way you grabbed onto your skirt from your thigh, hiking up the fabric higher than it was before. He wanted nothing more than to put his hand under the hem and pull it up high until he got a good view of you bent over this very desk. He wanted to push you against the hardwood and pull your hair. He wanted to devour you in front of everyone, to lose himself in you and all that was good. Sebastian loosened his tie, the small material barely knotted as he tried to control his breath.

“That’s all there is to teach. By the end of class, I expect two adequate potions…the Amortentia and the cure from each table. You may begin.” Sharp directed as he made his way to his desk in the back of the room.

There was a wave of silence that crashed over the classroom as the students side-eyed each other. It would seem that no one had paid attention to Sharp’s well-planned and eloquent lecture on brewing love potions. The professor didn’t seem to give it any mind though, he was too involved with whatever he was writing. Sebastian couldn’t imagine that the man was clueless about the tension in the room though. Perhaps he was secretly amused that this situation of all things was the only way he was able to make the classroom stunned with silence.

“Would you be upset with me if I told you, I have no idea how to brew this potion,” Sebastian decided to tell Y/N outright. There was no point in pretending; she would see through him anyways if he tried.

She suppressed a chuckle in response as she stood up and pointed him in the direction of the board. “Not at all. Luckily for us, the instructions are on the board. Come on, let's get the ingredients.” She explained as she stood up and waved him over to follow her. He leaped out of his seat, quick and careless, almost like he was a dog who was taunted by the prospect of a treat. Thoughts of being alone with Y/N in the supply closet made his heart race to deadly rhythms and his palms slightly sweaty. He couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild with fantasies of what could transpire in such a small enclosed space.

The thought of your soft thighs wrapped around his waist while he got to have handfuls of your ass to keep you steady. Messy, hungry kisses that vibrated with moans. Your hands tussled in his hair or roaming up and down his chest. He could feel himself twitch every time he imagined you bouncing up and down against him, grinding him into pure bliss.

Merlin. Could he handle himself with such a temptation of being with you in such a place?

Each step he took across the classroom felt like an eternity, his body growing with anticipation that coursed through his veins like wildfire. His eyes were glued to the sway of your hips as you led the way.

When they finally reached the door, Sebastian fumbled with the handle, hands almost shaking as his mind was still lost in the realm of his fantasies. He could practically hear you screaming his name at this moment. The sound looped over and over again in his head, short-circuiting his brain until he was able to hear a click. The door creaked open, revealing a small, dimly lit space filled with shelves of potions ingredients, and other various supplies.

Sebastian stepped in behind you, trying to contain his desires while his body betrayed him, buzzing in hopeful anticipation of even just being grazed by you. A single touch would be enough to end his suffering at this point. The air felt heavy with scents of herbs that mixed in wonderfully with the smell of you, further fueling his senses.

“So…heaven you said.” Y/N awkwardly commented as she began to gather the required ingredients. Pulled out of his wicked daydreams Sebastian glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. “That is indeed what I said.”

“Are you ever going to elaborate on that?”

Sebastian stared at the shelves, trying to look lost. Shifting his weight back and forth as his hands skimmed the ingredients that were laid out in front of him. “Why so curious?”

“Well, I told you mine… it's only fair.”

“Have I ever been known to be fair?” Sebastian asked as he paused and looked down at you. You looked up at him sweetly, eyes big and bright, cheeks flushed, lips slightly apart. A tempting beautiful picture. He gulped down the need to jump you right then and there. A sad excuse for keeping his gentlemanly composure.

“Are you going to make me beg?” she asked softly.

Sebastian almost fainted. You? Begging him? Suddenly the thought of you on your knees in front of him flashed through his mind. He wondered just how he could make you beg. What filthy pleas could be heard from your lips? How desperate could you be for him? Was it anything like how he was for you now? He got lost in your beautiful eyes as he wondered.

“Would you beg for me?” his voice barely above a whisper as he asked her.

Y/N’s eyes grew wide, her cheeks turning into a deep shade of crimson. Sebastian watched as she stood there a mixture of what looked like mortification and vulnerability washing over her. As Sebastian took a step closer to her he saw how her blush intensified. Spreading like a delicate watercolor painting, the color seeped from her cheeks and extended to the tips of her ears…even down below under her blouse. He wondered how far her blush went.

“D-Don’t play with me, Sebastian,” Y/N replied as she tried to regain her composure. She faced the shelves once more, letting her hands touch anything that was in front of her.

“I would never.” He tried to follow her actions, hoping she didn’t notice how the last minute of their interaction would be the start of his dreams for the next month.

She scoffed at his response. “I know you’re just trying to deflect from the question. Why so secretive? Do you have a crush on someone and are just too embarrassed by it? You know I wouldn’t tell a soul.” she rambled as she picked up a mysterious vial. She looked at it as if she was more interested in the contents inside of it than the conversation but Sebastian could see through her act.

“Crush? I’m afraid it's gotten far past that.” Sebastian replied, freezing Y/N in her tracts if only for a moment. She placed the vial back in its rightful spot before reaching for another random object, much like Sebastian did in hopes of keeping him grounded in the situation. How far should he push this? Should he let the smell of this damned potion, the bottled intoxication of the girl in front of him, break down any walls he had built up in hopes that she would never know he was madly in love with her?

Their hands brushed against each other, sending a shock down to his toes that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The innocent act that was nothing but a soft caress, fanned the flames that were in him to dangerous heights, his yearning for her unbearable

“She’s bewitched me. Hexed me even…I’m sure of it.” He continued to say as he looked down at her. His hand frozen in his place against hers. If he moved now, there would be no grace in his actions. It was his last attempt at trying to keep himself composed.

He heard Y/N’s breath hitch in her throat.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked, giving her an escape but hoping she wouldn’t take it. She only nodded her head in response, unable to speak from the tension that’s now bubbled over in the small closet they were in.

“I smell the rain,” He began to say as he turned to face her.

“I smell fire” He took a step towards Y/N, closing the small gap.

“I smell incense.” His hands intertangled in yours, as he took a step forward, forcing you against the door, making sure no one could interrupt them. Your hands were well above you now as his fists pinned you in place.

“I smell you,” it barely came out as a whisper against the nape of your neck. “It’s all I can smell, even now. It suffocates me. Taunting me with ideas,” he continued, his voice low and dark. “Would you let me do those things to you?” He asked, moving his gaze so he could look at Y/N.

She looked like every fantasy he ever had of her. Under him, panting, wide-eyed, and flushed. He would keep this memory close to him, he knew instantly. Keep this image of her as nothing more than a self-indulgent treat for every night before he went to sleep.

“Is this when I should beg Seb?” Y/N let out in a single heavy breath.

He let out a groan at the sound of her nickname for him, his head falling to her shoulder so he could melt into her.

Fuck

Just hearing her say his name like that made his situation feel painful, making him harder than he ever had been in his entire life. He was scared to find out what would come of himself if he didn’t find a release soon.

“Do I have to beg to get my ingredients?” Ominis could be heard as he pounded on the door causing both Sebastian and Y/N to jump to the opposite side of the closet. Their friend walked into the small room, happy to be blind for once so that he didn’t have to see the sorry state the two were in.

“Congratulations on finding out you two are in fact in love with each other. The rest of the school has been waiting.” Ominis stated with annoyance. “Now can you grab me the things I need?”

[im-addicted-2u]

mattheo riddle drabble: how it started

so, it isn't vital to read my previous post to understand what's happening here, but i recommend if you're seeing this (and you're interested in more) to check it out to get informed about how i'll be writing mattheo! i'll link that right here! anyways, here's some headcanons/a bit of a drabble (i got carried away) on how you and mattheo entered each other's orbit, starting at acquaintances and the moment that changes.

⟢ You and Mattheo ran in similar circles since your first year, you being a Slytherin arriving at the same time as he did, but you mostly stuck to hanging with Pansy, Blaise, and Draco, while Mattheo formed his own group with Theo and Enzo. Whenever everyone would hang out, your attention was never particularly on him, and his was never particularly on you.

⟢ Everything changed in your fifth year. Since that previous summer, Voldemort returned, things were so much different. Umbridge didn’t help. Mattheo landed in enough detentions to make the Weasley twins weep. He couldn’t stand that pink eyesore—couldn’t stand how she discarded the opinions of everyone, how she lived to make every student feel weak and powerless. If there was one thing Mattheo hated, above all, it was being weak. Coupled with being around his father for the first time in his life that summer, a man (monster?) with the same exact complex that thrived on making his son feel beneath him—more than Mattheo did simply living in his shadow—meant that Mattheo took out all his pent up frustration on Umbridge. If Dumbledore were less forgiving, Umbridge’s constant complaints about her most disruptive student would have certainly landed him suspension or expulsion.

⟢ Instead, it was detention. Umbridge sought to teach Mattheo a lesson by pain. Blood quills came in handy for that. You happened upon Mattheo after his third detention with Umbridge that week. You were on a walk, trying to clear your head from the tumultuous, tense atmosphere Hogwarts had went under since Umbridge began asserting herself, when you found him outside—after curfew, just like you.

⟢ He was smoking a cigarette. That was nothing new. What was, were the shiny red words against his brown skin: I must not speak out against authority. Horror filled you, because though you had no idea about the types of punishments Umbridge was using, you knew exactly who had done this to him based on the statement alone.

⟢ Your hands reacted before your brain did. You reached out for him and clasped his larger hand in your own. Your fingers ran over the fresh scars, and you realized from their depth and this wasn’t the first time they were made.

⟢ Mattheo’s first reaction was to flinch away from your touch, returning the impulsive action with a glare. “Don’t touch that.”

⟢ “Umbridge did this to you.” It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t meet your eyes. You knew, despite not knowing Mattheo as well as you probably could, that it was affecting him more than he let on. Mattheo’s abrasive, challenging nature caused him to make unwavering eye contact during each interaction—you’d witnessed it firsthand, his gaze boring into you like a brand—and to have him look away now, the first time the two of you have ever interacted one-on-one, the perfect opportunity for him to establish himself as the higher power, meant something was seriously, seriously wrong.

⟢ “I hate her,” you added, brimming with fury. “That isn’t fair. That’s not right. She can’t do that to you, to anyone. We have to go to Snape, no, to Dumbledore, we can’t just let her—”

⟢ Mattheo interrupted your rant with a finger to your lips. Your eyes zeroed into the motion, and when you looked up, his gaze met yours. He wasn’t quite to tears, but there was certainly pain there—in the furrow of his brow, the flutter of his lashes.

⟢ “They aren’t going to do anything. She’s Ministry scum. She owns the place without trying,” he told you bitterly, removing his finger and dropping his cigarette in the grass, stomping on it to put it out.

“But you’re hurt.”

⟢ He took pause at that, face steely as he sized you up. Truth be told, Mattheo didn’t think much of you at first. You were quieter around him than you were around your closer friends. You gave him the impression of someone who cared deeply about what others thought of you, someone weak, but as he continued to exist in your bubble, he began to notice things. You were…empathetic. Not naive nor innocent, no, something braver. Someone who clearly suffered and continued to lead a life of kindness. You defended the weak. You didn’t let the biased views of your house, your family, and your company to define you. You were stronger than anyone else he knew. The more he learned about you, the more jealous he felt—and for a while, he resented you.

⟢ He selfishly imagined that you hated him too. That your kindness was a facade that would go away once met with someone difficult, someone who, unlike you, took the easy path after facing trauma—becoming the aggressor. But here you are, not only once again standing up for what you believe in, but doing it because you care, not just about the cause, but him.

⟢ He addresses you by name and says, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me.”

⟢ “Don’t patronize me, Mattheo,” you shot back instantly.

⟢ That tinge of rage you felt at the idea of him dismissing your concern shocks the dissonance into his heart. The version he created of you, of the kind person with a limit, is not as strong a vision as the one standing in front of him—the one willing to fight for him.

⟢ And that idea, that inkling of doubt worming its way into his head, was enough to make Mattheo really start to notice you. His attention fueled your attention, and suddenly by Chirstmastime, the two of you were closer than ever before—and people were starting to notice.

part 2 coming soon! requests are open

[tregearix]

SHENANIGANS

ITZY Lia X Male Reader

You're sitting in the counselor's office, your legs stretched out in front of you as the counselor drones on and on about your behavior. You can't help but roll your eyes at his lectures - you've heard it all before. Expulsion threats, detention, the works. It's all just noise to you at this point.

As the counselor continues his rant, your mind starts to wander. You think back to the fight yesterday, the satisfaction of seeing those guys from the rival school crumple to the ground. Fuck, it felt good to let loose and show them who's the boss.

The counselor's voice snaps you back to reality. "Listen, I'm really serious. One more incident like this and you're out. Do you understand me?"

You lean forward, a smirk playing on your lips. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. No more fights, no more trouble." you say it casually, not really meaning a word of it. The counselor sighs, shaking his head in frustration.

As you stand up to leave, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. Your hair is slightly disheveled, and a small cut on your lip from the yesterday brawl. You look like the badass you are, and you know it.

You stride out of the office, not even bothering to shut the door behind you. The halls are empty, most of the students are in their class right now. You make your way towards your class lazily, already thinking about skipping it. But when you almost changed your path towards the school rooftop, you suddenly remember something. You remember this is English lesson time in your class.

Well, you're not exactly fancying English lesson, but the person behind it are the reason why you're eventually decided to coming back to your class. You walk more faster, and a mischievous smile appears across face.

As you pick up your pace, your mind races at the thoughts of Lia, the sexy English teacher. You can't help but smirk as you imagine her standing in front of the class, her curves accentuated by her tight dress. The way she moves, the way she speaks - it's enough to drive any guy wild.

You burst into the classroom, startling a few of your classmates who were already settled in. Lia who's writing something on the whiteboard turns to face you, her eyes narrowing as she takes your appearance. "Done with the conselor? I thought you're gonna skipping my class just like you do as usual with other classes," she says sarcastically, her tone dripping with disapproval.

