#fletcher made me do it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slu7formen · 1 year ago

Note

So I got this from a book but a truth and dare game with Luke where she has to lick whip cream of him. You can do whatever you want with this prompt but like a smut could be nice.

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

this single request itself made me wanna try it, love you <3

warnings: teasing, kissing, s3xual tension, food play, drinking, oral (f receiving), mutual m4sturbation, unprotected s3x, possessive!luke at times, biting, f1ngering, chocking, also this is SO LONG, I’M SORRY

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

₊˚⊹♡

The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the faces gathered around the hidden clearing. You all had managed to sneak away from the watchful eyes of Chiron and Mr. D for a game night in the woods. The air buzzed with the energy of a rebellion and contagious laughter – a night of games for the older campers, fueled by salty and sweet snacks and stolen alcohol —a sweet thank you to the Hermes’ cabin—. Laughter and playful groans punctuated the evening as truth or dare, with a twist, played out. Two decks sat in the center of the circle – red for dares, blue for truth.

Silena patiently waited as Clarisse read a red card out loud. "Whoever you find most handsome, kiss them" the card declared, "or take a shot." A playful smile spread across Silena´s lips, her gaze lingering for a beat too long on Charles Beckendorf. A blush crept up her neck as the others hooted and hollered.

"Come on, Silena" Connor Stoll, Hermes' resident prankster, prodded her with a playful jab. "Don't be shy, show us who the lucky guy is!"

With a playful toss of her hair, she leaned across the circle, her eyes meeting Beckendorf's for a fleeting moment before landing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. Beckendorf, caught off guard, sputtered and stammered, his face mirroring Silena's blush. The clearing erupted in cheers and teasing whistles.

The teasing went back and forth, fueling the already lively atmosphere. Next, it was Beckendorf's turn. He scanned the circle, eyes falling on a tall and skinny guy sipping on the last drops of his beer.

“Travis” he called. “Truth or dare?”

Travis, ever the clown, leaned back on his elbows, a confident smirk plastered on his face. "Dare" he replied, popping the r out.

Beckendorf announced the dare after picking up a card: "Take off the socks from the person on your right with your teeth, or take two shots." A collective groan rose from the circle. Lee Fletcher happened to be Travis' unfortunate neighbor.

"Come on, Trav" Luke chimed in, a playful look in his eyes. "Those feet are all fresh and sweaty for ya'." The rest of the group roared with laughter, picturing the image of Travis attempting the sock removal with his teeth.

Travis, with a grimace that contorted his face, finally managed to grab Lee's sock with his teeth and yank it free. He held the sweaty trophy aloft, earning another round of cheers and jeers.

Meanwhile, Luke couldn't help but steal glances at you, sitting next to him. The firelight cast your features in a warm glow, highlighting the soft curve of your lips and the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders like a waterfall. The scent of your perfume, a mix of strawberries and something else he couldn't quite place, filled his senses, making his heart pound a little faster. He found himself captivated by your laugh, the way your lips curved into a smile as you spoke, or the way your brow furrowed in concentration when you contemplated a dare. Sitting next to you felt like being next to a goddess, both exhilarating and intimidating, just like the rest of your sisters; girls from cabin ten.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Travis scanned the circle, his eyes stopping on you. You met his eyes, a playful sparkle in your own, as if daring him to choose you.

“yn, truth or dare?”

You took a swig of your beer, the cold liquid a welcome contrast to the warmth blooming in your cheeks under his scrutiny. "Dare" you replied, your voice laced with a hint of flirtatious defiance.

A surprised whistle escaped his lips. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to choose the more daring option, you´ve been picking truth all night. He reached for a card from the red deck, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. The silence grew thick as he scanned the card.

A barely audible chuckle escaped his lips as he read the card. "Alright, pretty girl" he began, drawing out the words for dramatic effect, " 'Lick whipped cream out of the person on your left's neck, or take a shot.'"

A collective gasp rippled through the group, followed by teasing comments towards Luke. "Castellan's lucky tonight!" Connor hollered, patting his back. "Looks like you owe cabin ten a thank you, man."

Luke felt his cheeks burning like rubies. He tried to appear confident, as he always was, a casual slouch to his posture, but the rapid thump of his heart betrayed his cool facade.

You just stared at him for a moment, a nervous yet malicious smirk on your lips. You enjoyed the sight of him suddenly all red and flustered, a stark contrast to his usual cool demeanor. He looked as cute as ever. "Well?" Katie asked, shrugging your shoulder playfully. "Whip cream or a shot?"

And how could you resist the dare? A chance for your lips to brush against the warm skin of Luke's neck in a gesture that was more intimate than any game dared to be? The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a delicious mix of excitement and nervousness. Licking the sweet whipped cream off him, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your lips... it was too tempting to pass up, and the possibilities were simply intoxicating.

Ignoring the teasing catcalls and whispers, you turned to Katie with a sly smile. "Where's the whipped cream?" you asked, knowing full well that Silena had brought a large bag of candy, a can of whipped cream nestled amongst the chocolate bars and sour gummies.

Your question erupted into another wave of cheers and whistles. Luke, meanwhile, felt like his insides were about to explode. He felt like a churning cauldron of emotions – nervousness, excitement, a burning desire dancing in his stomach.

Silena tossed the can to you. You caught it in the air, the coldness of the metal a stark contrast to the heat burning in your cheeks. You met Luke's gaze once more.

"Looks like you're about to get a little messy" you declared, getting on your knees now for a better access. With a sweet but weirdly evil smirk, you shook the can, the hiss of the pressurized cream a prelude to the sweet mess you were about to create.

As Luke held your gaze, a slow smile spread across his face. He knew this was a chance, one he couldn't afford to miss. "Alright" he sighed, chest heaving up and down in one hard and heavy movement, his voice rough with suppressed nervousness but laced with an undercoat of confidence. He tilted his head slightly to the left, offering you a better angle, his final invitation. "Do your thing."

The weight of his words, the vulnerability in his gesture, sent a jolt through you. Luke's neck, bathed in the warm glow of the fire, looked impossibly inviting, the smooth skin a stark contrast to the dark fabric of his shirt.

Taking a slight breath, you placed a few dollops of whipped cream on the side of his neck. The coldness sent a jolt through him, making him flinch and hiss lowly. A wave of whispers rippled through the group, a mixture of nervous anticipation and excited curiosity.

Luke caught a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. You tossed your hair to the side, the movement exposing completely one of your shoulders. In that moment, under the watchful gaze of the fire and their friends, he felt himself going faintly insane with a mixture of desire and nervousness.

You leaned closer, the sweet scent of your perfume filling his senses. As you both closed your eyes at the same time, the air crackled with electricity. Your tongue, soft and warm, darted out with boldness. Pulling down on the collar of his shirt to avoid a mess, your other hand flew to the back of his neck, holding him gently in place.

The gentle rasp of your tongue against his skin sent shivers down his spine. It was a slow, deliberate movement, almost reverent, seductive, as you savored the sweetness of the whipped cream and the warmth of his skin beneath it.

Your actions were hot enough for his cock to start hardening against his cargo pants, painfully. But he has to thank the gods for luckily sitting in a position in which he was covering it.

He pressed his lips together, and apparently, that made his friends laugh. He could hear the soft gasps of your breath as you worked your way around the whipped cream blob, the sound echoing in his ears like a siren's song.

Luke felt like a live wire, every nerve ending tingling with awareness. He couldn't believe what was happening. The gentle touch of your lips made him feel as if a hundred ants walked down his spine, his heart thundering in his chest. He was trying so hard to hold back a moan.

He tried to imagine something else, literally anything, but whenever he tried, the only thing he could picture was you with him in his room, pouring whipped cream all over his neck and just licking, like a cat, as he tilted his head back and you bit down on his pulse, you whispered in his ear, you moaned loudly, you let him touch you.

He was a dead man.

Finally, with a satisfied sigh, you pulled away.

"There" you said, your voice barely a whisper. "All clean"

Luke opened his eyes, his gaze lingering on your lips, cherry lip-gloss long gone, as you finished licking off the last bit of your sweet treat. You met his gaze. Neither of you spoke.

A loud cough from Connor broke the spell. "Well, that was..." he began, searching for the right words, "intense."

“Yeah” Chris joined in, suddenly grabbing Clarisse’s hand and turning to her. “Can we do it?”

The moment was broken, the playful environment resuming its place. A wave of laughter washed over the group when the night took an unexpected turn. Soon, the whipped cream became a must along your friends.

Travis´ eyes landed on a weak Lee. The following minutes were filled with chaos and laughter as Travis chased Lee around the nearby trees, whipped cream can in hand, finally managing to catch him and plant a sloppy glob of cream on his neck. Lee's retaliatory attempt at tickling Travis only resulted in both of them collapsing in a heap of loud laughs.

The game continued, couples forming and reforming with each dare. Beckendorf and Connor, fueled by a rivalry, ended up smearing whipped cream on each other's faces, resulting in a food fight of sorts. Silena and Katie shared a non-stop giggly mess as they licked cream off each other's cheeks.

Even Clarisse, despite her initial resistance, found herself cornered by Chris.

By the time everyone´s face was sticky, exhaustion had settled in. As the fire crackled down to embers, casting long shadows across the clearing, everyone decided it was time to head back to their cabins.

The walk back was filled with drunken stumbling and whispered jokes. Silena and Clarisse, whose tolerance for alcohol was notoriously low, were stumbling back to their cabins, supported by their patient friends.

You walked behind them, a smile playing on your lips as you watched the scene unfold, bag of leftovers snacks swinging on your wrist.

Behind you, Luke admired your figure bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the trees. Your hips, swaying with each step you took, were basically asking him to be grabbed, to be pulled. So did your hair, bouncing and shining on its on and he wondered what it would feel like to have it wrapped around his hand. His mind couldn't help but flash back to the way your tongue had felt, flat and warm, against his skin. It was a sensation that gave him goosebumps even now, a memory that made his brain feel like melted butter.

