#please read my comment on this post before reblogging!!

[navybrat817]

Any thoughts for WETnesday with Bucky?🤭🤭

Okay, Syd. I wrote this after work for Wetnesday and promptly fell asleep. So, I'm posting this on Thirsty Thursday! And that has to be Mr. Barnes before you two are married.

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to be late for dinner, but you don't seem to be in a rush to go.

Word Count: Over 2.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, quick unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, lovelies), possessive behavior, a bit of humor and fluff, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I love this couple, okay? @targaryenvampireslayer and @starlightcrystalline, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was still early in the evening as Bucky got ready for dinner. Checking his watch once he put it on, he sighed. If he was late, Steve would give him a hard time. And if Steve gave him a hard time, Sam would only give him the gasoline to fuel the fire. Just the thought of it had his face shift to his grumpy stare you loved.

His gaze softened when you went to the vanity. Would the guys give him a hard time if he said he was in love and wanted as much alone time with you as possible? How being with you was like floating on a cloud and being pulled back down to earth all at once? He didn’t care if they’d call him out for being sappy. He sure as hell suffered enough in his life that he could afford to be appreciative of you and maybe a little selfish when it came to you.

But checking the time, he grumbled. “We were supposed to leave five minutes ago,” he said.

He would��ve rather gone to a hole in the wall kind of place or a diner to have dinner, but it wasn't his turn to pick the dinner out with some of the gang. Plus it was nice getting to dress up with you since you liked how he looked in suits. To be fair, you said he looked good in anything and he felt the same way about you. How you always managed to look like a goddess, he’d never know.

You hummed. “We still have a few minutes to spare,” you said, which he wasn’t sure how you knew since you hadn’t looked at the time. “And you are not dressed yet, so it’s not like we can head out the door.”

He paused to stare at you. “Neither are you,” he pointed out, licking his lips as you leaned forward a bit more as you applied your makeup. He shook his head after a moment, trying to snap himself out of the spell you always managed to put him under. “I’m bringing you one of my cardigans to put over your shoulders in case you get cold.”

Because the weather was nice for the evening, you picked out a sleeveless dress. He didn’t know if the restaurant would be cold though, and he didn’t want you shivering through the meal. You likely had something to match your dress, but putting one of his cardigans over you was like that extra touch of belonging to him in case anyone got any ideas.

“You just want one of your shirts draped over me like a big neon sign that says I’m yours and you don't want guys checking me out on my dress,” you said like you knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no reason to deny your words since it was the truth. “But I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“I do like my clothes draped over you,” he smirked. He liked having his smell on you, too. “But you know what I don’t like? Steve and Sam bitching if we’re late. It’ll spoil my appetite.”

“Aww, my poor super soldier,” you teased, smiling at him in your reflection and making his heart skip a beat. “If we’re late, you can just blame me. I won’t let them give you a hard time, okay?”

Bucky couldn’t blame you though. Not entirely. You were late getting in the shower thanks to him insisting on the two of you staying in bed. Serum stamina or whatever you wanted to call it, but he felt bad some days for his almost constant need. You didn’t seem to mind though.

“They won’t believe me,” he said, staring again when the strap of your bra slipped from your shoulder. “And baby, you know I adore you, but you need to quit distracting me so I can finish getting dressed.”

Ever since you moved in, you’d been a distraction in a wonderful way. He often found that he’d pause to look at photos or little touches you incorporated into the place, giving him a chance to reflect on memories you made together and even learn more about who you were before you met. Hearing your laughter or voice call to him from another room also made him drop whatever he was doing, too. Sharing a space with someone could be daunting, but it was easy with you, like you had lived together for years. It made him look forward to more.

“Me? Distracting you?” You turned your head toward him and gave him an innocent glance. You were anything but innocent. “I'm not doing anything.”

Bucky almost snarled. Like hell you weren't doing anything. Swaying your hips and prancing around in your lingerie before you sat to get ready, lingerie which barely covered your gorgeous tits and sweet cunt. He wanted to rip it to shreds or tear it off with his teeth. You wouldn’t mind, right? He could always get you more to destroy.

“Not doing anything? Look at you,” he said incredulously as you turned back to the mirror and pushed your bra up. He should’ve been holding your breasts. “Why aren't you wearing a robe?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you said before I got in the shower that we were in a slight rush, so I figured putting on the robe was a waste of time. At least I have my underwear on, though I know you’d rather I be naked.”

If Bucky had his way, you’d be naked all the time. At least, when you two were at home. Logically he knew he couldn’t have that at work, functions, or anything of that nature, but the image in his head was nice. “For such a rush you seem to be taking your time.”

“I'm not taking my time. I'm finishing my makeup,” you argued, carefully applying your lipstick. “Like it?” you asked, blowing him an air kiss. It was a pretty shade. It would look even prettier smeared around his cock.

He closed his eyes with a groan. Some days he felt like a caveman with the thoughts that consumed him. “You look beautiful,” he said once he opened his eyes. Like always. “Now get your dress on so I can show you off before I put the cardigan on you.”

“Show me off?” You slowly stood from your chair and gave him a generous view of your backside. His cock twitched in his pants, and there was no reason to hide the pure lust in his eyes when you turned to face him. “You flatter me, Mr. Barnes.”

He chuckled. It always did something to him when you called him Mr. Barnes. It was something affectionate, sweet. “I think you’re the one flattering me, Mrs.-” he exhaled before he could finish, and he heard the hitch in your breath across the room.

“What was that?” you asked breathily.

He adjusted the watch on his wrist and avoided your gaze. You were his girl, yeah, and the love you had for each other spoke volumes, but you weren’t his wife. Not yet. God, how he wanted you to be- for you to take his last name, wear his ring on your finger, be his partner in all aspects of life. He wanted it to be more than just a dream.

“I didn’t say…” He cleared his throat and put on a blank face, only because he didn’t know how you’d react. “Anything.”

Your eyes raked over him before you beckoned him forward with a finger. He swore no one would ever control him again after HYDRA brainwashed him, but you could’ve commanded him to do anything. It didn’t frighten him because you would never harm him, never take advantage of him. Taking him into your care and maintaining his trust was one of the ways you showed you loved him.

Once he stood in front of you, barely an inch away, you whispered, “Were you about to call me Mrs. Barnes?”

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. It was one thing to say you loved each other, to want a future together, but what if you weren’t ready when he popped the question? “I was,” he whispered back.

You smiled, not looking the least bit put off or afraid. He should've known it wouldn't bother you, especially with you being the one to say “I love you” first. “I think that has a really nice ring to it,” you said, your hands moving to unbuckle his belt.

“You think so?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was capable of breathing. “You like the idea of being my wife?”

Bucky would no doubt be the kind of husband who’d brag about you. He’d find ways to insert “my wife” in conversations just to let others know that you picked him out of everyone else on the planet. Not just that, he wanted people to know how proud he was to be your man and that he’d find reasons every day to be proud of you.

“I love it,” you confirmed, sighing when he ran his fingertips along your arms. “Makes my heart race,” you admitted. He could hear it. “Makes me wet.”

Bucky arched his hips and pressed up against you. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, not stopping you as you unbuttoned his pants. He was thinking of just cancelling dinner so he could throw you on the bed and stay inside you for the rest of the night. “We need to-”

“Oh. Now might be a good time to tell you that Steve pushed the reservation back by a half hour,” you cut in, mouthing over his racing pulse. “He figured he’d message me since I’m better about checking my phone, and-”

Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you onto the bed. Your wide-eyed expression as you bounced nearly had him busting out of his pants, and he didn’t hesitate to crawl over you and pin you down. Relishing in the moan you let out when he lightly bit your neck, he did it again a little harder. “No wonder you took your time and teased me,” he smirked when you squirmed beneath him. “My future wife.”

“My future husband,” you moaned, bucking your hips up. “Need you in me. We can be quick.”

You got a hand in his hair and forced his head up to yours, your tongue impatiently pushing into his mouth. He groaned in understanding, feeling just as desperate as you. Knowing how turned on you were at the thought of being his wife turned him on, and he could barely form a coherent thought as he took his cock out and gave it a couple of quick pumps.

“Say it again,” he demanded, shoving your panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He took his time earlier today stretching you, and he wanted nothing more than to feel you around him again.

And the way you reached between your bodies and gripped the base of his cock, he knew you wanted the same when you said, “Fuck me, my future husband.”

He eased in gently, making you whine. He thought he’d whine, too, for a second because of how good he felt. God, how good it would feel to hold your hand one day and feel his ring against your skin. “You okay?” he asked, dragging his thumb along your lower lip once he was fully inside you. You were tight still, so wet, and oh, he was going to fuck you and make it quick, but he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, starting deep into his eyes as you clenched around him with purpose and brushed his hair back. He tried to be still, tried not to thrust like a wild animal. “Are you?”

“I’m okay,” he promised, easing his hips back. “Just hold on while I fuck you.”

Your back arched when he slammed himself back in nice and deep, your cry bouncing off the walls. Here in the comfort of your home you didn’t have to smother any noises, didn’t have to keep quiet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how you were the queen of his world.

Being inside you all he got out was, “You feel so fucking good.”

And because you could read him like no one else could, you tenderly smiled. “I love you, too.”

He threw his head back as you clutched his arms, determined to make you feel good, determined to show you how much he loved you even as he fucked you. “Gonna put you on your hands and knees after dinner. Make you watch in the mirror while I fuck you,” he groaned. “Can imagine it's part of our honeymoon.”

“Please!’ you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts.

Bucky grabbed your thighs to lift you higher, uncaring if he ruined his pants for the evening. Watching you tremble beneath his, a vision of ecstasy, he was happy to stay there forever. Wrapped up in you was where he always wanted to be.

“Gonna come,” you moaned, reaching up to pull his hair again, your body quaking. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky groaned. He hadn’t rubbed your clit how he wanted to. Didn’t get to tear your bra off and tease your nipples. He did promise to fuck you later though, and he’d do all those things and more. “Then come for me,” he smirked, leaning down to say against your lips, “Future. Mrs.. Barnes.”

You got impossibly tight and the flood of wetness that gushed around him triggered his own orgasm, a rush of heat filling him as he filled you. His mouth fell open as you clung to him, and he heard you moan his name as your eyes went glossy. He wanted the image of you getting off to taking his last name etched in his brain for all time. He wanted his name to fall from your lips again and again on your wedding night.

The cloud in his mind began to lift. You, his future wife, were beneath him, still shaking, still holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t want to let you go either. “Holy… shit…” you panted.

He braced himself above you, trying not to crush you as the euphoria slowly faded. It never really went away though. Not with you. “Holy shit,” he agreed. He stayed inside you, your sweet mewl making him smile as he kissed you. “Is this a new kink?” he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, touching his cheek. “New kink unlocked.”

Touching your lips with his once more, he chuckled. “You ruined my pants,” he teased. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The first time you rode his thigh and got your release all over it, he nearly came, too. “Good thing I have a few minutes to change.”

He cradled you close when he shifted to the side, making you moan again. “Yeah, well, you ruined my panties. Fair is fair.”

“I did,” he smirked, running his fingers along your spine. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“I love you,” he whispered, wanting to say it as often as he could. They weren’t just words, but a declaration, a promise.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, tracing one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt.

His lips brushed your forehead. He’d never get tired of hearing you say that. “If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?”

He wouldn’t propose right this second. You deserved something more romantic. But in his heart, he just wanted to hear you say that you’d say yes.

You giggled, your eyes full of love. “I would say yes in a heartbeat,” you replied, kissing him gently. Your answer relieved him. “And I’d marry you anytime, anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?” he asked, sensing a “but” in there.

“But don’t ask me right now, okay?” you smiled, in sync with his thoughts. “I mean, I’d like to think my pussy would make you propose now-”

“And it would,” he smirked.

You giggled again. “But ask me when I’m not expecting it… Whenever it feels right to you.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Looking forward to it.” You snuggled closer and missed his look of adoration. “Hold me for one more minute before we get ready to go?”

As if he could ever deny you. “I’ll hold you as long as you want,” he whispered.

He no longer cared if Steve or Sam gave him shit should they show up late. If you wanted him to skip dinner just to hold you, he’d do it. If you wanted him to surprise you when he proposed, he would. And no matter when Bucky asked you to be his wife, he’d make sure it was perfect as it could possibly be.

AHH! I love them so much. How do you lovelies think he proposed? ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Well, I was tagged in this reblog (linked for context because that post is wayyyy too long already and I’m prone to run on sentences) so I am going to respond to the part of this that @doublel27 quoted me on. 

I want to make some things clear before I start: 

Critiquing shows does not mean I always hate those shows, few shows are perfect, and for me it is worth discussing what a show did and did not do well. 

I do not care if people like the shows I do not like, and I do not care if people do not like the shows I like. It is extremely rare that people agree on everything in the same piece of media. Everyone is entitled to their own enjoyment of their preferred media and I guarantee you that Shan, Turtles, Ben, Twig, etc. etc. will say the same. Also, since you mentioned Twig’s post about We Are, please let me direct you to the episode of The Conversation where Twig, Ben, and NiNi talk together about their differing opinions on that very show. And in case you were genuinely concerned about Ben and Twig’s feelings on the quality of Thai BLs this year, you can stick around for the second half where they talk about Knock, Knock Boys! Hopefully that will assuage your fears.

Some of the issues I have with vague posting are (a) it can lead to confusion, especially in a case like this where, according to you, maybe boys do love posted a response to eight different people’s commentary simultaneously without attributing which op’s thoughts he was responding to at any point. (b) By bundling eight responses in to one post without @ ing people, it makes it seem like he has misinterpreted other people’s commentary or taken something in intentionally bad faith (c) other tumblr users in a fandom will let people know when an “unrelated post” makes commentary specific enough to be recognized as a response to someone else’s statements thus drawing them in to the conversation. It’s why I prefer to be tagged in responses to the thoughts I share. This is a public forum, whatever I post in here is able to be reblogged, tagged, or commented on. If I didn’t want people to interact with my posts…I wouldn’t post them. If you don’t feel comfortable tagging people who you are responding to, then at least acknowledge them in your writing. We love a cited source.

I don’t love policing language, but since you were more than happy doing it in your post, then I’ll say one thing here: the tone of maybe boys do love’s post does not read, to me, like it is intended to welcome people who appreciate that there is “not a single stance about what qualifies BL as good work.” It reads like it is “reminding” the supposedly eight people he is vague-posting about that they are being unreasonable in their expressed opinions. It especially does not read with the primary intention of welcoming others when Maybe Boys Do Love’s response to Turtle’s initial reblog was to comment on her “respectfulness” and Shan and Ben’s lack thereof simply because they blocked him on Tumblr. A thing which people do every day for any number of reasons. But I digress.

As for my part in your response, you referenced a statement from my tumblr post A Pause for Reflection: Part 2- Only Friends, Racism, and the Commodification of Queer Asians: 

“We all need to, but white Westerners especially, be extremely careful and introspective with the ways we are engaging with queer Asian media”

On the seriousness of this statement, doublel27, you and I are agreed. I think it is valid to state that this should apply to the decisions of writers, directors, etc. of BLs. And I also agree that preventing infantilization and removal of agency from writers, directors, actors, and audiences is a good addition. That said, I do not think critiquing media is in any way shape or form an infantilizing or agency-removing act. 

I do, however, think you are falling victim to the western paternalism/white saviorism you are so upset about by going on to a South East Asian woman’s post and chastising her about not speaking for a South East Asian audience when you are a white westerner?

Also, I think there I might be missing a step in your logical progression when you say “I’m of the opinion that what’s good for queer Thai television is not for foreign audiences to decide, ultimately. That’s for queer Thai people to decide.” It would amaze me greatly if this hypothetical monolith of queer people in Thailand were to be 100% in agreement about what constitutes good queer television. Personally I see your belief that no one outside of queer Thai people is allowed to critique queer Thai shows as actually undermining the legitimacy of this genre as a source of entertainment for audiences outside of just queer (in this case) Thai people. Media is frequently made with an intended audience in mind, but that does not mean people outside that target audience are barred from engaging with it. No one is saying “this is a bad queer Thai show and I am deciding that for all queer people” they are saying “here is what or why I did not like the decision they made about x,y,z."

If you are going to quote me, then I hope you also read the first half of my Pause for Reflection posts Taking Pause for Reflection- Part 1: Respectable Promiscuity and Only Friends where I talk about respectable promiscuity and discuss the ways in which respectability politics have resulted in “current LGBTQ+ political movements shifting away from highlighting sexual liberation as an aspect of queer culture, in order to make queer people more palatable to the overarching heterosexual society. And how that bleeds through in to the kinds of media that exist, the types of queer people portrayed within that media, as well as how often gay sex is shown, the type of gay sex shown, and the number of gay sex partners depicted. (Read: generally infrequently, generally vanilla, generally one).” Just so you are aware of where I stand in all of this and what people like Shan and myself are talking about when we critique the decision to remove sexual content from queer stories for the sake of storytelling or viewership.  

I haven’t mentioned this one in awhile but I used to talk a lot about my perception of queer content being able to be categorized in By, For, and About Queers formatting. For example, a film like Pariah (2011) is a story about a queer person created by a queer person with a narrative that feels like it is made for the enjoyment of queer people above all others (but of course anyone can watch).

^I think this was made by abl, who I am not tagging because I do not want to drag them in to this conversation, but whose image I still want to cite.

This is obviously subjective, and I’m not saying it should always be used, but I know some people can find it nice to organize things by categories. 

