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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 8 months ago

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Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available.

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community.

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company?

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists.

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits.

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don��t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people.

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it.

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

#ao3 #lore.fm #fanfiction #fandom history #gift economy #caelum rambles

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himblebo · 10 months ago

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Apartment/condo/trailer hunting is making me ill

#I really want to try and buy a trailer #because I could get approved for a mortgage and own it as opposed to throwing rent money into an abyss #but so many of the trailer parks in the county I’m looking at are 55+ communities?#fuck yall honestly #it’s the same with condos #not all of them but the ones that would be within my theoretical budget are all fucking retirement communities #I fucking hate older people sometimes #also if they would just make an exception for me they would see that I am actually more similar in habits to a 75 year old anyways #the loudest thing I do is sew and that’s only if I’m using a machine #ugh #there are studio apartments that I could afford immediately if the application requirements weren’t so insane #I make enough each month to pay what they’re asking for rent but I do not make 3x the rent each month #that’s such a fucking bullshit qualification #you also have to have current landlord history which: fuck you #and you need to have at least one year with your current employer #which I have more than that but the fact that all of these #very clearly class based things #are requirements #tells me a lot about the management #and the fact that the same man owns every single building in the zip code in my price range #with these requirements #makes me want to torch the whole city #we need to take a break and try again once everyone gets their shit together #because this is fucking ridiculous

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cregansdingdong · 1 month ago

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ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇꜱꜱ.

Cregan Stark x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, p-in-v penetration, outdoor sex(does a tent still count as outdoor?), swearing, Cregan has a breeding kink, semi-public?, slight brat taming, classic doggy style, ass slapping, f!receiving oral, Cregan’s gonna eat her out from the back which is truly the highlight here; so. this has been festering in my drafts for well over two months. Good luck. poison ivy by hemi moore

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Are you going to explain yourself or do I have to ask why you’re speaking to me that way in front of my men?”

“In what way?” She murmurs, snappily adjusting the furs beneath her, staring above at the roof of their tent. Cregan watched in partial disbelief—and partial irritation—at the sight of his wife going to bed despite their disagreement. It wasn’t often that they argued, and especially not on account of her publicly disrespecting him. The Hunt was meant to celebrate the unity of the North, among other things, and yet she’d been cold to him most of the late afternoon and early evening. They were meant to be setting an example. He couldn’t understand what he’d done to agitate her in the first place. “I’m not going to play this game with you.” Cregan huffs, setting down his cloak on the back of a chair. “Why have you been so cross with me today of all days?”

“I haven’t.” She counters smartly, tone filled with an attitude he wanted nothing more than to fuck out of her. “You’re being childish.” He grunts right back, earning a glare from his cross little wife. If he hadn’t been so ticked off, he might’ve actually laughed at the way her eyes narrowed in his direction—like a pup about to pounce. “I’m not a child.” She snaps, turning to adjust her pillow as he removes his boots. He snorts at that. “You’re behaving like one. Now are you going to resume your wifely duties and speak to me or must I tuck you in and read you a story?” He could’ve done without the mocking, but both their tempers had risen by that point, overspilling and soaking their marriage bed like a tempest.

She ignored him completely, reaching to blow out the candle at her bedside, rolling over to face the wall of the tent, linens and furs pulled up to her chin. As much as he was irritated with her refusal to communicate, he wasn’t going to sulk until she decided to give him the mercy of her words. Cregan continued to undress down to his small clothes, joining her under the covers despite their mutual fuming. It was an agreement they’d reached at the beginning of their marriage: angry or not, their bed was shared. Non-negotiable. He was especially thankful for that condition now—the ground did not look very comfortable if she’d decided to banish him like a hound. He faced her back, arm thrown haphazardly over her middle. Admittedly, he needed to feel her there to get a proper night’s rest. She allowed it.

The tension had seeped into their tent, clearly choosing to remain even with the terms of bedtime they’d set in place. She was still angry, he was still puzzled. Even with her back against him, Cregan could still sense her irritation. It hung in the air like a dark cloud, refusing to disperse. He’d never thought being married would sometimes feel like a storm in his own home. But the Wolf of the North was not a man to back down from a challenge. And it was becoming clear to him that his wife wouldn’t talk unless he spoke first. So he does. "You can’t keep behaving this way,” He starts, his voice gravelly but low. There's about a minute of tense silence between them before her attitude-filled reply breaks the quiet of their tent. “And why not?”

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he shifts in the bed, arm still loosely wrapped around her waist. “Firstly you’re my wife. Secondly, the hunt was meant to celebrate the North. And thirdly…” His voice trails off, his jaw clenching. He’d already said too much for his liking. Cregan was never one to give too much away, and giving an explanation for his emotions had never been a strength of his. But with her…there was a part that he couldn’t help but be honest with her. She wouldn't judge him even on his worst days. “Because I don’t like it when you’re angry with me.” His words were heavy with sincerity, which only irritated him more. The Wolf of the North was not supposed to feel so exposed to his little dragon wife’s moods.

For a moment, he thinks he's gotten through to his stubborn wife. "...we can discuss it tomorrow. I want to sleep." She grumbles into the dark. “You want to ignore it tomorrow, you mean,” He retorts, arm still refusing to remove itself from her waist despite the rejection. Cregan lets the argument drop for now, however. But only because he can tell for himself that she's not going to give way to his stubborn badgering that night. He grunts in annoyance, shifting so that his chin rests on her shoulder. “Unbelievable.” He mutters to himself. Angry or not, though, they were going to cuddle. It’s the smell of her hair that pulls him into a steady rest, his chest pressing against her back, his arm still slung over her middle like a claim. For some reason, even in his sleep, he still needs to feel her near him; a possession of the body and mind. The two of them adjust a little, the usual marital squirming in order to get comfortable. Peace even in the chaos of their argument.

On the other hand, his wife could not find sleep even if she had a map. With him snoring lightly behind her—something that always put her to sleep—both irritation and guilt chewed away at her reserve, leaving her restless. It persists. An hour passes, then two, and still, Lady Stark was wide awake, bothered and guilty. The snoring continues through the night, the Northern Lord blissfully unaware of her warring emotions. But even unconscious, he could sense the battle for sleep. The Wolf of the North stirred beside her, his arm now fully thrown over her torso, hand resting against her ribs. Cregan was in no way a light sleeper, but as her frustration grew, he seemed to be silently disturbed from his sleep. His eyes flutter open with a tired hum, his chin buried in the warmth of his wife still. He’s quiet for a few long moments before mumbling in a groggy voice, thick and raspy. “You’re still awake.”

“I can't sleep.” She mutters. It's clear that the heat of their argument had ceased to a smolder in the while she had reflected into the dark. "Probably because I'm still upset." She sighs. "And I'm a little cold...and..” As she speaks, his initial tiredness starts to clear. “And?” He prompts, shifting again to lift his head in the slightest. His hand rubs against her stomach, trying to share any semblance of his warmth with her. “...I feel…worked up. I'm annoyed but…roused.” It's laced with a begrudging admittance and Cregan opens his eyes in disbelief, suddenly more awake at her mumbled words. A rush of heat rolls through his body, his heart skipping a beat. It always does. The thought alone never failed to stop him in his tracks. His hand stills against her stomach for a moment, considering how to respond. “Well, my love, it sounds like you've had enough of keeping your anger a secret. You can tell me no matter what. Even if it's childish and silly. I'm your husband.”

"You didn't eat breakfast with me this morning." She blurts, finally revealing what had made her so irritated all day. "You gave me a kiss and then you just ran off to eat with Torrhen Manderly. Didn't even invite me.” He pauses in his caresses, a low hum leaving his chest. “That’s what caused your little temper tantrum?” He murmurs, tone still somewhat drowsy but now a bit exasperated. Affectionately, of course. He can’t fight the small smile that’s formed on his lips. A temper tantrum over him eating with the second son of the Lord of White Harbor and not inviting his sweet wife. It was such a small thing, but for some reason, it makes his chest feel tight. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in a morning meeting with House Manderly,” he mumbles in response, pulling her closer, his hand once again tracing patterns across her waist.

"I'm not, but I'm interested in sitting with you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch even more at that. A quiet huff of a chuckle leaves his lips, and he moves his chin to rest on her shoulder, warm breath lightly fanning on her jaw. “So I’m to invite you to every little meeting I have now?” He murmurs, teasing and still somehow half-drowsy. There's a very light dusting of indignation in her tone as she answers. "...not all of them, I'd be bored to death." She huffs. "But today was about unity. I didn't feel very unified with you.” He grumbles under his breath in mild disagreement. The Hunt wasn’t all about unity, it was about celebration. Of the North and of the Starks. Unity amongst the Northmen was an important facet of the feast, but it was not the entire point. But he didn’t want to argue about that, especially not when she was still so irritable with him. “You should’ve just come by and sat yourself down then. Torrhen would've liked your company, and of course I had no problems with having my beautiful wife beside me.”