He also found no way of getting rid of his boner. His pants were a little baggy, and his friends were drunk, but still, he was just walking around camp, with a boner, and the girl that gave it to him was walking just five feet ahead.

His train of thought was abruptly derailed by a booming voice. "Alright, guys" Beckendorf announced, his voice thick with concern, "I think I'm going to take Silena back to my cabin" he turned his head behind him. “She seems a little too excited, actually” he says, as you all watch Silena´s figure almost falling to the ground as she reaches the Hephaestus cabin.

The others murmured agreement, offering sleepy goodbyes and pats on the back. You joined the chorus, your voice a gentle murmur.

Unlike many of the other campers, whose siblings populated Camp Half-Blood year-round, you were one of the few who stayed all year, along with Silena some months. With the winter season in full swing, your cabin stood empty, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional curious critter.

"You alright?" you heard beside you.

Luke, walking next to you now, seemed to pick up on your quiet contemplation. He cast you a sidelong glance, his face unreadable in the dim light.

You pulled a small smile from the corner of your lips. "Yeah, just-, realizing I have the whole cabin to myself tonight."

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"Well, then" he began, his voice a low rumble, "Want me to walk you there so you don´t go alone?"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as Luke's offer hung in the air.

"My cabin's not too far away, Luke" you teased, pointing towards a cluster of trees in the distance. A flash of pink peeked through the branches – the lace curtains that adorned the windows. "See? I can practically see it from here. You just really wanna spend more time with me, don't you?"

A faint blush crept up Luke's neck. He wasn't used to being so transparent, especially not around you. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Then I guess" he stammered, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. "that my company is not wanted?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a melodic sound that echoed through the stillness of the night and ringed inside Luke´s ears. Deep down, you knew that was the furthest thing from the truth. The dare had awakened something inside you, a flicker of something warm and exciting burning in your belly. Looking at Luke now, bathed in the cool moonlight, you saw him differently. The way his hair tousled in the gentle breeze, the way his dark eyes held a depth you hadn't noticed before – it all made your stomach twist and tighten.

You placed both hands on the back pockets of your jeans. “When did I say that?” you ask.

A slow smile spread across Luke's face, mirroring your own. He couldn't deny the truth in your words. This playful back and forth shattered a barrier, revealing a connection neither of you had anticipated. His gaze drifted down to your lips for a second.

You noticed. Just as you noticed his hardened dick hidden inside his pants.

As you continued walking, a comfortable silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. The thought of him, his touch, his nearness, sent a hot wave through your stomach. It wasn't just about his good looks, though you couldn't deny his attractiveness. It was the unexpected intimacy, which was in fact, not so intimate due to your friends’ stares but, it left you with an empty feeling in your chest. It left you wanting more. More about Luke.

And then, it all just made sense.

As you reached the front door of your cabin, you turned around on your feet towards Luke. His eyes were wide and shiny in anticipation, waiting for you to speak. "So," you began, your voice dripping with feigned innocence, "since my company is apparently so delightful, how about you come inside for a bit?"

Luke blinked, surprised by your sudden offer. "Inside?" he echoed.

"You've never even been inside my cabin, have you? Don't you at least a little bit curious about what it looks like?"

You knew your question was a blatant and dirty lie. Luke likely knew the layout of every cabin at Camp Half-Blood, even though it is true that he only took small look from your cabin when the door was open, never fully stepping inside. But it was a way to gauge his interest. You knew how to play.

Luke shifted on his feet, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He wasn't sure if you were serious or just messing with him, but the invitation, whether genuine or not, was tempting. The thought of spending a little more time with you, alone, in the privacy of your cabin, made him think twice.

"Well," he began, his voice rough with well hidden desire, "if you want me to”

The sweet, cloying scent of perfume hit him first, a heady mix of flowers and vanilla that instantly relaxed his nerves. The walls were painted a soft, rosy pink, trimmed with crisp white molding. Pastel blue and green curtains adorned the windows, their gentle hues echoing in the twin beds adorned with pale blue sheets, a stark contrast to the brown bunks of his Hermes cabin.

Instead of the communal sleeping arrangements he was accustomed to, each camper here enjoyed the luxury of their own space. Twin beds stood side-by-side, separated by a blue dresser that boasted a large mirror and neatly organized drawers overflowing with what he could only assume were makeup and beauty products. In the corner, a chest with your name painted in a cheerful font held your personal belongings, and the space above your bed showcased an assortment of pin-ups – Hollywood starts and sultry singers plastered across the wall alongside a few candid photos of your friends, their faces beaming with laughter.

As Luke took in the scene, you walked further into the cabin, the plastic bag of leftover snacks crinkling in your hand. You tossed it onto the bed, rummaging through your chest for a change of clothes.

Suddenly, a small, gushing sound startled you. You looked up to find Luke standing directly in front of your bed, eyes sparkling like a little kid. In his hand, he held the can of leftover whipped cream, a playful white dollop clinging to his finger.

"Really?" you asked, a surprised laugh escaping your lips as you watched him contemplate licking it off. The audacity of the move, the playfulness in his eyes, made your insides twist.

"Don't judge me" he said. "I didn't get to lick it off someone's neck like everyone else did"

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. His words were a playful accusation, but the way he looked at you, the way his gaze lingered on your lips for a beat too long again, it was more than just whipped cream he craved.

You stood up slowly, a smile playing on your lips. Walking towards him, you stopped just out of reach. "Because you didn't want to" you teased, your voice laced with a hint of playing.

Luke met your gaze, his smile fading into a more serious expression. "Honestly, no, I didn't" he admitted, looking down at you from his taller height. "In front of everyone, I mean."

You tilted your head, a knowing smile gracing your features. "Why not?" you pressed, your voice a gentle murmur.

"I was thinking," he began, you immediately catch up on his nervousness, "that maybe... maybe I could do it privately."

A slow smile spread across your face again. “Privately, huh?" you echoed, your voice a teasing murmur. “Who with?"

He scoffed. “Isn´t is obvious?”

A shiver danced down your spine at his words. You couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through you, the delicious anticipation that hung heavy in the air.

With a playful and exaggerated sigh, you sat on your bed, sinking down onto the soft mattress. You look up at him, resting both of your hands behind you, making yourself as comfortable as possible.

He stared down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a second to sit down next to you, the close proximity making your heart beat just a little louder, and the tip of your fingers sweat. The scent of your perfume, a sweet and intoxicating mix, filled his senses.

"Can I?" he asked.

You simply nodded. “Sure” you say. Every fiber of your being was waiting for him to follow in your footsteps, to recreate the intimate touch of your earlier dare.

Bingo.

You were convinced he was going for the same part of your body that you did on his, but instead, you felt the coolness of his fingertips against your skin as he gently pulled down the collar of your tank top, exposing the delicate curve of your collarbone and the top part of your breast.

A gasp escaped your lips as the coolness of the whipped cream hit your skin. Without missing a beat, Luke took tossed the can aside and, mimicking your earlier action, swiped his tongue across the exposed skin.

The cold sensation of the whipped cream mingled with the warmth of his touch, sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

His movements were slow and deliberate, his tongue tracing a lazy path across your skin. It was a stark contrast to the playful swipe you'd given him earlier, a wet touch that made both of you realize, very clearly, what this whole thing was about.

A soft moan escaped your lips, barely audible but undeniably present. Luke's breath hitched at the sound, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp nip on your collarbone. Luke had bitten down slightly, the sensation sending a confusing feeling towards your chest.

"Gods, Luke, that's-" you gasped, the word dying on your lips as a wave of pleasure washed over you when his teeth grazed over it again. You didn't even care to finish your sentence, too lost in the whirlwind of emotions his touch ignited.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. He licked off the last bit of the sweet treat from your skin, mimicking the way you'd cleaned him earlier.

"There" he said, his voice thick with mockery. "All clean."

You stared at him, your eyes glazed over with a desire that mirrored his own. You felt like a wild animal, unleashed and untamed. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your breath coming in ragged gasps from your parted lips. Your collarbone glistened with saliva, a testament to the intimacy you'd just shared.

You couldn't take it anymore.

You smashed your lips against his in a hungry kiss. It was a kiss unlike any you'd ever experienced, raw and desperate, fueled by the tension that had been building between you all night.

Luke, caught off guard for a moment, quickly responded, his kiss turning passionate and possessive. He slipped one hand behind your back, pressing you closer, the other finding its way into your hair, tilting your head for a deeper kiss.

You tangled your fingers in the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you as you fell onto the bed. He followed willingly, his body hovering over yours. That dare. That fucking dare. It had morphed into something far more intense, a stolen moment of passion that threatened to consume you both.

The taste of whipped cream was there, with the heat of his kiss, a bizarre yet strangely intoxicating combination. Your senses were on fire, your body yearning for more. You reached up, your fingers tracing the planes of his face, memorizing the feel of his strong jawline, the slight stubble that brushed against your skin.

As the kiss deepened, his hand found its way under your shirt, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. You gasped, a mixture of surprise and delight at his touch.

Your response was immediate when he started to graze his fingertips down your spine. You arched your back into his touch, a wordless plea for more. When he reached to your lower back, he grabbed your hip and pulled you impossibly closer to his body.

You felt his boner pocking on your inner thigh. You wondered how many hours he just spent with his dick painfully hardened, because you don’t really remember how many hours have passed since you chose dare as an option.

Your hands were quick to start pulling Luke’s shirt over his head. He only stopped kissing you to fully remove it and toss it to the ground, lips slamming against yours once again. He held a tight and possessive grab at your jaw, he didn’t want to let go of you.

The tip of his fingers trailed down your neck, your collarbone, a slow path down your body and over the fabric until his finger hooked your jeans, using a single had to get rid of the button, and quickly making it disappear along with his shirt.