Again, this is subjective but I’ll give a short list of a couple of BLs that I personally would categorize as being For queer people- by which I mean it feels like a love letter to queer people, I can see something of myself and my experiences in it, and I would not be surprised if the primary intended audience was queer people:

I Told Sunset About You

The Miracle of Teddy Bear

What Did You Eat Yesterday

Koisenu Futari

Here is a short list of some BLs I would personally categorize under About queer people- that is, queer people are the main characters but the piece feels like the primary intended audience is not queer people:

Kiseki: Dear to Me

KinnPorsche

My School President

Spare Me Your Mercy

That does not mean the shows about queer people aren’t queer stories, but it does mean the intention behind the work is different. Which brings me all the way back to Spare Me Your Mercy since that’s what started all of this in the first place: 

Lux Sirilux in an interview before the show came out stated:

“Having NC would steal the attention of the story because what we were going to talk about was dark drama and euthanasia.”

She also says: 

“The characters are gay, but we don’t offer [fan]service in every episode or include NC (explicit) scenes."

(I got these statements above from this post by clariredaring who I am not tagging in this because I do not want to pull them in to this whole ordeal any more than they already have been).

Lux is absolutely allowed to make the decision to remove NC scenes from SMYM if she believes that it will detract from the vibe and the overarching theme. Sammon is absolutely allowed to approve and accept the removal of NC content from the Spare Me Your Mercy television show. No one is arguing that. (And I feel comfortable speaking for Shan here at the very least because we talk about shows a lot and I know what her post was actually saying as it relates to viewership). I already wrote a post about my feelings on this matter where I discussed why I feel that choice went wrong in this case. That does not mean anyone else has to feel that way, and I’m not forcing anyone to agree with me. And if people disagree with me, fine, they are welcome to discuss with me why they feel like the story worked as is if they want to and ignore me if they don't. (And literally as I was writing this a great example of someone disagreeing with me came through in this post by elimstillnotgarak who I will not be tagging in this simply because I don't want to drag someone who is not involved in this in to a very different discussion). But there is a level of disingenuousness that comes with the statement 'you should not say anything negative ever about the stories you have watched from cultures outside of your own.' I'm not saying this is the belief you hold, but I am saying that is how I interpret your statements about not speaking for a queer Thai audience.

And, as someone who has written multiple essays breaking down sex scenes in BLs, let me just say that I believe there is a fundamental difference between NC scenes and fanservice. I think there are instances where fanservice can result in positive changes (The Magnus Archives, for example, updated their ending after seeing how much fans were shipping Jon and Martin together and I think the ending was better for it) but I think there are a lot of times when fanservice actually does undermine the narrative. As for NC scenes, there are definitely ones that detract from the story at hand, and there are ones that I think people throw in as a bandaid in the hopes that they can get higher viewership (Playboyy and Battle of the Writers are examples of that imo) but I think there are a lot of times when NC scenes actually improve the narratives they are a part of expressly because they can tell you a whole hell of a lot about a character’s relationship and feelings to another person in a very short period of time. 

For me, I think Sammon and Lux here engaged in respectability politics operating under a belief that NC scenes between these queer characters would take away from the larger story they were trying to tell. And I think that the believability of the romantic relationship between Kan and Tew suffered for it. This is a show that already was written for a larger general audience because most of Sammon’s work places some medical mystery narrative at the front and center (which makes sense because she’s a doctor). 

And personally doublel27 I feel you are drawing a false equivalency between critique and infantilization and I would appreciate it if next time you quote me, you make sure you read the entirety of the post so that you can better understand that I will continue to be critical of people who submit to respectable promiscuity and make the choice to tone down the queerness in their story because they are worried it will distract the audience at large.

[respectthepetty]

Hi, I read your post about Joong/Est & Dunk beef and I wanted to give you more information as I felt like you were missing some-- and bc I got to know them just 2 months and followed them on twitter and the things have been really insane? wild? and I just need to share.

So after Joong posted the tweet about him & Dunk not being on good terms right now, New(!) posted a reply to it "Is this okay?" (I assume he means is it okay to post such a thing?"). And after that Joong's tweet, I saw many fans who were unaware things have been weird btn JD finding out the two weren't getting along well. I'm not against actors sharing their feelings, but it really felt like a bad PR to me that hurts their branding. I was honestly wondering why GMMTV does not give their artists PR training when Joong suddenly posted a selfie of him & Dunk smiling with moustache filter and Dunk also posted a pic with him & Joong & P'tha who is CEO of GMMTV. AND Joong also deleted his tweet about the beef.

Now my unconfirmed theory is that after Joong posted that tweet, things got a bit out of hand and reached the ears of P'Tha and he made them sort of make up or at least ordered them to act more like usual, and for Joong to delete the tweet. In the event they had the next day, they were doing some fanservice too. It was very jarring to see the whole thing unfold tbh, especially Joong's emotional subtweets and retweets of shady quotes that lasted for weeks made me a little worried if he is mentally okay. I'm not sure JD are even on good terms right now (I don't think they are) - I don't know about Joong but Dunk seems to be trying to reach out like wishing him safe flight... but I sure do hope they can keep their working friendship or recover from whatever they are going through right now bc it would be really sad to see it end.

For Est/Joong, there seems to no visible movement for that side as far as I know except for both of their fans fighting each other like twice a week. They got into fight again today bc Joong doesn't even acknowledge or promote ThamePo even though he guest starred in it. The fan communities have been so toxic and weird and I just honestly feel so bad for the actors.

Anon, I turned off reblogs to this post except for the people mentioned within it because I just learned I could (look at this old dog learning new tricks!) and I hope this encourages you to come back to my inbox, anonymously, and offer more discussion without it getting muddled with others' thoughts.

Because I have a question.

But first I want to solidify one key point - I am invested in whatever happened between Joong and Est and, by extension, Joong and everyone else including Dunk. I just want to make that clear, so you don't think I'm trying to claim some level of emotional superiority with my following question because I'm not. I'm interested in everything you wrote because I'm nosy for no good reason, so I want to know what happened and all the details simply because I want to, and I want to make that clear before I continue.

Now, my question:

Why do you perceive Joong's behavior for the past few months as mentally unstable?

It was very jarring to see the whole thing unfold tbh, especially Joong's emotional subtweets and retweets of shady quotes that lasted for weeks made me a little worried if he is mentally okay.

You are not the first to write this. I have seen this sentiment in various spaces raised here with @waitmyturtles and @simysaru43, and on Reddit, so based on your comment, why do you think his behavior equates to him not being mentally okay? Regardless if he is or isn't, I want to know why YOU think that? And please know that I am genuinely asking anyone who has expressed this thought because I truly want to know others' perspective since I think his behavior is a suitable response to what is happening, whatever it might be (which, once again, I want to know what *that* is because I am soooo very nosy).

Joong is no longer friends (friendly?) with Est, yet they work at the same company; therefore, they must be around each other in a professional capacity. He doesn't seem to be friends (friendly?) with Daou anymore either. Yet Dunk, his work partner, hung out with them outside of work, so why can't he be bothered by that? People have stated it seems immature that he would dictate someone else's behavior, but I think we are underestimating the demands of their jobs and the unstated obligations they must abide by within their working relationships. Joong is an actor in a genre that is known for its (toxic) fans, so I am also surprised that GMMTV doesn't have a stronger grasp on any of its actors' social media presences, but Joong is also human, so having emotions, even public ones, is part of that.

So is the worrisome part of his posts that they focus on his emotions? Does it worry you that his posts are rooted in him publicly revealing his feelings? I'm not in the practice of defending men or their behavior, but I don't like the implication that a man feeling is cause for concern. That's why I'm asking why you are worried about him because I don't want to assume this is where you are coming from. I'm not asking for you to defend yourself or your comments because this is not a battle. I'm kindly asking for your perspective because my background (Mexican, Black, American) tells me this is messy behavior from a man, but my ideologies (feminist, anarchist, lover) tell me to be proud that he is allowing himself to display his feelings on a public forum.

But I might be missing something, culturally, generationally, or a third item I haven't thought about. Which is why I'm asking why his behavior is unsettling to you? I truly hope you respond, and if you want, I won't share your response.

Either way, let's discuss this further.

[sunshineram]

been awhile since ive drawn this fella!

[gutfaced]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟏; 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘

hi! this post has been on my mind for a very long time, and with a possible hunger games resurgence underway, i want to address the not-so savoury and digestable bits about collin's writing, including her characterizations of black individuals within the trilogy.

first of all; district 11 is described as a large district, with its population mainly being black, or at least people of color. this is shown in the movie adaptations, and the several characters we meet throughout the series.

(rue, chaff and seeder's descriptions, but thresh, too.)

(depiction of district 11's population in the movie adaptation of catching fire.)

𝐬𝐨, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'���� 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦?

genuinely? the characterization of these individuals, such as chaff and thresh (both black males specifically.) the portrayal of both characters being a threat in size and combat, which is also often a microaggressive stereotype tied to black men.

(effie's reaction to the 75th's reaping & her snide comment against chaff, catching fire + thresh killing clove/sparing katniss, the hunger games.)

of course, i won't downplay thresh's kindness in his sacrifice of sparing katniss, but the display of his brutality paired with his decent & race does not look good (considering that the hunger games is written by a white woman!) and to me, will always come across as uncomfortable. even his speech makes him seem uneducated, more brawn than any brain, and that's also a heavy misconception when it comes to black men/boys/etc. i can see where suzanne tried to balance it out, but it doesn't work well in the slightest.

furthermore, we have to talk about the state of district 11 as a whole.

agriculture/farming as the role for one of the largest districts if not THE largest, seems innocent by itself. but then you have the treatment of its citizens, the way the population is worked, and the overall uneasiness of it.

(rue's experience in 11, the hunger games + katniss’ description of the district, catching fire.)

public whippings, senseless cruelty towards again, a WIDELY black populated district and their continual work on fields/in harvests all speak to remnants of slavery and pastimes taken place within the era of slavery. if suzanne collins was trying to make a point, or mock the treatment of this minority through a portrayal in her book as a white woman, she missed the mark POORLY. having the BLACK citizens, including women, children and men all working out in the fields? disgusting. beyond incomprehensible.

hoarding a minority in one district is crazy work too, because we barely hear about any other black characters minus paylor, beetee, and potentially cinna. and the fact that in katniss' eyes, 11 is treated perhaps the worst? says a lot.

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭?

truthfully, i'm bringing awareness to my discomfort as a black teen/general black individual because this isn't just something you should brush past. you should see the treatment of these characters and condemn it. i see next to no posts about the blatant racism towards black people/poc in the hunger games and also within the fandom. this has been swept under the rug over and over and blatantly, I'm tired.

collins perpetuates the suffering of district 11 in historical and supposedly educational ways, but that doesn't make it okay for her to do so. as a white woman, collins abuses the usage of racial stereotypes with examples of district 11 men, the culture, their work, but also a wider environment than just 11, such as district 12 too (with the perpetuation of gale.)

[acourtofquestions]

Empire of Storms: a Short Story

A special edition (exclusive) Bonus Chapter from the Beginning (deleted scene) of the Court of Terrasen’s moment shaping future

& Special Feature of: Squirrel Lysandra🤣

@guardian-angel12

MASTER OF POST OF THE BARNES AND NOBLE EMPIRE OF STORMS SHORT STORY

these are all in order. enjoy.

Keep reading

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

i wrote this in the notes of another post originally and am copy + pasting it here because im right but "tell the cops nothing, tell the doctors everything" is such a stupid ass fucking abled take. doctors engage in policing idk how to explain to yall that some people cannot in fact just tell doctors everything without it putting them at risk

like im not gonna go into the myriad of ways this is bs but like a quick example is i cant tell my doctors about my substance use issues because if i get that listed on my medical records it will actively endanger me. It will impact how I'm treated in emergency situations and will get me labeled as "drug seeking" when i try to get other issues dealt with.

i dont say this to scare people but because this is actually important information for people to have. if a medical professional claims this isnt an issue, they are NOT "one of the good ones". they are either straight up lying or theyre utterly unaware, which is frankly not better. doctors are cops. never forget it

like YES tell ur doctor abt being sexually active but stop saying "tell the cops nothing and the doctor everything" before i start killing in cold blood

I KNOW THE ORIGINAL QUOTE. This is about how people misquote it, as well as how they view the phrase as meaning "all medical professionals". ALSO! emts are not the neutral figures you think they are. please stop spewing your lack of understanding on the topic all over my tags, its embarrassing. Paramedics kill people and engage in policing stop fucking shilling for them indiscriminately

finally, THIS POST IS ABOUT DRUGS. FIRST AND FOREMOST IT IS ABOUT DRUGS. THIS WAS WRITTEN BY AN ADDICT. the way yall are talking about addicts and drugs users in the tags is so fucking dehumanising. you are part of the problem. Id suggest non addicts shut their traps please and thank you.

similarly, before you comment, ask youself: am i an addict ? do i have an understanding of how addicts, particularly otherwise disabled addicts, have to navigate healthcare systems ? if not, consider SHUTTING THE FUCK UP. hope this helps !

read the notes before you leave a comment im so fucking serious. reblogs are off because none of you know how to act and i have zero patience at this point. if you think im being bitchy pls consider the fact that your stupid comment does not exist in a vacuum and i have received and deleted countless stupid notes and abusive asks on and about this post and your stupid comment exists within that context and i am fucking tired.

[skzdust]

Hotel Showers

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

This fic was a request from @chanchansgirly (here) and part of my 500 followers celebration! The request was prompt #1, only one bed, with Chan, NSFW!

I hope you all like it!

Summary: Y/n and Chan get stuck in a very cold hotel room together... and there's only one bed.

Pairing: Bang Chan x Flustered!reader

Includes: only one bed trope, handcuffs, fingering, cumming inside (PLEASEEEEE USE A CONDOM IRL)

Word count: 1.9k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz, @jeonginsleftcheek

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

“Seriously?” You blinked at the desk attendant.

He smiled back at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid the blizzard’s got us more crowded than expected. The only room we have left does just have the one bed.”

You sighed. “Just give me the key.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walked back over to Chan, key card in hand. “Sorry, it looks like they’ve only got one room left, and it only has one bed.”

Chan smiled. “Oh, no worries. It’s just one night.”

“I can sleep on the floor if you want. Or in the chair. Those hotel chairs are surprisingly comfy sometimes. I mean, sometimes they’re just not, but, like, this one will probably be fine.” You found yourself rambling.

Chan laughed. “Y/n, if you’re okay with sharing the bed, that works for me.”

“Oh—okay.” You could feel your cheeks reddening.

He turned towards the elevator. “Lets’ go.”

You went upstairs to your room, and you pulled a book out of your bag to read while Chan was in the shower. You tried to stop yourself from thinking about that shower, about the water running through his hair, down his shoulders, over his abs, and lower…

You closed your book with a sigh, opting to doomscroll instagram instead.

The water turned off, and a few minutes later Chan opened the door. Thankfully for your sanity, he was wearing a shirt. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

You smiled. “Okay, I’ll just be a few minutes.”

You went into the bathroom. It felt strangely intimate, erotic, almost, to be in a bathroom filled with the steam from Chan’s shower.

You started your shower before you realized you’d left your body wash in your suitcase. You resigned yourself to hotel soap before seeing Chan’s little blue bottle on the shelf. He must’ve left it there.

He probably wouldn’t care if you used it, right?

You carefully squeezed some into your palm. It smelled good, masculine and clean.

You got out of the shower, dried off, and put on a T-shirt and sleep shorts. You regretted your decision as soon as you stepped out of the now even steamier bathroom. “My God, it’s cold.”

Chan laughed from where he was sitting under the covers. “I was just messing with the thermostat, doesn’t look like it’s getting any warmer in here.”

You gave a short exhale. “Of course.”

Chan patted the sheets beside him. “Here, it’s warmer in bed.”

You got in bed with him, burrowing under the blankets. “I guess a little bit.”

“Can I help?”

“Can… can you help?” You were confused.

“Can I touch you?” Chan’s smile was soft. “Just to help warm you up.”

“Oh… um, yeah, please.”

Chan reached towards you, pulling you into his arms and cuddling you close to his chest.

You were sure he was able to feel your heartbeat, because you could feel it all over your body, especially between your legs.

“Are you comfortable?” Chan whispered.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable.” You pushed your head into his chest. “You’re warm, Channie.”

“Channie?” He laughed.

“I— sorry, I just, like, a nickname, you know, like, how, like, friends call each other nicknames. You know, like friends do?” You rambled.

“Y/n, calm down. You’re allowed to call me Channie. I would even go so far as to say I like it.”

“Oh.” You could feel your cheeks going hot.

He paused for a moment. “Wait.” He helped roll you over, so your back was flush against his chest. You could feel yourself growing wet at the manhandling.

He pushed his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. You took a shuddering breath of your own at how his lips brushed your skin.

“Did you use my body wash?”

“Um… I forgot mine, I didn’t think you’d… mind.”

“I don’t… mind, exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I think it’s hot more than I think it’s a problem. Which is, in and of itself, a problem.”

“Why?” You breathed.

“Because we’re sharing a bed… catch my drift?”

“I think you need to spell it out for me.” You shifted, angling your hips against his crotch. You could feel a bulge forming already.

He hissed. “Y/n, don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” You whispered. “I mean it.”

You squeaked as Chan flipped you around again, and you were met with his piercing gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah.”

His hand drifted up the inside of your thigh. “How do you want it?”

You were a little taken off guard. “Want it? I— uh, inside me, I think.”

He laughed, then brought his lips up to your ear to whisper to you. “I mean, do you want it rough? Want to worship me? Want me to put you on a leash and choke you like a dog? Do you want me so bad you’d do anything for me?” He nibbled on your earlobe, and you shifted with a whine. “You know, if you’re into that.”

“Yes, Chan.”

“To which one?”

“All of it.”

He smiled, and you were caught off guard by his wide, ray-of-sunshine grin. “We’re gonna have fun. I’ll be right back.” He got off the bed, and you shivered at the sudden loss of his heat.