You flash her your signature charming smile, ignoring the glares from your fellow students. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Ms. Lia," you reply, winking at her. She rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by your antics.

As you take your seat, you can't help but let your gaze linger on Lia. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the curve of her neck - every inch of her is perfection. You know as a student you shouldn't be thinking these kind of thoughts to a teacher, but fuck it.

The lesson goes on, but you find yourself getting more and more distracted as the time progressed on. You start doodling on your notebook, sketching out crude images of Lia in various compromising positions. You can't help but chuckle to yourself as you draw her bent over the desk, her dress riding up to reveal her ass. Another sketch shows her on her knees, her mouth open wide.

You're so engrossed in your lewd artwork that you barely register Lia calling your name. You snap back to reality, looking up to see her standing close from your desk, her hand outstretched. "I'll take that, thank you," she says firmly, snatching the notebook from your grasp.

Your heart races as she flips through the pages, her eyes widening in shock and disgust as she sees your drawings. The classroom falls silent, all eyes on the two of you. Lia's face turns red with anger and embarrassment.

"How dare you!" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "These are completely inappropriate! I should report you to the principal right now!"

You can't help but smirk, finding her reaction amusing. "Come on, Ms. Lia. Don't you think you're overreacting a little?" you say, trying to play it cool. "It's just a bit of harmless fun."

Lia's jaw drops, her eyes flashing with fury. "Harmless fun you say? Get out of my classroom this instant!" she screams, pointing towards the door. "I'll deal with you later!"

You stride out of the classroom calmly, a smirk playing on your lips, ignoring the curious looks from your classmates. You can hear them whispering amongst themselves, trying to guess what could have possibly been in your notebook to warrant such a reaction from their teacher.

You wander the halls aimlessly, not really caring where you end up. You could go to the cafeteria and grab something to eat, or maybe hit up the bathroom for a quick smoke. But in the end you decided to go to the rooftop to take a nap. As you climb the stairs, you can't shake the image of Lia's angry face from your mind. You don't find it scary but rather amusing, and you chuckled at the thought of it.

Once you in the rooftop, you lean against the railing, feeling the cool breeze against your skin as you take in the view from the rooftop. The entire school grounds are laid out before you - the sports field, the parking lot filled with teachers' cars. In the distance, the city skyline stretches out, a reminder of the world beyond these school walls.

After a few moments of enjoying the view, you start looking for a spot to take a nap. You spot a shady corner near the edge of the roof, away from prying eyes. You make your way over, lying down on your back and stretching out your arms above your head, relaxing yourself as you started to drift off.

An hour or so later, you're jolted awake by the sound of a door slamming shut nearby. You sit up groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. That's when you see her - Lia, standing just a few feet away from you, staring at you with a solemn face.

"I don't know you're good at drawing," Lia begins, reminding you about earlier incident in the class, her voice cutting through the quiet atmosphere of the rooftop.

You yawn, stretching your arms above your head as you wake up from your nap. You ignore her comment about your drawings, not really caring about what she thinks. "What time is it? Is it time for a break?" you ask, sitting up and looking around.

Lia stands there, her arms crossed over her chest as she stares you down. "It's 3:30 PM. School ended an hour ago," she says, her voice casual. "You shouldn't draw such perverted things about me, I would be humiliated if anyone else saw that drawings."

You let out a soft grunt, pushing yourself up to a sitting position. You couldn't care less about what she had to say - you were more interested in the way her dress hugged her curves, the way her hair fell over her shoulders. "Well," you began, your voice low and smooth. "Your acting are pretty nice by the way." you smirk.

Lia rolls her eyes at your sentence, her lips pursed in annoyance. "It's not an acting. We're in the school, I'm your teacher and you're my student, and as student you must respecting me as your teacher. Just because we're hooking up often doesn't mean you can draw something inapproriate about me." she says, her tone firm.

You just chuckled, not taking Lia's words seriously. Everyone in the school knows everything about your bad deeds except one thing, and that one thing is your affair with the hot English teacher Julia Choi. As a student, you definitely know very well how forbidden it is to doing shenanigans with a teacher, but that taboo thing is what makes it so hot. And you're sure that Lia feels the same way about it.

You stand up, remembering how it all began. It was a few months ago, and you were caught red-handed having sex with one of the school cheerleader in the girls' bathroom during class period. Lia had caught you in the act, and threatened to report both of you to the principal for your inappropriate behavior.

The girl you had been with fled the scene immediately, her face pale with fear. But you stood your ground, frustrated that you had been interrupted just as you were about to reach your climax. Lia continued to scold you, her voice stern and disapproving.

But then, something changed. Lia's eyes widened as she caught sight of your massive erection, still standing proud and ready. Her face flushed with a mix of shock and curiosity, and she fell silent.

Seeing your teacher's reaction, you follow where her gaze landed. And you couldn't help but start teasing her when you found out where her eyes is setting. "Never seen a big dick before, Ms. Lia?" you said, a smirk playing on your lips.

Hearing your words, Lia put on her angry face once again. She threatened to reporting you again to the principal, but you didn't waver from her threat. Lia glances down one more time at your dick then back again to your face before storming away from the bathroom. You chuckles, remembering her action that day.

For the next few days, you prepared yourself, getting ready in case you were called to the principal's office. But somehow that never happened, you wonder if Lia didn't report your inappropriate behavior the other day in the girls' bathroom to the principal. But why she does that? Why she's not reporting you to the principal?.

Then you start to getting the clues. During English class, you caught Lia several times stealing glances at you with mysterious looks, her eyes lingering just a moment too long. You don't want to get too confident, but you're starting to come into conclusion that she might be getting interested on you after the incident in the girls' bathroom a few days ago, or perhaps she just after your huge dick. And you seeing it as sign to begin hitting on the sexy English teacher that coveted by the whole school.

It's not that easy of course, Lia repeatedly rejected your advances on her. She's citing her job as a teacher, and your bad reputation as the rascal of the school as the reason. But you didn't give up easily, you knew that deep down, Lia wanted you too.

You persisted in your pursuit, until finally, one day, Lia gave in to her desires for you. You caught her alone in the secluded corner of the library, and after a few minutes exchanging words, your seduction winning over her rejection. She pushed you against the wall, kissing you furiously. From that moment on, you and Lia engaged in a secret affair, stealing moments together whenever you could.

"What are you thinking?" Lia's voice snaps you back to the present.

You shake your head, a smirk playing on your lips. "Nothing," you say, voice low and smooth. You walk towards her with a predatory gaze, your eyes locked onto hers.

"Nothing, huh?" Lia's voice is skeptical, but there's a hint of amusement in her tone. She takes a step back, but you match her movement, closing the distance between you once again.

You reach out, your fingers grazing her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. "I was just thinking about that day in the bathroom," you murmur, your breath hot against her ear. "When you saw what I had to offer."

Lia's breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment thinking about that day. But she quickly regains her composure, knowing fully what are you after, she pushed you away. "We can't do this here," she hisses, her voice low and urgent. "Someone might see us."

But you don't listen, your hands already roaming over her curves, your lips trailing kisses along her neck. "Let them see," you growl, your voice rough with desire. "I want everyone to know that you're mine."

Lia gasps, her body trembling beneath your touch. "You're impossible," she whispers, but there's no real conviction in her words. You can feel her resolve crumbling, her desire for you overriding her sense of propriety.

"I'm not asking for permission," you say, your voice low and commanding. "I'm taking what's mine."

With that, you spin her around, pressing her against the railing of the rooftop. Your hands slid up her thighs, your fingers moving to her panty covered pussy inside her short dress. Lia's breath comes in short gasps, her body arching against yours as you tease her, your fingers brushing against her most sensitive places.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own breathing. "Not here..."

But you don't listen, your fingers delving deeper, your thumb circling her clit. Lia's moans fill the air, her body trembling with need. You know that she cannot resist the pleasure you given to her, and she hated that fact.

You lean onto her back, pressing Lia against the railing as you slide her panties aside. Your fingers sneaks inside her slick folds. "You know, you promised me something, Ms. Lia," you growl in her ear, your voice low and husky.

Last week, Lia made a deal with you. If you worked hard and got an A+ on English exam, she promised to let you taking her ass. The hole that you always wanted to claim, and she knew it very well. Using your desire as a motivation, she's pushing you to study harder than you ever have before.

As a bad boy, you're always not give a shit about exams. But the thought of finally having Lia's tight asshole wrapped around your cock was enough to make you cared for this once. And the things went well, you aced that test and got an A+, and now it's the time to collecting your prize.

Your thumb circle her clit as your index and middle fingers sawing in and out of her wet pussy. Lia gasp and arch against you. "Oh god," she whimpers, you can feel how wet she is, how much she wants this.

You smirk, knowing that she's completely surrendering her body to you now. "You promised, Ms. Lia," you remind her, your voice low and commanding. "And a debt must be repaid."

You pull your fingers out of Lia's dripping pussy, then bringing them to your lips. "Too bad I didn't bring any lube," you say with a smirk, licking her juices off your fingers. "And I'm guessing you didn't bring any either, huh?"

You turn Lia around again to face you, your eyes looking at her hungrily. "So why don't you use that pretty mouth of yours as a lube, Ms. Lia?" you suggest, your voice low and husky. "Get my cock nice and wet before I claim what's mine."

Lia's eyes darkening with lust at your suggestion, excitement running across her face. "You're so filthy," she breathes, but there's no real protest in her voice.

You smirk, knowing that she's just as turned on as you are. "Filthy is what you like, isn't it, Ms. Lia?" you tease, your voice low and seductive. "Now get on your knees and put that pretty mouth to work."

Lia slowly sinks to her knees in front of you. Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for your belt, undoing it with deft fingers. She tugs down your pants and boxers, freeing your massive cock.

Her eyes widen at the sight of it, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "Fuck, you're huge as usual," she whispers, her voice filled with awe and desire.

You just grin, placing your hand in her hair and guiding her head towards your cock. "Less talking, more sucking," you command, your voice rough with need.

Lia obeys, wrapping her lips around the head of your cock and sucking it gently. You groan at the sensation, your hips bucking forward involuntarily. She takes more of your cock into her mouth after a few licks on the head, her tongue swirling around your shaft as she begans bobs her head up and down.

You can feel your cock growing harder with each passing second, the wet heat of her mouth driving you wild with lust. "That's it, just like that," you encourage, your voice strained with pleasure. "Get me nice and wet for that tight ass of yours."

Lia knows it's forbidden for a teacher to do something like this with a student, but the thought of being dominated by her bad boy pupil is really turning her on. She can't hold back.

You can see the lust and desire in her eyes when your gaze met as she takes more of your massive cock into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your shaft, coating it with her saliva. You groan in pleasure, your hips bucking forward involuntarily.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good Ms. Lia," you growl.

Lia moans around your cock, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. She's completely lost in the moment, forgetting about the taboo nature of what she's doing. All she cares about is pleasing you, submitting to your every desire.

Her eyes watering as she's deepthroating you, but she doesn't wanna stop. She's determined to get you as wet as possible, to prepare you for what's to come.

You can feel your balls tightening, your orgasm building. But you're not ready to cum yet. Not until you've claimed what's yours.

With a grunt, you pull Lia off your cock, leaving her gasping for air. "On your feet," you command, your voice rough with need. "Bend over and show me that ass." You push your pants and boxer further down to your ankles before stepping aside from it.

Lia catches her breath, a mix of lust and nerves racing through her body as she obeys your command. She stands up on shaky legs, turning around to face the railing. Placing her hands on the cool metal, she leans forward, the fabric of her dress riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of her ass.

Her heart races as she glances down at the nearly empty parking lot below. She spots her car, a lonely beacon amidst the vacant spaces. A few other teachers' vehicles remain, but there's no sign of anyone nearby. The coast seems clear, for now.

Lia's breath catches in her throat as she feels your presence looming behind her. She knows this is wrong, that a teacher and student engaging in such an act is the ultimate taboo. But the thrill of it all, the danger of being caught, only serves to heighten her arousal.

She can feel your eyes on her ass, undressing her, craving her. Lia bites her lip, trying to suppress a moan as she arches her back slightly, presenting herself to you. The cool afternoon air kisses her skin as her dress rides up even higher, the fabric now a thin barrier between her and your hungry gaze.

She's never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. Yet, she's never wanted anything more in her life. Lia's body is trembling with anticipation, eager to feel your touch, to be claimed by you in the most intimate way possible.

You step closer, your body pressing against Lia's back. You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way her body trembles with anticipation. "You want this, don't you?" you murmur, your hand sliding over the curve of her ass. "You want me to take you right here, where anyone could see?"

Lia lets out a shaky breath, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Yes," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I want it. I want you."

Your fingers find the hem of her dress, tugging it up and exposing her ass to the cool air. You can see the thin strip of lace that passes for panties, the material already damp with her arousal.

"Fuck, you're so hot," you growl, your hand kneading the flesh of her ass. "I can't wait to feel this tight ass wrapped around my cock."

You hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties, tugging them down and exposing her completely. Lia gasps, arching her back further and presenting herself to you.

You can feel your cock throbbing, hard and ready. You rub the head of it against her ass, teasing her, letting her feel how much you want her.

"Tell me how much you want it," you demand, your voice low and rough with lust. "Tell me how badly you need my cock inside your ass."

Lia whimpers as she feels the head your cock knocking her backdoor. "Please.. collect your prize, fuck my ass, let me pay my debt to you.. I don't care who sees, I just need you to be inside me. Please baby, shove that massive dick deep in my ass and fuck me hard." Lia begs.

You grin wickedly, thrilled by Lia's wanton begging. "Since you asked so nicely," you growl, gripping her hips tightly.

With one hard thrust, you try bury your massive cock deep into Lia's tight ass. She cries out, a mix of pain and pleasure, her fingers scrabbling at the metal railing. "Fuck!" she screams, her voice echoing across the empty schoolyard downs below.