“Why are you wearing this?” his voice had gone lower, his throat dry. He looked perfect like this, lips glistening with your saliva, hair messy and a finger hooked on the side of your light pink laced thong.

You couldn’t help but roam your eyes down his torso. The many years of training gifted him with a toned and well-worked body. His veins popped out with ease, starting on his biceps and getting more and more noticeable on his hands, manly, big and rough hands. You bit down on your lip for a moment, fingers tracing down his abdomen, he hissed at your cold fingers against his heated skin.

“It’s just my underwear, Luke” you explain. “Don’t like it?”

Instead of answering, the hand that was holding onto your tiny peace of underwear started trailing up your torso, flat against your stomach and all the way up to your sternum. He felt the soft fabric of your bra and gave you a lopsided smile. “I’m just hoping that this is matching”

And he got rid of your tank top. And it was, in fact, a matching set.

Luke couldn’t help but think that maybe you planned it all. Your cute lacy matching set, the empty cabin, the game. His mind started to race, circuits inside his brain working like a machine.

He hovered over your body again, trailing kisses around your neck. You moaned at the first one since he immediately found your sweet spot on the right side of it, goosebumps all the way from your skull to the bottom of your spine. “Was this all-, some plan of yours?” he asked, rushed voice and breaths coming out in gasps as he started to suck on your neck.

You giggled. “No, it wasn’t. But I was hoping for it-, oh” you moaned, pulling on his hair when he released his suck on your skin with a bop, but you felt his fingers trail up your inner thigh, knuckles brushing against your heated core.

“How?” he asked, slow and painfully teasing movements against your panties, occasionally focusing too much on your clit, making you gasp a little louder as you gripped on his bicep.

“I might have read all the cards earlier” you begin. “And I might have asked Silena to get me some whip cream with your cabin. Just in case I got to-, to do it with you. That’s why I wanted you to sit next to me”

Luke chuckled lowly, beads from his necklace tickling the skin on the base of your neck. “So it was a plan”

“No” you shrug off, feeling his lips against your neck again, sucking greedily. “I just, I wanted it. But I wasn’t sure it was gonna happen. I didn’t know this was gonna happen either”

Luke enjoyed so much the way you couldn’t even speak without letting out a moan or two in every sentence. He felt the fabric of your underwater getting wetter by the second. He listened to you and replied with little “hm’s” as if it was a casual conversation; a conversation in which you had him in your bed, almost naked, as he left bruises down your neck and you had his fingers teasing your entrance, hips rolling against his touch.

“You’re evil” he says. But it’s not you who’s touching him so boldly. It’s not you who leaves him wanting more, it’s not you who teases. But him.

So you let your hand make its way to his cargo pants, slipping past them and his boxers, directly going for his cock. A strangled moan escaped his lips, followed by his chest heaving up and down, surprised by your sudden movement. It felt hot against your hand, hot and heavy and you knew, that it was the hardest Luke has even been.

Your cupped hid balls just for a moment before you started to slowly ascent, finally reaching for his tip. Your fingers wrapped around his length and your thumb started torturous circles around his sensitive head. He sucked in his stomach constantly as you touched him, momentarily forgetting about your pleasure, but you enjoyed this a lot more.

“You really don’t want me to be evil, Luke” you say. “I could be evil and just stand up and make you walk to your cabin, or not letting you fuck me. But I’m not, ‘cause I really wanna feel you inside me, Luke. I really want you”

He let out a long and shaky breath full of relief when you started to bob your hand up and down, and that encouraged him to pull your thong aside, fingers teasing at your entrance. Your own breath came shaky as well when a single finger entered you.

Luke shook his head. “You’re so fucking wet” he pants. He didn’t even touched you properly and you were soaking his finger, lips glistening in your own arousal and leaving a wet patch on your pink underwear. “I need to taste you, doll. Please”

Your chest shakes when you laugh. You think it’s so cute that even though he has a finger buried inside you, your hand wrapped around his cock as you pump him slowly, he still says please, he still asks.

“Do whatever you want to me, Luke. I’m yours tonight”

That’s all the needed to hear. You let go of your hot grip as he steadies himself on your bed. But his hand reaches for something beside him, next to his calve. He brings the whip cream out again. “Can I try something?” he asks.

And how could you say no to his face?

You hold your breath when he leaves little balls of whip cream down your abdomen. You figure it’s empty now, because Luke throws it carelessly to the ground, a soft thud against the carpet on the side of your bed.

He holds your waist steady when you squirm slightly, as if you were about to run away from him. He glances at you for a second, his eyes, dark and dominant, basically telling you to not move a single inch. The plain sight of him, looking at you like that, while his big hands are gripped on your sides, only made you wetter.

He lowers his head to the first blob, tongue agonizingly slow as he only takes the very tip. You whine, you want him to touch you more, you want him to kiss you everywhere, to lick you everywhere, but he only makes it seems like a torture when he stops his movements.

“The more you complain, the more time I’ll take” he said. You nodded to his words, closing your eyes as you tried your best to patiently wait for him to start again.

Soon, you felt his tongue against your skin. This was so much better than your cleavage, so much hotter. You felt his teeth teasing you, attempting to bite but then pulling again, licking the last bit of whip cream before moving down to the next blob. By the time he reached under your belly button, you let out little gasps as his hands massage your inner thighs, dangerously close to your cunt.

He’s not directly touching you, but you feel the arousal getting ticker, and how close Luke’s breath was now to you, so hot and dry. You felt like dripping, even though you weren’t, but you were surely more than ready for whatever it is that he wanted to do to you.

It feels like heaven to him when he finally gets to taste you. He pushed his own head deeper in between your thighs as he groans, as if what he’s getting is not enough. Your high pitched moans fill his ears when his tongue starts slow, little kitten licks over your clit, too soft to even consider them as licks, but it has you squirming and grinding your hips down onto his face, pulling at his curls and asking him for more.

Oh, your sweet pleas. Your moans. Luke feels like a mad man as he start to gently rut his hips against your mattress. And to this point, he’s completely gone in you, too drunk to even care about how loud you were being, how hard he was eating you out, how if someone even tried to walk past your cabin, they’ll hear.

But maybe this is just what he wanted too. He didn’t know how long has it been since he realized he wanted to fuck your brains out, but he always cared about everything too. Where could it be, in a place where no one could see you, how he’d have to cover your mouth to stop you from moaning and letting the others hear you, how he had to pull his dick out slowly and put it back in at the same speed because he knew that if he did it too hard, he’ll become a mess. But he didn’t give a fuck about those things now. He finally had you as he wanted you, why in the world would he care about all those stupid things now?

In fact, he encouraged you. “Don’t hide those pretty noises from me, baby” he panted. “Let me hear you”

He was drooling. He couldn’t help it. You tasted so deliciously sweet, and not because of the whip cream leftovers on his mouth. Yes, it did change things a bit but, he knew how to distinguish what was artificial and what was you. And he loved you. He loved how you couldn’t stop coating his lips with your juices, how your arousal mixed with his saliva and dripped down your ass and onto the sheets.

He never enjoyed a meal so much.

“Luke, wait” you say, pulling at his curls but he only leaned into you more, nose bumping against your clit as his tongue remains inside you. “Luke, I’m gonna cum, wait”

“Then cum” he lifted his head as fast as possible when he heard your words. “Do it, baby.” He noticed the way your thighs were shaking, soothing them down with the palm of his hands.

You shook your head. “No, no” you whine. “I wanna do it while you fuck me, Luke. Please? It’ll feel so good, please”

Luke was starstruck. Oh, how the tables have turned. And how he turned you around too.

You still laid in bed, faced down onto the mattress. Luke had placed a pillow under your hips, ass in the air as he placed himself over you, one knee on each side of your legs. The shaking on your legs had stopped, but Luke noticed how excited you were, how even though you were so fucked up, how a white and sticky mess covered your inner thighs and how your whole body was glistening with sweat, you still managed to crack a smile to yourself as you bit your thumb.

You were driving him crazy. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to look at another’s girl’s face after you. You had him wrapped around your finger and you knew it, and you were just so mean about it, patiently waiting for him to fuck you as he pumps himself a few times, cock harder than it’ll ever be again and his tip leaking with precum.

He placed himself in your entrance, slowly rubbing it up and down your folds, and pushing himself into you at an agonizing pace. His tip was quickly covered in you, glistening with a mix of his saliva and your juices. He tried his best to not let any drop go to waste, getting absorbed by your sheets.

“You wanted my cock, didn’t you, doll?” he asks, pushing himself into you faster than you expected, a loud gasp scraping from your throat. “Then take it”

Your hands instantly reached for the sheets on your sides due to his fast pace, that took the air out of your lungs and started a racing heartbeat inside you, your knuckles quickly turning white as your nails digging into them, but Luke took them both, pushing your wrists together behind your back and holding them there. He used your hands to push himself deeper every time, rock harder, faster.

You were decent enough to muffle your moans in your sheets, but Luke could still hear them mixing with his owns; low grunts, loud gasps and hitched breaths. He had to close his eyes many times to prevent himself from cumming, because what a sight did he have under him.

Your cunt, shiny and coated with a white creamy consistent was sucking him in even when he pulled out. You were so greedy for him. Your walls tightened around him and wanted him to stay there, still, but the rocking of his hips and the gushing sounds of your pussy as he pounded into you was too good to let it pass.

He loved the sound. He loved how you were much wetter inside, making himself feel as if he was pounding into the tiniest and warmest hole ever, creaming his cock and not wanting for him to ever pull out and leave.

He suddenly lowered his body to yours, one hand letting go off his grip to pull your hair aside. “You say you’re mine tonight” he repeated your words in your ear. Your back arched unconsciously, ass slamming back into his cock. “Nah, baby. You’re mine forever”

He let go of your hands, only to place one hand on your throat, pulling you slightly back to him, his fingers squeezing on your sides. Your moans quickly became quite as you tried your best to breathe, but you loved it so much you didn’t even attempt to remove his hand from you.