He shuffled through his luggage before pulling out a pair of leather handcuffs.  You didn’t even want to question where he’d gotten them or why they were in his suitcase. “You want these?”

Your eyes widened. “Ye-yes, Chan, I do want those.”

“Good girl.” He murmured, climbing back onto the bed. “I’m gonna tie your hands to the headboard, okay?”

“Yes, Channie.” You held out your hands. He guided you to lay back, and he fastened the cuffs around your wrists and then clipped them around the headboard. You tugged a bit at them, and you moaned when they didn’t give.

He just sat in front of you for a moment, watching you watch him.

“Beautiful.” He eventually mumbled. “Lift up those hips for me, and we’ll get your shorts off.”

You nodded, lifting your hips so Chan could slide your shorts and underwear off. You were soaked, and Chan dragged a finger through it before licking it clean. “Damn, all this over me just touching you a bit?”

“I— I mean, before, the shower, I was just thinking about— um, about nothing.” You stopped before you could make a complete fool of yourself by admitting to picturing him naked in the shower.

It was too late for that, though. Chan raised an eyebrow. “Were you thinking about me in the shower?”

You swallowed. “Uh… maybe.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You want me more than you’ve been letting on, don’t you?”

“Uh… maybe.” You said again.

His eyes raked over you. Once, then again. “Can I finger you, sweetheart?”

You felt a wave of heat rush through you, and you were hyperaware of your heartbeat again, pulsing through you. “Yes, please.”

He circled one finger around your entrance for a moment before beginning to press inside. You whined.

He paused. “Something wrong, baby?”

“No!” You squeaked. “Nothing’s wrong! Keep going, Channie, please.” You breathed the last word, and you were unsure for a moment if he’d even heard you until he hummed.

“Please sounds so good coming from your mouth, baby.” He all but purred, pushing his finger in all the way.  Your eyes rolled back, and a broken moan fell from your lips. “Say it again.”

“Please.” You whispered. “Another finger, Chan, please.”

“You’re asking so nicely.” He added another finger, as requested, and you arched your back off the bed.

“Fuck.”

“Can you take another?”

“Yes.”

He added in a third finger. You felt so deliciously full of him, and you absently wondered if his cock would fill you up as good.

He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. His tongue lewdly lapped at his long fingers, making wet noises.

You moaned. “Please, Chan.”

He paused to raise his eyebrows at you. “What are you begging for, hm?”

“You.” You said honestly. “Want you, um, deep— deep inside me.”

“Shy all of a sudden?” He dropped his hand to your pussy, rubbing at your clit. “I’m gonna be deep inside of you in just a second, sweetheart.”

You pushed your hips into his hand, and he laughed. “Greedy little thing.” He pulled away to take off his shirt and pants, leaving him completely naked on the bed in front of you.

“Fuck.” You whispered. You’d known he was muscular, but he was absolutely gorgeous like this, sculpted like he’d been made by Michelangelo.

And his cock… he was big, and he was hard, and you wanted him so badly you were practically salivating.

“Can I fuck you now?” He whispered, his hands hovering over your hips, waiting for your consent.

“Yes, Chan, please, yes.”

You watched as he lined himself up with your dripping hole. “Ready?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

You put your attention to his face as he pushed inside, at the way his expression went slack as he went deeper and deeper inside of you. You tried to reach up to touch him, but the cuffs rattled loudly.  Something burned inside you. The restraints were turning you on.

His eyes snapped open. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… it’s hot, not being able to touch you, while you touch me all you want.” You said shakily.

He smirked. “Good, that’s the goal.”

“Can you fuck me now?”

He pushed your hair back from your desperate expression, gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Yes, sweetheart.”

He started to rock back and forth, and it took a bit of adjustment before you found a position that was comfortable, but when you settled into it, it was heavenly. Chan’s cock hit spots inside you you didn’t even know existed, and you were soon seeing stars. You gently moaned with each of his thrusts, the sounds of his skin on yours and your moans and his strangled noises filling the room. Chan was so good at this, so good at figuring out exactly what your body needed.

Chan changed angles one more time, and you were suddenly crying out with every motion inside you. “Fuck, Channie, that’s so good, don’t stop!”

“I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart.” He grunted, his hands beginning to feel up your chest. “I’m not gonna stop. You feel so good around me, so warm, so nice and tight, fuck.”

You whined, glad you were being good for him.

Eventually Chan’s movements grew animalistic; his thrusts shorter, tighter. “I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.”

“Inside!” You moaned. “Cum inside, Chan, please, please, Chan, please— oh!”

You could feel him cum inside you just as your own orgasm hit, and you twitched through it while Chan collapsed on top of you.

Both of you were drained. Chan unclipped the handcuffs and took them off, and you cuddled under the blanket. “So cold.”

“It is.” Chan wrapped himself around you. “What do you say we take another shower, together, to warm up and clean off?”

You nodded, snuggling into his chest. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“That means we actually have to get out of bed, you know.”

You gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”

[saintrosalyn]

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths. 

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep. 

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him. 

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room. 

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself. 

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine. 

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge. 

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift. 

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside. 

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you. 

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst. 

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate. 

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels. 

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Fright.

Fright. 

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver. 

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence. 

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him. 

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in). 

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone. 

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again. 

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.” 

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments. 

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head. 

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall. 

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach. 

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

[neuvifuri]

my url is their ship name, so it’s safe to say that’s not the kind of relationship i think they have. please make your own post in the future.

thinking about how in the aftermath, neuvillette and furina both returned home and they talked. he told her everything focalors had told him, and she just said “i’m tired” and in the morning she was packed and gone. and he tells the traveler, he will still take care of her, and she will have a home and food and protection and she shall want for nothing. and travel, to leave fontaine, to go where he can’t follow, if she wishes it. and her voice line about him says “i haven’t been to the palais in a while, that’s good for both of us, right?” and his voice line about her says “i would like to see her again to give her my earnest praise… yes, i should definitely like to see her again.” and in her story quest he sounds so fond of her, proud that she’s branching out and reconnecting with her interests, and if the traveler speaks to him after he says he was always enthralled by her, and that he hopes she knows it was sincere. all the ways she’s saying none of it was real, you must hate me. and all the ways he’s saying it was real for me, i loved you. i still love you.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 1

Part 2

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, eventual smut, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i nearly decided on nuking this because it feels so fucking bad and aimless guess in the end I'M really the tormented spirit huh anyway if I'm glad i didnt and decided to wait it out. if you enjoy this please think of leaving a comment and/or reblog because i need the reassurance. | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

"Father," Alicent pleads, "she needs to see you."

Otto's jaw clenches as he lifts his gaze from his desk. He looks upon his youngest child's features. You were one in the same, his first daughter and last. He thanks the gods that she did not inherit the curse you bear.

Alicent picks at her fingers while awaiting a response. Though she draws blood, no sound leaves her lips. She did not know it, but her father catches this anxious tick. He mentally corrects himself: at least she did not inherit it at equal intensity.

"A man has no place in the dressing room of a bride-to-be," the Lord Hand dismisses.

Alicent knew about as much would be said, yet she still tries, "please. She is having a-"

"And when has my presence ever soothed her?" Otto interrupts, raising his voice to make his point clear.

It was enough. Alicent understood.

He turns back to his papers. He reads them but none of the words register. He says, "I am sure your brother is already there, coddling her as he does."

Alicent does not respond.

Otto lifts his gaze, "go," he speaks as though his daughter missed the obvious, "if she needs someone so badly, coddle her with Gwayne."

Alicent returns to your chambers. Her heart pinched in every which way at the sight of you. Here you stood, clothed in one of the few precious dresses that belonged to your mother— a bride. Dark blue satin and gold jewelry embellished your form. Your brown hair was curled and plaited and pinned. Your face had a glow, only because it was stained with tears. It was terrible and magnificent all at once.

Rhaenyra goes to her best friend, and the two girls clutched hands before walking towards you. Gwayne spots them and gives your hands a tight squeeze. Because of this, you turn from your older brother to your younger sister. Your eyes are pink with melancholy.

"Lord Hand," Alicent mutters, "is deep in his work."

On his daughter's wedding day, thinks Gwayne.

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw, loathing your father more than normal in this moment.

More than your own, you cannot stomach your sister's duress. You stroke her cheek, "I am well now. Worry no more."

Alicent catches Gwayne's expression and knows that is a lie. Still, she smiles and nods, "I am glad," she looks you once over, "you are an exquisite bride, sister."

Rhaenyra offers a smile, "I agree, dear aunt."

Your face twists at the young princess's words, though you knew she meant well. You will away the dreadful sensation in your stomach and manage a smile, "thank you... sweet niece."

You relish their company for as long as you can in this moment. You gather strength from Rhaenyra's smile, from Alicent's touch, and Gwayne's words. Then, all at once, you were alone, walking towards Daemon Targaryen.

In truth, he was not curious of you. He despised you, for after all, you were the spawn of that Cunttower. But, gods, what could possibly be the reason you were taking so long to walk down the aisle? It was not like this room was that big. And so, he turns over his shoulder to inspect you. His hand remains on Dark Sister and his weight still rested mostly on one leg.

He squints at the sight of you, moving like a snail. He is about to roll his eyes, but then he catches a glimpse of your countenance.

Tis strange.

You were not nearly as repulsive as he remembered you, and not nearly as similar in likeness to your rotten twin. How could that be, when it was not only- what, a season since he had pummeled Ser Cuntface to the ground? He will never forget your screaming face in the audience, and how deliciously distressed your father had been from hauling you away.

Even now, as Daemon's lilac eyes appraised your distant silhouette, gliding towards him like a phantom intent on haunting, he second guessed if that weeping woman from the tourney was you. But then he turned to your brother and saw his jaw harden. It was unmistakable then you were the weeping woman, and now, you were his weeping bride.

Gwayne, could not help the way his hands tightened into a fist as he helplessly watched you inch towards his most ardent foe. Beside him, unmoving, stood the very man who allowed such madness to ensue: your father.

You pass the pew that seated your family. Your twin's expression softens. He nods, and you know he means take heart. Your sister does the same. But your father, who stood between his children, does not spare you a glance.

Daemon notices the coldness. He would feel bad, but then again, he has been proclaiming his ill-guided brother's Lord Hand was the biggest cunt in the realm for so long, so he doesn't. Oh, but then you look at him with those beady eyes, and he did not know why his thorax felt uneasy.

Twas strange indeed.

Soon you stood in front of your promised, and, finally, Otto lays his eyes upon you. He does not see you though. He does not see the woman dressed in the garments that once belonged to his wife. He does not see your trembling hand and glassy cheeks. He sees his timid, tremoring, little daughter that he had to leave a moon's length for work. He sees her frail body that shook on her tiny bed and found no comfort in the way he held her tiny hand when he returned.

As the septon begins this damning rite, all he could hear was the voice of the maester that promised the new medicine he procured would heal his girl. As tears rolled down your eyes, he remembers how he nearly killed the maester for feeding you herbs that caused you to retch the little food you had eaten.

Has my child not suffered enough?

Has my child not suffered enough?

ᴴⁱˢ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵐᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ

Daemon turns to the pew beside the Hightowers' and finds his brother's face. Viserys seemed pleased to witness this wretched affair, as did Aemma, who clutched her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra beside her seemed more interested in you however, or at least the dress that she and Alicent helped dressed you in.

The septon blabbers and tells you both to speak your vows. You do, one as reluctant as the other. Then, as instructed, Daemon cloaks you and presses a kiss on your salty lips.

Twas bittersweet. On one hand, as he takes your clammy one, the image of Otto's face when Daemon told the King that he wanted to marry you comes to mind.

Oh, how excited he was to see the old fool look as though he was a breath away from lunging at him across the table, and how utterly horrendous that he hadn't. He would have simply, and justifiably, killed him. Then all this bother would not have ensued. The look upon the said man's face this moment, now that he's sullied what he so dearly protected, made his stomach giddy.

As the same time, as he held that same clammy hand of yours and felt it tremble, he remembers that you and he were bound. Though not in the manner of his house, he knew he could escape only so much of his wretched duties. Otto's vexation would only last so long, and deep down the cunt must enjoy that his daughter was now a princess. He knew soon Viserys would also begin nagging him again.

But then out of nowhere, he laughs. It was so abrupt that a few guests looked at him in confusion.

How could he forget? There was the matter of your... affliction. Perhaps he can frighten you to death on your wedding bed.

He chuckles once more.

The idea is so delicious, he is in good spirits the whole wedding feast. He does nothing but embarrass and shame you by entertaining literally every other lady save yourself.

What makes matters worse, at least on your end, is that your father refuses to go to your side and forbids not only your brother but as well as your sister from leaving their spots to come to your aid. There was no need to make the matter bigger than it was. You are left alone at your seat at the table, looking nothing but pathetic and weepy.

You sustain such temperament until you're in your marriage chambers, but then you do a funny thing and down two glasses of wine. Daemon laughs at how it spills from your lips, down your neck.

He, who had already much more than a measly two cups, comes behind you and takes the one you loudly prop on the table. You squeak and bolt away when Daemon's arm sneaks up from underneath your own; it only further amuses him.

"V'you a change of heart?" he pours himself a glass, "ready for debauchery, yes?"

You turn unbelievably pale, and it merits the fondest of laughs from your sadistic groom. Daemon drinks and licks the wine off his lips.

You gulp, reaching out a trembling hand.

He raises a brow at it. Suddenly, he's annoyed— twice was much because he has absolutely no idea what the gesture means.

That is, until you speak, "may I have some more?"

One of his faint silver brows raises. Suddenly, he is greedy with the wine he thought tasted too sour on his tongue. However, a curiosity within him urged to hand over the cheap drink, for why did his shivering wife have the nerve for this to be her first words to him?

He watched you throw your head back as you down the wine just as quick as you did the previous ones. He chuckles and crosses his arms. When you turn to Daemon, he tilts his head, "thirsty?"

You inhale deeply, though it is strangled, "for my anxiousness."

It takes a moment for him to realize what you mean, and when he does, his nostrils flare. Had he breathed fire, surely smoke would have come out his nose at this moment. Daemon releases an airy, unamused chuckle and averts his gaze, "eager to bed me, harlot?"

Your throat tightens, for that was not what you meant at all.

You forcibly swallow a lump that forms when he comes to your side. Your throat only further constricts when he grabs and yanks you into his chest. You whimper as he presses his nose against your ear. Goosebumps form when his hot breath hits your ear, "on the bed then."

Your heart thunders as he shoves you towards the bed. You nearly miss it. Actually, only your head and arms touch the cushion, and the rest of your body collides with the floor and the hard bed frame. Your tailbone throbs at the impact, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as your chest that tightened, and tightened, and tightened and—

You barely manage to gasp. You are hard of breathing when Daemon crouches and grabs your thighs, pulling your skirts up. He feels your flesh tremble beneath his palm. His fingers touch your skin, and it brings him to hiss; you are ice against his burning hands.

He looks up at you. A line forms between his brows. You gasped for air that seemed unwilling to enter your lungs. Not only was your face stained with tears, but as well as your neck now

He mutters, "nyke pendagon jaelā naejot sagon ipradāri," I thought you wanted to get eaten, "I do so find fear delectable."

You continue to slump into the floor until you're a melted mess. You can do nothing but clutch your chest, not that it helps one bit.

Daemon is satisfied at this point. He stands and dusts his hands off. He looks at the pitiful Hightower, your dark locks spilled on the ground as if blood from a crime scene.

"Is that your affliction then, wife?" he tilts his head, "do you seize up when you're nervous?"

You look at him, but do not respond.

"S'rather inconvenient, no?" he sighs, as though he actually cared.

You shut your eyes and curl into a ball.

"Mmm, well, I suppose I will have to claim the womanhood owed of me some other time," he said, uninterested. With that, he exits the room with a skip in his step, pleased to know he had such a tremendous effect on you.

You remain in this turmoil for what felt like hours.

By the time you peel yourself up from the floor, your body is encased in sweat. You command yourself to calm; you cannot afford to slip into another bout of insanity. Your tears cannot be contained as you struggle to undo the ties of your dress; at least tremendous relief comes after you do. You struggle to your feet and remove the pins in your hair while making for the vanity table.

You sit before yourself; your horrid face reflects on the mirror that was far too clear for your liking. As you free your hair from its bounds, you think, perhaps it was fortunate that your husband did not lay with you. At least not tonight.

But then, comes to mind, the argument you with your father. Your chest threatens to tighten again as the severity of his voice replays in your head.

It was no secret, Otto despised Daemon. How then could he be so shocked at your horror of learning he had approved your marriage to him. His raging voice still rings in your head: "you ungrateful fool!"

You fall apart in your palms and nearly succumb to yourself again. Thankfully, you manage to take deep breaths and pick yourself up before you fall apart.

You always knew you were the spare in your father's eyes, but you thought that merited indifference. You did not think he hated you so deeply. How could anyone hand their child to their enemy? Perhaps this was his way of finally having use of you.

A spare. A pawn. Will it ever end?

You go to bed and wrap yourself tightly under the sheets. You stare at the ceiling, praying the same prayer you've prayed since you were eight: Seven, let this be my final slumber.

You nearly choke when you are awoken by such violent shaking. You jolt up, or at least as much as you can from the blankets you were so tightly bound in.

Daemon grins and brings the hands he had shaken you with behind his back, "I would say good morn, but it is apparently opposite to you, wife."

The name makes your skin crawl. You push yourself out of the sheets and sit up. You wipe your face and tell yourself; you must get used to this, "good morrow, husband."

Your brown curls spill down your shoulder as you sigh to yourself. Daemon thinks you look much more palatable this way, unlike yesterday, when your hair was jailed so tightly. He motions with his head, "ta. We make haste to the dragon pit."