Even after the hot blowjob Lia's gave you, your cock still finding it hard to get inside her ass. From the hard thrust, your cock only able to get inside a quarter of its length. "Fuck.. your ass so tight Ms. Lia." you cursed, feeling how Lia asshole violently gripping your shaft.

Lia cries out again as you force your way deeper into her tight ass, her fingers digging into the metal railing. "Oh god, you're so big!" she whimpers, her body trembling and clenching around your invading cock.

You grit your teeth, gripping her hips tighter as you try to push more of your massive length inside her. "Fuck, you're gripping me so tightly," you grunt, feeling her asshole resist your advance.

Lia's moans grow louder, echoing across the empty schoolyard. "Please, go slow," she begs, her voice strained with a mix of pain and pleasure. "I've never done this before, and you're so fucking huge!"

You take a deep breath, trying to control yourself as you slowly push more of your cock into her tight heat. Inch by inch, you feel her asshole stretching around you, accommodating your thick girth.

"Fuck, I can feel every inch of your massive cock," Lia whimpers, her body shuddering as you bottom out inside her. "You're so deep in my ass, I've never felt so full before."

You stay still for a moment, letting her get used to the feeling of being so utterly stuffed with your hard cock. "You're doing so good, Ms. Lia," you murmur, your hand sliding up her back to cup her breast through her dress.

Lia takes a few deep breaths, trying to relax her body and adjust to the intense sensation of being so deeply filled by your massive cock. She can feel every throbbing inch of you pulsing inside her tight ass, stretching her in a way she's never been stretched before.

"Thank you," she whispers, a shudder running through her body as your hand cups her breast. "I feel so full, so complete with you inside me like this."

You can feel her nipple hardening through the thin fabric of her dress, and you can't resist giving it a gentle squeeze. Lia lets out a soft moan, arching her back to press her breast more firmly into your hand.

"That feels so good," she breathes, her hips starting to make small, instinctive circles against you. "I love having your cock deep in my ass, filling me up so completely."

You can feel Lia's body starting to relax, her asshole no longer gripping you quite so tightly. You know she's ready for more.

"Tell me how it feels," you murmur, your thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling her nipple through her dress as you begin to move your hips slowly, thrusting in and out of her tight asshole. "Tell me how much you love having your student's big cock buried deep inside your ass."

Lia lets out a long, low moan as she feels your cock sliding in and out of her tight asshole. "Oh god, it feels incredible," she gasps, her fingers tightening their grip on the railing. "I've never felt so full, so completely stuffed and stretched around a cock before."

She rocks her hips back to meet your thrusts, her body starting to move in rhythm with yours. "Having my student's massive dick buried deep in my ass is the most amazing thing I've ever felt," she confesses, her voice heavy with lust and desire. "I love the way it pulses and throbs inside me, the way it's reshaping my tight hole to fit your perfect cock."

Lia's moans grow louder and more wanton as you pick up the pace, fucking into her harder and deeper. "Fuck, just like that," she cries out, her asshole clenching and fluttering around your pistoning cock. "Claim your prize, baby. Fuck my ass like you mean it, show me who it belongs to."

"With pleasure Ms. Lia." You grinned and obliged her request, moving your hips more wildy than before, drilling into her ass.

Lia cries out in ecstasy, her voice echoing in the rooftop as you pound into her ass with wild abandon. "Yes, just like that!" she screams, her fingers scrabbling at the metal railing for support. "Fuck me harder, baby. Show me what a naughty teacher I've been for letting my student fuck my ass like this."

You can feel her asshole gripping you like a vice as you drill into her, the tight heat enveloping your cock and threatening to pull you in even deeper. Lia's moans grow louder and more desperate, her body shaking with the force of your thrusts.

"That's it, baby," she pants, her voice strained with pleasure. "Fuck your teacher's ass just like you wanted to. I'm your dirty little slut now, your personal ass fuck toy. Use me, baby, use me hard!

You slap Lia's jiggling ass cheek hard as it bounces against your crotch, leaving a red handprint on her skin. "Fuck, look at this ass, bouncing and shaking with every thrust," you grunt, slapping her ass again and again. "You're loving this, aren't you Ms. Lia? Loving the way my huge cock is wrecking your tight asshole, stretching it out and claiming it as mine."

Lia lets out a sharp cries as your hand keep makes contact with her ass, the stinging pain mixing deliciously with the intense pleasure radiating from her core. "Yes, yes I am!" she screams, her body jerking forward from the force of your slaps. When you stopped slapping her ass and moved your hands back to her hips, Lia's greedily pushing her ass back against you, desperate for more.

"Fuck, the way you're stretching me, filling me, owning me," Lia babbles incoherently, her eyes glazed over with lust. "I've never felt so used, so utterly claimed. My ass belongs to you now, baby. Only you can fuck me like this, make me scream and beg for more."

You can feel her asshole clenching and rippling around your pistoning cock, the tight muscles fluttering wildly as you continues to pound into her. Lia's moans reach a fever pitch, her voice raw and hoarse from screaming your name.

"Don't stop, please don't stop!" she wails, her body shaking uncontrollably as she teeters on the edge of a massive orgasm. "I'm so close, baby. Make me cum on your huge cock, fill me up with your hot seed. Please, please, please..."

You grunted as you feel Lia asshole gripping your cock more tightly than before. "Then cum for me you dirty slutty teacher," you growl, squeezing her hips harder as her asshole camping down on your pistoning cock like a vice.

"Milk my fucking cock with your greedy ass Ms. Lia, show me how bad you needed this. Cum all over my huge dick like the needy whore you are." you command, pounding into her harder and faster, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing across the empty rooftop.

Lia throws her head back and screams as her orgasm crashes over her, her asshole clamping down on your cock like a vice. "FUCK, YES! I'M CUMMING!" she wails, her body convulsing uncontrollably as wave after wave of intense pleasure rips through her.

Lia's juices shoots from her pussy, splattering across the floor below the two of you fucking. Her asshole narrowed around your cock dramatically, the greedy muscles squeezing tightly in a way that almost push you over the edge.

"Fuck.. Ms. Lia!" Your cursed, your cock throbbing violently as your orgasm approaching fast.

Lia feel it too, she can feel how your cock throbs wildly inside her asshole. She turned her head, her face frown in pleasure as she looked at you with eyes full of lust. "I know you're so close baby. Fill me up please, I want to feel your hot cum flooding my ass, marking me as your dirty slut. Give it to me, baby, give me your fucking load!." She pushes her ass back again and again to met your frantic thrust.

Lia pulled her right hand from the railing to grab the back your neck to open up a kiss. Your tongues battled, huffed breaths ragging against each other, and moan after moan drown out by the hot kisses. Your thrust getting sloppier from the seconds by, you feel your cock are so close to hitting the finish line.

With a final, brutal thrust, you bury yourself to the hilt inside Lia's spasming asshole, your cock pulsing and throbbing as you erupt like a volcano. Your hot, thick cum flooding her tight asshole, painting her insides white.

Lia screams into your mouth, her body shaking and jerking as she feels your seed filling her up, marking her as yours. She swallows your moans, her tongue dancing with yours as you both ride out the intense waves of pleasure. Your hips jerk and twitch as your cock spurting jet after jet of cum deep into Lia's hungry ass. The walls of her ass clenched hard around your cock, milking every last drop of your essence.

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, you pull your mouth away from hers, both of you panting hard from the hard anal sex you just haved. Lia's eyes gazed you wistfully, and she gives you a lazy, satisfied smile. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice hoarse from screaming. "That was so good."

"Yeah, that was incredible," you pant, slowly pulling your softening cock out of Lia's well-fucked asshole. You watch in satisfaction as her gaping hole winks and flutters as streams of thick cum began to leaking out and dripping down to her trembling thighs.

"An A+ on that exam now feels really worth it, Ms. Lia," you smirk, giving her ass cheek a playful squeeze. "I've never cum that hard before. You're probably a natural-born anal slut, you know that?"

Lia blushes at your crude words, a mix of embarrassment and pride warring on her face. "I can't believe we just did that here," she murmurs, slowly straightening up and pulling her dress back down to cover her dripping ass. "If anyone had seen us..." She shakes her head, still in disbelief.

But then a wicked grin spreads across her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I can't believe how much I loved it," she admits, turning to face you with a smirk of her own. "You've awakened something in me, something I didn't even know was there."

She steps closer, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your lips. "Maybe you're right," she whispers, her voice low and seductive. "Maybe I am a natural-born anal slut. And maybe..." She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "Maybe you'll help me explore all the naughty, dirty things I've been craving but never dared to try before."

"Well well, looks like that's an invitation for more, yeah?" You smirk confidently, your eyes roaming over Lia's disheveled yet sexy appearance. "But let's dress up first and get out from here, the sun's setting and I bet the school's about to lock up real soon."

Lia glances at the setting sun, the orange and pink hues painting the sky. She nods, realizing the time. "You're right, we should go," she agrees, and quickly straightens her dress, smooths out the wrinkles and pulled up her panties, trying to regain some semblance of her usual put-together appearance. She reaches up to fix her hair, but a few strands still frame her face in a just-fucked sort of way. You also picked up your pants that were on the floor and quickly put them back on.

As you both make your way to the stairs, Lia glances back at you with a playful smile. "I'm gonna grab my purse first, wait for me in the parking lot, I'll drive you home."

You smirk at her words, knowing exactly what's on her mind. "Sounds good, Ms. Lia," you bet that she will not drop you off home right away, she definitely gonna 'crashing' you somewhere else first.

Lia smirks knowingly at your smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, you cocky boy," she teases, but there's a promise in her voice that makes it clear she thinks exactly what have you guessed. "Meet you at the car in 5 minutes."

With a sway of her hips, she disappears. You walk towards your class to grab your bag before finally making your way to the parking lot. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the empty lot as you wait by Lia's car, a sleek black sedan that matches her sophisticated yet sexy vibe.

As you lean against the car, you can't help but grin to yourself, already looking forward to your next 'study session' with your hot English teacher.

[raayllum]

I get that in general a lot of kids shows do utilize the protagonists ('good guys') in ways where they're supposed to be role models, particularly because some do have a "lesson of the week" where the character does bad things, then clearly learns and explains what they should've done instead by the end of the episode.

That has just... never been how TDP has operated, and I don't get how and why people think we're supposed to take what anyone does in the show as being unilaterally good or evil. Particularly in arc 2; any moral simplicity that was hanging on by a thread in arc 1 has been taken out back and shot numerous times by now.

TDP very rarely calls anything Evil or Good, and when it does, it's always filtered through the characters' biases, and rarely does more then 2-3 characters ever have the same opinion on something for the same reasons. Soren and Rayla, who have inverted character arcs, are some of the only characters to ever use the term villain / good guys or bad guys, and are two of the most staunchly black-and-white thinking characters, heavily to their detriment, I might add, in terms of coping with the increasing complexity of their lives. They have cognitive biases. They're not always right, and are frequently wrong. This is true for everyone in the show.

The show refuses to condemn murder, indirectly and directly condemns the expulsion of humans from Xadia routinely (Evrkynd being a city for everyone, Ezran arguing with Karim, who is the most wrong about the most things), and shows a variety of viewpoints on all things.

The show understands that the choices people make—whether the same character trait is a flaw or a strength—as well as 'moral' choices are all circumstantial.

Are you wrong to burn people alive? Mostly yes (2x07, 6x08) but also no (3x09). Are you wrong to kill people? Sometimes yes, sometimes no, sometimes whether it's 'wrong' or 'right' doesn't even factor in. Are you wrong to use dark magic, or use the dangerous Staff of Ziard, or coin someone and condemn them to a 'fate worse than death'? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Is lying or hiding the truth to protect someone wrong? Sometimes yes (1x06, 2x03, 3x03, 5x01, 7x04, 7x06) sometimes no (1x02, 2x03, 6x06, 5x08, 7x08).

Are you doing the right thing?

Do you have no choice? Is that true, or is that just what you think, or how you rationalize it yourself?

When is it right or cowardly to leave (Viren, Lissa, Rayla, Callum, Ezran, the Cosmic Council, the offer made to Karim's troops)? When should you stay? When do you decide to share resources (2x05) to your potential detriment or withhold them in the name of protecting yourself and your own people (Xadia and magic)? At what point(s) do you prioritize your own pain and grief, or someone else's (i.e. the Keeper vs Callum vs Ezran)? At what point is someone too dangerous or 'too far gone' to keep alive (Runaan about Harrow, Ezran about Aaravos)? At what point do you decide someone cannot change? When do you refuse to change (Karim, Terry) who you are no matter what happens, and when do you decide that you must (Ezran, Soren)? When is it wrong to use illusions to trick someone (3x09 and 7x06) and when is it more reasonable (2x03)? When should you be willing to sacrifice others (Rayla with her family, Runaan and Rayla with Callum, Soren with Viren) and when should you refuse? When should you sacrifice yourself, and when it is wrong to? Did you betray them, or did they betray you, or both (usually both)? When should you betray or stay loyal to your family? What is the right thing to do?

The show, tbh, doesn't know, at least 90% of the time. It's not interested in knowing. It's interested in exploring. That's the whole point. At most, it says you should work towards harm reduction, but what constitutes harm, and what peace looks like, is also something that greatly differs for all the characters.

Rayla is willing to sacrifice the love of her life, Ezran is willing to create weapons of mass destruction and wield one, and Callum used a torture spell on someone when he absolutely did not have to. The idea that any of the protagonists are meant to be paragons of unblemished virtue who are always 100% right, or that any of the antagonists do not canonically have a good point of contention with anything that's happened and are always 100% wrong, is reductive to everything the show is and explores, because it is Quite Literally not what the show does, ever tbh.

They literally spelled it out this past season as a core theme; I don't think they needed to have a character directly point it out every time a main character did something that was Kinda Fucked Up or Complicated But Understandable to know that the show knows it was Canonically Fucked Up or Complicated But Understandable.