"And intrude? That's embarrassing." He could hear her pout from a mile out, at least. Cregan’s chest vibrates against her back with a low laugh. “And throwing a little fit all day isn’t embarrassing?” He muses, nipping at her shoulder. "...it's more dignified than begging.” She grumbles. One of his hands suddenly moves from her stomach and up to her jaw. In almost an instant, his wife was putty in his grasp once more. He turns her head, pressing a kiss against the corner of her mouth, his tongue suddenly swiping over the skin—almost like he needed a taste of her. A low, gravelly murmur leaves his chest. “There’s no part of you that has to beg for my attention. But I’m not sure it’s dignified to pout all day over me having a morning meeting, my sweet Lady Wife.”

Before she could say something smart in return, Cregan dips his face into her neck, unable to stop himself from taking a greedy bite. She makes a small noise from the back of her throat—a mewl that sends the sleep far, far away from his thoughts. He smiles against her skin when he feels her tilt her head for more. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” He teases, taking advantage of her movement to press another open-mouthed kiss against her neck. “Pouting all day for my attention, and here you are, melting at it now.” In the quiet of the tent, he can hear the low, shaky exhale release past her lips. “I'm sorry…for being impolite to you with your men present.”

“An apology?” His voice holds his amusement, and he continues his trail of kisses up her neck, until his lips are hovering right next to her ear. “Now that is a new one. I’m sure some snow from beyond the Wall will start falling within the hour if you’re apologizing to me. Not something you make a habit of doing, my sweet wife.” He felt her smile just a little, and he mentally counted down for whatever joke she was about to tell him. “At this rate, I'm sure Winter is fleeing.” His nose brushes up against the skin behind her ear, and he lets out a barely stifled laugh. “That’s blasphemous to say in the North…but funny.” He pushes himself up on his forearms above her, looking down, eyes suddenly filled with barely contained heat—as was his usual disposition. "Still annoyed and roused?”

"Not annoyed. Just worked up." She murmurs, tracing the outline of his shoulders in the dark. He hums in acknowledgment, stomach warming at her confirmation. “You want me to tire you out? Make up for this morning?” His voice is still thick and gravelly, a testament of his deep sleep and the hunger that now had him captivated. Her response came out in a quiet ‘mmhm’, reaching for him through the dark. In one swift movement, Cregan flips her onto her stomach, chuckling at the noise of surprise she releases. Furs and linens thrown back, his hands glide over the skin of her thighs, gently raising the hem of her delicate shift. It was a slow, deliberate action, and he didn’t need to see her face to know how much she was anticipating his touch. As her nightgown rose over the curve of her ass, he could feel the goosebumps forming beneath his palms. “Arse up, face down.”

She shivered at the command. Simple, yet drowning her in want. How could she ever deny her Wolf of the North? With a near-silent grunt of effort, she raises herself on her knees, lowering her upper-half down onto the pillows. The hem of her shift pools at her mid back, exposing herself to her husband just the way he loved it. “Perfect.” He murmurs, his hands gripping the flesh of her ass like he couldn’t wait to take a bite out of her. “Look at you. Fighting me all day, and yet here you are. All but begging for me to unspool you. I should make you beg, but you’re quite lucky I don’t have the patience, wife.” Just as she thinks she’s going to feel his hot tongue, a hand comes barreling down on her rear, a loud, searing spank that was probably heard from the next tent over. Her gasp was barely stifled into the pillow.

His tongue dipped slowly between her folds, a measured pace that nearly made her lose her breath. He always knew how she wanted it. Back and forth, savoring her like her juicy cunt was his last meal in the living world. With every languid stroke forward, the tip of his tongue nudged her twitching pearl in a toe-curling rhythm. Her noises only urged him on further. He slurped up her slick like a man starved, wordlessly encouraging her movements as she rocked back against his tongue. Eyes shut, face contorted in bliss, he could only picture what she looked like in his mind’s eye. He was too preoccupied with his meal to bother to light any candles. Not that he needed them, anyway. He knew her body as if they shared a soul. His wife was unable to piece together a single word, reduced to a puddle of whines and squirms.

“All day.” He reiterates. “Talking back to me. I accept your apology, but that does not mean you’re entirely free of the consequences, pup.” And then, another. Harder than the last, and most certainly stinging. Another. Another. He was merciful enough to distribute his spanks evenly, and with every bloom of hot pain, she felt herself grow more and more eager for a release. “Please–” She mewled, on the verge of patheticism. A sixth sear spreads over her left asscheek. The rest of her plea remains locked in her throat. “I’ve had enough of your pretty mouth speaking against me.” He murmurs into the dark, hands massaging the hot skin with an air of tenderness. “Understand?” Head spinning with lust, she can barely form a coherent word. “..Y-yes.” That seemed to moderately satisfy him, and Cregan finally leaned his face down, spreading her for his pleasure.

“I’ll never tire of your sweet taste.” He rumbled against her, fingers digging into the supple flesh of her ass like he was afraid she’d run off. Not that she ever would, but the feeling of her in his hands was grounding—a reminder of who he was and where he was between every dive of his tongue. He was drowning in the tang of her. Every lap of his tongue drove her an inch closer to her peak. “Cregan—Cregan, I can’t.” She cried, on the verge of desperation. If he’d had her sitting on his face instead, it would’ve been much easier to keep her from wiggling, but she couldn’t help herself not to writhe against his mouth and nose. And frankly, he was too hungry to separate himself from her for even a moment in order to change position. No. Not even a snippet of patience. He needed her to release.

“Yes, you can.” Cregan grunts against her soaked cunt, although it was less than coherent—something about the idea of getting caught made him eager to please. With all the pretty noises she was making for him, he couldn’t bring himself to attempt to quiet her. Not that it mattered. He doubted anyone would dare interrupt the Lord Paramount of the North and his Lady wife. And yet, someone walking by? Hearing the private way she cried out for her husband? Thrilling in every sense of the word. The thought alone made his blood pump, and his teeth lightly nip at her sweet pearl. More like a graze, really, but her reaction seemed otherwise. She squeals into her pillow, a throaty, rabid sound that nearly makes him peak. She was coming. And he had the absolute pleasure of lapping up all her delicious juices right from the source.

He couldn't make himself wait any longer after that. Cregan pawed at his small clothes until he was entirely bare behind her, feeling his beautiful wife tremble as he aligned his twitching cock. There was no other sensation in the living world that mattered to him more than the way her walls stretched to accommodate his size. Absolute perfection. Nothing but bliss. A noise of pleasure rumbled from his throat as he sunk into her soaked cunt. Inch by murderous inch, the Wolf of the North felt his sense of reality fade into the background. Much like an animal focused on dragging their kill home, Cregan was fixated on drowning himself inside her to the hilt. No matter how many times he'd experienced that exact sensation, he would never tire of his perfect Lady wife. Not even if she'd throw a tantrum every day for the duration of their marriage—so long as he got to kiss her goodmorning and fuck her goodnight.

“There we go…” He grunts, laying himself over her back as he eased his tip deep inside. Pulling out and back again was a torturous, toe-curling feeling, but the little mewls she whined into the pillows made it worth every teasing drag of his hips. “This is how it should be.” Cregan pants, his nose pressed against the back of her neck. “You, enjoying your fulfilled cravings, and me, balls-deep inside my woman. I hate fighting with you—but I love fucking that attitude right out.” Her thighs trembled as he rutted into her ass, an incessant, fervent type of rhythm that only came out when she truly frustrated him. And she certainly had; all day long, in fact. But his vixen of a wife couldn't bring herself to regret a thing. She knew what she was going to do in the next Great Hunt.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#house of the dragon #hotd #cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark smut #hotd smut #hotd fic #cregan stark x you #cregan fanfiction #hotd cregan #fluffy smut

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godsfavdarling · 6 months ago

Text

How does that feel?

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You've been having a hard time finishing in bed and you finally tell Spencer what's going on. words: 4,4k warnings: smut - oral (fem! receiving), breast/nipple play, unprotected sex (don't do that) a/n: this was a request! also, i've stared at this thing for so long i don't know anymore what's going on, but i hope yall like it <3

You sat at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by your closest friends - Penelope, Emily, and JJ. The four of you had met up for a much-needed girls' night out to finally have a chance to unwind and catch up.

"Can you believe the latest case we worked on?" JJ said, shaking her head. "Sometimes it feels like we're living in a crime novel."

"Tell me about it," Emily agreed. "But PLEASE! Let’s not talk about work. I need to decompress."