“You’re all mine, yn” he panted. “Mine. This body,” he gripped on your waist with his free hand, “this pussy, those lips” a ghost of his thumb brushed your bottom lip, pulling down on it. “Mine. Mine. Mine”

He slammed his hips against you repeatedly. You didn’t know when exactly, but you came, and Luke felt it too when the consistent that ringed around the base of his cock became more and more noticeable. And it didn’t take him long to do the same.

He collapsed over your body as you finally gasped for air. You coughed slightly, tears forming on the corner of your eyes but quickly drying out.

“I’m sorry” he said, sliding off you and laying next to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah-,” you laugh “Yeah, I’m-, wow”

That made him laugh. His arm wrapped around your waist as he placed a tender kiss on your cheek. His hands then started to run down your hair, all the way down to your lower back. You close your eyes at the feeling, only momentarily opening them to see something red in between your clothes, shining carelessly to the moonlight from your window.

You reach down to grab the empty can. “We should get another one of these” you say.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #pjo smut #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x you #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines #aphrodite

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kaydensb · 7 months ago

Text

100% Legally Sourced Media (Google Drive)

Here is a link for a whole bunch of movies, tv shows and more -

Hopefully all the prior issues with getting things to open or show up have been fixed, but if not let me know specifically what isn't working and I will try to re-upload it.

below is a list of the things currently on my google drive, I may add more and keep updating this list periodically as things get put on the drive.

Audiobooks and Audio Dramas

Fiction

1984 By George Orwell

A Tale of Two Cities By Charles Dickens

Animal Farm By George Orwell

Bleak House By Charles Dickens

Bridgerton Series By Julia Quinn

Chemistry By Rachael Sommers

Daisy Jones and the Six By Taylor Jenkins Reid

David Copperfield By Charles Dickens

Do Not Disturb By Freida McFadden

Dracula By Bram Stoker

Eve of Man Series By Tom Fletcher & Giovanna Fletcher

Fellow Travelers By Thomas Mallon

Frankenstein By Mary Shelley

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe By Fanny Flagg

Friends of Dorothy By Sandi Toksvig

Gone Girl By Gillian Flynn

Gothic Tales By Arthur Conan Doyle

Great Expectations By Charles Dickens

H.G. Wells The Science Fiction Collection By H.G Wells

It By Stephen King

Jurassic Park By Michael Crichton

Les Misérables By Victor Hugo

Little Women By Louisa May Alcott

Mansfield Park By Jane Austen

Me Before You By Jojo Moyes

Neon Roses By Rachel Dawson

No One I knew By A. J. McDine

Oliver Twist By Charles Dickens

Pride and Prejudice By Jane Austen

Red, White & Royal Blue By Casey McQuiston

Sense and Sensibility By Jane Austen

Should Have Known Better By A J McDine

Stranger in the Woods By Anni Taylor

The Complete Sherlock Holmes Collection By Arthur Conan Doyle

The Exorcist By William Peter Blatty

The Forgetting By Hannah Beckerman

The Girl on the Train By Paula Hawkins

The Glitch By Leeanne Slade

The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Honey Witch By Sydney J. Shields

The Invite By A. J. McDine

The Murder Game By Tom Hindle

The Picture of Dorian Gray By Oscar Wilde

The Promise You Made By A. J. McDine

The Woman in Black By Susan hill

The Wonder Boy of Whistle Stop By Fannie Flagg

The Wrong Sister By Claire Douglas

Think Again By Jacqueline Wilson

Torchwood

We Play Games by Sarah A. Denzil

When You Least Expect It By Haley Cass

Non Fiction

A Billion Years My Escape from a Life in the Highest Ranks of Scientology By Mike Rinder

All I Know Now By Carrie Hope Fletcher

Apparently There Were Complaints By Sharon Gless

Bad Gays A Homosexual History By Huw Lemmey & Ben Miller

Barnum's Own Story By P T Barnum

Best Foot Forward By Adam Hills

Between the Stops By Sandi Toksvig

Beyond Belief By Jenna Miscavige

Black Mass By Gerrard O’Niell & Dick Lehr

Blown for Good - Behind the Iron Curtain of Scientology By Marc Headley

Boy From the Valleys By Luke Evans

Che Guevara By Jon Lee Anderson

Church of Lies By Flora Jessop & Paul T. Brown

Coming Up for Air By Tom Daley

Dare to Dream By Izzy Judd

David Bowie Made Me Gay - 100 Years of LGBT Music By Darryl W Bullock

Deaf Utopia By Nyle DiMarco

Escaping the Kingdom of God By J. Andrew Robinson

Fahrenheit-182 By Mark Hoppus

Fathomless Riches By Rev Richard Coles

Freddie Mercury The Definitive Biography By Lesley-Ann Jones

Friends, Lovers and the Big Terrible Thing By Matthew Perry

From Here to the Great Unknown A Memoir By Lisa Marie Presley & Riley Keough

Help I S*xted My Boss By William Hanson & Jordan North

Karma By Boy George

Letters on Motherhood by Giovanna Fletcher

Mama’s Boy By Dustin Lance Black

Notorious by Raphael Rowe

Once upon a Tyne By Ant & Dec

Our Story By Reg and Ron Kray

Over Our Dead Bodies By Todd Harra & Kenneth McKenzie

Rainbow History Class By Hanna McElhinney

Scientology: Abuse at the Top By Amy Scobee

Sh**ged. Married. Annoyed By Chris Ramsey & Rosie Ramsey

The Church of Fear by John Sweeney

The Doomsday Mother By John Glatt

The House of My Mother By Shari Franke

The Hundred Years' War on Palestine By Rashid Khalidi

The Mayor of Castro Street By Randy Shilts

The Peer and the Gangster By Daniel Smith

The Phantom Prince By Elizabeth Kendall

Under the Banner of Heaven By Jon Krakauer

Under the Bridge By Rebecca Godfrey

Documentaries and Docudramas

A Lion Called Christian

A Very British Sex Scandal

Abused By My Girlfriend

Accused - The Hampstead Paedophile Hoax

Aids - The Unheard Tapes

Alex Brooker: Disability and Me

Bad Influence: The Dark Side of Kidfluencing

Bad Influencer - The Great Insta Con

Bowie - The Man Who Changed The World

Boyzone: No Matter What

Children of the Underground

Dancing for the Devil - The 7M TikTok Cult

Daughters of the Cult

Desperately Seeking Soulmate - Escaping Twin Flames Universe

Devil in the Family: The Fall of Ruby Franke

Dinosaurs - The Final Day with David Attenborough

Dirty Pop - The Boy Band Scam

Driven - The Billy Monger Story

Escaping Polygamy

Escaping Twin Flames

Freddie Mercury - The Great Pretender

Frozen Planet

Frozen Planet II

Good Grief with Reverend Richard Coles

Hatton Garden - The Inside Story

Hell Camp - Teen Nightmare

I Am Not A Rapist

I Cut Off His Penis - The Truth Behind The Headlines

Ireland's Mother and Baby Scandal

Killing Patient Zero

Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath

Lewis Capaldi - How I'm Feeling Now

Liar: The Fake Grooming Scandal

Living Every Second: The Kris Hallenga Story

Lord Montagu

Mama's Boy

Matt Willis: Fighting Addiction

Murdaugh Murders - A Southern Scandal

Murder Among the Mormons

My Wife My Abuser - Captured On Camera

Pennywise - The Story of It

Planet Earth

Planet Earth II

Queen - Days Of Our Lives

Sacred Soil - The Piney Woods School Story

Sarah Everard: The Search for Justice

Scientology: Going Clear - The Prison of Belief

Soham: The Murder of Holly & Jessica

Stolen Youth - Inside the Cult at Sarah Lawrence

Strike - An Uncivil War

Strike! The Women Who Fought Back

Striking with Pride: United at the Coalface

Surviving Amber Heard

Take Care of Maya

The Bambers : Murder at the Farm

The Boys - The Sherman Brothers' Story

The Exorcist Untold

The Family

The Krays - The Mafia Connection

The Menendez Brothers

The Millennium Dome Heist With Ross Kemp

The Movies That Made Us

The Pembrokeshire Murders - Catching the Gameshow Killer

The Program - Cons, Cults and Kidnapping

The Settlers

The Times of Harvey Milk

Tom Daley 1.6 Seconds

Uprising

Waco - American Apocalypse

Warren Jeffs: Prophet of Evil

Wonders of the World I Can't See

Films

A Haunting in Venice

About a Boy

All of Us Strangers

American Psycho

Armageddon

Bad Tidings

Basic Instinct

Beautiful Boy

Beautiful Thing

Beetlejuice

Boy Erased

Boys Don’t Cry

But I'm a Cheerleader

Chicago

Child's Play

Chocolat

City of Lies

Clue

Contagion

Cool Runnings

Corpse Bride

Dallas Buyers Club

Dawn of the Dead

Death on the Nile

Deck the Halls

Die Hard

Dirty Dancing

Donnie Brasco

Downton Abbey

Edward Scissorhands

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind

Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Four Weddings and a Funeral

Fried Green Tomatoes

From Hell

Gone Girl

Gremlins

Hairspray

Handsome Devil

Heathers

Heathers - The Musical

Home Alone

Hot Fuzz

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

Jaws

Jingle All The Way

Jumanji

Jurassic Park

Kill Your Darlings

Kindergarten Cop

Kinky Boots

Labyrinth

Legally Blonde

Legend

Les Misérables

Les Misérables: The Staged Concert

Little Shop of Horrors

Little Women

Love Actually

Mean Girls

Midsommar

Milk

Minamata

Miracle on 34th Street

Moulin Rouge!