There is not a single character or action in TDP that is always right, and there is not a singular character or action in TDP that is always wrong. Hell, even narrowing it down to "this is 'right' or 'wrong'" feels counterintuitive because it's so subjective within the narrative.

Every choice the characters make is often well reasoned, aligns with their values and world views, and fits into how they work through problems. Every choice has benefits and consequences, for them or for others. That doesn't mean it's Right for everyone involved. That doesn't mean it's Wrong for everyone involved. That's what makes the show interesting. Everything has nuance. Everything has Complexity. I'm not interested in a simplified version of TDP. I'm interested in the show as is.

I hope you are, too.

[rosejuicewonderdrunk]

“In One Hundred Years of Solitude, Márquez wrote that we are birthed by our mothers only once, but life obligates us to give birth to ourselves over and over.”

Excerpt From: Erika L. Sánchez. “Lessons on Expulsion.”

[fromchaostocosmos]

What happened and is still happening in the Netherlands, in Amsterdam specifically, is a pogrom.

I want that to be very clear. That it is attack on Jews for being Jews. And that attack is in the form of a pogrom.

I have seen multiple videos and clips that have been posted online and right now the only thing I am feeling is enraged.

I am so angry. I am sure that other feelings will come that is if my go to method of dealing with emotions i.e numbing doesn't kick in first.

But for now I am burning with anger.

I have said before that Never Again was statement that Jews told ourselves about how we not ever again allow ourselves to be in positions like we were in the Holocaust and in the past. That we would Never Again allow you, goyim, to mass kill us like before and to do all that you have done to us.

And how you, goyim, took this statement, this promise, and this affirmation and have used it against us and universalized it.

Well allow me to state and affirm that we shall not go quietly or peacefully. We will not lay our necks on your blades, we shall go easily into deaths you aim at us. And we never did no matter how much propaganda you have spread to push the lie that we did.

You have told us over and over to learn our lessons from the Holocaust and so we did.

And we learnt from every expulsion, from every ethnic cleansing, from every genocide, from every pogrom, from every blood libel, from every Inquisition, from every massacre, we have learnt from it all.

We know that you will not help us, that you will not be there for us, and that you don't care.

So if you think that for moment that this time you will succeed like you have before then you are fools.

Because we know now that everything we have tried doesn't work.

Being cooperative doesn't work, being nice doesn't work, being mean doesn't work, fighting back in way doesn't work, assimilating doesn't work, totally isolating doesn't work, because over the very long history we have tried it all.

So this time around we will fight for our lives and our futures and our people.

And in the end we still be here and those who tried destroyed us well they will turn out like everyone else who have tried the same, words in the history books.

I am furious yes, and I put my faith in my people and our G-d and I know we shall survive and thrive.

For I say look at all those who tried before to destroy in totality and I say to you where are they now.

Am Yisrael Chai עם ישראל חי the people of Yisrael live

[smokefalls]

Love, remove your fingers from between my ribs.

Erika L. Sánchez, "Circles" from Lessons on Expulsion

[scoutofmymind]

Saw that someone said Luigi’s Reddit had a post where he eluded to a pretty heavy drinking habit in college, which then makes me think about drunk ex!luigi. I’m sorry, but you write angst too well

Unlearn Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, slight pining, mentions of canon back pain, ex’s reminiscing, heartbreak all over again.

Wc: 4,336 (holy shit)

Notes; Two semesters of carefully crafted distance crumbles at 3AM in the computer lab when your final project implodes hours before the deadline, leaving you with no choice but to seek help from the one person you've been avoiding since the breakup.

Before we continue, I cannot ignore that wildfires continue to ravage Los Angeles, countless families have lost their homes and livelihoods. I urge you to consider supporting those affected through any of these donation links, additionally, Roadogs on Instagram is looking for fosters for mass evacuations of shelter dogs in California.

Foster or donate if you can. xo.

Now, let’s go.

"Mother fucker," you curse, attacking your keyboard with increasingly desperate keystrokes.

Each combination might be the one to salvage this disaster, but deep down you know it's hopeless — your software has corrupted itself into oblivion, taking six months of work with it.

"You can ask for an extension," Emma suggests, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion that matches your own. Your roommate had burst into the media center still wearing her pink silk pajamas, immediately launching into a nervous tirade about after-hours permissions and potential expulsion risks.

Her constant hovering and worrying grates on your last nerve, and you tell her to leave.

Predictably, she refuses.

"Listen, I'm not just gonna leave you here on your own." She leans across your workspace, her body pressing against your laptop screen until it tilts halfway closed. You freeze, fingers suspended above the keys, terrified of losing what little progress you've made in this digital archaeology expedition. "There's - like - a murderer on campus."

"One girl said she was followed home," you gently remind. Under normal circumstances, Emma's mother-hen routine would be endearing — charming, even. But right now, with your project in shambles and deadline looming, her protective hovering feels suffocating. "Not murdered, Em."

"May as well have been." Emma fixes you with that look — the one that screams why am I the only rational person here? While her nails tap nervously against your desk. "Probably hasn't left her room since. And you know what? Smart girl.”

You scrub your hands over your face, your eyes fixed on the projector's word vomit — an endless stream of error messages and unintelligible code painting the drywall from a tired projector like some twisted modern art piece.

Not exactly what you were going for.

Emma stands mesmerized, "How did you even do this?" She watches the cryptic display crawl across the wall, her eyes tracking each line as if she could decode it. "This reminds me of-" she catches herself, the name hanging unspoken between you. She's learned that lesson the hard way. "This is wild.”

You can't help but notice.

Notice how she almost speaks his name, how these meaningless strings of letters and numbers somehow bridge the gap to memories you've tried so hard to bury — promises whispered under star-sprinkled skies, fingers intertwined beneath the cosmic glow.

Moments that felt eternal then, ephemeral now.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, lying face-down like a surrender.

You blink several times, trying to clear the ghosts from your vision before speaking, your voice emerging barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves might shatter something in the air, "Should I text him?" You ask, offering the idea as if it was something too controversial to be spoken aloud.

Emma shifts her weight, both from exhaustion and the sudden weight of responsibility.

Your night's trajectory now rests in her hands — she who has witnessed every shade of you, from triumph to devastation. Her own memories of him surface: the way he'd raid her ice cream stash only to replace it with a premium pint the next day, how he'd tackle the dish mountain without prompting, those small gestures that made him feel like family.

"He was my favorite boyfriend of yours," she'd told you once, in a moment of wine-honest conversation. "He was a good boy."

A good boy who made a couple mistakes.

But those mistakes had compounded like interest on a debt you never agreed to pay, until the rift between you and Luigi widened into an ocean.

Everything good had been pulled out with the tide — your trust, your shared future — swept away to depths where no light could reach.

"I-" Emma's hand finds the back of her neck, her expression cycling through a slideshow of conflicted emotions. You can see her internal struggle; the desire to crawl into her bed warring with her loyalty to you. And she knows you well enough to realize you'd stay here until sunrise if necessary. "I mean — babe, I love you, but you can't fix this." The admission seems to pain her, as if acknowledging your limitations feels like betrayal. "We aren't techies."

You stare helplessly at your gutted gallery, stripped bare by your own accidental digital vandalism. Your artwork, your portfolio, your future — all reduced to incomprehensible strings of code projected onto an indifferent wall.

"Do you think he'd come?" The question escapes before you can stop it, your eyes magnetized to your phone as if your stare alone could resurrect that old text thread, buried beneath months of careful silence.

"Of course he would."

A soft, defeated whine escapes you as you turn back to glare at your corrupted work, as if you could intimidate it into fixing itself through sheer force of will.

Emma's voice softens, "Hey, he's mature enough to understand you've exhausted your options."

A violent shudder runs through you at the thought of Luigi being your last resort.

You'd managed to exile the visceral memories — the heated arguments that left you gasping for air, the promises that turned to vapor in the morning light.

"Which are?"

Emma looks down at her Pokemon-clad self, then back at you. "Me." She gestures vaguely in your direction, "and you."

The campus sleeps around you, everyone else lost to their dreams or late-night calls home. Just the two of you remain, trapped in this dimly-lit purgatory on a Wednesday night, while error messages mock your existence with their endless scroll.

"Slim pickin's," you mutter as your fingers betray you, finding Luigi's contact with muscle memory that refuses to die.

How many times had you pressed these same digits before?

But this is different.

Different because you haven't spoken since that night in your kitchen, when you stood with your back to him, voice steady despite the trembling in your hands, "So, we aren't going to try to figure this out?" You asked, and he’d responded with some pretentious comparison about your relationship being like corrupted code, fundamentally flawed, destined to fail its own quality test.

The irony isn't lost on you — the very metaphor he used to end things is now the thread that might pull you back into his orbit. Your only connection besides the elaborate dance of avoidance across campus, treating each other's paths like holy ground neither dares to tread.

Opening the thread, you're greeted by your last exchange — your final words to him blazing across the screen in angry blue bubbles: "I want my fucking shit back or I'll make your life a living hell." Such poetry. Your new message hovers in the text box, simpler, desperate in its brevity.

Hey need help with somethin. U up??

You thrust your phone at Emma like it's burning your fingers, watching her eyes widen as they catch on those months-old texts — digital artifacts of your rage that should have been scrubbed before tonight's desperate plea. "Jesus," she whispers, amusement dancing in her expression. "I'd still be licking my wounds if I were hi-"

The familiar buzz cuts through the air, a notification chime that once made your heart leap but now makes it sink.

"What'd he say?" You mumble, gaze fixed on the mocking projection that bathes the room in its sickly digital glow, code continuing its relentless march across the wall.

Emma settles into a chair, hunching over your laptop's makeshift altar. "Said he's at Ruddy's." She squints at a fresh message. "He said 'what do you want?'" She deepens her voice into a cartoonish baritone, making him sound like a caveman discovering text messaging for the first time.

You can't blame him for the cold response — you’d scorched that earth thoroughly.

But a selfish part of you wants to delete the whole exchange, pretend this moment of weakness never happened, go back to the careful choreography of avoiding each other's existence.

But you can't.

The corrupted gallery looming on the wall is a stark reminder that pride is a luxury you can't afford right now.

His icy reception is the natural consequence of your scorched-earth campaign, those venom-laced messages sent in the throes of heartbreak and confusion.

You'd played the role of the woman scorned perfectly, even though you'd written your own tragic script.

"Just send him a picture." You wave listlessly at the wall, where your work continues its digital decomposition, folding in on itself like a dying star. The error messages stretch into an endless serpent of nonsense, each iteration making less sense than the last.

The artificial shutter sound of Emma's photo breaks the silence, followed by the soft swoosh of sending. The wait feels eternal until-

Ding

Emma's attention snaps to your phone resting on her thigh, her eyes widening. "He's typing like he-"

Sorry;m,, I’m fucked uo

Up

I am

fucked up

Emma clicks her tongue and rises, crossing the room to lob your phone into your lap, screen up. "Guess some things don't change." You manage a weak half-grin, memories flooding back unbidden — Luigi stumbling into your dorm in the small hours, wrapped in whiskeys warmth, all soft edges and desperate hands.

"Well, make up your mind." Emma's yawn threatens to unhinge her jaw, arms wrapping around herself like armor. "Are we done here, or are you gonna have him come take a look?"

I’n be there son

I’ll be rherw soo

I’ll be there soon

You stand to wrap your arms around Emma’s shoulders who reluctantly curves her arms upward to squeeze your shoulders. “Go home.” She seems reluctant to listen, staring at your phone screen as if it would take her home itself. “I promise, I’ll be just fine.”

The space between you pulses with that unique warmth reserved for someone who shares your roof, your darkest secrets, and the monthly struggle with Con Edison. "Just don't make any brash decisions."

"Oh, Em." You press a kiss to her forehead. "You think I'm so much cooler than I am."

Emma's laugh follows her as she spins toward the door, collecting pieces of herself like breadcrumbs — the scarf draped over a chair, the coat hung forgotten, the backpack abandoned when the day still held promise.

Each item a marker of how long this digital nightmare has stretched, from sunshine to moonlight.

And as if summoned by cosmic irony, the lab door swings open to reveal Luigi. "Oh - hey, E." The surprise flickers across his face before he schools his features back to neutral.

"Hey, Lu." Her greeting carries the easy familiarity of their old routine, like NPCs in a cozy game exchanging preset dialogue, their paths crossing exactly as programmed.

"You g'na help me with this?"

Emma shakes her head, patting his shoulder as she passes — a gentle handoff. "I did my time." You want to protest, but words fail as you absorb the sight of him, eight months of careful avoidance crumbling in an instant.

"Ahh-" Luigi waves, feigning disappointment through the druken haze. "Need a walk back home?"

Ever the shepherd, guardian of late-night wanderers.

It didn't matter who you were — friend, stranger, ex-lover’s best friend and roommate — his self-appointed mission to ensure everyone's safe return never wavered.

You'd once wondered if it stemmed from some deeper anxiety, his mind unable to rest until every sheep was accounted for in its fold.

Tonight though, the alcohol has mercifully dulled that protective instinct. Emma's potential disappearance into the night ranks lower on his list of concerns than usual, although Emma herself had been the one earlier to warn you of the murderer on campus.

"You still got my location," Emma reminds him — a callback to conversations past, to the day she'd granted Luigi permanent access to her whereabouts, a level of trust you'd wisely withheld.

"Right."

She presses a kiss to her fingers, flashing you a peace sign with the same hand before it briefly lands on Luigi's shoulder. Then she's gone, disappearing into the snow-globe world he'd just stumbled in from. He stands before you now, arms hanging like dead weight, his eyes somehow both wide and narrow.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

You gesture weakly at the wall where your work writhes in digital agony. "So, uh — remember that time you salvaged Professor Wren’s entire thesis when her drive crashed?"