Penelope raised her glass. "To decompressing! And to… friends!"

You all clinked glasses, smiling at each other. Very quickly the conversation shifted towards more personal topics.

"So, how are things with Will?" Emily asked, turning to JJ.

JJ smiled. "Things are great, actually. We're planning a little getaway next month, just the two of us. What about you, Em? Any romance on the horizon?"

Emily shrugged. "I'm enjoying the single life right now. Besides, it’s not easy to find love having this job. When am I supposed to do that?"

Penelope grinned. "Don’t you worry about it, pumpkin! You’re gonna find someone soon. I can feel it in my bones!."

The conversation continued in this vein for a while, each of you sharing updates about your romantic lives. You listened and laughed along, but Penelope's observant eyes caught the slightly distant look on your face.

"Alright, spill it," Penelope prompted, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's been going on with you lately? You've seemed a bit off."

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. These were your friends, after all, and you knew you could trust them. "It's just... I've been having a hard time finishing in bed lately. It's been… really frustrating."

Emily raised an eyebrow, her expression sympathetic. "Have you talked to Spencer about it?"

You shook your head. "Not yet. I mean, I want to, but I don't want to make him feel bad or think it's his fault. He's always so attentive, and I don't want him to think he's doing something wrong. And he’s not doing anything wrong. He’s perfect. Obviously."

JJ leaned in, her voice gentle. "Hey, communication is key. Spencer loves you, and I'm sure he’d want to know what's going on so he can help. I’m sure his big brain knows exactly what to do."

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be an opportunity to explore new things together… Sometimes all it takes is a little experimentation."

You smiled, feeling a bit more encouraged. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll talk to him."

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

Later that evening, you found yourself back at home, sitting on the couch next to Spencer. He was engrossed in a book, the dim light casting soft shadows across his focused face. He set the book aside when he noticed your pensive expression, concern immediately clouding his eyes.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Spence, there's something I need to talk to you about."

He turned to face you fully, his full attention on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Of course. What is it?"

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in your lap as you searched for the right words. Finally, you decided to dive in. "Lately, I've been having a hard time finishing in bed. It's been really frustrating for me, and I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want you to feel bad."

Spencer's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding and concern. His mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but he hesitated, clearly processing what you had just revealed. "Oh…”

You immediately regretted saying anything. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. You still enjoyed sex but just couldn't reach the high. Maybe you were just too stressed.

It had nothing to do with Spencer.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Spencer seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he tried to find the right words. Why would he know what to say? You felt like you were just making things difficult.

“Forget it. It’s fine,” you said quickly, trying to dismiss the conversation and spare him the discomfort.

“No, no, no, wait,” he said, reaching out and grabbing your hands as you started to stand up. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you. “It’s okay. I’m glad you told me. I just… how did I not notice? I… I’m just trying to remember, well, I remember everything and I just… I can’t believe I… couldn’t tell.”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I didn’t want you to know. It’s embarrassing.” Your voice wavered, and you looked away, feeling tears start to spill down your cheeks.

“No, it’s not. It’s not embarrassing. I want you to feel good.”

“It does feel good. Always. I just… I don’t know. I just can’t cum. It’s like I get almost there and it feels good, but it never happens.” At this point, you were crying openly, the frustration and embarrassment overwhelming you.

Spencer pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and steady beat of his heart. He rubbed your back soothingly, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out together. I want to help."

You clung to him, feeling the weight of your frustration starting to lift just a little. "I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to think it was your fault."

Spencer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with love. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault. Sometimes these things happen. What’s important is that we’re in this together. We can try new things, we can talk and see what works for you.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he said, smiling gently, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. “We’ll take it slow and explore together. Your pleasure is important to me, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re satisfied.”

As you snuggled into his arms, the tension slowly easing from your body, you wondered why you had been so scared to tell him in the first place. Spencer always knew what to say, always knew how to make you feel safe and loved.

This was Spencer - your Spencer - and you realized you had nothing to fear.

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

Spencer was clearly waiting for you to initiate anything, respecting your pace and comfort. In the meantime, he very carefully tried to understand you.

Despite his constant reassurances that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that he was more than happy to figure this out together, you couldn't shake the lingering embarrassment about your problem. He was understanding and supportive, trying to create a safe space for you to open up about your frustrations.

You spent several nights just talking, diving deep into the details of your intimate experiences. Spencer approached it with a mix of curiosity and determination, asking thoughtful and sometimes probing questions.

You discussed every position you'd tried before, analyzing what felt best and why. You talked about your feelings toward toys and whether they might help.

Spencer inquired about foreplay - whether it felt too short, too long, too intense, or not intense enough. He wanted to understand what was most pleasurable for you in terms of finishing. Was it when he was eating you out, fingering you, or through penetration? Or did you find that a combination of these was most satisfying?

He also asked if you enjoyed it when he talked to you during the act. What were your favorite things for him to say?

He wanted to understand everything about your experiences. What went through your mind when you masturbated? What kind of porn did you watch? Each question, while sometimes making your face flush with embarrassment, was asked with genuine care and focus.

Spencer treated it like a meticulous scientific research project, aiming to solve the problem with the utmost care and attentiveness. His dedication and focus made you feel deeply cared for, as he was on a mission to be the one to help you find the satisfaction you deserved.

On Saturday night, you and Spencer lay in bed with your books, enjoying the quiet comfort of each other's company. He was engrossed in a thick classic novel in a foreign language, while you were absorbed in your favorite author’s new romance. The plot had just reached the point where the two protagonists had sex for the first time. The scene stirred something deep within you, making your skin feel hot and your heart race. You bit your lip, trying to concentrate, but your thoughts kept drifting.

As the scene ended, you finally allowed yourself to look over at Spencer. He was completely lost in the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Having problems, genius?” you teased, your voice carrying a playful edge.

“What? No!” he replied, not even looking up from the words on the page. “How’s your romance? Is it good?”

“Oh... it’s very good,” you said, scooting closer to him, propping your head on your hand. Finally, he looked at you, curiosity mingling with his usual attentiveness.

“What is it?” he asked, sensing your change in mood.

“Nothing,” you replied with feigned innocence, placing your hand on his chest.

His eyes stayed on you, studying your expression. Your breathing grew heavier as you stared at his neck, unable to hold back any longer. You lowered your face to the side of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.

Spencer's breath hitched slightly, and he set his book aside, his attention fully on you now. "Are you sure it's nothing?" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

You smiled against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Well, maybe it's something," you admitted, your voice a whisper. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his chest, feeling a now quicker beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “Tell me,” he urged softly, his eyes filled with desire.

The room felt charged with electricity.

“Well… I was just reading this scene… where, you know… the girl and the boy finally fucked. On the floor. It made me think of us.” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

“You want to have sex on the floor?” Spencer asked with a serious tone.

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “No, too many germs,” you said with a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, his eyes softening with affection. “Alright, not on the floor then,” he said, his voice low and inviting as his hand gently caressed your cheek. “But I get the idea.”

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding with anticipation. “I just want to be close to you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.

Spencer's eyes darkened with understanding, and he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft yet insistent. “Then let’s explore that together,” he whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip, pulling you closer.

His kiss was deep, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

His hand, now resting on your hip, guided you closer, pressing your bodies together.

You instinctively rubbed your thighs together, seeking some friction, and Spencer, ever observant, immediately noticed. It seemed impossible for him to be more attentive, yet somehow he was.

With a gentle but deliberate motion, he turned you so that you were lying on your back beneath him. As he shifted, you felt the press of his already hard cock against your core, making you lift your hips slightly, yearning for more contact.

“We’re gonna take things slow, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I want you to feel good.”

You wanted him, you wanted him now, but you understood his approach.

After all the endless conversations, you and Spencer had reached a few conclusions about what worked best for you both.

For one, you often found yourselves too excited, mostly you, to slow things down. Foreplay, though it was present, had usually been quite brief due to the intense need to get naked and feel him inside you. So, longer foreplay became a new priority.

Two, you discovered that you felt most connected when he was close to you, every part of his body touching yours.

Three, you both agreed on the importance of more kissing. Spencer had given you what felt like a comprehensive college level lesson on erogenous zones, emphasizing the need to focus on and cherish these areas.

His lips, his touch, his breath - every aspect of physical intimacy was to be savored and explored in greater depth.

With these insights in mind, Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. His hands roamed your body with a slow, deliberate grace, each touch designed to explore and stimulate.

His kisses traveled from your lips to your neck, then lower, each movement a careful balance of passion and tenderness.

He paused to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with both love and a hint of playful mischief. “Ready for us to take our time?” he asked, his voice a soothing murmur.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and relief. “Let’s take our time.”