Your eyes are suddenly devoid of any trace of sleepiness as you look at him.

His lips remain curled, "it would only be proper to do so, no?" He does not let you retort, as he is already making his way out, "tis Caraxes' right to know who his master has been shackled to," he opens the door, "at least momentarily."

If he was self-satisfied with how you shook under his grasp last night, one can only imagine his exhilaration over your severe disinterest in meeting his mount this morning. What's more, Caraxes could smell your anxiety, and it made him chuff and snap his jaws.

Of course, Daemon chastised his dragon, telling him to obey, even though he very much did not want him to. He eagerly fantasizes: oh, a shame my bride died the day I introduced him to my ride.

A true shame.

"Calm yourself," Daemon sniggers as he forcefully pushes you towards the blood wyrm, "the harder you make this for yourself, the harder it will be."

You found no encouragement in that, for no part of it meant to encourage. You continue to writhe against him, pushing yourself back, only to be pressed against the prince's chest and urged forward. It didn't help that he shackled his hands on both of your wrists, preventing you from elbowing him away.

Though your hair was braided to the side, you still manage to whip it to Daemon's face in your attempt to free yourself, only causing him to be more impatient. You could not help the harrowing shriek that left you when he ultimately brought you to the beast's maw, and the said creature pressed himself against your chest to sniff you.

Caraxes rips away and shakes his head at your piercing reaction. He shrieks in like, as if disapproving, or showing offence. He must exact appropriate retaliation. He draws a deep breath, readying to set you ablaze. Daemon would have let him, had he not been a direct target of his mount's wrath, "keligon, Caraxes!"

Caraxes hisses.

"Keligon!" Stop!

He does not enjoy the order, exemplified by the way he licked his teeth, but obeys, nonetheless. He roars one last time, spit sputtering onto your face as he does. It's enough to make you finally lose your resolve.

You cease your wrangling and find yourself going limp in his arms. Daemon is pleased. He can finally drag you on dragon-back and torment you even more mid-air. What he did not know, however, was that your stomach was tingling; it was not that of the usual dread so familiar to you, but twas familiar still.

Daemon takes you by the arm and tries to make you climb up to the saddle, but then he stills when he hears the sound you make. He pulls away just before the acid from your stomach rushes out of your mouth. You retch so much it comes out of your nose, and you feel yourself grow lightheaded.

"Fucking gods," Daemon recoils in disgust. He turns to one of the dragon keepers and orders you away.

The dragon keeper, who looked far older than your father, spoke to you in a language you could not make out. You understand the part where he says maester as he leads you out of the pit. You manage to convey you no longer needed his assistance once you were out and walked off by yourself. You flinch and shriek when Daemon takes off on Caraxes.

You do not go to the maester's, instead, you have your servants draw you a warm bath and stay in it until it is cold. Only then do you scrub your skin until it is tender.

Once you were clean, you looked for the only person in the world that did not use your name interchangeably with hysteria: your twin.

"That uliginous blinkard," Gwayne slashes the dummy before him. You watch him pace from the bench you were sat upon. "He is incapable of procuring a morsel of dignity out of his wretched existence."

You clench you jaw when he chucks his sword to the ground.

"I should smother him in his sleep."

The thought chills you.

"But then I would be no better than he, would I not?" he seethes as he walks to your side, grabbing the towel beside you.

He wipes his face. You look up at him, a line forming between your brows, "remember you are my confidant, not my vindicator."

"If not I," he chucks his towel back beside you, "then who?" His forehead wrinkles, "an affront to my twin is worse than one to myself."

"Then you would know better than anyone that I share your sentiment," you grab his arm, hoping to calm him down.

His face is hard. He pushes your hand away.

You sigh, "and you know well that I suffer more in circumstances where you've acted on my behalf."

He clenches his jaw. He draws a deep breath and denies the thought with the shake of his head, "father will not hold it against-"

"Father holds everything against me," your eyes instantly water, "he would not be our father if he did not."

Your twin has never spoken your name any other way but in gentleness, yet it is precisely why it chips you apart. Gwayne continues, "be it as it may, but I do not believe that he gave to the prince— certainly not willingly."

You laugh and lift your countenance to the sky. Tears fall from the corner of your eyes, down your ears and neck, "does it matter?"

"It does," he urges, "he fought for you."

"He does not fight for me," you turn back to him, "allow yourself to come to terms with it as I have. It will hurt you less."

Gwayne does not manage a response as someone else speaks in that moment. The way you both tense at the sound is that of instinct.

"You vomited in the dragon pit?"

You turn over your shoulder and shoot up from where you sat. You watch as your father walks towards you. He places a hand on your neck and looks you up and down, "did the prince jostle you so on his ride?"

His touch is like a searing rod against your skin, his eyes, even worse. The raised hairs on your neck remain even as he pulls away. You quietly retort, "I did not even touch his saddle."

"Oh," Otto raises his brows, "then perhaps your affliction is that of you carrying."

Carrying?

Both you and Gwayne are mortified by the idea. You stutter, "s-surely it is not that quick."

"The blood of the dragon runs hot," he sighs, "as he would so boldly proclaim."

Your face burns upon hearing this.

Your father looks past you, "take your sister to the maester at once."

"No, I-"

"Make sure that she is good condition and take note of what will be instructed of her."

"That is not-"

"I am sure she will be required to take further precautions because of her affli-"

"We did not!" you blurt, finally regaining the attention of your father.

Your heart races as Otto looks at you. Suddenly, you are like a deer shot by an arrow, pained and powerless. He is annoyed that you interrupted him, only to say nothing. He presses, "we did not what?"

You take a strangled breath before reply, "we... did not consummate ou-"

"You what?!" he steps forward.

Gwayne immediately takes your arm, eager to get between you two, "father-"

But Otto does the same and pulls you toward him, "you did not consummate, or you did not want to consummate your marriage?"

Gwayne's hold on you falters. Your saliva lumps in your throat, "I-"

"You do understand the consequences if you do not bear your husband heirs, correct?"

You turn to your feet, unable to hold his heated glare, "I-"

"Look at me when I speak to you," he shakes you.

You lift your eyes, and hot tears begin to rush down your face.

"You've proven your point, father," Gwayne blurts, "release her."

"Release her?" Otto redirects his ire. Though he does just that, release you, it feels as though an iron clamp around your neck replaces your father's hold. "Even if I were to release her, boy, your dearest twin sister will not be free of the truth," he turns back to you, "nor my point. Your failure to do what is necessary will lead you straight into the dragon's belly."

You clench your jaw tighter than anyone should.

"Do you understand, girl?"

You nod before you allow yourself to breathe. You blurt, "yes, my lord."

Otto looks you once over before turning and walking away. The moment he is out of sight, you fold like a deck of cards, and Gwayne must keep you upright.

He hushes you and sits you back down. He kneels in front of you, observing if you were about to collapse into another episode. You do not, for he was with you, but you do weep until tears could no longer fall. He leads you to your room after this and urges you to rest.

You repeat the prayer you prayed on your wedding night before you sleep.

[hesperisms]

// Zayne's Hands

"You've been holding my hand and looking at it for a while now. What have you discovered?"

// summary: confessing to Zayne that you find his hands impossibly attractive. my personal headcanon for how Zayne's hands became his favorite feature.

// content warnings: 18+ (mdni), fluff, pet names, hand holding, smol angst, dry humping, soft-dom elements (cycle tracking).

// a/n: I am feral for an elegant set of man hands and forearms.

x-posted to AO3 - likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!

It's a wet and dreary Sunday afternoon, the perfect type of day for staying in and doing absolutely nothing. Zayne is lying snuggled on the sofa with you lounging on his broad chest, lazily scrolling a medical journal on his phone with his left hand, you keeping his right hand occupied by intertwining you own fingers with his and tracing his scars with your soft fingertips.

It's nice to spend some quiet time with each other, he thinks to himself, tilting his head down to plant a gentle kiss on your hair, the clean floral scent of your shampoo filling his nose. "You've been holding my hand and looking at it for a while now. What have you discovered?" He asks you, a hint of teasing to his tone. He expected you to give him some kind of mocking amateur palm reading, but he wasn't prepared for the answer you actually gave him.

"Zaynie, has anyone ever told you that your hands and forearms are just...urgh how do I begin to explain this to you?" You blurt out, burying your face in his chest so that you don't have to make eye contact with him while you're blushing furiously. You do a little too-good of a job of hiding yourself, because you notice that he has gone impossibly still and seems to be holding his breath. You hear his heartbeat thumping away under your cheek and come to a horrid realization that you've miscommunicated to him.

His golden-green eyes stare through the top of your hiding head as his breath catches in his throat at your words, one of his deepest insecurities about himself becoming real and running rampant through his mind. You must find his scars unattractive, he thinks to himself sullenly, his heart starting to feel like a sledgehammer in his chest as self-doubts seep in, making him feel cold. He opens his mouth silently, attempting to find the right words as the frigid silence lingers in the air between you when you suddenly look up at him, face beet red and eyes full of fear and lunge towards his face; your lips collide with his and your noses crush together in a painful lock that makes you both wince but you don't for a second slow your pace despite his yelp of protest.

As your mouth crashes against his, you kiss him passionately and sloppily, planting messy kisses all over his lips, his jaw, his chin and his cheeks, mumbling your apologies to him through your occupied lips. "I worded that so poorly handsome...you have the complete wrong idea of what I meant...please don't think I meant anything negative...I actually meant the opposite I just don't think before I open my mouth sometimes" you plead through kisses. He pulls you back from him slightly, breaking your swollen, kiss-flushed lips from his and his eyes gaze into yours curiously as he tucks your hair back behind your ear.

"What did you mean?" he asks in a small, barely there whisper, his lips brushing against yours, eyes searching you for reassurance. "My hands and forearms are what, exactly, my love?"

You huff a deep breath of embarrassment against his lips and stare back at him, reaching up to cradle his cheeks gently in your palms. "I don't know how to put it into words exactly," you begin helplessly, your cheeks flushing redder, "but something I've always found impossibly attractive on a man are graceful but strong forearms and hands...there's something about that combination of elegance and power that just...does something to me I can't describe."

You watch as Zayne's pupils dilate in shock at your confession and he's staring at you with an impossible to read expression, but those ever-expressive deep eyes of his darken slightly as understanding seeps in. "Go on..." he breathes, a raspy whisper.

"I have no doubt you'll tease me for this for a long time to come, but um," you bite your lip and let out a deep breath before the next statement. "I always had graceful arms and hands like yours on my list of features I wanted my future husband to have."

"...I don't suppose this list also happened to have scars on it?"

How small and soft his voice came out broke your heart. You stared back into his eyes, tears pricking the edges of your waterline that you gave him any reason to doubt how attracted you were to him, even accidentally. "It does now," you say lovingly, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone, smiling at him gently as he nuzzles into your touch. "It got revised when I fell in love with you and decided I wanted to spend my life with you."

You pull yourself up, sitting on his hips straddling his lap and lift your dress up over your head slowly, dropping it onto the floor beside the sofa. Zayne tosses his phone at the coffee table and settles his hands on your thighs, thumbs moving in slow gentle circles as he stares up at you, admiring your body. "What's behind this, y/n?" he asks, a slight smile starting to form in his eyes and you know you've got him back where he should be, in the headspace he belongs in.

"I figured as a man of science you might prefer a practical demonstration of how your scars have no impact on my enjoyment of your hands..." you purr seductively at him, rolling your hips down against his and grinning with pride as you feel him start to swell in response. Zayne rewards you by letting his hands start to roam over your body, trailing delicately up your ribcage to your bra; he squeezes a firm handful of your breast through the lace, rolling his knuckle across your hardening nipple to elicit a gasp from you. His other hand holds your hip firmly, thumb rubbing against the lace edge of your panties as his brow furrows.

Zayne clears his throat. "I forgot to pick up condoms on the way home this morning," he coughs apologetically. You open your mouth to protest, but he squeezes your hip firmly, his strong hands digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. "If my cycle tracking is accurate, you're ovulating so that's out of the question" he counters, knowing that you were about to tell him he didn't really need one, not with you.

"Fine," you huff, grinding yourself down on the seam of his jeans, using the pressure of his growing erection to build friction in the lace of the panties you're starting to soak through. "You owe me a man-handling mister," you grumble with an exaggerated pout.

He laughs in a sinful little chuckle and pinches your nipple through the lace of your bra, clicking his tongue in a playful, reprimanding tone. "Behave, I didn't sacrifice a social life at medical school for all those years to be Mister Li, thank you very much..."

Your trump card is played.

"Sorry...Sir."

Your pulse quickens with desire and satisfaction as you feel Zayne get harder between your thighs and you see his pupils dilate further at the honorific. He'll never admit it to you that it has such an effect on him, but you caught the effect of calling him sir once and now you keep it in your back pocket for times when you really want to drive him wild. You got the exact response you were hoping for by playing it, because he slides his hand across from your hip and starts rubbing your sensitive swollen clit through the wet lace of your panties; his large strong thumb applying pressure and rubbing tight circles.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you grind down on his erection in his jeans and press yourself against his thumb, rocking your hips to ease the ache forming between your thighs, an ache you know for now he won't let you quench. Sliding your hands down, you clasp his tightly, fingers intertwining with him, holding his hands and use it as leverage to start grinding yourself with intent against his ever-tightening jeans.

Zayne lets out a little moan as you ride him, squeezing his hands tightly in yours and his ears start to flush red as he feels your slick wetness start to leak from the sopping wet lace of your panties onto his jeans, darkening the black denim over his erection as your juices spread. He ruts his hips upwards, increasing the friction you both feel through the denim and lace and he knows his cock is leaking precum into his boxer briefs, feeling it ooze down his shaft to pool into his pubic hair.

Your whimpers and moans become needier above him and he knows from the way your hips start to hitch and your thighs tremble that you're close to an orgasm; he lifts interlocked fingers out over his head, forcing you down to kiss him, bucking his hips up into you and moaning against your warm wet lips, tongue dancing across yours in teasing flickers, just like it would if it were dancing across your swollen little bud. You realize exactly what he's doing with his tongue and you cry out in torment, but it's swallowed by his lips and his tongue as he groans back at you.

Feeling your heat coil and snap, you start to come undone, throbbing clit making your soaked walls grasp at nothing as your orgasm roils through your hips, his kisses suffocating the loud moaning of his name out of your lips as soon as they're voiced and then he's joining you; tensing underneath you, hips bucking in a stutter as he clenches his eyes shut pressing his forehead against yours, his whimpering breath hot on your lips.

"Assessment complete, Doc-tor?" he pants teasingly, nuzzling his nose into your ear and kissing at your earlobe.

"You should really read the hospital's code of conduct."

[gyuswhore]

Cherry Picker [teaser]

part of the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios!

Choi Seungcheol x reader

est. word count: um 30k (?) EDIT: projecting near 20k [see reblogs] EDIT pt2: we're back to 30k (possibly more)

est. release date: January 10th

warnings: Hockey player! Seungcheol, figure skater! reader, *deep breath* ENEMIES TO LOVERS, angst, fluff, smut [MINORS DNI], more to be added in final post

synopsis: Cherry Picking [ice hockey]: a manoeuver in which a player, the floater, literally loafs (spends time in idleness) or casually skates behind the opposing team's unsuspecting defencemen while they are in their attacking zone. There wasn't much you counted on in life; just your skates, your drive and how it felt to win. And of course, your local ice rink, that is now being colonised by an obnoxious hockey team in all their big, loud, stinking glory. Neither does it help that one particular red donned specimen forgets to leave his cherry picking on the ice.

‼️ JOIN THE TAGLIST by sending an ask or replying under this post. AGE INDICATORS ON YOUR BLOG ARE NECESSARY. ‼️

[a/n]: I first wrote hockey player Cheol quite literally a full year ago and I promised to expand on the concept, so here we are!!! im so excited for y'all to read this bc im genuinely putting my heart and ass into this fic. lmk your thoughts about the teaser!!! please remember to support the rest of the fics coming out in association with the winter with you collab, all of these writers are working so hard to bring you fics you're going to love 🥹

masterlist

The ice is empty, mostly. Placing your laptop in the sound booth and your shoes under the benches, you step foot on the ice. They’re there, on the other end, sitting on the cold ice with their jerseys still on, eating what looks like cups of dippin dots. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan, you remember from Lorelai’s squealing, either don’t notice you on the ice, or simply choose not to. Because it’s easy as you skate up to them, gaining speed from across the rink, you slide to a stop, sending a perfect spray of ice from your skates, directly into their cups. 

Seungcheol’s full spoon hangs mid air, halfway to his mouth, now garnished with ice shavings. 

“Thought you’d have the respect to keep the dippin dots out of this,” Jeonghan comments, disbelief in his eyes as he looks up at you. 

“Ice is booked.” 

“What time?” Seungcheol asks. Your gaze flickers to the left side of his face, a nasty bruise blooming purple and blue that you hadn’t noticed before. 

“Two sixteen. It’s nearly fifteen minutes past.”

“You’re only one person.” 

“And?”

“And…you have about 97% of the rink to yourself.”

You raise your brows, hands on your hips. “But I booked 100% of it. So I’m gonna need that plane of ice you’re currently sitting on.” 

“What if I don’t move?” Seungcheol presses. It’s menacing, the way he looks at you, like he’s a dragon only waiting to be provoked. 

“We’ll find out another day,” Jeonghan sings before you can snap back, grabbing onto the collar of Seungcheol’s red and white jersey to yank him up. He continues to glare as he obliges with his friend’s tugs, nearly as angry as you are. “Let’s go, sport.”

You watch as they walk to the exit of the ice, realising they’re wearing their shoes instead of their skates. 

Jeonghan calls from the benches, right before he and Seungcheol move out of view. “Trash those for us, would you?” 