Luigi's eyes follow your hand, professional interest temporarily overriding the awkwardness. He steps closer, squinting at the corrupted display, "Jesus," he mutters, "what did you do to it?"

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?" The laugh that escapes is more nervous than you'd like. "It just. - it started disintegrating during final checks."

He's already pulling out his laptop, muscle memory from countless late-night tech rescues. The familiarity of it hits you in the chest — how many times had you watched him do this same thing, hunched over his keyboard, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration?

"I can try," he says finally, not quite meeting your eyes. "But no promises. When's this due?"

"Tomorrow at nine."

"Of course it is." He drops into the chair beside you, close enough that your elbows almost touch, but enough of a distance to still feel far away. “Okay, walk me through what it's supposed to look like when it's not — uh - whatever this is."

For a moment, Luigi stares at the corrupted display where red pixels bleed and stutter across the wall. His fingers hover over his keyboard, then pause. "Wait. This is your circulatory modeling project? The one you were-“ He cuts himself off, remembering this was before the eight months of silence.

"Yeah." You swallow. "It was working perfectly until an hour ago. Real-time hemodynamics, pressure differentials, vessel elasticity. Everything." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, feeling more helpless when you verbalize it.

He nods, already typing with uncanny precision despite the slight sway in his posture. "Show me the base code. Did you save any backups?"

"Three. All corrupted." You lean forward, careful not to crowd him as you pull up the mangled files. "It's like something got into the core simulation and just - I dunno - started rewriting them."

"Hm." His eyes scan the screen with that laser focus he somehow maintains no matter how much he drinks, that familiar furrow appearing between his brows. "These values are cascading. One corrupted variable triggering a chain reaction through the whole system." He glances at you, slightly overshooting before correcting. "When's the last time it ran correctly?"

You check your phone. "6:43 PM. I have a screen recording from then."

"Good. That's good." He pulls up a second window, his typing still flawless even as he reaches with his free hand to steady himself against the desk. "We can compare the execution logs, maybe isolate where it started going wrong." His fingers fly across the keys with a precision that seems to mock his clearly inebriated state, and for a moment, it feels like those eight months never happened. "I'm going to need coffee for this." He looks up at you from where he sat, “Or more booze.”

You land on coffee, your feet carrying you down the familiar path to the kitchenette.

The fluorescent lights flicker dimly at this hour, casting strange shadows across the linoleum, the lab's overpriced espresso machine hums to life under your touch, its gentle whirring a counterpoint to the distant sound of Luigi's typing.

Suddenly you're back in that first year, both of you hunched over at 3 AM, him teaching you the proper way to pull a shot: “You're murdering it, stop torturing the beans”, your quiet laughter echoing through empty halls.

"Got it.” His voice carries down the corridor, slurred but triumphant, snapping you back to present.

You return to find him illuminated by screen-glow, his tie loosened and dark hair disheveled. The paper cup lands in front of him — double shot, one packet of raw sugar.

He doesn't stir it, never has.

Instead, he tips the cup back, and you hear that familiar crunch of sugar crystals between his teeth, a sound that used to drive you crazy, until somewhere along the way it became endearing.

Still, the jumbled code taunts you from the screen, though its chaos seems less threatening now. Under Luigi's touch — steady despite the alcohol — your final project is slowly remembering its original shape.

"You should have texted sooner," Luigi murmurs, tilting his head back to collect the last sugar crystals from his cup. The movement exposes his throat, his collar wrinkled where he's been tugging at it all night.

"Well," you say, watching the way his fingers dance across the keys, each stroke precise despite his obvious intoxication, "takes a minute to swallow something as big as my pride."

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, eyes never leaving the screen where broken code is knitting itself back together under his attention.

"Oh," he huffs out a laugh, the sound low and dangerous in the quiet lab, "I've seen you swallow far bigger things before."

It strikes like summer lightning — quick, bright, and leaving the air charged in its wake. The innuendo lands with no real bite, yet you find your jaw slack, a startled laugh shaking loose from your chest.

"Kidding," Luigi says, his eyes flicking from screen to you and back again. There’s a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, softened by the alcohol but still sharp enough to cut. You wave him back to his work, grateful for the blue glow of monitors that hides your flush. "You kinda set that up perfectly, though."

He squints up at the projection where your broken code still bleeds across the wall, letting out a soft grunt of frustration at some digital roadblock. "Just mean — ya know, you could have caught me two beers deep instead of seven."

You shrug a shoulder, watching as the projection slowly crystallizes into something recognizable. "Seems you work better under such conditions."

The lie tastes metallic.

You both know the truth.

Luigi would have come if he was sober as sunrise or drowning in bourbon. Would have come with broken ribs or pneumonia or his heart barely beating. Would have traced these familiar hallways blind, deaf, or dying — because that's what the two of you do.

Have always done.

You've seen him at rock bottom, curled into himself on cold bathroom tiles at midnight, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as if he could physically hold back the pain that wracked his body. Watched him try to explain to puzzled doctors how someone so young could hurt so constantly, the frustration in his voice when they suggested it was all in his head.

You were there through the trials of medications, the nights when existence itself seemed too heavy to bear.

And you've seen him soar; standing tall in that charcoal suit that made him look older, more polished, shaking hands with tech giants who saw in him what you'd always known was there, his future spreading out before him like a golden road, brilliant and boundless.

Now he sits here, seven drinks deep but coding like he's never been clearer, and you realize that maybe both versions are equally true.

Maybe that's what makes him Luigi — the ability to contain multitudes, to be simultaneously broken and brilliant, wounded and wonderful.

He catches you watching him and raises an eyebrow, the gesture slightly delayed, which means you must have been a bit too obvious. "What?"

"Nothing.”

His fingers pause on the keys, and even through the alcoholic haze, his gaze pins you like a butterfly to cork. "No, really. What?" The words have a slight blur around their edges, but his focus is knife-sharp.

You could deflect again, but there's something about 4 AM and code that glows like dying stars that makes honesty feel less dangerous, perhaps you’re finding comfort in the fact that Luigi is drunk, although you’re stone cold sober.

"Just thinking about that time in the Thompson building bathroom." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "When you couldn't stand up, and I had to convince the janitor you had food poisoning."

He doesn't flinch from the memory like he used to.

Instead, his mouth curves into something caught between a smile and a grimace. "You told him it was from the cafeteria." His fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, but slower now. "Got the whole place investigated by health services."

"Yeah, but got us three days off while they checked fucking everything.” you remind him.

"Got me through that week," he corrects quietly, and for a moment, the mask of that brilliant-drunk-techie slips, showing the man underneath who still remembers what it feels like to be held together by nothing but someone else's faith in you.

Then he blinks, and the vulnerability is gone, replaced by that familiar crooked grin. "Though I maintain the cafeteria deserved the inspection anyway."

The projection flickers, another section of code healing itself under his touch, and you wonder if he knows you'd do it all again.

Every bathroom floor, every late-night crisis, every moment of putting him back together - you'd choose it every time.

"Speaking of which," you venture carefully, watching his hands move across the keyboard. "How's the new treatment working?"

His right shoulder shifts in what might be a shrug, but there's a shadow of a real smile playing at his mouth.

Not the sharp, defensive one he wears like armor, but something softer, more genuine. "Six months post-op and I actually slept through the night last week. First time in -“ he pauses, considering, "Fuck, I don't even remember how long."

The admission hangs in the air between you, weighted with the two years of 2 AM phone calls, of nights spent pacing, of pain medications that never quite touched the core of the problem.

Watching him try to code through hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

"Still hurts sometimes," he adds, almost absently. "But it's different now. More like background noise than a scream." His fingers still on the keyboard, and for a moment he looks almost surprised by his own words. "Guess that's what normal people feel like all the time, huh?"

The question carries an edge of wonder, like someone who's lived in darkness suddenly discovering dawn.

You watch him roll his shoulder — a gesture that used to be followed by a wince but now flows smooth and unconscious — and think about how strange it must be, learning to live without constant pain after it's become part of your identity.

"Though I kind of miss having an excuse to drunk-code at 4 AM" he adds, but you both know it's a lie.

The code blurs on the projection as silence settles between you, charged with something that's been building for ages — through bathroom floors and hospital visits, through triumphs and failures, through pain and healing.

The alcohol has stripped away Luigi’s careful boundaries, leaving raw honesty in their place.

"You know," Luigi says slowly, finally turning from the screen to face you fully, "I never thanked you properly. For all of it."

"You don't need to-"

Your diagram pulses back to life, the holographic heart rotating lazily against the wall.

Its red glow bathes the room in a surreal warmth, catching on the sharp angles of Luigi's face, softening them into something almost dreamlike.

The light flickers across his cheekbones, turns his eyes to amber, makes the whole moment feel suspended between reality and imagination.

"I do." His voice is quiet but firm, steadier than someone seven drinks deep should manage. "Because I've been thinking — now that I can actually think clearly without-“he gestures vaguely at his back, at all the years of pain, "I've been thinking about how you're the only constant. The only person who never-“ He trails off.

You lean a little closer, drawn by the vulnerability in his voice. "Never what?"

"Never saw me as broken." He turns himself toward you, and there's something desperate in his eyes, something the alcohol has finally given him the courage to show. "Never treated me like I needed fixing. Just stayed. Through everything."

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. He takes your silence as a sign, turning back to the screen with a sharp exhale that might be resignation or relief — you're not sure which would be worse.

"Lu,” you say softly, and something in your voice makes his fingers still on the keyboard. "Look at me."

He does, slowly, like he's afraid of what he might find.

The neon bathes half his face in crimson, leaving the other half in shadow, and you see the moment his carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

"Time hasn’t changed that much about me.” you say, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

His breath catches audibly. You watch the impact of your words ripple across his face — surprise, understanding, and something else, something that makes your heart race against your ribs.

"Hasn’t it?” Luigi is focusing on you now, the reason he really came here now practically completed but pushed aside until further notice. “Eight months is a long time to hold onto -“ he gestures vaguely between you, as if he can’t quite say what it was. Hopeless devotion, the right person, wrong time.

“Not long enough to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You.”

His breath catches again, a sharp inhale that seems to pull all the oxygen from the room. When he speaks, his voice is rough and ragged, “Maybe that’s the problem.” His gaze drifts down to watch as you lick your lips, and back up again. “Maybe you should have.”

[evaslytherpuff]

Press Play: Part 2

18+ Theo Nott X Innocent F!Reader (College AU)

Plot: You were just trying to do your duties as a Prefect. After catching Theo stealing from the potions closet, you had no choice but to report him. Now, Theo is out for revenge! You become his latest target and he’s willing to do anything to make sure you learn your lesson. Never snitch on a Slytherin.🐍

CW: Blackmail, Toxic Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Manipulation, Mirror Sex, Teasing, Biting, Spanking (a smidge), Fingering, Tit F***ing, Oral (M!receiving), Dub-Con, Recorded interactions without consent! This story is not intended for Minors! Read at your own risk!

You showed up at his dorm exactly at 9pm the following night. He opened the door for you like a gentleman and you slowly stepped inside. He had prepared for your arrival hours ahead of time, making sure everything was perfectly in place, setting up his hidden camera once again. He had spent most of his day secretly watching you, studying you and your activities, trying his best to learn more about you. He thought you were a loner, at first, until he found out you have a small group of friends. He didn’t know any of them but there was one that kinda…irked him. A guy that seemed to be trying to get close to you. Theo couldn’t help but laugh at the fool. You were completely oblivious to the guy’s advances and ignored him when he tried to flirt with you. It gave Theo a rush, especially after what happened last night.

“How was your day?” He asked as you stood in the middle of the room. It took you a moment to notice his latest addition. Your brows drew together as you stared at your reflection in the full length mirror positioned along his wall.

“It was fine…until now. What’s the mirror for?” You asked softly.

“You’ll see. Strip for me, Bella.” He demanded with a firm but gentle tone as he moved to stand behind you.

You let out a shuddered breath as you kept your eyes locked on your own face in the mirror in front of you.

“Theo…I really am sorry for snitching on you. I hope you know that.” You pursed your lips as you removed your robe and let it flutter to the floor.

“I know, but I faced expulsion because of you. I forgive you but…I still want this. No matter what you say.” He whispered in your ear and your eyes shut in defeat.

You slowly removed your top to expose the undergarments you chose to wear for tonight and Theo smiled to himself as he took in your reflection. You kicked off your shoes but then hesitated to remove your skirt, your hands hovering over the zipper at your lower back. Theo took a few steps closer to you and pressed his body against yours. He reached down to pinch the zipper of your skirt and undo it himself. He wasn’t in the mood for hesitation and needed to see you completely bare for him as soon as possible.

His eyes bored into yours as you both stared into the mirror. He swallowed hard as his gaze roamed over every inch of your tantalizing body. Red. The color you chose to wear under your uniform was bright and vibrant. It screamed look at me and he was definitely drinking you in.

“That’s such a beautiful color on you.” The timbre in his voice tickled your ear and you shivered against him, your nipples growing stiff through the fabric of your bra. You decided to wear a silk demi-cup with pretty ruffles along the edges and a skimpy red thong to match. Your black knee high stockings added the cherry on top to your alluring appearance. Theo pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. He needed to feel your skin pressed against his.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. I know exactly what I want to do tonight.” He murmured against your temple as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. You turned your face away from him and he chuckled.

“So shy, I fucking love it. You look so sexy tonight. Did you get all dressed up for me?” He asked teasingly.

“N—no! I—I dress up for myself sometimes. It makes me feel good. It’s…a way to build my confidence.” You said proudly with your chin jutting out.

“Well then, I’m glad you chose to be confident tonight.” He shifted to drag his knuckles along your spine and you gasped, arching away from him. He continued to caress up and down your back and watched as your eyes closed in bliss. His fingers trailed down to unclasp your bra then back up over your arms to pull down the silky straps. The material fell from your body and became another piece of decoration on his bedroom floor. He moved in closer and palmed the back of your head, tilting it forward. You were staring at the carpet now and your body was trembling in anticipation. He kissed the back of your neck as his hands snaked around your body to cup your breasts. You moaned softly as you clenched your hands into little fists. He continued to kiss and leave wet trails with his tongue down your spine. His hands and fingers were busy playing with your displayed tits. He got down on his knees behind you and kissed your lower back from hip to hip. He placed a long and firm kiss below your tailbone and you moaned loudly.