Your nipples were already hard against your tank top, the fabric offering little barrier to the stimulation. Spencer grazed the side of your breasts with his hands, his touch both teasing and tender.

As his lips kissed and nuzzled your collarbones, his thumb began to circle your nipple through the thin material of your shirt. The sensation made you shiver with pleasure, and you melted further into his touch.

His leg, now firmly pressed between your thighs, rubbed gently against your inner thighs and core. The pressure of his length pressed into your hip, amplifying the heat building in you.

“Please, take it off,” you whispered, your voice quivering with need.

“Take off what?” Spencer murmured, his face still buried in your chest, his hair brushing against your face with every movement.

“My shirt. Please,” you pleaded, a hint of desperation in your voice.

He chuckled softly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he slid his hands lower, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He showered your exposed skin with soft kisses, his lips warm and affectionate against your belly.

As you reached for the hem of your shirt, you quickly pulled it off, tossing it aside.

“What happened to taking things slow?” Spencer asked, looking up at you with a teasing grin, his chin resting against your stomach.

“Sorry,” you said, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t be,” he replied with a smile. “I just want to make sure you feel really good.”

“I do,” you whispered, your voice filled with need. “Keep going.”

“Whatever you say, angel,” he murmured with a soft chuckle.

With that, Spencer moved between your legs, lifting them and resting them on his shoulders. He positioned himself comfortably, and you felt the anticipation rise as his face moved closer to your core.

He inhaled deeply, his breath warm against your sensitive folds, making you whimper in response.

“Please,” you begged softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, pulling down your underwear with careful, deliberate motions. He started with a gentle kiss on your nub, his lips exploring with a tenderness that made you gasp.

He then trailed his kisses down to your thighs, peppering them with soft, teasing pecks. The sensation was delightful, and you giggled, placing your hand on his cheek.

He turned his mouth to your hand, kissing the inside of your palm before taking it in his hand and guiding it back to rest gently beside you. His fingers lingered, his touch warm and reassuring as he held your hand.

He then looked at your cunt.

“You’re already so wet. For me?” he asked, his voice filled with both awe and desire.

“For you? Always,” you replied, your breath hitching.

He chuckled against you, the sound and the vibration making you shiver. “Don’t do that,” you said with a laugh, trying to steady your breathing.

“Sorry,” he murmured with a playful tone.

Before you could say anything more, he gave you a long, slow lick from your entrance to the top, his tongue moving with a deliberate slowness. He stopped at your sensitive nub and began to suck gently, his mouth working with a rhythm that made you arch your back and moan in pleasure.

Spencer’s mouth was a world of sensation against you.

He kept going with long, languid licks, his tongue gliding from your entrance to the top of your sensitive nub. Each stroke was deliberate, exploring every inch with a careful, loving precision.

The warmth of his tongue, combined with the perfect pressure, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you gasp and moan.

You felt your breath quicken as his movements became more focused.

He moved his tongue in quicker, teasing circles around your clit, his mouth creating a constant, delightful friction.

You squirmed under the intensity, your hips instinctively bucking in response.

When you no longer felt him on your clit, a desperate cry for him almost escaped your lips. But then, he gently slipped his tongue inside you, and a wave of relief and pleasure washed over you.

He moved with precision, his tongue exploring deeper while maintaining the steady, teasing motions that drove you wild. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum pleasure from you.

His nose brushed against your folds and clit with each movement, adding an extra layer of sensation. The combination of his tongue inside you and the gentle pressure of his nose against your most sensitive spot made you tremble.

Your hand clutched at the sheets, your body arching toward him, seeking more.

You could feel the build-up of tension and ecstasy swelling inside you.

Through all of this, Spencer held your hand firmly in his, his fingers intertwined with yours.

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you squeezed his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his with a mix of desperation and pleasure.

Spencer responded by tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, his touch soothing and intimate amidst all the intense sensations he was creating.

With a final, expert flick of his tongue, he sent you spiraling into a powerful climax.

Your body tensed and then released in a wave of pleasure, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued his slow, consistent movements, savoring every moment of your release.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, he slowly eased his mouth away, leaving soft, lingering kisses along your inner thighs.

His hand remained clasped with yours, and he looked into your eyes from between your thighs, his expression a mix of content and desire. “Wanna keep going? We can stop if you need to.”

You shook your head, a determined glint in your eyes as you pulled yourself up and crushed into him, pressing your lips against his with an almost desperate intensity.

The kiss was fervent, your tongues dancing together, both urgent and consuming as you tasted yourself on his lips and on his tongue. He was covered in you.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your back, his touch warm and gentle, but firm at the same time.

Tonight felt different. It was more intense, more electric.

As your kiss grew deeper, you moaned into him, the sound mingling with his own soft groans of pleasure. With a deft maneuver, he turned you so that you were straddling him, his hands firmly on your hips.

“Is this okay?” he managed to ask, his voice a low rumble as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. The effort it took to break the kiss was evident, his breaths heavy and laden with desire.

“Yes,” you responded quickly, your need palpable as you crashed your lips back onto his, kissing him even harder.

“Baby, slow down,” Spencer said softly, though his voice was tinged with longing. “We were meant to go slow.”

You moved your lips to his cheek and jaw, leaving a trail of kisses that were tender but laced with urgency. “I need you. I need you so bad,” you whispered against his skin, the words laced with an aching desire.

Spencer gently cupped your face, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your jawline. He guided your gaze to meet his.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise and his eyes filled with affection “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. We have all night and even more.”

He leaned in and kissed you with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of moments before.

“How do you do it?” you asked breathlessly, your curiosity blending with the haze of desire. You wondered, as you looked into his eyes, how he managed to maintain such control over himself amidst all the passion.

“What?” Spencer’s voice was a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“Stop yourself,” you clarified, your voice barely above a whisper. “How do you manage to hold back?”

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s not about holding back,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “It’s about making sure you feel good. I want this to be perfect for you, for us, every time. That’s what matters.”

His words stirred something deep within you, and you were hit by a wave of warmth and appreciation. As he leaned in to kiss you again, the tender, loving nature of his touch gave you goosebumps.

“Can we fuck now?” you asked, your voice husky with need.

Spencer looked at you with a warm, eager smile. “Yes. Yes, we can,”

You gave his cock a few teasing strokes, feeling the way he reacted, his breath hitching as he moaned softly into your shoulder. You slowly guided him to your entrance.

The sensation of him pressing against you was both thrilling and comforting, a familiar solace you will never get tired of and always makes your world shudder.

With a gentle, deliberate motion, you positioned him at your core, and you slowly lowered yourself onto him.

The gradual stretch and the way he filled you completely was exquisite, causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths softly.

You took your time, savoring each inch, feeling every subtle shift and movement.

Spencer’s hands were steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you as you adjusted to his size. His breaths were heavy, matching the rhythm of your movements.

The room was filled with only the sound of your shared pleasure, a mix of gasps and moans.

As you slowly rode him, the rhythm of your movements became more synchronized, each motion building both of you up to the peak.

Spencer’s hands were not idle - he moved with purpose, his touch exploring every inch of your body with a deep, loving attentiveness.

One hand continued to support you around your lower back, while the other trailed up to your breasts. His fingers began to play with your nipples, gently pinching and rolling them as you moved.

That was one thing you had confessed to him during one of your intimate conversations, and Spencer had clearly taken it to heart. You had shared with him how much you loved when he played with your breasts, revealing, a bit embarrassed, the deep pleasure it brought you.

“How does that feel?” he asked in between the kisses he left on your neck, his voice a husky whisper against your skin.

“Fuck,” was all you managed to say, a breathless gasp that made him chuckle, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire.

He massaged your breasts tenderly, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, adjusting his touch to match the rhythm of your thrusts. His lips covered every inch of your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

The combination of his hands on your breasts, the feeling of him inside you, and his lips on your skin was overwhelming. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Spencer’s breath came in ragged gasps, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours. His hands worked skillfully, keeping your nipples sensitive and aroused as your movements became more frantic and desperate. Then his eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of concentration and passion evident in his gaze.

While you stared into his brown eyes, he finally teased your nipple with a light lick of his tongue.

You almost screamed.

He started kissing it while his other hand worked on your other breast, his mouth hot and insistent. His tongue traced circles around your hard peak, sending shivers down your spine, while his slim fingers squeezed the other one.

At that point, you screamed into his ear, unable to contain the intensity of your pleasure.

“Sorry,” you whispered, your voice a trembling apology.

“It’s okay. You’re so beautiful,” he replied, his eyes softening with affection as he looked at you, his hands never ceasing their tender ministrations. His words and touch combined, making you feel cherished and desired in every way and that made your heart swell.

His lips returned to your other nipple, sucking and teasing it with more insistence now.