Murder on the Orient Express

Murdered for Being Different

Newsies

Oliver!

Philadelphia

Pirates of the Caribbean

Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Prayers For Bobby

Pride

Pride and Prejudice

Red, White and Royal Blue

Rent

Scarface

Scream

Scrooged

Secret Window

Shaun of the Dead

Shelter

Sister Act

Sleepy Hollow

Star Wars

Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

The Addams Family

The Amityville Horror

The Blair Witch Project

The Conjuring

The Craft

The Crow

The Exorcist

The Full Monty

The Greatest Showman

The imitation Game

The Muppet Christmas Carol

The Nightmare Before Christmas

The Santa Clause

The Shawshank Redemption

The Sixth Sense

The Sound of Music

The Tourist

The Woman in Black

Three Men and a Baby

Three Men and a Little Lady

Titanic

Transcendence

Twister

Uncle Buck

Unicorns

West Side Story

What We Did on Our Holiday

White Christmas

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Zola

Stand Up Comedy

Adam Hills

Chris McCausland

Chris Ramsey

Daniel Howell

Daniel Sloss

Dara O'Briain

Ed Byrne

Fern Brady

Greg Davies

John Bishop

Rhod Gilbert

Sarah Millican

Sean Lock

TV Shows

90210

Agatha All Along

Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled

Apple Cider Vinager

Being Human

Big Night of Musicals

Bridgerton

Celebrity Race Across the World

Code of Silence

Criminal Minds

Cuckoo

Daisy Jones and the Six

Deadwater Fell

Desperate Housewives

Doctor Who

Downton Abbey

Dynasty

Eyewitness

Fellow Travelers

Fire Country

Friends

Good Girls

Good Omens

Good Trouble

Heartstopper

I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here!

Interview with the Vampire

It's A Sin

Killing Eve

Looking

Mary & George

Mid-Century Modern

Midnight Mass

Missing You

My Family

My Wife and Kids

Nevermind the Buzzcocks

One Tree Hill

Parenthood

Queer as Folk

Shameless

Sky Med

Sleepy Hollow

Switched at Birth

Taskmaster

The Alienist

The Artful Dodger

The Clearing

The Couple Next Door

The Fosters

The Haunting of Bly Manor

The Haunting of Hill House

The Jetty

The Midnight Club

The Misinvestigations of Romesh Ranganathan

The Pembrokeshire Murders

The Perfect Couple

The Society

The Stranger

The Unofficial Science Of…

The Watcher

Torchwood

Toxic Town

Under the Banner of Heaven

Under the Bridge

Virgin River

WandaVision

White Collar

White House Farm

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therobotmonster · 8 days ago

Note

Saw some of your posts about AI recently, but don't really know very much about you. I have two questions:

1. Are you an actual artist, or do you just do genAI?

2. If you are an actual artist, why do you use/support AI?

We're going to get into this in a minute, but yes, by what you'd likely use as a definition of 'actual artist', I am. I have a BFA in graphic design, a minor in art history, I've been working as a freelance artist either on the side or as my main hustle since 2001, and I've been making art since I was five. Multimedia, 3d modelling and sculpting, photography (in a darkroom type and digital), acrylic painting, illustration, writing, puppetsmithing, I'm a jack of many, many trades.

Because it's a potent force multiplier that lets me do things that I could not previous (as well as helping compensate for my increasingly arthritic joints) and because it's entirely keeping with the copyleft principles I've had since the 1990s. It's just plain interesting and fun. And I had my fill of moral panics in the 1980s.

This is gonna be a long one, enjoy a song while you read.

I've gone over all this many times before, (for full reading, here's the #AI Discourse tag on my AI blog) but the short version is that I agree with the Electronic Frontier Foundation's position on AI art.

To demonstrate, we've got some of my non-AI photobash work, and some of my AI-work of the same type. Both were made using many, many public domain images broken down to B&W lines, scaled, reinked, normalized and colored.

On the left, is a comic made with specific panels from comics that have had their copyrights expire (back when that could happen), on the right, a comic made with about 35 individual dall-E 3 gens. The techniques are the same, the only difference is the source of the pubic domain images.

No one debates whether what I've done on the left is art, yet somehow the one on the right is a problem for some people. Yet I have vastly more control over the latter than the former.

And it's hard to get more transformative than 'broke down into math and blended with literally millions of other math formulas in order to make a completely new image" Replace 'math' with 'memory' and you have how all human creativity works.

Moving to covers, one of my parody deepdream-adjusted comics, and a reinked-recolored AI one on the right. The one on the left no one had a single problem with, but Bruce Wayne and Jessica Fletcher are screencaps, the Specter is a sales photo of a statue with a copy of 1989 Ted Dansen's face, and I'm using direct DC trade dress. Crickets.

On the right, no actual images by humans are used (outside the barcode, comics code authority emblem, and the 30 cent mark.) Same techniques, same situation. Very different reaction.

I also was a young artist in the 90s when Disney and the RIAA bribed and lied their way into extending copyright to its current ridiculous 120 year term, and I recognize what's happening with the anti-AI movement.

The exact same fear-mongering was used to get small artists to rally their congressmen against their own self-interest, and that's what the Copyright alliance is doing now.

Copyright does not help the small artist. It's also a relatively new invention, one that would be baffling to humans through most of history. You can't own art. Not even the people who make it. You can own a canvass or a carved rock or a book, but you don't own the art itself because you can't own feelings or ideas.

Copyright is a limited patent on specific expressions intended (supposedly) to encourage production, a limitation on the business use of art. The arguments levied against AI would kill fanfic, fanart, pastiche, collage, and more.

This isn't a bug, it's a feature, because...

The anti-AI side isn't actually anti-AI, they're pro-regulatory-capture-of-AI-by-Megacorporations. The copyright anti-AI argument conveniently leaves it open for Disney, Warner Bros, Nintendo, Sony, the RIAA, all to make their own AI systems to lower their production costs, because they own more than enough material to make powerful datasets.

They get it, you don't, worst of all possible worlds.

Now, at the start I mentioned that we'd get into the "actual artist" situation. All those people making bog standard waifu-pics with AI? They're also making art. Kids using a spirograph make art. Duchamp's fountain is art. And people who make art are artists.

But more than that "if you're an actual artist why do you use AI?" is an interesting question, because if more people actually used the tech and saw how it works, you'd see a lot less people against it. Most of the anti-AI talking points are just factually incorrect or greatly misrepresent the situation, but nobody is gonna learn that if even using it is treated as a transgress worthy of 'fair game' treatment.

Funny how that works out.

To close out, enjoy one of my music videos, made from dozens of clips made using reference images made with dozens of heavily modified gens that I totally could have made the hard way, except for the lack of 5 million dollars and access to Geena Davis and Ron Ely circa 1982:

youtube

#ai discourse #art and artists #what is art?#copyright alliance #copyleft #copyright #public domain #fair use #my art

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cartoon-cornplateur · 4 months ago

Text

Perry the Platypus Headcanons (with the Flynn-Fletchers)

Heinz gave perry an identical looking teddy bear as the one he has in the first London episode and perry sleeps with that ever since. Phineas and Ferb saw him cuddling with it. "What do you have there, boy? Oh a teddy bear? Well, as long as you didn't steal it..." Then ferb gives perry a thumbs up because he, for one, approves of stealing. Perry brings that even when he sleeps with the boys.

Whenever there's a family celebration, phineas and ferb dresses perry with a black bowtie and a top hat and calls him fancy perry. Whenever they enter the party phineas always says "Ready your jaws and excited hands for Fancy Perry!" or "And here we have the illustrious Fancy Perry gracing us with his presence in this lovely evening..." (yes, this is the black bow tie he frequently uses in the show. yes, the boys influenced most of his love of grandeur)

Post-secret identity reveal, perry shows off his athleticism with the boys whenever he can. God knows how long he wanted to. They never stop being impressed.

As a thank you for keeping his secret, Perry occassionally helps out Stacy with little favors (some she knows, some she doesn't). Oftentimes, perry leaves a "-P" note at the things he does for her so she doesn't think she has a stalker or something. They hang out sometimes and play video games.

After stacy got into politics, perry decided that he'll keep close attention to any assasination and harmful attempts on her under the radar. There were some and perry foils them everytime no matter how far stacy was from danville when they happened. Stacy caught up that perry was behind saving her and sends him gifts as thanks.

Perry has a gold card for auction uses (dont make me explain how that works) that he exclusively use to win ducky momo limited edition merch that he sends to candace under the guise of her winning them on never-been-heard-of raffles. She thinks it's suspicious after the fifth time it happened and decided it was either the boys or lawrence behind it and has been waiting for them to tell her.

Lawrence is a disaster magnet (not as much as the murphys ofc but relevant enough) and perry actually saved him more times he can count.

Linda never forgets to buy perry ultra soft brushes every few months that mostly SHE uses for him.

Post-identity reveal, perry plays 3d chess with phineas and ferb online while the two are away from home. The boys are aware perry can travel the distance in a short while through some weird secret agent logic, but they don't want him to get tired (not to mention they themselves can travel that distance through one of their inventions). They'll save that for something really important.

Those three love playing football, skateboarding, and the rest is extreme sports.

Perry has become the Flynn-Fletcher family's first emergency contact after the identity reveal for things that they don't want the other family members to panic about for the reason of having enough time to explain to them what happened (in times of hospitalization calls the call always gets forwarded to Linda, however). And perry's is doofenshmirtz first and secondly both the boys.

Everyone already made a lot of hcs with doof so I thought I should make one with these dorks

[Check out this art of the last hc!!]