Their half eaten dippin dots cups, with the ice now melting on them remains on the floor of the rink. 

Once again, the unexplainable urge to kick something befalls you, hearing them laugh and talk from far away as they exit the rink behind their long gone teammates. 

You give in, swinging a leg over to kick the cups and spoons, dippin dots and plastic scattering across the ice. It’s another sprawl of mess you’ll have to clean up, but it feels good to ruin something of his, no matter how inconsequential. 

The empty rink is only encouraging you, needing to scream so loud the plastic barriers crack and break. You know it’s impossible, but that doesn’t stop the urge. 

You channel it into the most aggressive warmups on ice you’ve ever done. Your spins are faster, your jumps higher. But this also means you crash heavier, fall harder. 

It’s then, sitting on the bench to take a break, breathing so heavy you can hardly sip your water, you find an unmistakable headline on your browser home page. 

Everything stops. 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here!

[peachigummi]

here's a lesson ✎ mattheo riddle.

summary: classic mattheo coming to terms with how he feels about reader. slytherins are having a formal party - and guess what! someone else asks reader to the party, making him jealous!! mattheo tells them it’s a bad idea. yet, they still decide to go through with it. he obviously takes the opportunity to smugly watch from afar while trying to have fun himself. he’ll teach you a thing or two about what happens when you don’t listen to him 🤭🤭.

pairing: tutor / best friend! mattheo x fem! reader (one use of “y/n”)

warnings: mainly banter, mild jealousy (aka not too insanely toxic), mentions of alcohol/weed, spanking, spitting (one mention of it), fingering, unprotected piv, missionary (if it’s hard to imagine the position), pillow princess action ✨ (I’ll say this again, personally, ME, personally, me and I, could not ever let this slide when it comes to Mattheo, im too feral.), overstimulation, dacryphilia (i do think our dear matty would kinda really be into it), choking, eh kind of edging, praise!, creampie 🫣🤭🤭

note:  im very sorry for not keeping my word about putting this out before my trip with my buds. althoughhhh i brought my laptop with me and here i am c: working on this for yall. i really hope you enjoy this, its a lengthy read because i just love tension so much.

word count: 11k+ (partially why this took so long to post im so sorry. lots of plot)

(trust i will never perfectly proofread my work at this point)

mattheo told me that he expects you to reblog, like & comment so you better do it. do you want to make him mad? (BWAHAHA jk...unless 🤨)

°. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂

Mattheo and you were seated on one of the sunny courtyard tables, papers and books displayed all out on the flat surface. You were distracted by your phone, paying little focus on the task at hand. You let out small laughs and smiles, Mattheo was watching you for a while now wondering what the hell was wrong with you. You would snort and shake your head, sighing to yourself. He didn’t like that someone or something was distracting you from him and your studies..of course the studies were more important despite listing himself first. He leaned over to grab your chin, forcing you to turn and face up at him, “pay attention.” Mattheo hissed.

You couldn’t help but blush as he did this, making you look into his deep brown eyes, “I’m sorry Mattheo…”

A small smirk appears on his face when he notices you blush, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “You should be. You’re too distracted on that damn phone.” He continues to hold your chin in place.

“I was just asked out on a date…I mean I think it’s a date…” you move his hand away from your face, going back to your phone. You scroll up on the message thread and push it toward him to look over.

Mattheo’s smirk vanished and was replaced with a look of irritation, first when you pulled away from him, and secondly, after reading the message exchange. He pushes your phone back at you, looking at your eyes with annoyance. “Why would he do that? Why would you say yes?” He asked with a snarky tone, clearly not pleased about you being asked out by someone else.

Mattheo had been your tutor at first, but eventually you both became close friends through the forced proximity. Your grades were much higher because of him, and despite not needing him as much for that purpose - you both still hung out with each other. To be truthful and completely honest with yourself, it was because you had a fat crush on him…but it never turned into anything more. So you just enjoyed being his friend.

You decided to jump back into the dating scene after the unsuccessful attempt (as if you even tried confess to Mattheo and turn your relationship into something more; you needed him to make the first move), but it was a struggle because well…you were with Mattheo most of the time. At this point people thought that you had an open relationship, where he’s the one going on dates with different girls and not you. People didn’t approach you, not romantically. So naturally, you were in a state of giggling surprise when you were asked out. 

“It’s Charlie…do you know him? Yay big, muscular, dark headed, dreamy bedroom eyes…he’s a Ravenclaw.” You describe him while showing Mattheo goofy photos of Charlie that he had sent you.

He clenched his jaw, clearly not liking the way you described him. He pushed your phone away again, not wanting to see more of the guy. “Yeah, I know him. He’s in my class.” He said coldly, looking at your eyes with irritation. 

“Really - what’s he like in it?” You leaned into Mattheo, excited for more information on Charlie.

“Why would you want to go out on a date with him?” Mattheo ignored your question. 

“Why not? It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone…” you rolled your eyes, “you wouldn’t understand since you’re always going out.”

He huffed as soon as you mentioned him going on dates. It wasn’t exactly untrue, but the fact that you were going out on a date with someone else now annoyed him more than he’d like to admit. “Because you could do so much better than him and besides, who says I always go on dates?” Mattheo crossed his arms, looking slightly defensive.

Yeah - like I could be dating you!

You let out a sigh. “Mattheo don’t even play games with me right now. You literally went on a date with my childhood best friend last week! And you knew how much that pissed me off.”

He couldn’t help but wince slightly as you brought that up, clearly regretting it. “Okay fine. And? That was last week.”

“I heard from a little owl that Margie has been begging you to take her to her grandfather’s funeral as a date!” You blurt out almost laughing, “can you imagine how insane that sounds!? Bless her grandfather, may he rest in peace…but goddamn Mattheo, these girls are shameless when it comes to you.”

He rolled his eyes, he had to admit, he couldn’t believe just how desperate some girls were when it came to him. “Yeah, don’t remind me. I’ve told her multiple times that I don't want to go with her, but she just won't listen. She’s persistent as hell!” 

You nudged his side playfully, “you’ve got to admit it’s kind of funny though.” You smile at him. It was easy to get him frustrated, but at the end of the day you didn’t want him to feel that way. It was bad on the body to be so angry all the time.

He groaned, but couldn't hold back his chuckle. “Yeah I suppose it is a little funny…and annoying. Mostly annoying.” Mattheo said in a slightly lighter tone. While he did love to have girls practically throwing themselves at him all the time, it did get to be too much sometimes.

“But yeah…Charlie asked me if I wanted to go to our own Slytherin party…like duh I was already going!” You paused going back to your notes, comparing them to Mattheo’s, “I mean could you imagine me turning him down and still having to see him in my own common room?”

He huffed again, not liking how you brought the conversation back to Charlie. “Well you could’ve at least pretended to think about it. Don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” He really didn’t like the idea of you going to this party with him, but he didn’t want to come off as too possessive either.

“Wrong idea? I think I like him. He’s funny…smart..and seems nice enough.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling down at your notes, “no one ever approaches me…they’re too afraid of you.”

Mattheo’s eyes narrow slightly when you admit this, and when you list what his good qualities were. He clenched his jaw, “What, you mean you actually like him? Really?” There was a hint of jealousy in his voice that he couldn’t quite completely hide.

“Oh c’mon Matty, it’s not a crime.” You put your hand behind his back, rubbing circles to calm him down. “Let me just take a chance. If things go bad then you can rub it in my face okay? You can tell me that I was ~dumb~ that you were ~right~” You say in a singsong voice, knowing how much he liked teasing you when it came to showing how much better he was than you.

He couldn’t fight staying irritated when you touched him like that. It was slowly calming him down, “fine, fine. I’ll let you have a chance with this guy.” He spits one last time. “If things go bad I am most definitely going to rub it in your face. I guess I’ll have to go to this party to watch you.”

“That’s my boy.” You put your head on his shoulder before returning to your notes, “Now how do I pronounce this incantation?”

 °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂

Once you finished your studying together, you both walked to the great hall to have dinner. You were both back to your usual joking selves. You sat down at the Slytherin table, there was a louder buzz than usual, everyone seemed excited for the weekend to start.

“I guess everyone’s excited for tomorrow.” Mattheo said, watching you sit down first before he did.

“I have this new dress just for the event too! I love how there’s a solid theme this time around. It’ll be fun to see everyone dressed up all spiffy.” You say excitedly, being easily influenced by everyone’s energy. You grabbed Mattheo’s plate, serving him his food first before grabbing something for yourself.

 “Oh, a new dress? I bet it looks good on you.” He smiled at your excitement, but he was still feeling slightly annoyed and worried at your choice of date. He tried not showing it. He watched as you served him his food, his eyes unable to hide his affection he had for you. You always took good care of him. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I don't want anything bad to happen to you at this party. I know you’re excited and everything, but just be careful alright? I’ll be there watching but…I’m going to be outnumbered. There’s going to be lots of people and not all of them are good.”

You notice his change. You set his plate down in front of him and feel his forehead with the back of your hand. “Mattheo are you okay?”

He batted your hand away when you checked his forehead, clearly not liking being fussed over. “I’m fine. I just…don't trust other guys around you. They’re animals and they might try something with you, especially since you’re going to wear this new dress that you’re so excited about…” He could just imagine the looks you’d be getting already.

“Oh stop it Mattheo. I appreciate your concern, but it has nothing to go with the dress. Literally everyone is going to be dressed up, it’s going to be fancy. Here, if it makes you feel any better I can show you my dress beforehand for your approval.” You try hard to keep yourself from rolling your eyes, Mattheo had good intentions but he didn’t need to worry.

He smirked, he liked the idea of being the one to approve your dress, even though he knew he was being overbearing and overprotective. “Yeah, I think that would make me feel better. I mean, I need to make sure the dress is appropriate and not too revealing, you know?” He couldn’t help but relish having that power over you.

“It really isn’t though, it’s perfect and beautiful. It shows the perfect amount of skin to make it fun.” You bite your finger and wink at him. You took your own plate now, choosing your usuals.

Mattheo watched as you filled your plate, his eyes unable to resist roaming over your body for a moment as you leaned over the table, “perfect amount of skin, huh? I’ll be the judge of that.”

You knew that Mattheo was staring at you, so you wiggle your hips a little before sitting down. You smack the side of his head when he continues gawking, “tame yourself, Riddle.” He chuckled when you did this. He was going to make a snarky remark when Theodore came over and interrupted you both.

“GUYS PLEASE!” Theodore said, putting an arm around each of you, “hurry up and finish eating, I need help with the common room set up.”

“Damn it, Theo, can’t you just wait? We’ll help you set up the common room, just give us a break for now.” He didn’t like being interrupted when he was enjoying your presence.

You look at him, “Teddy, we still have a full day. Don’t be so worried. You’ll have more hands to help you now that everyone is done with Friday classes.” Theodore wanted to lead this event, he had complained for too long that Slytherins needed to reestablish a sense of powerful class and elegance. “You’re looking pale. Come sit, eat. You can’t miss your own party.” You pull Theodore down to sit in between Mattheo and you.

Theodore slumped down in the seat, grumbling about how stressed he was about the party. “I just want everything to be perfect, okay? This party needs to be one to be remembered, we can’t be known for having sleazy ones. Ugh…who am I kidding, knowing our house, everything is going to turn out terrible -”

“Teddy, no it’s not.” You take his plate, filling it with different proteins to give him energy. “Look around, everyone is excited. They’ll all be more than willing to help. We all know this party is going to be different from the rest.” You hug him after setting his plate down. 

He looks around the Great Hall, feeling the buzz. “I guess you’re right.” He looked down at his plate and began to eat, taking your advice to give himself some energy. 

You couldn't help but ruffle his hair knowing how stressed he was, “please take care of yourself okay? We’ll help. Mattheo and I will go with you after this.” Theo didn’t mind the hair ruffle, he actually cracked a smile at your concern for him and the fact that you were trying to take care of him when he wasn’t. If it wasn’t for Mattheo’s not so subtle possession over you, Theo would have made you his by now. 

You lean backwards over to slap Mattheo’s arm subtly so he could say some words of encouragement. 

“Damn it, woman, quit slapping me.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, rubbing his arm where you had slapped him, giving you a mock-hurt look. You glare at him, go on say something nice! “Alright, alright. Look, Theo, you’ve always have great ideas for stuff like this. This party will be a success, okay? Just relax and take it easy, we want to see you at your own party tomorrow.” He was sounding a bit mocking, but he was sincere.

You smile at him, pleased with his words. 

Draco suddenly popped up in front of the group, “which should I wear…!” He looked nearly as panicked as Theodore did. The three of you looked at the two suits he was holding up. They were literally identical down to the cufflinks. You wanted to snort. 

“Seriously, Draco? Those suits look exactly the same. Just close your eyes and pick one, geez.” Mattheo spoke up, finding it amusing how ridiculous Draco was over such a trivial thing. You were trying your hardest to hold in your laugh, your mouth was cupped by your hand. 

“You guys suck.” Draco said before making his way to Astoria. We watched as she looked just as confused as we did, but she pointed at one of them. He visibly looked immediately relaxed. Draco was hopeless sometimes.

“Seriously, Draco can be such a drama queen sometimes. He couldn’t even pick an outfit without needing Astoria’s help. He’s so dependent on her sometimes.”

“I kinda love that for them though…” You stared at the two love birds before returning to your plate, rolling the grape around with your fork. 

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, giving you a smirk. “You’re such a hopeless romantic. Always swooning over other couples and their lovey-dovey moments.” He felt a little pang of guilt, for not allowing another man to get close to you so you could experience that. We shook his head when he thought about that, trying to get rid of the feeling.

“Shut up Mattheo.” You stabbed the grape, putting it into your mouth begrudgingly. As you did so you looked toward the Ravenclaw table, seeing that Charlie was already staring at you. You wondered for how long he was watching you. You blushed and waved.

Mattheo let out a soft sigh, he enjoyed knowing he could rile you up with his teasing. He followed your gaze and saw you looking at Charlie, who was staring at you lovesick. “Oh great, there’s your lover boy, looking at you like a lost puppy.” He snickered, hating it.

You dropped your smile when you pried your eyes off Charlie, “blah blah blah.” Mattheo was lucky Theodore was still silently munching on his food in between you two, or it would have earned him another smack on the head or an ear pull. “And who are you taking as your date?”

He just shrugged, “I literally made the decision to go to this party once I found out you were going… with someone. I will have to just go solo.” He said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the idea of being able to flirt with other girls without the constraints of being tied down to a date, “that way I can have freedom to do whatever I want.” He felt that pang of guilt again for his hypocrisy.

“Fair enough.” You knew how much he liked to flirt, it boosted his ego. “Just don’t get beat up when you hit on the wrong girl. I won't be there to stop that fight, I wouldn’t want to ruin my hair and dress.”

He laughed, amused with your warning. “Please, doll. I know how to pick the right girls to flirt with. I’m not worried about getting beat up by their partners. They always fall for my charm.” He said, clearly confident with his ability to charm anyone, even those with jealous partners.

“Who falls for your charm? The girl or their partner?” You laugh.

He didn’t like your sarcastic response, “Oh ha ha. Very funny. Obviously, I meant the girls. But let’s be honest, there have been a few of their partners who have fallen for me as well. I’m just that irresistible, you know?”

“Actually…I do believe that. All hail king Mattheo.” You move your hands up and down in his direction.

“Can you two shut up?” Theodore blurted with his mouth full of food, “I’m trying to think here.”

You both stared at Theodore, then looked at each other one more time sharing a silent agreement. Mattheo smacked Theo’s back while you pulled on his hair. Theodore groaned in surprise. Before he could properly react, the two of you had bolted out of the great hall. 

Mattheo and you made it down to the dungeons, having ran the whole way. You pointed at Mattheo to say the passcode, you were too out of breath.

He laughed, enjoying your flustered out-of-breath state and how you were leaning against a wall. Clearly not conditioned like he was. He was hardly winded, “Viper’s Den.” Mattheo opened the door for you, you followed him inside.

“Wooaahhh! What the hell does Teddy need help with? This looks amazing.” You looked around the heavily decorated room. You twirled around taking in the sight, there was no way this was the same common room. 

Mattheo stared at your reaction with a smile, barely noticing the room. He had to peel his eyes away from you when you stopped twirling. “He outdid himself.”

He looked around nodding in approval, “Oh! Come over here!” He beckons you over to a corner of the room. He gestures over to a table that had a clear covering over it. It had an array of sweet-smelling treats. There were honey buns, chocolate cakes, berry tarts, and everything in between. It was like a little piece of sweet heaven. He began to peel back the covering when you slapped his hand. 

“Stop it. Wait for tomorrow night.” 

“You’re no fun. I just wanted a small nibble, we didn’t even get to have dessert at the great hall.”

You look around again, there was an identical table. “All that’s missing is the drinks…you know I heard another rumor that those Hufflepuffs want to help out too with some herbs. If you catch my drift.” You smile at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Maybe we can get high again! It’s been so long!” You laughed at the last time Mattheo and you partook in their drugs. You had a sleepover in Mattheo’s dorm for three days straight. Surviving on just water and sleep. 

He nodded in agreement, clearly remembering the same thing. “Oh yeah, that was fun. I would love to have another sleepover like that again.” His grin got bigger as he reminisced. He thought about how you both slept on his floor together because the bed was too small and he kept falling off of it. He remembered you being so attached to him that night, being a needy mess. But he was all for it. He couldn’t wait to blow the smoke into each other’s mouths once again.

The door opened, snapping him out of the train of thought, it was Theodore. He looked annoyed but glad to see you both there. “Good. Here’s what I need you two to do.” He started to list things off. Mattheo groaned, but got to work, knowing the promise you both made to him. 