Finally, the pressure inside you reached its peak.

With a gasp and a shudder, you came, the wave of ecstasy crashing over you while his lips stayed on your breasts peppering them with kisses.

Your body tensed and then relaxed as you rode out the climax, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued to stroke your breasts gently, his touch both soothing and stimulating as he guided you through the final throes of your orgasm.

As you slowly came down from the high, you leaned your head against his, your fingers gently threading through his hair, the other arm wrapped around his neck. He held you close, his hands now lingering on your back with a soft, affectionate touch.

He squeezed you tightly, turning his face to kiss your neck, which elicited one more moan from your lips.

You could feel him smiling against your skin as he squeezed you tightly one more time.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #request

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tinystepsforward · 11 months ago

Note

What do you think the chances are that Mud Pit is gonna be ousted by the people who need Automattic to have good will in the eyes of the community to actually get anything out of this site and wattpad

I know it’s probably low but the fact that he’s acting like a poorer Elon Musk is making my skin crawl and making me hope that a second lawsuit hits the company

ok here's the thing. he is meant to be on sabbatical. automattic gives employees a three-month paid sabbatical every 5 years, so that they can have a break from the product they work on and come back rested and with a new perspective.

matt has never taken one before now. he spent the entire leadup to his sabbatical posting increasingly wild shit in public channels at the company (like the chess thing, or trying to get people to buy a friend's product, or the entire fracas with taking over the wordpress.org twitter account. wordpress.org is an independent non-profit that he is not the ceo of).

i mention this because people were hoping (including me) that he really would actually log off, have a chill time (or, idk, whatever kind of time CEOs who go off the grid bc they got flooded in at burning man like to have), and let the interim CEO get a chance to do a better job. that would help the board make a decision based on data.

he was very clearly spiraling before he even left, and then within the first few days of Company Sanctioned Log Off Time he's pulled multiple Classic Matt things on multiple parts of the company before showing up here. this whole thing is so deeply unfunny but it also is a bit of a tom and jerry or looney tunes bit, where i can only imagine HR or Legal is chasing him around the various accounts/platforms with a comically large inflatable baseball bat and he's just evading them.

he can't do that in person, but he still gets a lot of leeway generally. at the last division meetup (irl meeting for employees, flown from all over the world) he showed up twitchy and exhausted and hyped in a way that was very familiar to me from flatmates who used to steal and snort my adhd medication, then proceeded to drink so much over the course of an evening answering questions from his employees that he had to be firmly babysat off the stage and walked back into the lobby of the hotel to sober up.

i made eye contact with him that night, before he dropped his head back into his hands. two people relatively high up in the company were sitting with him, silently watching him as he struggled to sober up. it wasn't the first drunk shenanigan of his i witnessed at one of these, and this is purely opinion but i have to assume that his current behavior is the result of suddenly having time on his hands to have the world's longest bender and post through it.

back to your question: i do not know if what he's done is enough to get the board to remove him. i wish it didn't have to come to this to hope that they will. but we'll find out.

#idk what wattpad has to do with this?#tony muses #tony answers #tumblr meta

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chewnotchoke · 2 months ago

Text

like no one else can

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as your situationship

this was fun to write,,i was wondering if i should make individual fics abt this...what do yall think? ^__^ feedbacks and comments are appreciated ! and also my ask is always open if u wnna chitty chat <3

warnings: fluff, intense pining, light angst, signs of red flags

wc per member: ~250-400

sungho

“i’m trying to understand what am i to you?”

𓍯 situationship with sungho would be filled with a lot of "almosts" that keep you guessing, excitement, and unexpected outcomes. he would have this easygoing, carefree attitude as if he truly enjoyed your time together, but he’s also hard to pin down. he would bring you as his ‘plus one’ to parties or events and he has once invited you to a family outing “as a friend”

𓍯 sungho likes to do actions that you couldn’t help but assign meanings to these little things. he would give you a bite of his food in between laughter and throw tiny comments such as “i thought about you the other day.” the way he laughs at your jokes, recalls small details you mention, and checks up on you in between classes makes you question if he does the same with other people. if you didn't witness him opening doors for people, helping classmates with their homework, and giving the same endearing smile to anyone in need, it would be quite easy to convince yourself that the things he did to you meant something.

𓍯 when you mention being cold, he casually throws his hoodie over your shoulders and says, "just give it back whenever." yet it stays with you for days and he doesn't bring it up either, as if sharing his hoodie has become a relationship between you two. but when you decide to give it back, your heart aches to see another girl wearing his hoodie.

𓍯 the combination of highs and unanswered questions would be thrilling, and his charm would entice you to return for more. but the question “what am i to you” hangs in the open air because then, if you really meant something to him, he wouldn’t have treated others the same way he did to you.

𓍯 was it mutual at some point? maybe, or maybe not.

riwoo

“i know it’s casual but i look for you in a room full of people”

𓍯 likes having alone time with you. plans a hang out with your friends to watch a movie but the truth is he didn't invite anyone else just so he could watch the movie and spend time alone together. at the end of the movie, you'd just be wiping off your lips because you spent the whole time making out.

𓍯 situationship with riwoo is almost like a secret. he knows how to pull you towards him, and the relationship has you on chokehold. most of the time, he makes moves that make you question the very foundation of your relationship. he acts like he likes you. but does he actually do?

𓍯 during a chill drinking celebration at your friends' house, both of you always find a reason to text each other even if you're literally in the same room. that one time when you were seated a little too far from him, he pulls out his phone, typing under the table making sure no one gets a peak of his message, he would send you, "you're too far from me :(" it seems as though the thread that binds you is stronger than everything else, and every communication feels like a secret that only the two of you know. you'd look up from your phone to give him a glance and he gives you a subtle look—the look that even when you try to look away, you could feel his eyes settled on you.

𓍯 his red flag would probably be saying things like, "would you be jealous if i went out with someone else?" or talking about his ex. but right when he gives you enough reasons that he's not good for you, he pulls the "what would it take for us to stop pretending this isn’t more than casual?" card.

jaehyun

“you say we’re just friends but why do you look at me like that when no one’s around?”

𓍯 when you clearly don’t look like you’re just friends but it’s becoming a running joke now–jaehyun responds without skipping a beat whenever someone arches an eyebrow and asks if there is more going on between you and him. he casually replies, “we’re just friends.” and each time you force a smile that falls short of your eyes, you nod along.

𓍯 jaehyun has this habit of leaning towards you whenever he laughs, sometimes his head falls on your shoulder for a moment which kinda makes you flinch during the first few times but now that you’re used to it, you let your heads touch each other when you laugh together.

𓍯 when he spots you alone leaning outside the glass door at a party, you feel his presence slowly approaching you and then he simply stands there in comforting silence, staring at you in that familiar way, without saying anything at first. when you told him that you get more comfortable attending parties because he’s around, he’d flash a smirk, and his eyes return to the expression he always gives you when no one else is there. jaehyun looks intensely at your face as if he’s searching for something–searching for a sign.

𓍯 you can’t resist yourself to ask him a question if he’s sure about it. “sure about what?” his tone is gentle, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he clearly understands what you are saying. “sure that we’re just friends…” you replied. jaehyun pauses before responding. he just looks at you, his eyes darting to your lips and back to your eyes, a spark there that he tries to conceal but can't quite get rid of. he lets out a tense and nervous laugh. “yeah, we’re just friends.” but his words were laced with hesitation and uncertainty. and there you thought, maybe the look he gives you is enough, for now.

taesan

“you treat me like this because you know you're my weakness.”

𓍯 taesan knows how flustered you get when he touches you. during lunchtime with your other friends, you tried to ignore how he sat closer to you than usual. when your friends make a joke and others laugh along, you try so hard to focus but you just can’t seem to grasp the fact that his knees and yours were touching. then, his fingertips lightly touched your leg, so gentle at first that you nearly questioned whether it was an accident. however, taesan’s hand becomes steady and warm, and you can only sense his calm presence. you attempt to maintain a neutral appearance on the outside as your heart twitches and your mind attempts to process the unexpected sensation. his smile is as laid-back as ever, and he continues to laugh with the group as if this is nothing unusual.

𓍯 situationship with taesan can be a little frustrating. he likes to give you mixed signals. he’s mostly all about you most of the time and he holds eye contact like you’re the only person he could see. but then the next day, he barely acknowledges your presence. he’s quiet and doesn’t speak to you. but you know what’s bad for you? the fact that you'd fold immediately bcs he really just knows how to give you butterflies right when you think he’s not interested. taesan would come up behind you, whispering to your ear saying, “i missed you today.” and you would quickly fold like you didn't just question everything about him.