#stacy is part of the flynn fletchers of course #perry the platypus #phineas and ferb #phineas flynn #ferb fletcher #candace flynn #stacy hirano #lawrence fletcher #linda flynn fletcher #flynn fletchers #gayuma evil inc #dwampyverse

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pityroadart · 7 months ago

Text

Here's my piece for the @mcspirkevents Big Bang! I was paired with the excellent @twinkboimler and their fic Jim Kirk's Guide to Delivering the Goods, which you can find here (E, AOS McSpirk, 60k)

Summer just started, and Jim is bored out of his mind. The courses he needs to take aren’t being offered until the second half of the summer, so he has an entire month to bother his roommate Bones. At Bones’ suggestion to get a job, Jim fixes up a motorbike and starts making deliveries to people in town, including a cute Vulcan professor named Spock. But when Jim is beaten up while making a delivery, it’s Spock who delivers Jim back to the apartment he shares with Bones. After the meet-cute from hell, Spock and Bones start dating… and so do Jim and Spock. With neither roommate aware they’re both dating the same man, there’s only so long that things can go well for them before the other shoe finally drops.

Also as part of my Big Bang offerings, I made a fic playlist (below) — partly a love letter to McSpirk, partly a love letter to myself and Fletcher's overlapping music taste.

Thank you again to Fletcher @twinkboimler for working on this project with me, it's been an absolute joy!

Until the Birds Return on Spotify

Tracks and choice lyrics below the cut (contains vague spoilers):

Astronaut | Future Crib

I wanna be an astronaut Fly into space I wanna see Mars from Venus I wanna go to that place And if you come with me They'll be room in my ship I'll take you up there with me It can be just you and me

Afraid of Heights | boygenius

I never rode a motorcycle I never smoked a cigarette I wanna live a vibrant life But I wanna die a boring death

Day by Day | Old Sea Brigade

Time and time again, I think I'm falling through space And I wake up in my bed just sweating in sheets

... Then I think of you growing old and it breaks my heart

Factories | Autoheart

When you found my body by the lake You wasn't sure if I was still alive

You and Your Friend | Snake River Conspiracy

Must we go run through our lives with our eyes closed To the loving happiness that we can share I think I'm in love with you and your friend

My Gal, My Guy | Darlingside

My (guy) he's the bluest ocean, (he) Waits under the bluest sky for me I belong to (him) When I'm in the water

Santa Fe | Autoheart

Heaven sent You were like a present I should not have kept A sticker on your forehead saying 'breakable And I broke you bad

Coat on a Hook | The National

Two days, we're still not talking You're the opposite of an open book Come back for me

Top to Toe | Fenne Lily

So I'm changing all my days To make your nights It's just not right

Pigeon Song | Patrick Wolf

Now the pigeons gather 'round my feeding hand And we talk 'til the evening fades I have learnt how it goes What you wait for never shows And what you least wanted, holds you down like a stone

Hornets | The National

But I don't wanna leave And I don't wanna hide I just don't wanna run Into you tonight

Tea, Milk & Honey | Oh Pep!

If you stick with me, I'll make sure your time is all right If you don't understand where I am now, it's better if we leave it

The Spiritual | Jukebox the Ghost

We might have kissed a bit too soon I could feel what was coming and I didn't mean to hurry you I just knew that time would find our fingers linked, through and through Forgive me, I'm human too

Bike Dream | Rostam

Two boys, one to kiss your neck And one to bring you breakfast Get you out of bed

Don't Go | Yazoo

Can't stop now Don't you know I ain't never gonna let you go

Jenny | The Mountain Goats

I hopped on back of the bike, wrapped my arms around you I sank my face into your hair And then I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could You were sweet and delicious as the warm desert air And you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon We were the one thing in the galaxy God didn't have his eyes on 900 cc's of raw whining power, no outstanding warrants for my arrest

Old Old Fashioned | Josh Ritter (Frightened Rabbit cover)

Oh let's get old fashioned Back to how things used to be If I get old, old fashioned Would you get old, old fashioned with me?

#mcspirk big bang 2024 #mcspirk #aos mcspirk #aos spock #spock #my art #my trek art #watercolour

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nottslove · 1 month ago

Note

Song: Figure you out VOILÀ

event; profile; nav;

5.1 k words.

hi anon! thank you so much for requesting!! so i actually hadn't heard this song before, but once i did, i really liked it. i actually used to listen to against the current music like crazy, they're close friends with voila. anyway, this song gave me draco vibes, both the lyrics and music video. it doesn't help that luke eisner is such a snack himself.

@dearmisshoney, @biscuits-and-gracie, i referenced you guys somewhere in my fic, find the clue.

tags: @dracosprettygirl, @draco-malfoys-lovergirl, this one's for my draco girlies. my first time writing for draco.

warnings: college AU, no other warnings, but it's my first time writing for draco.

song: figure you out, voila slytherin boy: draco malfoy

DRACO Malfoy didn’t do relationships.

He never had, and you had long since accepted that fact. For years, you watched him cycle through girls with effortless charm, each one drawn in by his sharp smirks and silver-tongued arrogance. Three days—sometimes less—was all it took before he grew bored, before they became just another name on a long list of fleeting distractions.

And you? You were the exception.

The constant by his side, the one who didn’t blur into the background like the rest. You saw through the theatrics, through the carefully crafted indifference he wore like armor.

His best friend.

It grossed you out— watching him stick his tongue down every girl's throat, watching his hands trail down to grope the ass of every girl on his arm, watching him easily get them into bed, only to break their heart and never speak to them again.

But it also hurt you.

It was a quiet kind of ache—the kind that settled deep in your bones, familiar yet unbearable all the same.

You had spent years by his side, watching him move through fleeting romances, each one brief, insignificant, never lasting long enough to mean anything. And yet, despite all the girls, all the whispered promises that never held weight, he never once turned that gaze toward you.

Not in the way you wanted.

Not in the way that made your breath hitch, that set your pulse racing, that made you feel seen—not just as his best friend, but as something more.

But that moment never came.

Because to Draco Malfoy, you were just there—his constant, his reliable confidant, the one he never had to chase.

And that was exactly why he never looked at you the way you looked at him.

But even knowing him better than anyone else—there was one truth you couldn’t ignore.

Draco Malfoy didn’t do relationships.

And that meant he would never do you.

The doubt gnawed at you, sinking in deep, relentless.

Was it your glasses, the way they perched on your nose like an unspoken barrier between you and the kind of beauty he preferred? Was it your clumsiness, the way you tripped over your own feet, never quite carrying the effortless grace the girls in his arms always seemed to possess?

Were you simply not enough for Draco Malfoy’s standards?

It wasn’t fair. You had always been there, had always known him better than anyone else. You had seen him in his quiet moments, in his rare instances of vulnerability—the ones no fleeting romance ever got to witness.

And yet, despite all that, despite everything—his gaze never lingered the way you wished it would.

Maybe it never would.

And you had made your peace with that, when Jordan Fletcher, the most popular boy in the college asked you out.

Jordan Fletcher was perfect.

Or at least, that was what everyone told you. He was charming, confident, effortlessly popular—the kind of guy that had girls giggling when he passed by, the whispers in the corridors, the way girls sighed when he merely looked at them, the knowing glances exchanged as if dating him was some kind of prize to be won.

He was effortlessly charming, well-liked, the kind of boy who had people gravitate toward him without even trying.

And when he asked you out, you said yes.

Maybe this was your chance to finally move forward, to step into the kind of romance people envied, to let go of the aching weight that had settled in your chest for far too long.

And so, you said yes.

The bar was alive with laughter, the hum of conversation weaving between the clinking of glasses and the distant pulse of music. Your friends were gathered around, leaning in, eager, their expressions shifting between shock and excitement as you recounted your date with Jordan Fletcher.

“Wait—he asked you out?” Pansy gawked, nearly choking on her drink. “That’s insane. How did we not see this coming?”

They congratulated you, teasing and cheering, absorbed in the moment—but Draco?

Draco Malfoy sat quietly beside you, nursing his drink, his posture impossibly relaxed—too relaxed. He didn’t react. Didn’t blink at the excitement swirling around you, didn’t join in the teasing or the congratulations.

He just watched.

No visible emotion. No smug remark. No pointed teasing like he usually indulged in when it came to your choices. Just the faintest crease in his brow, the smallest twitch in his fingers before he took another slow sip of his drink.

And that—that silence, that indifference—made your stomach twist more than anything.

Because you knew Draco Malfoy better than anyone else.

And you sought his approval.

But when he was quiet like this?

it made you uneasy.

His arm had been around your waist as he held his beer in his other hand, talking in low, dulcet tones to Theo about the latest match, acting completely indifferent to you going out with the most popular boy in Hogwarts.

He was there at your apartment when you got ready for your date, casually scrolling through his phone, and, occasionally, watching you.

He saw you put all that effort into picking an outfit— your favorite floral embroidered bootcut jeans, and a yellow, pastel sweater with a boatneck.

"An occasion for your favorite jeans?" he spoke whilst you had been getting dressed, lounged across your bed with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, hands under his head, which was propped up on top of your countless pillows and plushies.

You peeked out at him through your glasses and nodded singly, humming, a blush spreading across your cheeks as your eyes sparkled with excitement.

Just then, you noticed where he was sitting, and a small frown crossed your features when you realized he was leaning against your precious plushies.

Your frown deepened as you took in the scene.

Draco Malfoy—lean, infuriating, perfectly composed—was sprawled across the bed, looking thoroughly unbothered, as if he owned the space around him. And yet, your poor plushies—your beloved little panda, your treasured honeybee—were crushed beneath the weight of his sheer arrogance.

“Suffocating them,” you muttered under your breath, eyes narrowing.

Draco barely spared a glance, lifting a brow in lazy amusement. “What?”

You gestured toward the crime scene. “Them. My babies.”

Draco finally shifted, glancing down at the plushies beneath him. He blinked, then—utterly indifferent—gave a slight shrug. “They seem fine to me.”

Your glare sharpened. “They are not fine. They are dying under your complete lack of care.”