“That guy you hang out with…are you interested in him?” He asked as he breathed against your skin.

You hesitated to answer him so he gripped your breasts even harder, making you yelp.

“I—I don’t know. He’s…he has always been nice to me but…I’m not sure he’s what I want.” You murmured as you wiggled in his hands.

“What do you want? Do you even know, Bella?” Theo asked as he released your pretty chest and ran his palms down your body then stopped at your hips. He used his fingertips to toy and tease the waistband of your panties.

“I want…excitement. I want passion. It’s something…that I’ve always desired.” You whimpered as he yanked your thong down to your ankles.

“He can’t provide that for you. Even I can see that.” Theo growled against the flesh of your ass.

“Do you think I want blackmail? I’m here…because if I’m not…you’ll release that video of me.” Your fists were still clenched and your jaw joined them in tension.

“That’s correct. But…judging by your lust filled reactions…I’d say you want this very much. If he flirts with you. Turn him down! Do you understand?” Theo asked abruptly as he bit into your plump ass cheek. You cried out and tried to push him away but he held you firmly by your hips. He yanked you close to him again and delivered a swift slap to your other cheek. He looked at the bite mark he left behind as he stood up to wrap his fingers around your neck and pull you against his body, his erection digging into your back. You fought against him, your nails digging into his forearm, but he noticed the slick arousal dripping down your thighs in the mirror.

“Wh—why? Are you—jealous, Theo?” You snarled through gritted teeth and he laughed.

“No. I just don’t want that fucker to ruin my plans with you.” He sneered.

“You’re sick! You know that right?” You scowled as he leaned in to kiss your jaw then lick down your neck, stopping at your shoulder.

“Maybe so, but I’d say you’re pretty sick too, Cara Mia.” He grinned wickedly as his eyes dipped to your wet pussy.

“I’m not! I would have this reaction with anyone! It’s perfectly natural!” You growled and struggled against him but his free hand slid down the front of your body and his fingers slipped between your soaked folds. You whined as he pulled you closer and forced you to stare into the mirror.

“Look at what I do to you. You’re like this because of me…and you know it.” He smirked cockily as you scowled at both of your reflections showcased in the mirror. You grew quiet and didn’t argue, you just chose not to look at him again. He was starting to learn your habits. You wouldn’t look at him every time he was right. This was fine by him. The less arguing, the better.

He kissed your temple as his thumb rubbed against your pulse and his other fingers continued to stroke and tease your aching cunt. More of your juices traveled down your legs as you writhed against him and bit back moans. He pressed his body into yours and pushed you further towards the mirror. Theo turned your head so you were forced to look at your reflection.

“If you don’t want to look at me, at least watch yourself, Tesoro.” He breathed against you before nibbling on your earlobe. You swallowed hard against his palm but still refused to open your eyes. He sighed heavily with a slight shake of his head then pinched your clit between two of his fingers, making you cry out. Your eyes flashed open in an instant and blinked rapidly over what you were seeing. His fingers were working you into a dripping mess, his other hand was wrapped comfortably around your throat, and your body was perfectly flushed with arousal.

“Look at you. So fucking gorgeous. Every inch of you is delectable, it drives me wild, your body is absolutely beautiful. While you’re with me, don’t ever hide that.” He released your neck to wrap his arm firmly around your chest and added more pressure to your pussy with his diligent fingers. You moaned loudly and tossed your head back against his shoulder. He took this open opportunity and started to kiss and suck on your exposed neck. He groaned and snarled against your skin as he pulled you even tighter into his body. He worked his fingers from your clit to your aching entrance and back up again. His strokes became more aggressive while he picked up his pace. Your mouth was hung open as you started to tremble. Theo was sure that you would be on the floor right now if he wasn’t holding you up. Your moans and whimpers had his cock twitching in his pants and he was trying desperately to restrain himself.

Reluctantly, he removed his hand from your soaked pussy and pulled you down with him to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. You were wedged between his legs and he placed both of his hands under your knees to spread your thighs open to show off your pretty cunt.

“Would you look at that…so damned beautiful.” He whispered in your ear as he rested his head on your shoulder. Now, he had a perfect view of everything he wanted to see as you sat in front of him.

“Show me…how you touch yourself.” He demanded as your eyes grew wide.

“What?” You asked in surprise.

“What? You thought I would help you finish? Ah ah ah, Sweetheart. You’re going to please yourself…for me.” He grinned before gently pressing his lips to your neck. Your pulse was clearly pounding as you gulped due to his request. You shut your eyes and sighed before moving a shaky hand to your wet pussy. You were so hesitant but he decided that he wouldn’t push you and would let you go at your own pace. Your fingers dipped to your entrance before you slid them back up to your clit. You repeated these motions at a slow and steady pace, biting your lip as you watched yourself in the mirror.

“Just pretend I’m not here. Let go and don’t hold back, Bella.” He cooed against the damp skin of your neck. You appeared to be eager to listen to him because your fingers started to tease your pussy even faster. Theo’s hand moved to grasp your hip while the other reached around to toy and pluck at your nipples.

“I—I thought—you weren’t helping.” You moaned as you dipped two fingers into your core and began to fuck your own hand. You used your thumb to rub and stimulate your clit and Theo was riveted by your enthusiasm. His cock was achingly hard, dripping precum in his pants, as he watched you plunge your fingers in and out of your tight hole. Your head thrashed against his shoulder as you came around your fingers with a cry of pleasure.

Theo’s mind was in a whirlwind. He wanted to throw you to the floor and ruin you, fuck you so hard and deep that you couldn’t walk afterwards. He knew, deep down inside, he couldn’t do that. Not just yet. He was having way too much fun with you and didn’t want to rush this.

You sat there catching your breath as he stood up behind you. He tugged down his pants and smiled in relief once his aching cock was free from its confinement. Your eyes practically bulged from your pretty head when you noticed his naked body in the mirror. You covered your eyes as you turned bright red and he couldn’t help but chuckle. That’s right! You didn’t get to truly see him the last time, he was kneeling on the floor after all.

“What’s the matter, Tesoro?” He teased and pet the top of your head while you blushed and kept your face covered.

“You…you’re um. Big.” You mumbled through your palms and he grinned.

“Don’t worry. I’m still going easy on you. I won’t take your virginity…yet.” He smirked as he crossed to his bed and grabbed a few pillows. He placed them on the floor beside you and noticed how you gingerly removed your hands from your eyes and tilted your head a little to watch his movements. Curious little kitten, he thought. He even laid down a blanket to make things more comfortable for you. Afterwards, he moved behind you once more and placed his hands on your shoulders. He helped you lie down on the makeshift bed and stood over you, your eyes wide with wonder. He kneeled down on the floor to straddle your quivering body and smirked when he noticed your frantic breathing.

“Wh—what are you going to do?” You asked timidly.

“Just trust me.” He reached forward to hold your jaw in his hand and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Nott and that isn’t very far.” You huffed and all he could do was laugh.

“My, what attitude! Let’s see how long that lasts tonight, Bella.” He sneered as he pushed you down onto the pillows. You gawked as he gently sat on your torso, placing his stiff cock on your chest.

“Do as I say, Tesoro. Push your tits together. Press them against my cock.” His voice was husky and leaden with lust as he watched you obey and enfold his length with your breasts. He smiled down at you with arrogance and power running through his veins before he spit on your boobs. You frowned but didn’t protest as he started to rock his hips against your body. Your tits felt glorious against his throbbing dick and his head fell back on his shoulders with a drawn out moan. He increased his movements and took in how you were starting to get into the thrilling situation. Your eyes were locked on the head of his cock as it disappeared then presented itself again between your boobs. Your hands began to squeeze and fondle your chest as you licked your lips. This sight alone made him want to spill all over you but he held back. It’s too soon, I need more!

He spit down where your bodies met once more and began to thrust into your breasts even faster. You were riveted by his movements as you rubbed and toyed with your own nipples. He smirked down at you between panting breaths as he pried your mouth open with his thumb.

“Keep it open, Bella. Suck…on my cock…as I fuck…your pretty tits!” He ground out between the rocking of his hips. He snatched up an extra pillow and leaned forward a bit to place it under your head with the others to prop you up even more. He continued to ride your chest but now, each time his cock revealed itself between your boobs, the aching and dripping head entered your awaiting mouth. You were unsure of yourself at first but after a few moments, you sucked on him eagerly, moving your breasts against him all on your own as he stilled his hips. He was in awe of you and caressed your cheek as you continued to suck him off. Would it be so bad if she was…mine? He thought as he gazed into your heavy lidded eyes.

He released your face to lean back slightly and run his fingers through your delicate folds. You moaned loudly around the head of his cock as he continued to buck into your hungry mouth. He inserted one finger and you released him with a pop, your breath’s growing frantic.

“Theo…more, please!” You begged as you worked your hips against his hand, your wet pussy soaking his finger. He nodded with a groan and increased the pace of his thrusts and his fingers.

“Fuck, yes! Ke—keep going, Tesoro! Open that pretty mouth wide for me!” Theo growled through gritted teeth, delving his finger even deeper into your dripping cunt. He found your sweet spot and curled his finger inside your clenching heat while his thumb rubbed circles over your clit. Your moans were wild and became in sync with his as they echoed through the room. Things felt absolutely amazing yet so out of control. The bucking of his hips against your tits, the feel of your mouth over the head of his cock, the way your pussy squeezed his finger. The entire moment was mind blowing and Theo felt like something inside himself was about to crack. He was becoming addicted to you and knew that if he continued down this path…it would be devastating…for everyone.

“Dammit, Theo! I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!” You cried out as you came around his finger. Your nails dug into the flesh of your perfect boobs as your climax hit you in waves. Your sweaty body convulsed under him and the look in your eyes had him stuffing his soaked fingers into his mouth and using the other to reach around and hold the back of your head as he spilled into your mouth. He never took his eyes off of you as he pumped his load down your throat, his growls and pants muffling your sounds of surprise. Once he was sure he was spent, he pulled his cock from between your swollen lips. He rolled off of your chest and decided to lay beside you. You gulped then wiped your lips as you tried to catch your breath.

“Good, you swallowed it all, Mia gattina. Theo said proudly as he rolled to his side. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his exhausted body but you were staring daggers into him.

“Are you—are you trying to cuddle?” You jolted away from him but he held you firmly in place.

“So what if I am? Are you…protesting?” He narrowed his eyes at you and you quickly shook your head, knowing what would happen if you refused him. He curled up on the floor with you and buried his face in your hair. What was it about you that made him want you so badly? It seemed to be developing into more than just sex and he didn’t know how he felt about that. It was all very confusing. You also didn’t seem genuinely interested in him which he thought was crazy. Sure he was blackmailing you, but he treated you like a goddess when you were with him. He wanted you to feel good. These conflicting feelings weren’t him. He was usually cold and detached. He’d sleep with a girl and call it a night but you…he wanted to keep coming back for more.

“Let's get you cleaned up. Come with me.” Theo stood up and reached his hand out to you. You reluctantly slipped your hand into his with a roll of your eyes. He chuckled as he helped you get up from the floor and escorted you into his bathroom. Your eyes roamed the small space as you moved to hug yourself while he prepared the shower for you. You reached down to slip off your stockings and Theo smiled over his shoulder.

“How…do you have all of this?” You asked softly as you tested the water’s temperature to see if it was to your liking.

“Money talks, Bella. Even at Hogwarts. I paid extra for a private dorm. I got tired of sharing one with the guys, I needed…privacy.” Theo shrugged as you stepped into the shower stall then he followed behind you.

“Wait! You’re getting in with me?” You gasped as he slid the glass door shut. He simply nodded and reached for a washcloth that was hanging behind you. He quickly lathered it up with soap and you flinched as he turned you around and pressed his chest against your back. He dragged the cloth between your breasts and proceeded to clean your body for you. Theo couldn’t fight the feelings that were washing over him along with the warm water. This was just supposed to be blackmail, a way for him to enjoy himself with you with no strings attached, but here he was…growing fond of you. You, being here with him, it felt…right. Your shower together was slow and sensual and a part of Theo thought that you actually might have enjoyed yourself. He made sure he took his time, even kissing your skin occasionally as he helped you bathe.

After your shower, the two of you dried off and got dressed in silence. Theo wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He felt tongue tied for the first time in his life. Again, situations like this didn’t happen to him. You were devastating in the most intoxicating way. If he was starting to feel some sort of connection…were you as well?

“Theo?” Your voice cut through the silence as you moved to stand in front of his bedroom door.

“Yes, Cara Mia?” He asked as he joined you, his tall frame leaning over yours.

“What did you need the ingredients for?” You inquired softly as you played with a damp curl framing your face nervously. He chewed the inside of his lip then sighed heavily before answering your question.

“I came across a wounded thestral near the woods. Something must have attacked it and left it for dead. I knew the potion I had to brew I just…didn’t have the ingredients. When I was finally able to go back and check on it, the thestral was gone. I don’t know if it’s alive…or dead.” He shrugged and you continued to fidget with your hair, this time out of guilt.

“I—I’m so sorry, Theo. Like I said, I should have asked you what you needed the ingredients for. I feel even more awful now.” You grumbled and scratched the side of your head, hiding your face from him.

“Hey, these things happen. It’s just fate. Now look at us, maybe you were supposed to snitch on me.” He smirked as he opened his door for you. You shook your head and bit your lip.

“It’s still overwhelming. Also…eye opening.” You shrugged with a blush, your thoughts clearly recalling what happened tonight.

“Well well…are you discovering what you’re into?” He grinned and you just shrugged even more.