𓍯 at some point, the feelings were mutual. but you got tired of going around in circles waiting for nothing to happen, so you just decided to move on and bury your feelings just to keep the friendship.

leehan

“teach me how to not care about these feelings that keep me up at night for nothing.”

𓍯 you don’t talk everyday but that’s what makes everything thrilling. and when you do talk, texting usually lasts until 3am. although you can feel the weight of your eyelids by this time, you try to stay awake just to converse with him. conversations with leehan are almost raw, something about each message is intimate—one you probably wouldn’t hear in the daylight. the thought that he actually also stays up with you makes you wonder how much he’s also feeling.

𓍯 leehan has the subtlest way of making you laugh. he’s nonchalant but he’s the type to make you intrigued without fully committing. with that being said, he knows when to pull back when he thinks you’re getting a little too attached over a situationship even if he's the one responsible for making you feel that way

𓍯 after dates, goodbyes often linger in the air. both of you enjoyed too much to actually walk away and go back home. when he stands close enough to hug you, you could feel his hand linger on your back like he’s in no rush to go back home. both of you stood there quiet, glancing at each other, enough to decipher by the look of your eyes that there are still unsaid words. “i’ll text you when i get back home.” he holds both of your hands as they slightly brush away from yours whenever he takes a step back. you know yourself you want something more from this situationship which causes your heart to ache.

𓍯 leehan is still not letting go of your hand even at the point where your fingertips are only touching each other. “let’s do that next time.” he says and adds, “sleep over.”

𓍯 and when he actually gets back home, you don't receive a text from him at all, and talked again the following days like nothing happened.

woonhak

"why does it feel like we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move?"

𓍯 it’s painfully obvious that both of you like each other. neither of you just couldn’t bring yourself up to confess. there’s always this tension that hangs heavy in the air when you’re with him. you're lounging on his couch while watching a film. with his shoulder almost touching yours, he is closer than friends should be. the couch's modest size is a flimsy excuse, but you both know there's more to it. woonhak’s arm occasionally moves, grazing yours and giving you a shiver, but he doesn't pull away. both of you are dancing around that invisible line, on the brink. his hand is getting closer and closer till your fingers would touch if you both moved even a little.

𓍯 every time you're together, you experience this torturous pulling, waiting for the other to finally release the tension that has been building for weeks. his hand moves next to yours, his fingers flexing as though he wants to grab you but isn't quite brave enough. and you can't help but wonder whether you're both simply waiting for a sign, anything that would eventually allow one of you to cross that line.

𓍯 woonhak constantly teases you, looking for excuses to rub your hair or bump into your shoulder, and he enjoys seeing how you respond to his pranks. he says something, though, that takes you entirely by surprise just when you think it's all a friendly act.

𓍯 “i feel like we’re both good at being complicated.” he chuckles. you can sense that you're both still holding back and skirting the truth because you're afraid of altering something that feels so near-perfect. but when you meet his eyes, you can see that this isn't the end of it because of the little warmth that remains in his smile.

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sadnymi · 10 months ago

Text

「 ✦ Silent treatment. ✦ 」 Mattheo riddle x reader

Summary: Giving Mattheo the silent treatment after an argument wasn't the best idea after all

Words: 5k

Warning: [smut , heavy smut , strong language NSFW]

On days like these, I feel an overwhelming urge to rearrange Mattheo's face. Despite our discussions and my heartfelt pleas, he seems to have a remarkable talent for ignoring everything I say.

The memory of our conversation echoed in my mind: my desperate pleas for him to leave that wretched boy alone, the hollow promises he'd made to appease me.

And now, that very same boy was lying in the hospital. Quite a coincidence, isn't it?

The cold shoulder was the only response I could muster, a potent cocktail of disappointment and anger simmering just beneath.

"Look," he started, a cocky edge to his voice, "that jerk had it coming. You can't just let people walk all over you."

My blood ran cold. He wasn't remorseful, he was proud. My icy glare intensified.

"So you think injuring someone and getting them suspended is the answer?" I countered, my voice laced with controlled fury.

He shrugged, a nonchalant act that did little to hide the flicker of unease in his eyes. "He'll learn his lesson," he muttered, avoiding my gaze.

“ so , are you “ my voice tinged with disappointment as I turned away, leaving him behind. Maybe I wasn't that hungry after all

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Ah, I see you're in the mood for a silent treatment today," he remarked dryly as he leaned against the nearby wall, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Must be a new strategy in the art of communication, or perhaps it's just your way of keeping things exciting."

"Either way," he continued, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, "I'm impressed by your dedication to the cause. Who needs words when we can communicate through meaningful silence, right?" His eyes sparkled with amusement as he waited for my response, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

"Meaningful silence?" I scoffed. "That's a new one, Mattheo. Very poetic."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep up with your level of dramatics."

I crossed my arms, feigning offense. "My dramatics? You're the one who turns every situation into a Shakespearean tragedy."

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Is that so? Well, I suppose every play needs a leading lady."

I couldn't help but smile despite myself. "And what role do you think you play in this drama?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The charming rogue, of course. The one who keeps the plot interesting."

I shook my head. "You certainly do that, Mattheo. Whether I like it or not."

His grin was infectious. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now, are you ready to break the silence and actually talk to me?"

“actually I have something to do “ i said

As I turned to leave, Mattheo's taunting words followed me. "Ignite me, Lady Macbeth."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself," I retorted.

He grabbed my arm lightly as I tried to walk away. "Don't roll your eyes unless you want this conversation to continue somewhere else y/n "

"I have something important to do," I replied coolly, trying to free my arm from his grasp.

He persisted, asking, "Like what?"

"Visiting a patient in the hospital," I said, finally pulling away and smiling.

Mattheo chuckled. "You'll regret this little act, baby."

"I thought we were in a play," I quipped before turning and walking away.

Truth be told, I had no intention of visiting that snobby Gryffindor in the hospital. Mattheo's broken promise irked me, but I couldn't muster any sympathy for the boy who got what he deserved.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

As the days went by, Mattheo's attempts to regain my attention became more evident. He started showing up unexpectedly in places I frequented, always with a casual excuse or a playful remark.

But today , today was something else , he deliberately sat closer to a group of giggling Ravenclaw girls, laughing a little too loudly at their jokes and engaging in animated conversation.

I couldn't help but notice, my eyes flickering over to his table every now and then. It was frustrating how effortlessly he could draw attention, even when he wasn't trying. I busied myself with my own friends, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into my chest.

However, Mattheo wasn't done with his antics. As the meal progressed, he caught my eye from across the room and winked mischievously. It was a subtle gesture, but it made my heart race in a way I didn't want to admit.

Feeling a surge of annoyance mixed with curiosity, I excused myself from my friends and made my way over to his table. "What's with the show?" I asked, trying to sound unaffected.

Mattheo grinned, leaning back in his chair casually. "Just trying to keep things interesting," he replied with a shrug. "Besides, it's not every day I get to make you jealous."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "You wish."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Admit it, you were totally watching ."

“ well played riddle well played “ I walked away

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The days crawled by, each one painted in shades of frosty silence between Matteo and me. Rumors swirled around the school like rogue Bludgers. Had we finally called it quits? The question hung heavy in the air, fueled by Mattheo's brooding demeanor and my own steely resolve.

One particularly dreary afternoon, I found myself drowning my sorrows (or at least trying to ) in a big cup of apple juice in the library. Lost in a dusty tome about ancient magical creatures, I barely registered the approaching figure until a shadow fell across the page.

Looking up, I encountered a smug face I vaguely recognized – Zacharias Clifton, a Quidditch player from Ravenclaw notorious for his greasy hair and even greasier personality. "Mind if I join you, lovely?" he drawled, his voice dripping with a forced charm that made me cringe.

Before I could muster a response, he slid into the seat opposite me, invading my personal space with a confidence that reeked of entitlement. "So, I hear you're single these days," he continued, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint.

I gritted my teeth, the urge to hex him into a toad growing stronger by the second. Just as I was about to unleash a verbal scathing of epic proportions, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Actually, Clifton, she's very much taken."

Mattheo stood in the doorway, his usual swagger amplified tenfold. His gaze, however, wasn't directed at Zacharias, but at me. A flicker of something that looked suspiciously like possessiveness crossed his features before he turned his attention back to the unwelcome visitor.

"See your broomstick awaits," Mattheo said, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Don't let me keep you from your precious practice."

Zacharias, his face a comical shade of purple, sputtered something incoherent before gathering his dignity (or what little he possessed) and retreating with a disgruntled scowl.

The library door swung shut with a satisfying thud, leaving Mattheo and me alone in the hushed silence. My heart hammered against my ribs, a chaotic rhythm that seemed to echo in the stillness.