A slow smirk curled at the edges of his lips as he exhaled through his nose, clearly amused. “You’re seriously going to lecture me over stuffed animals?”

“You’re crushing them.”

Draco sighed, looking almost bored, but—finally—he leaned forward, freeing your plushies from their untimely demise. You wasted no time in gathering them up, smoothing out their soft fabric, whispering quiet apologies.

A soft chuckle spilled past his lips, and he shook his head slightly. "You act as though they have feelings."

Your heart stopped, and your lips parted as you stared at his as though he had offended you greatly. "They do."

Looking at you, so firm in your belief, Draco had no heart to correct you or argue.

He watched you walk around your room so confidently, showing off those floral-embroidered jeans of yours, and your soft, yellow sweater.

You styled your hair in a half-up, half down style, and even tried to apply mascara, but the moment ended up as nothing short of a disaster.

One second, you were carefully applying mascara, leaning in closer to get the perfect angle. The next—your elbow slipped, your balance failed, and suddenly, you were on the floor, a streak of black smudged across your cheek like the evidence of your failure.

You blinked, dazed, staring at the ceiling as you processed what had just happened.

Then—laughter.

Not yours.

Draco leaning against the headboard, amidst your plushies, arms crossed, his silver eyes glittering with amusement as he took in the sight before him.

“Graceful as ever,” he mused, tilting his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

And you tried to laugh it off, but instead, you gave a defeated sigh and dropped your arms to your sides.

Draco noticed your change in demeanor, and, ever so slowly, he slid off the bed and moved towards you, crouching down on the floor right beside you.

The air shifted.

He had been smirking just moments ago, teasing you, brushing off your clumsiness like it was nothing. But now—now his gaze had softened, sharp edges smoothing into something quieter. Something thoughtful.

His presence was steady, unwavering as he crouched beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, close enough that your pulse stuttered under the weight of his proximity.

He didn’t speak. He just watched—his silver eyes scanning your face, catching the defeated slump in your shoulders, the way your hands hung uselessly at your sides, as if giving up entirely.

And then—slowly, carefully—he reached out.

His fingers brushed against your wrist, featherlight, hesitant.

“You good?” His voice was low, barely above a murmur.

You swallowed hard, forcing out a laugh—trying to shake off the moment. "Mhmm."

Draco scoffed, but there was no bite to it. If anything, it sounded almost amused. But then—his fingers curled slightly, his grip warming around your wrist, grounding.

“You sure you’re fine?” he asked again, softer this time.

And for some reason—for some reason—that question made your breath catch in your throat.

Because he wasn’t teasing anymore.

He was genuinely asking.

And then—without a single word—he reached for the makeup-removing wipe, peeling one from the pack, his fingers steady as he brought it to your cheek.

The cool fabric brushed against your skin, careful, deliberate, wiping away the smudged streak with quiet precision. His touch lingered—not hesitant, but intentional, like he was hyper-aware of every inch of skin beneath his fingertips.

Your pulse thrummed.

Then—before you could process it—he slid the mascara brush from your grasp, taking it effortlessly into his own.

Your breath stuttered. “Draco—”

He held it up, inspecting it for a moment, twisting it between his fingers with ridiculous ease. Then—his gaze met yours, unwavering, silver pooling with quiet confidence.

Draco’s fingers brushed against your temples as he slipped your glasses off, his movements smooth, effortless—like he had done this a hundred times before.

His chuckle was low, teasing, his lips quirking in amusement. “You gotta take these off to apply mascara, love.”

You blinked at him, slightly stunned, slightly breathless.

Because for years, Draco Malfoy had been the definition of untouchable—sharp smirks, effortless arrogance, an unshakable presence. But now, here he was, close enough that his warmth seeped into your skin, close enough that his fingers had just traced the sides of your face with ridiculous familiarity.

He held your glasses in one hand, twirling them absentmindedly between his fingers, silver eyes flicking over your now unobstructed gaze with something unreadable.

Then—without a word—he angled the mascara wand toward you again, his free hand coming up to tilt your chin with gentle precision, steadying you like this moment mattered.

“Trust me.”

The words sent a warmth curling through your chest, tightening your throat.

And when he leaned in, tilting your chin upward with the barest pressure of his fingers, bringing the wand to your lashes with quiet focus—

You let him.

Your pulse thrummed beneath your skin, your breathing shallow as he brushed the wand against your lashes, slow, deliberate. His focus was unrelenting, the teasing amusement fading just enough to leave something softer behind.

Draco exhaled softly, leaning back as if pulling away from some invisible line neither of you had dared to cross.

And just like that—the warmth was gone.

The steady touch, the quiet intimacy, the deliberate care in his movements—all of it vanished in a single breath as he twisted the mascara cap closed, setting it on your dresser with practiced ease.

He studied you, silver eyes flickering over your lashes, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he hummed in approval, his smirk making its slow return.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice so low as he left the room and headed to the kitchen, and for a moment, you almost thought you could have imagined him saying those words.

He opened the door for you when Fletcher showed up at your doorstep, grinning wide, a bouquet of deep red roses in his hands.

He was proud of them, as if he had made some grand romantic gesture, as if he had chosen the flowers himself instead of grabbing the first thing available at the shop.

But the thing was…

You hated roses.

Lilacs were your favorite—soft, fragrant, delicate in a way that made you feel at ease.

Still, it's the thought that counts, and you smiled at Jordan anyway, thanking him gracefully for the flowers.

"In the future, she hates roses—" Draco drawled, speaking up loudly, in a way that made you shake your head furiously and lightly slap his shoulder.

"Shuttup," you hissed, pushing Draco away, but failing— His tall figure was rooted firmly to the spot as he smirked.

"You better take care of her, Fletcher, or else I won't hesitate to kill you," Draco warned, his eyes darkening slightly. "She's my best friend. I want her home by nine."

"Okay, bye," You squeaked, pushing Draco away and dragging Fletcher away to his car, unaware that Draco was watching you open your own door through the window as Jordan took the driver's seat.

"Fucking prick," he muttered.

But you weren't there to hear him.

The second date wasn’t much better. Jordan arrived with a box of chocolates, the expensive kind wrapped in gold foil, a gift meant to dazzle.

You stared at the box, lips pressing together.

You didn’t even eat regular chocolate.

White chocolate was your preference—had always been. And somehow, despite being your boyfriend now, Jordan hadn’t bothered to notice.

Draco noticed.

Draco watched every awkward fumble Jordan made, every attempt to impress you that missed the mark entirely.

He saw how you shivered in the evening breeze while Jordan kept his jacket securely on, never once offering it to you. He saw how your smiles didn’t reach your eyes, how you politely accepted things that didn’t match you at all.

And whenever Draco would ask you why you wouldn't tell Fletcher you didn't like any of the things he gave you, you shrugged it off.

"He's trying his hardest," you defended. "Besides, it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Trying his hardest?" Draco echoed, scoffing and shaking his head. "Darling, he's not trying at all."

You brushed his words off, getting ready for yet another extravagant date with your boyfriend.

But Draco was always there, watching.

He saw how Jordan planned elaborate dates in restaurants, grand outings meant to showcase how perfect he was for you—when your ideal date had always been simpler. Quieter. Surrounded by the scent of old books and candlelight tucked between endless shelves in the library.

It was infuriating.

Because for years, Draco had been by your side. For years, he had seen you—your habits, your quirks, the subtle details no one else bothered to learn. And now, as you tried to move forward, tried to date someone who wasn’t him, it was painfully obvious.

Jordan didn’t know you.

Not like Draco did.

And every time Draco saw you settle for less—saw you force yourself to be content with someone who couldn’t appreciate you—his disapproval grew.

But he never said anything.

At least, not until the day Jordan showed up at the Great Hall, all excitement and smugness, declaring to his friends that he had planned “the ultimate date” for you. That this time, he would really win you over.

He was already bragging about how he had rented a yacht to take you out for a romantic dinner on the lake to anyone who would listen. The girls oohed and aahed enviously, and the boys whistled, impressed.

Draco exhaled sharply, pushing off the wall, finally fed up. He strode toward you, his gaze locking onto yours, the intensity in his stare making your breath hitch.

And when he spoke, his voice was smooth, deliberate—laced with something unreadable.

“Tell me,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, “how long are you going to let him get everything wrong?”

Your heart stuttered.

You weren’t sure what stunned you more—the quiet intensity in Draco’s voice or the fact that he had finally spoken.

For weeks, he had watched, silently judging every moment, every misstep, but never saying anything. Never interfering. Never giving you even the smallest indication that he cared one way or another.

Until now.

Your breath hitched, lips parting slightly, caught between the words you wanted to say and the ones that refused to form. The question lingered between you, heavy, pressing, waiting for you to acknowledge the truth hanging in the air.

Draco Malfoy wasn’t just unimpressed.

He was angry.

At you. At Jordan. At the entire ridiculous farce you had let play out in front of him.

You swallowed, heat curling in your stomach. “I—”

“You what?” Draco’s voice was sharper now, his head tilting ever so slightly, his fingers curling into his palm as if restraining something. His stare burned, demanding an answer, demanding you to wake up and see what was in front of you. "Can't you fucking see it? He's all wrong for you."

But before you could find your words, Jordan’s voice cut through the thick silence. “Hey, babe,” he grinned, completely oblivious to the tension thrumming between you and Draco. “You ready for tonight? I planned something really special.”

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his eyes, but he said nothing.

You forced yourself to nod, ignoring the way your chest tightened. “Yeah, of course.”

Jordan slung an arm around your shoulder, completely missing the way Draco’s expression darkened, the way his fingers twitched with something dangerous.

As the two of you walked away, you didn’t dare look back.

But you felt it.

Draco Malfoy’s gaze lingering on your back, burning into you.

Because this time—he wasn’t just watching.

He was waiting.

For you to realize that Jordan was all wrong for you.

The date was, unsurprisingly, a disaster.