“Maybe…” You laughed awkwardly before stepping out into the hall. “I’ll um see you tomorrow.” You smiled sheepishly before turning to leave.

“See you tomorrow.” Theo waved you goodbye as he watched you walk away this time.

Once he lost sight of you, he shut his door and released a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. He strode over to his hidden camera and shut it off. He had three videos of you now and was hoping to add more to his collection. He got a sick rush from the blackmailing, he was starting to feel things that left him confused and frustrated, his mind felt completely flayed at this point. One thing he was absolutely sure of…his overwhelming desire to own you.

(He’s watching you leave.😉)

A/N: Theo is only going to get worse from here.🫣

Taglist: @mommynott @nottsangel @theeslutintheroom @underthenightskydreamsneverdie @helendeath @2dloveshp @whiteboylover222 @cookiesex115 @enchantingpiratepeace @littlepippilongstocking @trishatanisha @hhhhhhhilensfghn

If I missed anyone in the tags, please let me know!❤️

[devdozes]

♣ Whatever happened to the Hayloft? (pt.1)

wohooo modern au! anyways uh reader is part of kremnoan national agency and epos is the enemy EDIT: PART TWO IS POSTED!!

The world always had a way of discarding those who had completed their given role, and You learned that lesson the hard way.

You weren’t born in Kremnos, but you had carved a space for yourself in its investigation unit. It wasn’t out of loyalty or duty but because Eurypon had given you something—an offer, that too an undeniable one. You hunted the rot lurking in the shadows, the kind of filth that thrived in places where the law looked away. Because the offer was a mutual win, To absolutely destroy Epos.

Your last mission should have been a victory. You eliminated the threat, wiped out the infection before it could spread further. You expected gratitude, recognition—at the very least, acknowledgment that you had done the right thing.

Instead, you were met with silence. Then, whispers. Then, a sudden decision was handed down as if it were carved in stone: your removal from the unit, the same unit to which Eurypon himself added you in. And then, you were removed by your superiors, and that same decision was approved by that bastard Eurypos himself.

They told you it was protocol, that your methods were reckless, that you had overstepped. But you weren’t stupid. The target you eliminated had been a benefactor, slipping money into the right hands to stay untouchable. The same hands that had signed off on your expulsion.

Disgrace. That’s what they called it. An exile disguised as procedure. You weren’t arrested, weren’t silenced permanently—just thrown out like something inconvenient.

Your badge was taken. Your access revoked. The work you dedicated yourself to, gone in an instant.

No goodbyes. No allies. Just you, standing at the threshold of a city that no longer wanted you.

The mission played over and over in your mind. "Observe the enemy's intentions and eliminate them." That had been your directive. You did exactly that.

You spent weeks following him, watching him slip through the cracks of Kremnos’ justice system, paying his way out of every accusation, every crime. You watched him destroy lives, snuffing out the weak like they were nothing more than pawns in his personal game. And yet, no one ever stopped him. No one ever tried. He wasn’t just another criminal—he was protected. A necessary evil, they called him. Essential to the city’s survival.

You knew better.

The night of the mission still clung to you, vivid in every detail. The air had been thick with rain, your coat heavy with moisture as you pressed into the shadows of the alley. The target had been cornered, his options dwindling with every step you took forward.

"You don’t want to do this," he had said, voice shaking but still laced with arrogance. "You think you’re doing something noble? I keep the wheels turning. Without me, this city crumbles."

You hesitated—not out of doubt, but out of anger. Did he truly believe that? That he was untouchable, that he could buy his way out even now? That the rules didn’t apply to him?

Your grip on your weapon had been steady, your mind clear. "Then let it crumble."

A single shot. A clean execution.

The silence that followed had been deafening. The city continued on, indifferent. No sirens, no rush of justice arriving too late. Just the sound of rain washing away the blood.

You had fulfilled your mission. You had done what you were told.

And yet, they cast you aside like you had betrayed them.

Confusion twisted in your gut, warring with the certainty that you had done the right thing. Hadn’t you? Or had you simply played the role of executioner while the real enemies remained seated in their offices, drinking their fine liquor, counting their bloodstained money?

As the weight of their betrayal settled in, there was no regret.

But the anger remained, burning beneath your skin.

You had done the right thing.

Even if no one else would admit it. They were all money-hungry cowards.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!". You threw a pillow at the screen with a frustrated groan. The TV show had been a mindless distraction, something to drown out the thoughts clawing at the back of your mind, but now it was just fueling your frustration. The female lead—who had spent the entire season developing chemistry with the actually interesting, funny, and devastatingly handsome second lead—had just thrown it all away for the blandest, most insufferably boring male lead imaginable.

"Oh, sure! Pick the emotionally constipated guy with all the personality of an unseasoned mashed potato! That makes so much sense!" You snatched the remote, furiously hitting the rewind button just to glare at the scene again. "This man wrote you poetry, He made you laugh! Meanwhile, your so-called true love hasn’t smiled once in twelve episodes and the ONLY thing he did was to accept you and give you flowers, which is the bare fucking MINIMUM!"

You slumped back against your pillows, glaring at the ceiling. Maybe it was the betrayal, the unfairness of it all—both in the show and in your own life—that made your blood boil. The second lead had done everything right. He had been there, had supported her, had actually put in the effort. Your fingers curled into the blanket, irritation and something heavier twisting in your gut. The familiar weight of injustice, of being discarded despite doing exactly what was asked of you.

"Ridiculous," you muttered, reaching for the half-empty bag of chips beside you and stuffing a handful into your mouth. "I swear, if they make him attend her wedding in the finale, I’m going to go batshit insane."

And then the finale aired.

The second lead sat in the audience, watching with a wistful smile as the female lead exchanged vows with the brick wall of a main character.

You stared at the screen, jaw tightening. The remote was in your hand, the power button just within reach.

Click.

The TV screen went black.

Without hesitation, you tossed the remote onto the couch, grabbed your bike keys, and swung on your jacket. Enough of this nonsense. You needed something to cool your frustration before you did something drastic—like throwing your TV out the window.

"I am not dealing with this bullshit anymore, isn't tv supposed to calm you down? why is increasing my already high blood pressure"

You quickly stomp out the door, put on your shoes, and run down the stairs quickly, and jump on your bike. from rage or excitement idk

The ice cream shop was nearly empty when you arrived, save for the cashier—a familiar silver-haired young man with a bright grin that immediately screamed trouble. Caelus.

"Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite brooding customer!" Caelus leaned dramatically over the counter, resting his chin on his hands. "What’ll it be tonight? Let me guess—something bitter, to match the look on your face?" that zesty bitch

Before you could retort, the door swung open violently, and a blur of motion tackled you from behind. "[Name]!" Stelle practically jumped on you, clinging to your shoulders like an overgrown koala. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she stuck her tongue out at Caelus. "Beat you to them first!"

Caelus gasped in mock horror. "Betrayal! I was just about to offer them a special ‘overdramatic protagonist’ discount!"

You groaned, trying to pry Stelle off. "I just wanted ice cream, not sibling chaos."

"Too late!" Stelle grinned. "We come as a package deal!" Caelus scoffed, dramatically flipping an imaginary cape over his shoulder. "Excuse you, I am the main event. You’re just the annoying sidekick."

"Excuse you," Stelle shot back, finally releasing you only to jab a finger into Caelus’s chest. "I am the superior sibling here. I was born first."

"You both are twins." You say with the most tired expression on your face while rubbing your temples.

"And yet I’m still more mature," Caelus countered clearly ignoring your words, flashing a smug grin.

"You literally tried to eat a rock yesterday!"

"It looked edible!"

"It was glowing blue!"

You sighed, rubbing your temples as they continued bickering like children fighting over the last cookie. "Can I please just order my ice cream before you two kill each other?"

Caelus instantly straightened, clearing his throat and putting on his best ‘professional’ expression—though the effect was ruined by Stelle making faces behind his back.

"Of course! What can I get you, dear customer?" He batted his long-ass eyelashes exaggeratedly, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Before you could respond, Stelle leaned in. "They’ll have the saddest, most depressing flavor you’ve got. Something that really screams ‘I got kicked out of a corrupt government unit and now I’m having an existential crisis over fictional characters.’"

Caelus nodded solemnly, stroking his chin. "Ah, yes. That’s a classic order. I recommend the ‘Betrayal Blackberry’ or the ‘Melancholy Mint.’"

"Or," Stelle added, grinning, "we could go for full self-pity mode and get the ‘Cold and Alone Cookie Dough.’"

You glared at both of them. "You two are the absolute worst."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Caelus said cheerfully. "So, which depressing flavor will it be?"

"...Cold and Alone Cookie Dough."

They high-fived.

"You guys suck," you muttered, grabbing your ice cream and biting the waffle cone and ice cream with unnecessary force.

"Oh, don’t be like that," Stelle cooed, flopping into the chair across from you and stealing a bite of your ice cream before you could stop her.

Caelus leaned on the counter, watching with the grin of someone who lived purely to be a menace. "So, tell us—was it a TV show or real life that caused this spiral into frozen dairy despair?"

You debated throwing your ice cream at his face.

As you stepped out of the shop, the cool night air wrapped around you, the taste of cookie dough and vanilla lingering on your tongue. The ridiculous bickering between Stelle and Caelus still echoed behind you, but for once, instead of irritation, it left a small smile on your face.

"Try not to get arrested!" Caelus called after you with a cheeky wave.

"And don’t die!" Stelle added, throwing in a thumbs-up.

"You guys act like I can’t handle myself," you scoffed, waving lazily over your shoulder as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

The moment lasted exactly three seconds before someone slammed into you.

Your grip on the ice cream loosened, the cone slipping from your fingers in slow motion, the pale brown-dotted biege scoop tumbling unceremoniously onto the pavement.

You barely registered the loss of your dessert because the person who bumped into you—a hooded stranger—was already darting away, their head ducked low. A second later, shouts erupted from down the street.

"Hey! Stop that guy!"

"He stole my bag!"

"Someone grab him!"

You blinked, staring after the retreating figure.

Then, slowly, your gaze dropped to the fallen ice cream, the way it lay pitifully on the ground, melting into a sad puddle.

Your eye twitched.

Alright. The theft? Definitely a problem.

But ruining your ice cream? That was just personal.

"HEY, YOU SON OF A—" You took off in a sprint, instincts kicking in before you even thought about it.

The stranger whipped his head around in alarm, realizing that not only was he being chased—but that his pursuer was very, very angry.

"Oh, you better start running!" you yelled, pushing forward with even more speed.

"WAIT—WHAT—WHY ARE YOU CHASING ME?!" the thief shouted over his shoulder, dodging past pedestrians.

"YOU RUINED MY ICE CREAM, YOU COWARD!"

That seemed to genuinely throw him off. He stumbled slightly before regaining his pace, muttering something under his breath about lunatics.

Behind you, Stelle and Caelus had stepped outside just in time to witness the scene.

Caelus let out a low whistle. "Aaaand there she goes."

Stelle crossed her arms, grinning. "Do we help?"

Caelus hummed, pretending to think. "...Nah. This seems personal."

You took a sharp turn into the alleyway, cutting off the thief’s path before he could escape into the maze of side streets. He skidded to a stop, looking around frantically like a trapped rat.

"Alright, asshole," you panted, rolling your shoulders as you stepped forward. "You made me drop my ice cream. Now I have to kick your ass on principle."

The thief let out a high-pitched laugh, one that sounded more nervous than anything. "L-Let’s not be hasty now!"

You blinked.

That voice.

That infuriatingly familiar, weaselly voice.

Your eyes narrowed as the thief slowly turned around, hands raised in mock surrender.

Purple hair. Cocky grin. Shady coat.

"Sampo?" you deadpanned.

"Ahahaha... surprise?" Sampo Koski grinned, but the sweat dripping down his forehead told you everything.

You stared at him. Then at the stolen bag slung over his shoulder. Then back at him.

"...You stole someone’s bag?"

"Hey, hey, hey, let’s not use such harsh words!" Sampo waved his hands, stepping back. "I prefer ‘borrowing without permission’—"

Your glare intensified.

He coughed. "Temporarily relocating belongings—"

You cracked your knuckles.

"—IT’S A MISUNDERSTANDING, I SWEAR!"

Before he could bolt again, you lunged, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him close. "You owe me ice cream, you rat bastard."

Sampo held up his hands in surrender. "H-How about I get you two? Three! Three ice creams! My treat!"

"You are so lucky I don’t punch you right now," you growled, releasing him with a shove. "Now return the damn bag before I make you eat pavement."

Sampo chuckled nervously. "Right, right—of course! No problem! Consider it already done!"

Just as he said that, the original owner of the bag—an angry looking woman—came sprinting up, flanked by two security officers.

"There he is!" she shouted, pointing directly at Sampo.

He stiffened. "Ah. Well. This is awkward."

You smirked. "Oh no, please go on. I’d love to see how you talk your way out of this one."

Sampo shot you a pleading look before sighing dramatically. "Alright, alright, no need for handcuffs! It’s all a big miscommunication, I assure you!"

As the officers descended on him, you simply stood back, arms crossed, enjoying every second of his downfall.

. . . .

As the security officers reached for Sampo, he shot you one last desperate look—the kind that screamed "Help me, oh great and merciful person whom I may have slightly inconvenienced!"

You rolled your eyes.

"Hey," you called out to the officers, stepping forward. "This dumbass already realized he messed up. No need to rough him up."

The security guards hesitated. The woman, now clearly an elderly lady with sharp eyes, frowned at you.

"Are you vouching for him?" one of the guards asked, skeptical.

"Pfft— No." You snatched the bag from Sampo’s hands before he could protest and turned to the woman. "Here. Safe and sound."

The old lady blinked, surprised. Then, with a warm smile, she took the bag. "Oh, bless your heart, dear!"

Meanwhile, the guards turned their attention to Sampo again.