Mattheo took a tentative step forward, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before gently settling on the back of my chair. "Can we talk?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yeah, just not here," I managed to get the words out, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Lead the way," he said, his arm tightening around me possessively as we walked out of the library

The anger that had simmered within me for days threatened to fade once I saw him, and it just hit me how much I missed him.

As we made our way to our secret chamber (the hidden chamber we found last year and claimed as ours),tucked away from the curious eyes and whispers of Hogwarts, Mattheo's touch took on a possessive edge. His hands found every excuse to claim me, a silent proclamation to the entire school that I was still his .

With each step down the narrow passage, Mattheo drew me closer, his fingertips tracing tantalizing patterns on my skin. The sensation sent delightful shivers through me, igniting a quiet thrill of belonging in his arms amidst the bustling halls of our magical world.

The soft glow of the hidden chamber beckoned us, casting an enchanting ambiance that mirrored the intimacy between us.

As soon as we were finally in , I turned to him,my voice tinged with anger."What was that all about ? A show for the audience ? "

He met my gaze, a playful glint simmering beneath the surface of his seriousness. "Just reminding everyone that you're happily taken."

"Happily?" I scoffed, pushing against his arm, "We haven't spoken a word to each other in days!"

He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And whose fault is that, love? " His warm breath tickled my ear, sending shivers cascading down my spine.

My cheeks burned, a mixture of annoyance and something else entirely swirling within me. "Yeah, going to blame that all on me now?"

"No," he paused, his eyes searching mine. "I just don’t understand why you're so mad about what I did to that perk."

I sighed, "it’s not about him , Mattheo… You know that," I conceded, my voice softer than I intended. "It’s about the promise you made and broke. You know how much I hate that."

It stirred up emotions I'd rather forget. Let's just say, coming from a family where promises were often broken had its drawbacks.

"So you've chosen to give me the silent treatment instead of talking it out? Is that your solution y/n?"

I scoffed, crossing my arms defensively. "I didn’t expect it to drag on this long. I was upset,but Maybe then I get tired of being treated like an afterthought."

"An afterthought?" he scoffed back, incredulous. "You haven't spoken to me in days!"

"And whose fault is that?" I shot back, my voice rising. "You waltzed over to those Ravenclaw girls like they were the only ones who existed!"

"That was a stupid attempt to get your attention, alright!" he snapped, his frustration boiling over. "I never meant to make you feel like an afterthought."

"But you did!" I yelled, my voice echoing in the damp chamber.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "I messed up, okay? I know that! But instead of talking to me about it, you shut me out."

"And what was I supposed to do?" I countered, my voice softening slightly. "Sit back and watch you flirt with every girl who walks by?"

"It wasn't flirting!" he defended, his voice strained.

"Then what was it?" I challenged, narrowing my eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked an awful lot like flirting."

"That's not fair," he said, his voice low. "And what about what you said? Visiting that perk in the hospital? Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

He was so close that I could feel his breath on my face

"Maybe I overreacted about Michael," I mumbled, finally breaking the silence.

"Maybe you did," he agreed cautiously anger in his eyes and lips so close to mine

“it’s really fucking rich of you to push the blame into me “ I screamed in his face frustration boiling over

“yet i was the only one putting in the effort to fix things!” He said back with lips so close to mine

“you didn’t even —” pulling me close. In a rush his lips were on mine I didn’t get to finish the words . It took a few moments for me to come to my senses; letting my eyes flutter closed as i kissed him back. The kiss wasn't gentle or sweet. It was needy and heated as mattheo’s tongue moved against mine.

In an instant, I found myself pressed against the wall, his mouth devouring me hungrily. His hand on the back of my neck drew me closer, while the other rested on my waist, kneading the flesh there. He pulled away slightly, speaking against my lips “ jump”He ordered, and I complied wrapping my legs around him

"Mattheo—" He silenced me once more with a kiss.

His black hair was hanging down into his face, so i pushed it back.

As he ended the kiss, his hands reached for my robe, tossing it aside. Next, his fingers trailed to the hem of my shirt, pulling it upward. Throughout, his gaze remained locked with mine as he removed the shirt, adding it to the pile on the ground. . “If you just wanted a dirty fuck , you should have just asked”

Gently placing me on the bed, he observed as I sank into the soft sheets. He removed his shirt and joined me, straddling my hips without a word. His eyes held mine as he pushed up my skirt. "This stays," he stated firmly, maintaining direct eye contact.

He then moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. Slowly, he pulled down the lace material, causing me to close my eyes in response to the sensation.

"Matt, what are you doing?" I asked breathlessly, feeling his warm breath against my thighs.

His hands glided up and down my thighs, eliciting a soft moan from me as I savored the sensation of his skin against mine. It had only been a week, but I missed this closeness immensely.

My eyes flew open as his hands gently spread my legs, his face drawing closer between my thighs.“ You’re so wet for me.” he chuckled cockily “ i this a new kink we just discovered “

“you’re so full of Yourself .” I didn’t help the smile that comes

“and you’re about to be full of me, so what does that make us?” He Murmuring as His hands wrapped around my thighs, pulling me closer to his mouth.

“ Merlin's Beard! “I moaned so loudly

never breaking eye contact as his tongue lapped at my wetness. I moaned loudly, the sensation overwhelming me as Matt's tongue explored my wetness. Each flick of his tongue and gentle suck sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me tremble beneath him. My heart raced, the sound echoing in my ears as I expressed how much I had missed him.

"God, Matt, I missed you so much," I moaned, my mouth agape and my toes curling into the sheets. My hands instinctively tangled in his hair, urging him on with each movement. I cried out his name as the intensity built, feeling like I was on the brink of ecstasy.

But then, it stopped.

Confused and desperate, I lifted my head from the pillow, tears in my eyes as I struggled to catch my breath. "Why... why did you stop?" I cried out, my voice a mixture of frustration and need.

Matt flashed me an amused smile, teasing me further with a kiss to my aching clit. My breathing quickened again as he kissed along my inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where I wanted him most.

"Matt," I whimpered, regretting the frustration I must have caused him. His kisses trailed back up my body until he was face to face with me, watching me quiver beneath him.

"Please," I begged softly, feeling the desperation creeping into my voice.

“ what is it my sweet girl? “ He brushed my hair aside and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. "You've been teasing me all week," he murmured, his eyes filled with desire. "Wearing those short skirts, laughing with my friends, giving me the silent treatment."

He kissed me again, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "I've wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there , to fuck you senseless that my name will be the only thing you remember " he confessed, his voice husky with desire.

His lips trailed down to my earlobe, where he bit it softly, eliciting another moan from me. His mouth continued its journey, claiming every inch of my body with his tongue and teeth, until he reached my chest.

I arched back, silently pleading for his attention on my breasts. With a teasing hook of his finger, he slid down the neckline of my top, removing the lace of my bra in the process. His mouth captured one nipple, sucking slowly while his free hand caressed the other.

His actions sent shivers down my spine as he licked, sucked, and bit, creating a delicious rhythm that had me gasping for more.

"I'm sorry," I cried out, tears welling up in my eyes. "I missed you so much, and seeing you laughing with those girls hurt."

"I know, my sweet girl, I know," he whispered, his head buried between my legs once more. "Let me make it up to you."

With renewed fervor, he sucked harshly on my clit, his fingers pumping in and out of me rhythmically. The combination of sensations overwhelmed me, and I couldn't help but moan in pleasure.

As my body reached its peak, I gripped his hands tightly, feeling the fluttering release of my orgasm. I moaned his name loudly, I moaned his name probably too loudly for ghosts in the castle liking, pulled him up for a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of myself on his lips.

“Turn around,” he says,

I obeyed his command to turn around, and he slowly unpinned my hair, letting it cascade down my back in loose waves. He pushed it over one shoulder with deliberate care, his fingers trailing down my spine, igniting goosebumps along my skin , his fingers trailing down my spine, brushing the skin on my back.

His lips found their way to my neck, planting soft kisses that trailed down to my shoulder. Then, I felt his fingertips running along my skin again, sending a shiver of anticipation through me. His touch entered my hot, dripping core, and I couldn't help but let out a loud moan, begging for more.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice filled with desire.

"Yeah," I managed to say between moans.

“Is this why you were shouting nonsense at me? Because all you really wanted was me to fuck you senseless? Huh?” His words were like fire, and as he added another finger, I couldn't help but scream in pleasure.

continued to pump his fingers into me, increasing the intensity with each stroke. his finger got faster and faster His thumb pressed onto my clit, sending waves of pleasure through my body, gripping the bedding hard as the third finger carefully joins the others hitting my g-spot continuously , trying to close my legs, his free hand keep them parted I felt my orgasm building stronger than ever before, my body unable to contain the pleasure.