 °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂

You got out of the shower, it felt good. It was an intense session. You used your best soaps, exfoliators, you shaved, you slathered on a scented lotion that had a light shimmer to it. You went to town manicuring your nails, curling your hair, and doing your makeup. You would have normally been tired of all this work, but this event was special for you. It was a chance to actually dress up for once and pamper yourself. 

You took your dress, carefully folding it over your arm. You took your heels in another hand, going out of your dorm and locking it. You headed the opposite direction of the hall towards Mattheo’s room.

Mattheo was in his dorm, getting ready for the party too. He was carefully putting on his tie in the mirror, making sure it was perfect. He looked himself over, admiring his reflection with a smirk. He heard a knock on the door, and he called out, “who is it?”

There were people starting to scurry around between dorms too, so it wasn’t out of place that you were standing outside of his. There was a small commotion downstairs as people made their way into the Slytherin common room meeting with their dates and friends.

“Matty, it's me. Open up, I'm here to fulfill my promise.” You couldn’t help but lightly laugh at the fact he wanted to make sure your dress was ‘appropriate’ enough.

He had been waiting for you to come by, “Oh, doll. You’re finally here, huh?” He made his way over to the door and opened it, revealing you there.

You push past Mattheo in order to enter his room. You didn’t bother waiting for permission to enter. You set your dress down on his bed, putting the heels on the floor.

Mattheo laughed, enjoying your eagerness to get ready for the party. He closed the door behind you, locking it to ensure privacy. “Someone’s in a hurry, aren’t we?” He teased watching you, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your dress.

“I mean not anymore no, I was actually taking my sweet time.”

He sensed your annoyance immediately, “what did that jackass do?” Mattheo went to stand right behind you, trying to mask his rising anger at the possibilities. He took a strand of your hair, admiring how soft and perfect the curl was. It bounced lightly in his hand.

You shrug. “Charlie messaged me saying that he’ll be here in like two hours-” You weren’t able to hide your disappointment, especially with Mattheo who could read you easily even without legilimency. “-even though the party is basically starting now.”

Mattheo’s smirk faded as you mentioned that, looking away from your curl in his hand he scoffs, “two hours? Seriously? Isn’t he supposed to be your date? What’s his stupid excuse?”

“Beats me.” You turn around to face your best friend, you couldn’t help but let a smile erupt on your face as you really noticed him. “Mattheo..!” You whistled, “you clean up real good.”

Just that easily, his smirk returned, clearly enjoying your compliment. “Yeah, I know. I look damn good, don’t I?” He said just as cockily. He made a show of straightening out his tie and smoothing his hair down. He had already been pleased with how he looked, but it felt even better hearing it come out of your mouth.

He went with an all black outfit, even his shoes were surprisingly clean and polished. You reached out to him, putting your hands on his shoulders. You inspected his front, flipped him, checked out his back. His toned muscles were peeking out from under his dress shirt. It was amazing, his wide shoulders and small waist. His biceps were being contained just right. You smoothed the fabric down. You turned him to face you again, feeling proud. 

Mattheo had let you inspect him without a peep. Enjoying the way you ran your hands over his body, admiring every single detail of his outfit. He tried to act aloof and nonchalant, but he couldn’t help feeling flattered by your attention. “Having fun, are you? Admiring my good looks, princess?”

“Actually yes. I have nothing snarky to say.” You laugh, “okay okay maybe one-” Mattheo raised his eyebrows for you to continue, “-are you sure they didn’t have maybe a half size larger for your dress shirt? Or did you purposely go smaller? You look massive..” 

“Oh, shut up. This shirt looks perfect on me.” He wasn’t actually offended, he enjoyed the banter with you “…But yeah I did go for a smaller size. Clearly it was a good decision if I have your attention.” 

“Yeah yeah whatever.” You look at his hair, he had slicked it back, but you could still see the ends of his hair wanting to curl back. You loved his curly hair. He looked so…so hot right now. Thank God, you were starting to take those private occlumency lessons with Professor Snape so this idiot couldn’t read your mind. Plus you made him promise you to not enter your mind after a mishap two years ago.

He smiled as you noticed your gaze lingering on his hair. He ran a hand through his hair, slightly messing it up, causing some of the curls to revert back to their usual state. “What, you'd rather have my hair like this, huh?” 

“God, fuck yes. Mattheo thank you for doing that. It looks much more natural on you. The pomade does help define them much more though.” You smile up at him too, “anyway!” You turn back around to face your dress, but in reality you started to feel yourself blush like you were running a fever.

Mattheo noticed the hint of a blush appearing on your cheeks just before you turned away from him, “are you blushing? Is someone a little flustered, hmmm?” He teased.

You choose to ignore his comment. “I’m going to use your bathroom, I don’t trust you enough to just close your eyes for this.” You take your dress and heels into his bathroom and close the door quickly. 

With a pout, “Hey, I'm totally trustworthy! I swear I won't peek-” He began to say before hearing you lock the door. There was no point in protesting.

You undressed, leaving your pajamas on his bathroom floor. You slipped quickly yet carefully into the black satin dress. You had forgotten that it was a corset back and would need help clasping it together. You held the back together with your hands, admiring the vision. It was a long gown, with a slit running up your right leg and stopping just below your hip. You put on a matching black set of heels. You thought you looked very pretty, a rarity on your behalf. You made sure your hair and makeup were still fine. You went to crack open the bathroom door, taking a deep breath, still holding the back of the dress together with a single hand so it wouldn’t slip off. “Matty?”

Mattheo was already waiting patiently outside of the bathroom door, drumming his fingers on the wall as he tried to ignore the image of you undressing just on the other side. He perked up when he heard your voice calling out from behind the door, a smile reappeared on his face. “Yes, doll? You done yet?” He was unable to keep the eagerness out of his tone, so he went and put his hand around the door, trying to make you open it wider so he could see all of you.

“I actually need your help…” You let him open the door, “I forgot this was a corset, and not a zip up. I need you to clap me in.” You laugh, “I mean clasp.”

He laughed at your little Freudian slip, he was amused at how you got those two words confused. He wondered what you really wanted, but he also pushed that thought back too. He raised a single eyebrow as he took in the sight of you. His eyes widening in surprise at how stunning you looked. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, and the split on the right leg gave him a glimpse of your smooth skin. “Damn princess, you look…beautiful.” He said this, his voice growing a bit huskier as he approached you. He pulled you by your waist so you would come out of the bathroom and into the well lit bedroom instead. 

“Thank you…I think so too..” You blushed as he complimented you, letting him pull you closer to him. Mattheo turned you over so your back was turned toward him.

“I’m very happy you think the same.” He gently gathered your hair, pulling it to one side so it was out of the way.

“It might be a little tricky.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure I can handle it.” He moved your hands out of the way, so the dress split open, stopping at the small of your back. You held the front of the dress up to keep it from falling. Mattheo nearly started to salivate at the sight of your bare back to him, how it exposed more of your skin to him, he was loving the view. He hated having to fasten you into the dress instead of just slipping it off and skipping the party. Mattheo mentally slapped himself, to stop thinking about you in that way.

“Everything okay?” You say, feeling a bit self conscious as Mattheo paused for a moment. He cleared his throat. He started at the bottom of the corset, fastening you in carefully. His hands graze your bare skin occasionally, sending shivers down your spine. He made sure to not pull too tightly, asking you throughout the process if it was enough. “I don’t know if I should be mad or grateful that you know how to do this.” You close your eyes at the feeling of him working on you.

“Why would you be mad? I have a lot of hidden talents.” He finished up the corset, taking a step back to admire his handiwork, “there we go. Looks good and perfect…and secure.”

You let your hands fall to the side, trusting that it wouldn’t fall down now. You gave a small twirl to Mattheo, ending it with a curtsey. He kept a smile at you, his eyes turning a shade darker. You look at the mirror admiring how you looked now that you were finished. You readjusted your hair. “So I'm assuming that this dress is appropriate enough for this event…for you?”

“Appropriate? You look amazing. You’re going to put every other witch at this party to shame. You look like a true goddamn princess, one that I want all to myself.”

You felt your heart skip at his words, it felt different. It was all you could ever ask from him, God if only he liked me back, you thought. If only he wasn’t just saying this because he was your best friend. You go to wrap your arms around him, giving him a tender hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist in return, pulling you tighter into him. Mattheo closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his. Your sweet scent was driving him crazy. 

He buried his face in your hair, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within him. There was no denying how much he cared for you, but he was still struggling to acknowledge his true feelings for you. 

You gave his biceps a gentle squeeze, pulling back, “shall we head down?” You smile at him.

He nods in agreement, returning your smile with a smirk of his own. “It’ll be an honor…and respecfully, fuck your ‘date’ for not being here, but also I wouldn’t want it any other way. To just walk you down, is an honor in itself.” Mattheo held his arm for you to take, offering to escort you to the party downstairs.

You roll your eyes, but you don't want to admit that you agree with him. You started to have your own doubts about Charlie, maybe it was kind of stupid to think…you could..fall in love with someone else. You had to at least give him a chance..right? You ended up taking Mattheo’s arm, linking elbows, while you placed your other hand on his forearm.

Mattheo could sense your uncertainty in your date, he wanted to just flat out tell you again that he wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t wait to rub it in your face, but deep down he didn’t want to see you hurt. He covered your hand with his own. He was cherishing this moment, feeling a small sense of triumph.

 °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂

The party was already in full motion by the time you went down the stairs. People were going around laughing and dancing. The refreshment table was already nearly half way empty. You had to wonder if people showed up earlier than expected out of the excitement. You felt people stare at you and Mattheo. His grip on you was gentle, yet firm and possessive. Mattheo himself could feel, and see the envy, coming off the people as their eyes roamed over you. You could say the same thing, but you thought the looks were because you had Mattheo’s attention, and he was dressed up as well.

You both walked over to the drink table, each of you grabbing a glass of whatever was closest, “cheers to a good evening.”

He clicked his drink to yours, “Cheers.” He tilted the drink into his mouth, still scanning the party as he did so. He was mentally taking note of those eyes that lingered on you for too long.

“Mattheo, I know this is supposed to be a party…but can I ask a lesson from you right now?” You ask, setting down your empty glass. Already feeling the warmth from the drink start to take effect.

With an eyebrow raised again, intrigued by the idea of teaching you something in this setting, “A lesson, huh? Sure what do you want to learn?”

“Can you teach me how to dance?” You blush, “I know just how ridiculous that sounds but I usually just sit around and smoke at parties…so this feels new.”

He laughed, but not in a mean way. He found it surprisingly cute how you requested this, especially considering your usual party habits. “It’s not ridiculous at all. I'd be happy to teach you.” He held out his hand to you, gesturing for you to take it. “May I have this dance?”

You took his hand, “I like this version of Mattheo, so elegant and charming.” You cooed playfully, following him onto the dance floor.

“Careful doll, compliment me too much and I might start to think you actually like me. Romantically.” He teased, unable to resist throwing a playful jab.

You couldn’t say anything to that, you only blushed further, if only you knew how much I really liked you Mattheo, so ironic of you to say that.

Mattheo was loving the effect his words had on you, “What, lost for words now? Something tells me there’s no comeback for that one?”

“So…so what’s the first step?” You change the subject back to the lesson on dancing.

He shook his head, but understood you wanting to change the subject. “First step to the classic ballroom position - holding each other firmly.” He adjusted his grip on your waist and took your hand in his, positioning you in the correct dance position. 

“Okay, easy enough.” You looked into his eyes, one hand on his shoulder. “I swear I was probably born with eight left feet, I’ve never thought to dance.”

He chuckled again, finding your honesty endearing. “Don’t worry, princess. You’re in good hands. Just follow my lead, okay? We’ll start with the basic steps. First, step backward with your left foot as I step forward with my right.” He gently guided your movements, slowly moving in unison with him.

You couldn’t help but look down at your feet as he began to show you more steps. You started to get the hang of it, only after a couple accidental steps on his own feet. Though you didn’t apologize so much since he was finding it so fun to tease you earlier. 

Mattheo was just so stricken with you, he would only chuckle and sigh as each time you stepped on him, finding your clumsiness adorable. “Thanks for ruining my shoes.”

“I’m doing it on purpose at this point.” You look back at him smiling. He feigned a look of shock, pretending to be offended.

“Ah so you’re doing it intentionally? That’s playing dirty, doll.” He spun you around before bringing you close to him. You rested your head on his chest, you could finally reach it comfortably with the height the heels gave you. You closed your eyes, listening to his heart.

His breath hitched, he liked the feeling of you being so close to him. The way your body fit against his perfectly. He dug his fingers deeper into your sides as he dipped you backwards, using it as an excuse to get even closer. His face was dangerously close to yours.

You forgot how to breathe for a second as you watched Mattheo. You noticed a slight change in him, something only you could notice. He had gotten…nervous. He pulled you both up right again. When he did this you noticed Charlie standing behind him, clearing his throat. “Sorry for being late… My roommate had an urgent matter. I came as fast as I could.”

Mattheo’s body tensed as he heard Charlie’s voice behind him. His grip on you tightened, protectiveness seeping into his touch as he reluctantly pulled you back away from him. He hated that he actually ended up showing, having to interrupt the moment he was sharing with you. He plastered a fake smile on his face as he turned to face Charlie, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Ah Charlie. Finally decided to grace us with your presence huh?”

Your date gave Mattheo a confused look, he didn’t seem to really be intimidated by him. Which made sense, if he even had made the effort to ask you out on this date knowing full well he would have to face The Mattheo Riddle. A fact other guys were immediately put off by. “Yeaahh..” He scratched the back of his head, “um thanks for keeping Y/N company for me.” He let out a small laugh, offering his arm to you just as Mattheo had done.

Mattheo didn’t bother hiding his annoyance at Charlie’s casual demeanor, especially as he offered his arm to you. His jaw clenched visibly, fighting the urge to snap at him. He kept his composure the best he could, maintaining the strained yet police facade. “No problem.” He said tersely, his gaze flickering between you and Charlie with a hint of possessiveness.

Almost reluctantly you go to take Charlie’s arm. He smiled down at you, he brought forward his other arm that was hidden behind his back this whole time. “I brought this for you…” it was a single rose. 

You smiled while taking it, “thank you, this is beautiful.” You look back at Mattheo, “I’ll talk to you later? Enjoy yourself Matty.”

Oh how Mattheo wanted to bash at Charlie’s face with his fists. He watched as you thanked him for the rose, his eyes darkened with jealousy and frustration, that wasn’t even your favorite flower, not even in your favorite color. How could some jackass not bother to learn what your favorite flower and color was. He wanted to tear you away from him.

“Yeah, enjoy yourself man. Thanks again for warming her up for me.” Charlie said to Mattheo, pulling you away from where you were originally dancing. You let him guide you away, but couldn’t help looking back, seeing that Mattheo was already facing his back towards you both. You looked down as his fists were clenched, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t help but feel guilt. 

 °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂

Charlie was just like a prince, he was actually really sweet and thoughtful past the lateness. Plus, his excuse made you think that he was loyal to those he cares about, to tend to their needs first than his. You both had danced to a couple of songs (thanks to Mattheo for teaching you). It was fun. Whenever Charlie spun you around or hugged you close to him, you couldn't help but look around for Mattheo subtly. You saw him enjoying himself, he was talking to a couple of girls.

In reality Mattheo’s eyes scanned the room for you as well, he would only pretend to focus on the conversation he was having with the girls. Barely making an effort, and yet they were in hysterics laughing. It kind of annoyed him how easy it was. His focus kept drifting to your location. He hated seeing you with Charlie. He hated seeing you in someone else’s arms, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Not yet, at least.

Between songs Charlie would grab a drink, and it was starting to really add up. He began to get sloppy and step on your toes. He’d apologize but do it immediately after. You stopped dancing, telling him that you both should just sit down for a while. So you guided him to an empty couch.

Mattheo watched as you and Charlie made your way to the couch, a mix of relief and frustration coursing through his veins. Finally there was some distance between the two of you, but he didn’t like that your date was making a fool of himself as he kept drinking. He was leaning against a wall, keeping a watchful eye on you from afar. The girls by his side kept rambling and rambling and he was only paying attention to you, scoffing at the state Charlie was in. It was getting ridiculous. The girls rolled their eyes at Mattheo, hating that he wasn’t engaging in the conversation so they left him.

As the night went on, you began to like Charlie less and less. The more his drinking caught up to him, the more he just seemed like an idiot. It was quite the change. The first half of the night with him was great, he was able to hold a solid conversation just like normal. He would ask about you, wanting to learn about what you were into, but now he kept going in circles. He would only talk about himself, it got boring. Fast. 

Charlie’s drunken behavior was becoming more apparent, he was slurring his words and regressing into mindless rambling. Mattheo clenched his jaw as he saw you grow more disinterested in your date by the second. It was clear you were bored and fed up. He was tempted to intervene, to find a way to end this date early. But he also wanted to teach you a lesson. That you were supposed to really be with him, and not some dumbass, especially one who couldn’t handle his alcohol.

You were getting embarrassed, people must have thought it was weird that Mattheo and you arrived at the party together and now you were with other people. You knew this by the curious glances they were making at me. They probably couldn’t help but wonder about the dynamic we held.

A pretty blonde girl went up to Mattheo, blocking his view of you, “Hi..I couldn't help but notice you almost…sulking in this corner…can I ask for a dance?”

He gave her a lazy smirk, looking her up and down before responding, “sure, why not.” He pushed himself off the wall, downing the rest of his drink before offering his hand to the girl.

You continued to sit there bored, your chin resting on your hand. The major downside to people not wearing uniforms was that you didn’t know who belonged to which house. You wished you could just dump him with someone that would know him. 

As you look around you notice Mattheo dancing with a girl, it wasn’t the type of dance he had taught you. It was the kind that would be best suited for our regular ‘trashy’ parties. 