"Hey, would you look at the time!" Sampo chirped, already inching away. "I must be going—"

You stuck your foot out.

Sampo tripped but recovered quickly, casting you a betrayed look.

You sighed dramatically. "Alright, alright, he’s harmless. Just let him go."

The officers exchanged glances but ultimately relented, grumbling as they backed off. The elderly woman gave you another grateful nod before walking off, leaving you alone with the notorious conman.

Sampo, ever the opportunist, dusted himself off with a wide grin. "Wow! You actually helped me! Didn’t know you cared so much—"

Your fist cracked against his head lightly—a warning tap, really.

"Ow!"

"You owe me ice cream, Koski." You grabbed his collar before he could escape. "And a damn good explanation."

Sampo chuckled nervously. "Ehehe… w-well, you see—"

You dragged him back toward the ice cream shop.

"Talk. Now."

As the bell chimed upon your return, Caelus and Stelle looked up from behind the counter—only to immediately burst into laughter.

Caelus nearly collapsed onto the register, wheezing. "Oh my god."

Stelle clutched her stomach, barely able to breathe. "What— what is that look on your face—?"

Because, standing at the entrance of the shop, you wore the most dangerously peaceful smile imaginable. A smile that promised violence.

And in your grasp, Sampo Koski dangled half-dragged by the collar of his coat, groaning dramatically. "Mercy! Mercy, I say!"

Caelus wiped a tear from his eye. "Did you adopt a stray, [Name]? Or—wait—did the stray adopt you?!"

"Shut up," you said sweetly, before unceremoniously dumping Sampo onto the floor.

"Oof—!" He sprawled out like a ragdoll. "Rude."

You turned to Caelus, still smiling. "Another one of my usual. On him." You jabbed a thumb at Sampo, who gave a weak thumbs-up from the floor.

Stelle snickered. "You got a sugar daddy now?"

"More like a debt-ridden weasel who owes me for ruining my first ice cream." You crossed your arms. "And I will be collecting."

Sampo scrambled up, brushing himself off. "Now, now! Let’s not be hasty—"

Caelus grinned, already scooping your ice cream. "Oh, no. We love hasty."

Stelle smirked. "So, Koski—" She leaned over the counter. "—care to explain what the fuck just happened?"

Sampo let out a nervous chuckle, straightening his coat as he glanced between you, Stelle, and Caelus—all three of you wearing eerily expectant expressions.

"Now, now," he started, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Surely there’s no need for such hostility! Let’s all take a deep breath, relax, and—"

You grabbed a chair and turned it around, sitting on it backward like you were about to interrogate him. "Talk."

Caelus, ever the opportunist, slid a cup of water across the counter like he was in some kind of detective movie. Stelle leaned in closer, grinning.

"Spill."

Sampo sighed dramatically. "Ahh, what a cruel world! A man can’t even do a little bit of freelance item relocation without being hunted down like a criminal—"

"Because you are one?" you deadpanned.

"Details!" He waved you off. "See, my dear friends, it’s all about perspective! To you, I might look like some shady—albeit handsome—fellow running through the streets, but to others, I am simply a humble entrepreneur!"

Caelus snorted. "Humble, my ass."

You tapped your fingers against the chair. "So what, you just happened to rob an old lady in front of a crowd?"

"*Whoa!*Whoa! Let’s not throw around words like ‘rob,’" Sampo said, looking genuinely offended. "She was the one who had something very valuable, and I simply liberated it for a bit! Then I was going to return it—eventually!"

"Eventually my ass," you muttered.

Stelle grinned. "So, what was in the bag, huh? Stacks of cash? A top-secret government file? The legendary lost treasure of—"

Sampo groaned, rubbing his face. "Ugh, it was a bunch of handmade scarves!"

There was silence.

Then Caelus burst out laughing again. Stelle doubled over, wheezing.

You blinked. "Wait, what?"

Sampo slumped over the table. "I thought it was something else!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "You—stole scarves? From an old lady? And got chased down the street for it?"

Sampo threw his arms in the air. "I panicked!"

Caelus wiped a tear from his eye, grinning. "Man, you really are the worst at this."

"I’m usually so good at this!" Sampo groaned, before giving you the most pitiful look possible. "You believe me, don’t you?"

You took your freshly made ice cream from Caelus, making a show of enjoying the first bite. Then, without breaking eye contact, you reached out and grabbed Sampo’s wallet right from his coat.

"Hey—!"

You flipped it open, pulled out enough to cover the ice cream, and slammed the cash onto the counter. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Caelus let out an exaggerated "oohhh!" while Stelle outright clapped.

Sampo sighed, defeated. "You wound me, [Name]. Truly."

You smirked. "Next time, watch where you’re running. Or maybe don’t steal from old ladies."

Sampo pouted. "Lesson learned… probably." that fucking whore

With the sweet taste of victory (and ice cream) on your tongue, you leaned back in your chair, savoring every bite while Sampo sulked dramatically across from you. Stelle was still giggling every now and then, and Caelus had taken it upon himself to reenact Sampo’s very ungraceful escape attempt using napkins and straws.

You took another slow, deliberate spoonful, making a show of enjoying it just to rub salt in Sampo’s wounded pride.

"Mmm. So worth the trouble."

Sampo groaned, slumping over the table. "This is cruel and unusual punishment. Watching someone else enjoy what should’ve been mine."

"You paid for this," you reminded him.

"And yet, somehow, I feel robbed," he sighed.

Stelle grinned. "Now you know how that old lady felt."

Sampo shot her a betrayed look, but before he could get another word in, you set your spoon down, stretching with a satisfied sigh. "Alright, I’m heading home before something else drags me into its nonsense."

"Awww," Stelle whined. "You sure? You could stick around and watch Caelus keep clowning on Sampo."

Caelus, who had been dramatically dropping a napkin “thief” off a table ledge, grinned. "I’ve got at least ten more skits in me."

Sampo groaned louder. "You’re all terrible people."

You laughed, standing up. "I’m sure you’ll survive, Sampo. Or not. Either way, not my problem."

With a final wave to the chaotic duo, you exited the shop, stepping into the cool night air. Your bike was parked nearby, and you swung a leg over it with ease, the quiet hum of the streets a welcome change from all the chaos.

For the first time in a while, a genuine smile settled on your face.

As you settled onto your bike, ready to head home, a flicker of movement in your peripheral vision caught your attention.

A hooded figure stood near the alley across the street, leaning casually against the wall as if waiting for something—or someone. The dim glow of a nearby streetlamp barely illuminated his features, but for a split second, you caught a glimpse of something familiar.

Ash-blonde hair with red tips.

Your grip on the handlebars tightened slightly. A strange sense of recognition stirred in your chest, but you pushed it down. You were tired—you’d had enough surprises for one night.

With a shake of your head, you dismissed the thought. Probably just some random guy. Not your business.

You revved your bike, the engine’s low hum filling the silence. The hooded figure didn’t move, didn’t react.

And so, you turned your attention back to the road and rode off into the night, leaving the stranger—and whatever trouble he might bring behind because you had enough for one fucking night

. . . . .

The ride home was uneventful, the cool night air doing little to wash away the lingering irritation from earlier. You parked your bike, stretched out your sore limbs, and stepped inside. The dim glow of your apartment welcomed you, quiet and still—just the way you liked it.

You tossed your jacket onto the couch, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and were about to collapse onto your bed when your phone buzzed.

Unknown Caller.

You stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up. Something about it felt… off.

Against your better judgment, you answered.

A familiar voice crackled through the speaker. "…[Name]?"

You froze.

Aglaea.

It had been months since you last heard her voice. Since she let you walk away without a word. Since she didn’t defend you when you needed her most.

Your grip on the phone tightened. "What do you want?"

There was a pause. A hesitation. Then—

"Eurypon is dead."

The words settled over you like a thick fog. Cold. Heavy.

You blinked once. Then twice.

Dead?

Eurypon—the same bastard who removed you from the unit, who framed you as reckless, who ensured you’d never work in the investigation unit again—was dead?

You weren’t sure how to feel. Shocked? Maybe. But there was no grief. No sadness. Just an empty sort of understanding.

People like Eurypon made enemies. It was only a matter of time.

You exhaled, voice steady, emotionless. "I'm not in the investigation unit anymore, Aglaea. Don’t contact me."

A beat of silence. Then, Aglaea’s voice softened. "I know," she murmured. "I just thought… you should hear it from me. Not the news. Not anyone else."

You didn’t respond.

Another pause. Then, quieter—almost hesitant—she added, "Save my number, [Name]. Even if you don’t want to talk to me. Just… save it."

You sighed, fingers hovering over the screen.

Then, without another word, you declined the call.

But you did save her number.

. . . .

You groaned, throwing yourself onto the couch before grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV. After the chaotic mess of the night, all you wanted was some mindless background noise.

Flipping through the channels, you paused at the news. Maybe they had an update on something actually interesting.

"Breaking News: Former Investigation Unit Director, Eurypon, Found Dead."

Your brows raised slightly. So it was real.

The reporter droned on about the details—Eurypon’s body found in a private residence, a single bullet wound to the head, no signs of forced entry. But what really caught your attention was the next segment.

A figure appeared on the screen, standing at a podium in a sharply pressed uniform, flanked by two other high-ranking officials. His face was one you recognized instantly.

Ash-blonde hair with red tips, slightly messy yet unmistakable. Cold golden eyes staring through the camera with that same unyielding intensity.

Mydei.

Your former teammate.

No. More than that.

Eurypon’s son.

Your lips curled into something between amusement and curiosity. So he was the one stepping into his father’s shoes now?

Then, before you could process anything further—

BZZZT.

Your phone vibrated against your stomach. Another unknown number.

You groaned, throwing a pillow across the room in frustration. "Are you kidding me?"

Swiping the call open, you pressed the phone to your ear. "Whoever this is, I swear—"

"[Name]."

You blinked.

That voice. Low. Steady. Unshaken.

You glanced at the TV again, and there he was—Mydei, standing there like he owned the damn world.

Slowly, you sat up, adjusting your grip on the phone. "You killed Eurypon, didn’t you?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then, calmly, Mydei responded, "Yes."

No hesitation. No guilt. No unnecessary justifications. Just a simple, undeniable confirmation.

You exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking your head. "Well. Can’t say I’m surprised."

Eurypon was a bastard. A snake who sold out his own people for power. You weren’t about to shed any tears over him.

"That’s not why I’m calling." Mydei’s voice was clipped, professional. "We need you back in the investigation unit. There’s a mission that requires your expertise."

Your amusement faded.

And then you laughed.

Loud. Sharp. Unbelieving.

"You think I’d ever go back to that corrupt mess?" you asked, a grin stretching across your face. "You’re funny, Mydei. I don’t do favors for free, and I especially don’t work with the people who threw me out like trash."

There was silence on the other end.

Then, a sigh.

"I expected you to say that," Mydei admitted, his voice still composed. "But it was worth a try."

"You seriously thought I’d agree?"

"I thought you might consider it."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Hard pass."

Another pause. Then, softer than before—barely noticeable—he said, "…I see."

You almost laughed again. Even now, he was as restrained as ever.

"Tell you what," you said, stretching lazily against the couch. "How about next time you call, you don’t ask me to clean up the investigation unit’s mess? Try something fun for once."

A quiet breath from the other end, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Then, his voice returned to that same controlled, unreadable tone.

"Just wait till 25th April."

And with that, the call ended.

You exhaled, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you.

So Mydei was pulling the strings now.

And he had no qualms about getting blood on his hands.

You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

April 25th

Your phone buzzed.

You barely spared it a glance, still sprawled out on your couch, half-asleep from last night’s late ride. The screen flashed with an unknown number again.

A groggy sigh left your lips as you grabbed it. "This better not be another waste of my time."

"[Name]."

You sat up instantly.

That voice—steady, composed, unmistakably Mydei.

"You're calling me again?" you said, rubbing your eyes. "What, another mission offer? I already—"

"Check the news."

You blinked.

Something in his tone made you pause. He sounded… amused? Smug, even.

Your brows furrowed as you reached for the remote. The news channel flickered to life on your TV, and within seconds, you were wide awake.

"Investigation Unit Officials Exposed in Widespread Corruption Scandal—Mass Firings Underway."

Your breath hitched.

The screen displayed a list of names, each one making your pulse quicken.

People you used to work with. The same bastards who threw you under the bus. Who framed you, lied, and made sure you'd never step foot in the unit again.

Now? They were gone.

Some were getting arrested. Others were being dragged out of their offices, their faces pale as reporters bombarded them with questions. Their crimes—bribery, evidence tampering, illegal dealings—were being laid out in broad daylight for everyone to see.

You sat there, stunned.

And then, from the phone pressed against your ear—

A quiet chuckle.

"So?" Mydei drawled, clearly enjoying this moment. "What do you think?"

You let out a slow breath, still processing everything.

"You… really went and did it, huh?"

"You sound surprised."

"That’s because I am." You shook your head, watching as another corrupt official was led out in handcuffs. "I knew you were stepping in, but I didn’t think you’d actually clean house."

A hum from the other end of the line. "I said I would handle it."

Your lips twitched. "Didn’t think you’d be this thorough."

There was a pause, then, with that same unwavering authority, Mydei spoke again.

"Come to the Investigation Unit tomorrow at 7 AM. ASAP."

You stiffened. "Wait—what?"

"You’ll be leading the next mission," he continued, completely ignoring your reaction. "Highest-ranking officer. No one above you. No one to control you. You do things your way this time."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"You’re serious?"

"Have I ever wasted my time with jokes?"

He had a point.

Before you could respond, the line cut off.

You lowered the phone slowly, still staring at the news, but your focus had already shifted.

Tomorrow at 7 AM.

You were back in the unit.

And this time, you were the one in charge.

A quiet chuckle slipped past your lips.

It felt good.

HI GUYS ITS ANTOHER SERIESS and ts tension wohoo!! @leonsnewadventures

PART 2!!