He turned me around, kissing my cheek softly before returning to my open mouth, sucking my bottom lip between his own. "That was so hot," he grunted, concern lacing his tone. "Are you alright baby ?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, my chest heaving with each breath. Despite the intensity of the moment, my predominant feeling was one of satisfaction and desire.I hummed

“ need words my love “

"Yes Matt I’m alright " I managed to say, pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss.

His hips pressed against mine as we kissed, his covered arousal rubbing against my heat, sending a surge of desire through me. I trailed my hands down his muscular back until I reached the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Baby, stop," he murmured, concern lacing his tone. "Are you sure you want to keep going? I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed."

"I've never been more sure about anything," I whispered, kissing his cheek. "I missed you, I want you."

He moaned as I touched his erect member through the fabric, his breath hitching slightly. "You need to stop, love," he managed to say, his voice strained with desire.

"Sorry," I replied, pulling my hands away quickly. He leaned down to kiss my neck softly, causing me to close my eyes and wrap my arms around him.

"You never have to apologize," he whispered against my earlobe before whispering, "I’m going to make love to you," and pressing his lips to mine in tender kisses. then onc again pressing his lips to mine in sweet, sweet kisses.

one of my favourite thing about mattheo is how gentle he can be. He can be so passionate when he wants to and right now i can feel the love behind his kisses.

Feeling his cock tapping against my clit a few times, I couldn't help but let out a moan as he guided himself into me. Taking hold of my leg again, he used them both as leverage to push himself fully inside me. I moaned into his ear, my breath hitching in anticipation.

"Fuck," I whispered, watching him mutter under his breath as he slid in and out of me slowly. The sensation was incredible; I could feel every inch of him dragging over my most sensitive parts.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me, baby," he whispered, and I opened my teary eyes slowly, doing as he said. He smiled, his gaze filled with desire. "That's it, good girl ."

Still buried deep inside me, his movements began to pick up speed. My breath caught in my throat as pleasure surged through me.

"Oh," I gasped, my head dropping back as my mouth fell open in pleasure.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted with each thrust. "So fucking mine."

I hummed in response, words escaping me as Mattheo continued to drive me wild. With each thrust, my moans grew louder, reaching a crescendo of pleasure.

"Mattheo," I moaned, his name leaving my lips like a prayer.

"That's it, baby," he replied, his lips devouring mine softly. "So beautiful, moaning my name like that."

With a gentle touch, he pushed my hair out of my face before placing his hands on my cheeks. His eyes roamed my face while he continued to thrust into me at a slow, deliberate pace. I looked at him with half-lidded eyes, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

As he started to thrust harder, I grabbed a fistful of the sheets, feeling the intensity building within me. His hips bucked against me, his face buried in the crook of my neck. The faster pace and increased pressure caused my eyes to roll back in my head. I was on the edge of my high, having come so close moments earlier.

"Mattheo, I can't wait any longer," I screamed out, wrapping my legs around his torso tightly and intertwining our hands.

"Not yet," he grunted, turning his head to meet my gaze. He continued to move in and out of me, keeping eye contact as he held himself up by his forearms. I was so sensitive that the delay in my orgasm began to ache, and I felt the need to let go.

"Please, let me cum, baby," I pleaded, sounded desperate, begging him not to pull away at the last minute again. "I can't..."

And just as I was about to reach my breaking point, he freed one of his hands and snuck it between us, his fingers expertly rubbing at my clit and pushing me over the edge.

"I need you to do something for me, pretty girl. Want to try something?" he asked, and I nodded, willing to do anything he asked in that moment.

He kept everything slow, almost torturous, building up the tightening pressure inside of me with each pass before thrusting so hard the next time that I felt like I was going to pass out.

"Don't be nervous," he murmured, kissing my forehead. "Just relax and let go. I'll keep going until you tell me to stop." His soft tone sent flutters through my heart, and I nodded in response.

My breath hitched as his hand returned to my clit, igniting a fire in my belly. His hard thrusts hit my g-spot, and I screamed out, clinging onto his hand as if my life depended on it.

"Shit," I hissed, feeling him deep inside me, the pleasure building into a heavy weight in my gut. A tingling sensation hummed through my limbs.

"Let go, baby," he ordered, and I did just that as waves of pleasure crashed over me. It was an intense release unlike anything I'd ever felt before, leaving me shakily tilting my head up, tears in my eyes as I watched clear fluid gushing out of me each time Mattheo pulled back.

When he noticed me watching, he withdrew entirely, bringing his soaked fingers to my clit and rubbing fast circles that made me cry out loudly as my muscles spasmed again. Without his presence inside me, an unbroken stream of fluid rushed out, spraying over the bed sheets.

"Oh my god," I whimpered, needing a moment to focus on the overwhelming sensations. Mattheo made a noise of appreciation, reentering me, the wet sounds now more intense as he pushed in again.

"That's my good girl, you just squirted for me, baby. See how good you are," he praised, his words adding to the intensity of the moment.rl you just squirt for me baby see how good you are ”

Pounding into my g-spot hard enough to make my legs shake, he elicited another wave of pleasure that rolled through me. Instinctively, my body responded to Mattheo's instructions, bursts of arousal shooting out of me as I moaned softly with each pump of his hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I gasped in sync with his movements.

"Holy shit," Mattheo rasped as he drew his fingers out again, groaning when he returned to my clit and easily worked even more wetness out of me. "You just keep fucking cuming, baby."

I could barely process what he was saying. "Please, cum inside me, Matt," I wanted to mention that I finally got on pills this week but couldn't find the energy to.

"Yeah?" He breathed, "Want me to cum inside this pretty pussy?" Thrusting hard, his fingers still circling my clit, I moaned out his name as I squirted again and again. My pussy started to quiver as he continued to fuck me through it, crying out loudly when I felt him coming inside me as well.

Wetness splashed out of me in endless spurts, soaking my cunt, his hand, and the bed. It felt like I was coming for hours, amazed at what my body was capable of.

"You okay, my love?" He asked, concern evident in his voice as he looked down at me. My eyes were closed, and I gave no indication that I was listening to him, feeling like I had passed out for a second.

"Hey angel, open your eyes to me, please," Mattheo implored, kissing my cheeks and rubbing his thumb soothingly.

"Yeah, I just need a moment," I managed to whisper, feeling drained. "I think you ruined me, Matt," I added with a weak smile.

He chuckled softly, giving me kisses all over my face. "Yeah?" he teased.

"In a good way though," I reassured him.

With a small grunt, Mattheo pushed himself off of me and sat up from the bed. I reached out for him, not wanting him to leave my side yet. He chuckled at my antics, lightly grasping my hand and stroking my fingers before letting it go and stepping away.

"Just going to grab a few things to clean you up, love. I promise I’ll be right back," he assured me.

Nodding, I closed my eyes again, too exhausted to do anything else.

"I brought you some water, darling. You should drink a little," he said as he sat back down on the bed next to me, helping me sit up a bit. I complied lazily, sipping from the glass he held against my lips.

"Now, spread your legs a little, sweetheart. I need to clean you up. Not too sore?" He asked as he gently cleaned me up with a washcloth, my body still sensitive .

As he cleaned me up and tidied the sheets, I felt sleep starting to take over me, comforted by his warmth and embrace. He kissed my face a few times and chuckled softly before I finally drifted off to sleep, feeling content and loved.

"I don’t think I would ever be able to walk again," I joked softly .

"I would carry you then," he replied affectionately.

"Since it’s all your fault, so yes," I teased, feeling a mix of emotions.

"I’m so sorry," he apologized sincerely

"Matt—"

"No, listen. I’m really sorry for everything. It was all my fault from the start. I shouldn’t have promised you that and then go and break it the next day," he admitted regretfully.

“ I’m so sorry too “ I hugged him tightly, hiding my face in his neck as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling the blanket over us.

"Can we sleep here tonight?" I asked, wanting to be close to him.

"We can do anything you want, baby. I will do whatever you want," he promised, kissing my forehead.

"I love you so, so much," I whispered, feeling sleepiness creeping in.

"I love you so much too, my love," he replied, kissing my forehead back.

"Baby?" he said after a moment.

"Yeah?" I replied, feeling sleepy.

"Did you ever think about kids?" he asked, surprising me.

I laughed softly. "What?"he said

"I’m on pills, baby. I finally managed to get them," I explained, resting my head on his chest as I got ready to sleep.

"Baby?" he said again, and I hummed in response.

"Just for your information, I’m going to hit that Zacharias boy so hard tomorrow he can join Michael in the hospital, and Michael doesn’t have to feel lonely anymore. I’m telling you now,"

"I was thinking about hexing him into a toad, but we can decide tomorrow," laughing while giving him one last kiss I said .

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