Mattheo’s smirk wavered slightly as the girl pressed herself up against him, grinding against his lap shamelessly as they danced to the music. He chuckled quietly to himself, amused by her boldness. He ran his hands down her sides, fingers lingering on her hips. His gaze wandered over to you, his expression faltering slightly when he noticed how bored and annoyed you appeared to be.

You notice Mattheo make eye contact with you, you give him a friendly wave, watching him handle the girl. You turn away before scowling to yourself.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” Charlie breathed out, his hot breath bitter from the alcohol. He leaned over the couch to put his face between your neck. You shrugged him away uncomfortably. This didn’t stop him though, he gently put a hand on your jaw, making you look at him “pay attention.” It was major deja vu, but with the wrong person. Very wrong person. Charlie leaned in to kiss you, but you quickly stood up leaving the rose he gave you on the seat. He kept leaning to the point he just ended up face planting onto the couch seat.

As Mattheo danced with the girl, he happened to look back up at you, catching it in time when Charlie tried to kiss you. His fingers dug into the girl’s hips as he felt anger and jealousy. The girl let out a small moan. “Ouch Mattheo. Give me a warning next time.” 

The drunken fool didn’t deserve to touch you like that. He stopped letting the girl grind on him for a moment, but then he noticed how you got up not letting him finish that kiss. He laughed to himself. The girl looked behind at him confused, but she turned around to wrap her arms around his neck, rubbing her breasts against his chest now. “Unless you want to take this upstairs?” she said, trying to get his attention again.

You walked over to the refreshment table, not caring one bit about leaving Charlie behind after that stunt. He could fend for himself. Thank God there was still some weed left, thank you Hufflepuffs! You thought, kissing the air. You set down a paper, neatly tucking in the weed, carefully licking it shut. As you did, you watched Mattheo. At least one of us was having a good night.

“Maybe later, sweetheart.” Mattheo said to the girl, he didn’t care for her advances at all, but he just wanted to play along. He responded with a sly smile as she rubbed against him. 

You looked back down at the fairly fat joint you made, you wanted to light it but you felt guilty. You wanted to get high with your best friend. It was so fun last time. You tucked the joint behind your ear, preparing another one for him. We would have to get high on a different day. With the two joints, you moved them into your corset, just on the side of your boob as you had no pocket or bag with you. You looked toward the drink table, considering but being put off with how it made Charlie. You still grabbed a drink just to hold onto and not look awkward. 

Mattheo caught you putting what seemed like joints into your dress, he smiled knowing you were probably thinking about him. His attention was divided between the blonde girl and you. He smirked to himself, seeing your disapproving face when you went to grab a drink. He found your sudden dislike of alcohol funny. 

You stood there with your drink, not taking a sip out of it. You just bumped your head to the music. You noticed Theodore and made your way over to him. “Hey Teddy, I’ve got to give it to you. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. You did great.” 

He smiled at your compliment, he took a sip of his own drink before responding and gesturing around the room that was filled with students dancing, chatting, drinking, and just having fun. “I know, thanks for your help with finishing it. I’m glad everyone is enjoying themselves…” He hesitated a moment, “but you seem a bit…bored. Where’s your date?”

You just pointed behind yourself with your thumb, “ick.”

Theo laughed at your bluntness, looking over at Charlie’s direction. He was still sitting alone on the couch, face in his hands, “dumbass can’t handle his alcohol? And Mattheo?” You pointed in the other direction. He let his smile falter a bit, knowing his friend was just using the girl. “Ah~ so can I have a dance with you then? You look amazing.” He looked you up and down.

You nod, putting your glass down, and taking a step close to Theo. You put your hands on Theo’s shoulders, as he put his on your waist. You swayed to the music as it changed to a slower song. You put your head on his chest as you did with Mattheo. You let out a small sigh that was concealed with the music, you were definitely going to get an earful later. 

You both danced to a couple of songs, before you pulled away from him, “thank you for dancing with me. I think I'm going to retire for the night. My feet are killing me…though I liked dressing up, I’d rather stick to sneakers.” You laugh straightening out Theo’s tie and collar.

“Of course, any time. I’m sorry your date kind of ruined your night, but you really do look gorgeous tonight, cara mia.” He looked down at you, his tone sincere.

Giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “goodnight Teddy.” You made your way up the stairs back to the dormitories. As you go up, you look down at the party once more. Charlie was just now sleeping on the couch, you rolled your eyes. Mattheo had his face buried in the blonde girl’s hair. You sighed. Mattheo’s dorm room was closer to the stairs so you made your way over to his room, your pajamas were still in there. With your luck he had not locked his door. 

 °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on you as you went into his room, he couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the thought. It sent a thrill through him. His mind started to wonder, why you decided to go in there instead of your room. 

When you stepped in his room, you breathed in deeply. It had such an intoxicating scent. Sometimes you went nose blind to Mattheo’s smell, but being in his room where it was the most concentrated almost made your brain fuzz. You went into his bathroom, looked at yourself in the mirror, man what a wasted outfit.

He couldn’t wait any longer, the thought of you inside there by yourself was driving him crazy. He pushed the blonde girl to the side, mumbling an excuse about needing some air. He made his way towards the stairs, shoving people to the side, determined to get to his room as quickly as possible. As he entered inside, he noticed the bathroom light on, the door cracked open.

Bending down to pick up your pajamas that you left on the floor. You debated on changing out of your dress, but knew just how long it would take if you were to do it by yourself. You would need to wait for Mattheo, but you also didn’t want to be in his room if he decided to bring that girl up here for the night. You notice one of his shirts on the floor too, you picked it up. You wanted to smell it. Fucking weirdo, don’t do it. Do it. Don’t do -

Mattheo pushed open the door quietly, peering inside to see you holding one of his shirts in your hands. You jumped at the sound, “oh my god, shit!” You dropped the shirt back on the floor along with your pajamas.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a smirk, “you didn’t expect me to find you in my dorm, love?” He laughed sarcastically.

You peaked behind him trying to see if he brought the girl over after all, “no I didn’t..I thought you were still going to be downstairs. I was just getting my pajamas and shoes.”

The smirk on his face widened as he noticed you peering behind him, he laughed and shook his head, “I got tired of dancing with her. She’s a little too clingy for my taste.”

“Yeah? Well at least you didn’t have to endure a drunk.” You go to pick your pajamas again. You make your way to his desk to take off your heels. His eyes looked at your legs. There was a pause between you two. “Go on Mattheo, rub it in my face.” You huffed, rubbing your feet, closing your eyes, “let’s get it over with.”

“Oh, princess, if you insist.” He moved closer to you, standing behind you. He leaned down, bringing his face close to your ear, his breath against your neck. “I told you so.”

You kept your eyes shut, clenching them a bit hard. “T-that’s all you got?”

He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, his fingers tracing down the side of your neck. His tone was low and husky as he spoke into your ear “Oh, you know I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Want me to teach you another lesson?”

“What do you mean?” You looked up at him, your heart took a leap.

It was now or never for Mattheo. “For not listening to me.” He firmly grabbed your wrist making you stand up from the seat. He instead took you place, he sat down looking at you expectantly as you were now standing by his side.

“Mattheo…what do you mean?” You almost stammered on your own words. 

“It’s a yes or a no, darling. Do you want me to teach you a lesson? I am your tutor after all, right?”

“-and best friend.” You looked at him, still very much confused, but you felt a sense of excitement of the unknown. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbow carefully as you thought it over. Why is he being so…so.. “Yes.” You blurted.

“Good girl, this is the lesson I’m going to teach you. It’s going to be about listening to me, because I know what’s right for you. The first part is having you admit to yourself that I was right and you were wrong. I don't want to have to tell you. You tell me instead…go on.” In a quick motion he brought you down and bent over on his lap. You didn’t have enough time to react to what was going on, but your heart was starting to race. You could feel one of his hands rubbing your ass just above the thin satin fabric of your dress. You turned to look back at him, and he was staring at your ass, but had to quickly meet your eye. “Go on.” He gave your left cheek a rough squeeze.

You closed your eyes, before opening them and answering. “Mattheo you were right. I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” He said, squeezing your ass again, then tracing a single finger along the slit of your dress. Touching the smooth skin of your thigh.

“About my date…I was dumb to think it was going to be an amazing date. But it wasn’t.” You sighed both at the turn of events with Charlie, and because of Mattheo’s touch.

“And I warned you, didn't I? That you could be with someone so much better than him, didn’t I?” He nearly spat out the last words in emphasis. Squeezing your ass harder this time, his nails are able to dig into you through the dress. 

You don’t respond, you’re too focused on his touch. How he was handling you. Your thought process was going in about a thousand different directions right now. When Mattheo didn’t hear you he swiftly pulled your dress over to the side by the slit, exposing your ass to him. You stopped breathing. He sucked in air through his teeth at the sight of your perky round ass in a black little lacey thong. He gave you a sharp smack on your ass, you yelped not expecting it. “I asked you a question, darling.”

“I uh…Yes. Yes Mattheo, you warned me. You did warn me that I could be with someone better.” You whined as he smoothed out the area he just hit.

“Have I ever done wrong by you?” SMACK! He hit the other cheek this time. You slapped your hand over your mouth to stop you from crying out loud, but he quickly pushed it away from your face so you could answer him.

“No..y-you haven’t.”

“Then why didn't you listen to me?” SMACK! You cried out again as he hit you. Again he rubbed it out.

“I- I…don’t-” you began to say - SMACK!

“Does he know the reasons why you cry?”

You opened your mouth to try and respond but was spanked again.

“Does he know what makes you laugh?” 

SMACK! 

Your legs were starting to tremble due to the mix of pain…pleasure…the excitement of it all. It was so confusing. Well it wasn’t confusing to see Mattheo so angry, but towards you it was new. It was turning you on, and you knew he was enjoying himself too. Not only because he did enjoy inflicting pain onto others, but because you were starting to feel him get hard from underneath you. His dick was poking up into your stomach. You were sure the pressure of your weight on him was sending him over the edge. You looked back at him, biting your lip. He just looked down at you, quite darkly. His hand was removed from your ass, leaving it red and hot. Surely there was bruising and welts from his work. 

Mattheo’s lips twisted upwards in a smile. Then pulled your hair back, twisting it around his hand. This causes you to strain your head backwards. He bent down to whisper against your neck, kissing it. “I can promise you this, no one is ever going to make you feel the same as I will. I’ll do anything for you.”

You nod, your eyes going wide at his confession. You were about to respond to him but once again you were silenced when he let go of your hair, and pushed your head back down. His hands went over your sore ass and and he hooked his fingers around your panties, shimmying them down your thighs and off of you. He stealthily stored them in his pants pocket. 

You felt a cool breeze as you were exposed to him now. Especially because of your growing wetness, which Mattheo could now see. “M-Mattheo… can I please speak now?”

He shook his head, “Not now, darling.” He leaned to the side, putting one hand on each ass cheek. His gaze quickly looked over at you, your head was still hanging down. He returned to what he was doing, and he slowly spread your ass, showing himself your pussy. He groaned at the sight. He smirked, liking that you were enjoying this treatment. “Fuck, baby. It’s so pretty.”

You couldn’t help yourself, but at his words you arched your back to further show yourself to him. You felt your face get hot, this was Mattheo. Once a stranger. Once your tutor. Now your best friend. The guy you’ve developed a massive crush on. He chuckled at your action, he was so tempted to break the promise you had in regards to him trying to read your mind. He wanted to know what you were thinking of all this.

“I promise you won’t need him after this, ever. You will never think about him ever again. Only me.”

Mattheo crept his fingers closer to your heat, so he could spread it further. You scrunch your eyes closed as he was getting closer to where you wanted to be touched. God you wanted to be handled like this by Mattheo for so long. So many nights you had spent alone in your dorm touching yourself and imagining it was him. You wondered if he ever had those moments (he definitely did). You were snapped out of that thought when you heard him spit onto your cunt, you felt it tickle into your hole. 

“Go on, say my name, Doll. I want to hear my name coming from your lips.”

“Mattheo..” You breathed out shakily. “Shit mattheo… please touch me.”

SMACK! That was all your plea earned you, another slap on your ass, “You don't get to order me around…but alas I was going to regardless. You’re so impatient.” He ran two fingers along your wet folds, smirking at the idea that his spit was just sitting inside of you currently. 

“M-m-matty.” you moaned out. He was a sucker whenever you called him that, so he dipped a finger into your core. You moaned out again, especially when he began to probe around feeling your gummy ribbed walls. You reflexively clenched around his finger. He breathed out, imagining how it must feel around his cock. He curled his finger inside of you. “More-more please.” 

He sighed, with his free hand he grabbed your hair in his fist, “stop telling me what to do.” Once again, despite his words he still gave you what you wanted. He pulled out his first finger, just to shove two back in afterwards. 

“Oh my god.” You moaned out. He smiled, moving his fingers deeper inside you. Your precious little cunt was making unholy sounds from how wet you were. Mattheo loved the sound of it, he could tell that his dick was just leaking with precum. He didn’t know how much longer he could take. 

Mattheo was just being relentless with his pace, fingering you. He tried holding you down by leaning on you with his body weight, but you were wiggling too much from pleasure. You felt like you were about to cum. But he would sometimes take his fingers out just to spread the wetness around your lips, massaging it in before continuing. It was driving you absolutely nuts. Eventually you were able to reach your high, cumming down his fingers. He sighed, just as satisfied with the sight of your slightly creamy cum that was now going down your thighs when he pulled his fingers out of you.

“Princess…I really like you, you know? Like really like you. I’m not just saying this…for what we’re doing.. And sorry for a lack of better words..I can’t- I can’t think straight right now. I just want to bury my dick deep inside your pussy.”

“Don’t worry…Matty..” You tried to catch your breath, trying to bring your heart rate down. Mattheo helped you turn around and sit on his lap, making you straddle him. You looked down to his lips, smashing them with yours. The kiss was hungry. Each of you kept biting the other. Mattheo with his clean hand turned your head to the side, kissing and biting down your neck. “I like you too…I have for a while now.. I just..I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Mattheo looked up at you, as you admitted back to him. He was relieved you felt the same. He smiled sweetly at you, your usual best friend peeking out for a moment. He hated that he kept you waiting for so long as he sorted through his own feelings for you, and it only took some jackass taking you out as a date for him to learn this. Just as you had been, he was ripped out of that thought when he saw that you took the hand that he used to finger you, putting the two fingers inside your mouth. Cleaning yourself from him. 

“Oh fuck, darling.” his jaw hung low, groaning with the sight. His eyes glued to where the two digits were disappearing between your lips. He took another sharp inhale, unable to tear his gaze away. He pulled them out of your mouth, leaving a trail of spit to fall onto your chin. He tried to regain his authority, he cleared his throat, “W-What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Can I please suck your cock?” You smiled sweetly at him again, batting your eyelashes. 

He breathed out, his voice low and almost hoarse as he spoke, his words coming out in short bursts “n-no princess. I’m trying to teach you a lesson. You’re supposed to be good and pay attention to what I'm doing.”

“Okay Mattheo…sure.” You agreed to play along. He put his arms around you, lifting you up easily. He got out of the seat and walked over to his bed, setting you down in front of it. He turned you around so your back was towards him and he pushed you down onto the bed. Keeping your head flat against his comforter with one hand. You inhaled, taking in his scent from his sheets. You let out a small moan.

He knew what you were doing, “for your information…I knew you wanted to sniff my dirty shirt that I left in my bathroom. You freak.” He brought up how he caught you when he returned back to his dorm after the party. He couldn’t resist a little banter despite how heated things were getting between you and him. 

“Shaddup!” You said muffled from your head being pinned down. You felt him move your dress to the side, tucking it under your hip, making sure it was out of the way, “do you want to help me remove this…?”

He smiled at you again, shaking his head, “no..I actually want to fuck you in your dress. You look too beautiful in it to let it go to waste. A real princess.” You couldn't help but love the sweetness in that. He momentarily let go of your head, so he could unzip his pants and pull it down. He also took off his dress shirt, exposing his toned torso and abs. He used his knee to open your legs apart further, he pumped himself a few times, needing to feel some relief already. “Spread yourself to me.” He commanded bringing your hands to your ass. You did what you were told, you arched your back again, spreading your pussy for him. You felt Mattheo rub the tip of his dick around your wet entrance, then rubbing it around your clit before using his full length to use your wetness to lubricate himself. 

You wanted to turn around to look at it, you wanted to see if you could take him. You always wondered what he was packing. You wanted to know how long it was, how thick it was, what color it was, how it would feel inside of you. You were feeling a slight headache, then the realization hit you. You were going to stand straight up when he pushed you down again, “Mattheo!”

 “Okay okay..i’m sorry. I know I promised, but I wanted to know what you were thinking.” He said not so guilty. “Buuuuut know that I know.. I want you to see me fucking you. I need to see your pretty face-” He turned you around, lifting you so that you were now sitting forward, facing him on the side of the bed. He was smirking when he brought over a pillow to put just underneath the small of your back. He pulled you by your waist so your ass was barely hanging out of the edge, it was a perfect height to his hips, “-I need to see how you look when you take me.” He pulled your legs so that they were resting on his shoulders. 

Fuuuuck. You thought as you looked down at his twitching dick. He was so big and girthy. His cock slightly tanner than the rest of him, his tip as pink as his lips. God the lips you stared at all the time, day to day. You felt nervous, he would definitely be the biggest you’ve taken. You felt a ringing in your ear again. You rolled your eyes, knowing he was reading your mind again.

“I know you can take me, sweetheart. You’ve done everything I’ve taught you so well.” Mattheo stroked the side of your face gently, with warm eyes. You couldn’t fathom the duality of this man. He was doing this while his other hand was adjusting his dick to your entrance, carefully dipping the tip into you. 