Jordan had clearly put in effort—misguided effort. He had booked an expensive yacht with a restaurant, ordered food without asking what you liked, and spent most of the evening talking about himself, barely letting you get a word in.

And through all of it, your mind kept wandering back to Draco.

To the sharp intensity in his voice when he had confronted you.

To the way he had looked at you—as if he was furious that you weren’t seeing something obvious.

As if he was the obvious answer.

By the time Jordan was walking you back to the college residence, you were exhausted. Not just from the date, but from pretending this was what you wanted.

As you reached the entrance, Jordan turned to you, flashing that easy grin. “See? I told you I could plan the perfect date.”

Freezing in the cool breeze, you gave him a small smile as he tried to kiss you, planting his lips sloppily over yours. You tripped, slightly surprised at the sudden movement from him and he accidentally bit your tongue, and clumsily apologized.

"Thanks, Jordan, I.. I had fun," you said softly, gently hugging yourself, the wind biting at your bare arms.

"See you tomorrow, babe."

You hated that nickname, but you had no courage to tell Jordan that.

And without even walking you to the door, he dropped you off.

The door swung open with force, the sharp sound reverberating through the quiet of your apartment. The sudden movement startled you, your breath catching in your throat as you turned—only to find him standing there.

Draco Malfoy.

Tall, unwavering, his silver eyes cutting through the darkness like they saw far more than you were ready to admit.

It was only then—only in that fraction of a second—that you realized he had been watching. Watching as Fletcher dropped you off, watching as you stumbled toward your door, cold and exhausted from walking too long in heels that weren’t made for endurance.

And then—he moved.

Without hesitation, without pause, his jacket slid from his shoulders in one fluid motion, draping around you before you could even attempt to protest. The warmth of it sank into your skin instantly, swallowing the chill, comforting in a way that made your heart stutter.

He didn’t stop there.

Before you could say anything—before you could process what was happening—he scooped you up effortlessly, arms locking around you as he carried you to the couch like it was second nature, like this was something he had done before.

You should have protested. Should have told him you were fine, that you didn’t need help, that this wasn’t necessary.

But you didn’t.

Because the way he held you—firm yet careful, protective in a way that made your pulse race—was something you didn’t want to pull away from.

Draco exhaled sharply, setting you down, his hands moving with quiet precision as he knelt before you, sliding off your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankles with the softest touch.

“He’s such a douche,” he muttered, voice low, like the words carried weight he couldn’t hide.

You swallowed, watching as he reached for the blanket, unfolding it before draping it over your frame, the warmth settling over you like the final layer of something unspoken.

You didn't argue or protest or make excuses for your boyfriend this time, because for the first time, you felt like maybe— just maybe— Draco was right.

"I'm telling you, he's all wrong for you..."

Draco’s voice was low, unwavering, carrying the quiet intensity of something final.

He wasn’t teasing.

Wasn’t smirking.

Wasn’t throwing in a sarcastic comment just for the sake of irritating you.

No—this was different. This was him looking at you like he had already made up his mind, like he had been biting his tongue for far too long, like the words had been sitting at the edge of his lips, waiting for the moment you would finally listen.

You swallowed hard, shifting slightly beneath the blanket he had just draped over you, warmth curling against your skin.

You eyes watered slightly at Draco's words, and you pushed your glasses further up your nose as they slipped down.

“You don’t—”

“I do,” he interrupted, sharp but not cruel. His eyes flicked to yours, piercing, searching, holding you captive. “I’ve seen him, I’ve seen how he treats you, and I’ve seen the way you pretend it’s enough.”

Your breath hitched.

“I— you don't get to say that,” you finally accused, shakily pointing your finger at him.

Draco’s silver eyes flickered, sharp, unreadable—but there was something else there, something simmering beneath the surface, something dangerous.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t step back.

Didn’t react the way you expected him to.

Instead, he tilted his head, gaze locked onto yours, his expression impossibly calm despite the storm crackling between you.

“Don’t I?” he murmured, voice low, steady—challenging.

Your breath hitched.

“You—” you tried again, grasping for words, for something solid, something that wouldn’t crumble beneath the weight of his presence. “You don’t get to tell me who’s wrong for me. You don’t get to—”

“To what?” Draco interrupted, stepping closer, closing the space between you like it meant nothing. “To care? To have an opinion? To notice?”

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“This isn’t—”

“This is,” Draco cut in, quieter this time, his eyes searching yours, sharp, unwavering. “You think I haven’t been paying attention? You think I haven’t watched you settle, time and time again, convincing yourself that this—” he gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the ghost of Fletcher’s presence “—is what you deserve?”

His voice dropped lower, rougher. “I know you better than anyone, love. And I know—”

He inhaled sharply.

“I know when someone isn’t enough for you.”

The room felt impossibly small.

And suddenly—you weren’t sure if you could breathe.

Hot tears began spilling down your cheeks, and a small gasp left your lips at his words, and you pushed him away.

Draco barely moved when you shoved him, but something in his expression flickered.

He had been calm—too calm—like he had been expecting your outburst, like he had known it was coming from the moment he let those words slip.

But now—now his jaw tightened, his silver eyes darkened, something unreadable pooling beneath the surface.

“You don’t get to act like you know everything about me,” you snapped, your voice trembling with frustration, hot tears streaking down your cheeks. “You don’t get to decide who’s right for me or tell me what I deserve!”

The blanket pooled at your feet as you kicked it off, shoving yourself up from the couch, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

Draco’s chest heaved with the force of his own words, his silver eyes burning, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was barely restraining himself from shaking you, from making you understand.

“I just know that you deserve better,” he roared, voice cracking at the edges, thick with something too big, something too real.

Your breath hitched, your pulse stammering wildly in your veins, because—this was not the Draco Malfoy you were used to.

Not the effortlessly composed boy who smirked at every opportunity.

Not the one who scoffed at emotions, who dismissed anything remotely vulnerable with a flick of his wrist.

This was him breaking.

This was him exposing something he had buried for far too long.

And you—standing there, shaking, teary-eyed, confused—weren’t sure if you could handle it.

“I deserve better?” you whispered, voice barely above a breath, incredulous. “And who, Draco? Who decides what’s better? You? I have the most popular boy in the school,” you breathed, a shaky laugh leaving you, one that lacked mirth, but was birthed completely of irony. "What could be better than that?"

Draco inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustrated, lost, and for the first time, you saw it—

The truth that had been staring at you all along.

“Me,” he admitted, his voice a low growl, rough, raw, something dangerous.

And suddenly—the ground beneath you didn’t feel so steady anymore.

Because this was a confession.

One that could change everything.

Your heart shattered.

And before you knew it, Draco’s grip was firm yet impossibly careful, fingers curling beneath your jaw, tilting your face upward as he yanked you closer—closer than you’d ever been before, closer than you’d ever let him be.

And then—his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It wasn’t soft.

It was real.

Raw.

Unfiltered emotion pouring into every movement, every breath, every silent confession that neither of you had spoken aloud before this moment.

His mouth moved against yours like he had been holding back for years, like this had been bottled up inside him, buried beneath layers of tension and denial and frustration, waiting for the second he could finally have you.

And Merlin—he kissed like he meant it.

Like there was no question, no hesitation, no room for doubt.

Like he was determined to make sure you never compared him to Fletcher again.

By the time you pulled back, gasping, heart pounding, Draco’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his grip still steady beneath your jaw.

Silver eyes burned into yours, dark, searching.

Waiting.

And then, voice rough, low, utterly unapologetic, he murmured—

“Now tell me he’s better.”

Draco didn’t give you a chance to process it—to step back, to second-guess, to question what had just happened.

His grip remained firm beneath your jaw, his breath heavy against your lips, his presence impossibly close—closer than he had ever let himself be before.

Your pulse thundered in your ears.

Because he had kissed you.

Not tentatively. Not cautiously.

But with conviction.

Like it was inevitable. Like he had been waiting for this moment far longer than either of you wanted to admit. Like he needed you to understand—finally, completely, without doubt—that Fletcher had never been the right choice.

His forehead stayed pressed against yours, his fingers curled just slightly around your jaw, keeping you still—keeping you here.

Then, voice thick with something heavy, something real, he murmured—

“Now tell me he’s better.”

His silver eyes searched yours, daring you—challenging you—to deny it.

But you couldn’t.

Because in that moment, with your lips tingling from his kiss, with the weight of his touch grounding you, with the truth crackling in the air between you—

You knew.

Fletcher had never come close.

And Draco Malfoy?

He had always been better.

Draco’s grip on your jaw remained firm, his silver eyes locked onto yours, unwavering, unrelenting.

He had kissed you with certainty, with conviction—like he had always known this was inevitable, like he had been waiting for you to see it, to feel it, to understand.

Now, his breath was heavy against your lips, his presence overwhelming in the best way, and his challenge still hung in the air.

"Now tell me he's better." He repeated, waiting for you to say it.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding beneath your skin, the weight of his touch grounding you even as your entire body fought against the chaos inside you.

Because Fletcher?

Fletcher wasn’t better.

Fletcher had never been.

And Draco knew it.

You could see it in the way his fingers curled slightly against your jaw, in the way his forehead pressed gently against yours, in the way he refused to step back—refused to let you run from this moment.

From him.

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

And Draco’s grip tightened, just slightly, like he needed you to say it.

Like he needed to hear you admit it.

But instead—your hands moved before your mind could catch up.

Grabbing onto his shirt.

Pulling him in.

Closing the space entirely as your lips crashed into his again—hotter, hungrier, like something inside you had snapped, like something inside you had finally given in.

Draco exhaled sharply against your mouth, sinking into the kiss instantly, like he had been waiting for this, like he had known all along that you’d eventually find your way to him.

And as his hands slid down to your waist, gripping you like he never planned to let go—

You knew.

There was no better.

There was only him.

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