You looked down away from his face to watch him enter you. “Please take it slow…I’m-”

“There’s no reason to be scared, of course I will take it slow.” He said this, but hated it. He just wanted to fuck you senseless. He looked away from your face, looking at your pussy. He tried pushing himself in slowly, but you were not letting him in. “You're so tense, please relax for me.” He moved over to suck on his thumb before moving it to your clit and rubbing slow lazy circles, earning him a moan from you. He smiled, continuing his work. He wasn’t even trying his best and you were already shaking again.

“Matty… I think..I think-”

“Oh no you’re not.” He stopped just as you were about to come to your next high. “Next time you cum, it’ll have to be on my dick.” 

You whined and wiggled against him. He took this opportunity and really pushed himself, leaning down into you. You held him by his shoulders, biting him on his bicep. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer into you. All you felt was pain at first, and he wasn’t even moving yet too. You said a silent prayer to yourself.

“Shit. You’re so tight. When was the last time you were fucked…? Actually please don’t tell me I don't want to think about another person doing this to you.” He said one hand on your waist, the other on your hip, pulling you closer so he could really be balls deep into you. He tried not to get angry at the thought. “It feels so good, damn. So warm. Baby, can I start moving?”

You felt so full. So very full with him all the way inside you. You felt his cock twitch impatiently just as you had been earlier, maybe more. You felt bad for Mattheo, you also wanted him to feel good, but it was almost unbearable. You nod, “you can Matty.”

His eyes snapped up at yours. He didn’t like your uncertainty, but he really needed to feel relief. He almost felt sorry for you, but he was way too horny to fully care and to just pull out to make you suck him off. “I’m sorry Princess…I’ve been wanting and needing you like this so fucking bad.” He began to pull his hips back little by little, going in and out of you. He sighed, moving your legs back up on his shoulders, he kissed your leg.

“No, dont app-” You gasped when he slapped his hips against you, “-ologize. I-I want to make you feel good too. I want you to use me…” He smiled at your words, despite your not so hidden worries. You were a fool for him, and he loved it. He loved it because he was a fool for you too.

While you loved watching him fuck you, loved hearing his grunts and sighs. It was still so much for you. You turn your face away from him, biting on your finger. The other hand, covering your face. When you were just focusing on just the physical, not the visual it helped relax you. The pain began to disappear, especially once you started to get used to his size and the pace. Mattheo was definitely stretching you out. You whimper at the thought, at the pleasure that was starting to hit you like a pulsing wave.

“W-why are you hiding your face?” He grunts, slowing his movement, “Don’t hide it, I want to see your expression.” He pulls your hand away from you. His eyes widened when he saw your cheeks were stained by your tears. He completely stops, midway pulling out. “Princess, are you alright? Am I hurting you?! Oh my god you should have told me if I was-”

“No please- please don't stop. It just feels that good.” You reassure him by pulling yourself forward so that his cock would reenter you. You went back to biting your finger to hold back your cry.

Mattheo smiles at you, a sense of relief rushing through him. His smile turns into a smug look. “You’re still so pretty when you cry. You scared me.” He leaned back down, licking the tears off your cheeks, not minding the salty taste one bit. He moved to suck on your neck, he pulled your other hand down that you were biting on. “You sound so beautiful too, especially when your cries are just for me. Don't hold them back. I want to hear how you feel about me, how I'm making you feel..”

“Matty, please just keep fucking me.” You moan out, moving your hips against him.

“As you wish, just don't tell me off later if you can’t walk. You asked for this.” His smirk and cockiness returned. He pulled your legs forward so that they were being pressed up against your chest, really exposing your pussy to him. He didn’t hold back anymore. 

“Yes mattheo, I’ll tell you again that you were right. That you’re always right. I will always listen to you.” You moan out, knowing he loves the sense of control. You arched your back off the bed, so he would keep hitting your sweet spot directly. You felt your eyes lul back. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch him slamming his dick into your sweet sopping wet cunt. Each time he pulled out of you, his own member glistened.

“That’s my fucking girl. You’re taking me so well.” He spread your legs away from your chest so he could lean back into you once more, he kissed your forehead. “Oh this - s is this is so frea k…freaking ba-bad” He began to get sloppy with his movements. He wrapped both of his hands around your throat, to choke you and also to steady himself. 

“You’re cock feels so good inside me Matty, so good. It feels so euphoric, it’s so filling.” You choked out through his grip around your neck. You saw him look down at your pussy again. He let go one hand and pressed down just under your belly button. “Fucking shit Ma-Mah-Mattheo.”

When he did this, he saw the way your own pussy was gripping onto him, he smiled at the sight. “You’re being so greedy now aren’t you? You just can't enough huh? You like me treating you like this, you’re so dirty.”

You keep moaning his name, not being about to think about anything but how he was fucking you so well. Just as you had always imagined and wanted. You were just so focused on the pressure he was creating in your belly, the all too familiar twisting and knotting as you felt getting closer.

“Shiiiit~ your pussy is suffocating my dick darlin’. Are you about to come around me? Am I making you feel that amazing? Please don't hold back now, I'm all for it.” He moved his hand back to paying attention to your clit, but he paused before continuing his motion much more slowly. “Are..are you on any birth control?”

“What?” You were kind of dumbfounded, he asks this now? He just stares back expectantly. “Yeah I am..” You kind of gave him an attitude because he was denying your next orgasm with this sudden questioning. 

He squinted a bit, “why?”

“Matt- what? Just what? My periods hurt like hell and this is what helps me dur-” 

“Can I creampie you then?” He nonchalantly says interrupting you, returning his attention back to your clit, smiling.

You throw your head back, you were slowly but surely returning to the state you were in before he suddenly stopped. 

“I asked you a question… Please don't make me ask again..” He said, closing his eyes, needing to know your answer before he thrusted faster. He needed to know what to do now that he was getting close. God he hoped you would say yes. Mattheo wanted to see your little cunt filled up with his cum. He wanted to see it drip out of you..He looked at you realizing you had been shaking from sheer pleasure. The reason why you weren’t answering him was because you had came around him without him fully realizing it while in his own thoughts. 

“Mattheo..” 

He looked at you quite lovingly, tucking your hair back into place, “I’m right here.” He gently taps on your cheek, trying to pull you from your trance, “I’m right here, open your eyes. Look at me.” You open your eyes slowly to him, giving him a fucked out smile. He smiled back at you, “that’s my girl.”

“...yes fill me up with your cum. It’ll be an honor.” 

With that he did not need to be told twice, his smile widened. He kissed you on the lips before ramming himself back into you. He still didn’t give up on the attention he was giving your clit. It was starting to ache by how overstimulated you were. It was so red and swollen. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him to stop. He was just using you like a toy at this point, and you were loving it. He had your legs pressed together and to your chest again, you were hugging them for dear life. You kept calling his name, begging him to fill you. “Princess, I love you so much..I lovee - I love yo u.” He stammered out “I love you..m-more than anyone i n my l-life.” He shook, and stayed still a moment as he came.

“I love you too.” You said, a little sadly as he pulled out of you. He gave you another kiss on the lips, before just peppering your face with kisses.

“You’ve always been mine, you know that right?”

“Mhmm” You close your eyes. 

He sighs contently, kneeling a bit. He watched as his cum started to be squeezed out of you. He thought he would love it, but he just wanted it to stay inside of you. He brought his two fingers to your hole, scooping up the cum that escaped and pressing it back into you. He curled his fingers once more, starting to pump in and out carefully. You moaned out, grabbing his wrist. You opened your eyes and he was already looking into yours. He smiled his devilish smile. Oh fuck…

“Yeah, I'm not done with you just yet, princess.”

With that it was like he was trying making up for lost time with you.~

[itsamessygal]

January challenge 💖

Im gonna start the year off by being a really good girl!

This is going to be up until 1pm on the 1st January, please no spamming - keep this as fair as possible! (CLOSED!)

You can reblog, like and comment! 💖

100 - I put my vibrator onto my pillow and grind it while I read every note, I’ll tell you all my thoughts and which notes I came to 💖

150 - I slap my pussy red before allowing myself to cum and post telling everyone how it feels and how much it hurt.

300 - I put a make up brush inside of myself to cum and tell everyone how I imagine how hard it would be to get their cocks inside of me :)

500 - Taste myself after cumming reading all of the notes

1000 - Cumming with my panties on and then posting the big wet spot I made on them 💖

Good luck!! 💖💖

[satellitespinner]

merry christmas, please dont call. (e.w) ❆

⁺₊❆⋆ ୨⎯ merry christmas, im not yours at all. merry christmas, please dont call. ⎯୧ ⁺₊❆⋆

pairings: ex!ellie x ex!oc/reader

synopsis: an involuntary trip back to your hometown brings back unwanted memories of the girl who broke your heart years before. when youre met with her unexpectedly, you have to decide wether or not to pursue her, or give her a taste of her own medicine. or maybe both.

wc: 6.7k (SMUT; ellie eats pussy then yall ✂️✂️.. angst, cheating, crying, slight comfort but no happy ending, reader is an offputting bitch who cries alot. joel and DINA mention!!!!!! the words and and you are used alot.. oc is shorter than ellie & has hair.)

MERRY CHRISTMAS DYKES IN MY PHONEEE !!! ilysm! im so excited to post this holy fucking shit shyt. interact i beg u. reblogs and comments are encouraged i loveee talking to you guys sm!!! 🫵🏼 come ttm and ill talk back! heavily inspired by my twin @coeurify !! i suggest you go read ttds 1 before reading this!

Christmas of freshman year Ellie bought you a bouquet of red and yellow flowers, you cried.

Christmas of sophomore year she burned you a cd with your shared playlist on it. She titled it ‘our songs” and you cried.

The next year she wrote you a song, it was truly beautiful. it made you cry.

Christmas of senior year was different. That year, your parents decided to use the break to visit universities and then stay at a nearby family member's house for the holiday. Before you left Ellie managed to gift you a shiny heart pendant with her initial carved onto the front and a picture of you two glued to the inside. you cried, hugged her, and told her you loved her.

The Christmas before you left for university Ellie broke up with you. This was the hardest you cried in five years.

So much for a Merry Christmas.

That was two years ago. you haven’t been back to your hometown since then, simply because you knew you couldn’t bear to face her. Going back to Jackson meant running into Ellie, and you weren’t ready for that.

until now, apparently.

your dearest mother had called you and told you that if you didn’t come back this year all your shit was going to the goodwill. Maybe Ellie wasn’t the only reason you avoided your hometown.

So here you were, driving the sickly long drive to the closest place to hell on earth. you had to stop four times because your tears were blurring your vision. when you were finally met with the “Welcome to Jackson” sign, you threw up in your mouth. your driveway mocked you as you sat in your car attempting to collect yourself. you contemplated turning around, driving back to campus and telling your mom to burn your stuff for all you care. But, you didn’t. it was late and you needed sleep. so you pulled your keys out of the ignition, grabbed your belongings and made your way to the front door. your parents greeted you with tights hugs and uncomfortable small talk.

“How’s school, sweetheart?” your mom asked, your dad sneaking off to bring your bags to your old bedroom. “its school.” you kept you answers curt. not trying to engage in useless conversation at this hour. your mom picked up on your exhaustion and excused you with a tight lipped smile. the second you entered your room you regretted the entire trip. she was everywhere. pictures of you kissing on your dresser, her hoodies in your closet and of course, her initial still around your neck, above your heart.

you walked around the room, your cheeks already wet with tears. you picked up a photo that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw out when it ended. it was you and ellie snuggled up on dina’s couch, taken by her of course. you both looked so peaceful. the photo began to blur as the tears really started to fall. your legs gave out underneath you, causing you to fall against the wall. it was like a scene from a movie, a pathetic one at that.

You couldn’t remember exactly when you had fallen asleep, but it was late. you woke up in a fetal position on the floor, with an old picture of you and Ellie held tightly to your chest. your poor back..

the morning was still, your parents were still sleeping when you woke up, something you were very much grateful for considering the amount of questions you knew were to come your way when they did finally wake up. you set the picture back in its place hesitantly.

the lower level of your house was cold, the cold floors hitting your feet woke you up as you made your way to the kitchen. almost immediately upon arrival you decided that your mothers coffee brand wouldn’t do. she always bought the gross nutmeg flavoured creamer.

coffee shop in town it is!

you always hated ben’s, the coffee was mediocre at best and priced at a whopping seven dollars, but it would suffice for today. at least until you could get to the grocery store. the walk was short, thank god. you grabbed your jacket and scarf from the hook and made your way out the door. you were surprised, but relieved that you hadn’t had the misfortune of running into anyone you used to know.

The cafe had a welcoming atmosphere that you knew all too well, yet grew to despise. you ended up hating most parts of this town, the tight knit community, the overpriced coffee, everything. then you left. in your final days of staying in jackson, it was like you were gasping for air. then finally after you had gone to university, you could breathe again.

“Is that who I think it is?!” the cashier beamed from their place behind the counter. you could recognize that voice anywhere. the voice of riley abel, a girl you had gone to school with. she was voted most likely to move far away after grad, how ironic.

‘Hey, riley. how are you?” you asked as you walked up to the counter, trying your absolute best to sound interested. you zoned out as she rambled on about her life.

you picked at your fingernails while she spoke, her voice a distant muffle. you didn’t want to be rude and tell her to shut up, but damn this girl couldn’t talk.

“Anyways, how are you? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!” she smiled and you couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m doing fine.” she took your awkward answer as a hint and switched the subject. small talk should be banned.

“So what can i get for you?” she asks, typing away at the ipad on the counter. you contemplated for a moment before answering. you skimmed the menu for the cheapest option that didn’t taste like shit.

“I’ll get a medium french vanilla, please.” you grab your phone from your pocket, opting for apple pay instead of cash. she gives you a small, forced smile. “your total is eight dollars and twenty-five cents. cash or card?” your eyes widen at the price. “card, please.” she nods and passes you the pin pad. you gently tap your phone on the top of it as she begins to make your coffee.

A few minutes pass before riley calls you back up to the counter. she handed you a small cup with your name written on the side, along with a small smiley face. you thanked her and smiled at her small act of kindness.

your walk home is longer, many of the places you used to frequent, bustling with people that you could recognize by face. you almost stopped a few times, pausing and staring into oblivion. you never had the guts to actually enter though.

when you arrived back home you parents were sitting around the dining table, your dad, fairly engaged in the newspaper greets you with a smile. your mother doesnt look up from her phone until you speak. “Saw riley at bennys.” she hums and looks you up and down, it was like no matter where you went there was some weird tension in the air.

“You couldn’t have made coffee at home?” she snarks, tipping her glasses off her nose. “Just wanted some fresh air.” you reply nervously, not wanting to be fighting with her already. clearly your attempts worked because she stopped there. you swallowed the lump in your throat and retreated to your room.

you weren't sure what you were going to occupy yourself for these two weeks, packing up all the shit you wanted wouldn't take more than a few hours. you contemplated just taking your belongings and going back but you knew your mom would disapprove with that idea.

you decided that the most worthwhile decision for now would be to resume your place in a current book you were reading, a silly romcom you were gifted by your roommate before you came home. at least until your mother asked you to help her bake some cookies, or run to target for some last minute christmas gifts.

six chapters in and you were finally starting to get into it when you get a text. a text from Dina, a close highschool friend. you tried to stay in contact after you left, but the relationship fizzled out into short happy birthdays, and merry christmases.

D-Dawg💘

Hey! i heard from riley that you're back for break, we all miss you.

You laugh at the corny name you assigned to her contact in high school, the name had blossomed after a drunk comment from jesse, comparing her to a dog simply because of her big brown eyes.

D-Dawg💘

were having a little get together tonight, if you’re up to it you should come by. you're always welcome.

you decided to ignore the message for now, you weren't really up for the whole forced small talk that came with seeing all your old friends again. as far as you knew they were all still hanging out, everyday, without you. instead you decided to resume your place in your book, hoping to find some sort of entertainment in it.

you’re in the middle of chapter twelve of your book, Wes and Liz had just gotten into an accident in the rain when your mom calls you down stairs. you trot down the stairs, phone in hand. when you arrive, you stick on the last step, the wooden floors still cold. you're greeted with your mother in her signature bird print apron.

“Did you wanna help me with the baking, or were you just gonna sulk in your room all break?” she asks. you clear your throat and step down the last step. you shove your phone into your hoodie pocket, “Yeah ill help, i’d love to.”

“Babe, get your damn fingers outa the cookie dough!” ellie laughs as she grabs your wrist, pulling you out of the batter. you had forced her into baking with you after you saw a stupid couples tiktok. “Relax, its just us eating them anyway.” you defend, you even noticed your precious girlfriend sneaking chocolate chips from the bowl once in a while.

“Yeah, well i don't play about my christmas cookies.” she puts her hands on her hips and glares at you jokingly. you giggle at her actions. “We can tell, fatty.” you joke, her eyes widen and her jaw drops. “What did you just say!?” her slack jaw turning into a toothy smile quickly.

“Nothin’ i didn't say nothin’” you laugh and turn back to shaping the cookies. she steps closer to you and places her hands on either sides of your hips. “Well, thats weird. cause’ I definitely heard something.” she starts moving her fingers in slow circles over your pj pants, her lips meeting your neck slowly.

“hell, ellie. why are you the horniest woman on the planet.” you drop your final cookie onto the tray and turn around to face her, her hands now moving to the sides of your face. “Not my fault I have the prettiest girlfriend ever.” she states, matter of factly. her lips now kissing your own, causing you to smile against her. you move your hands to the back of her neck, slowly twirling with the back of her hair. you both giggle against each others lips, “I love you” you whispered against her. “i love you too, baby.”

the soft moment was interrupted by the oven beeping, signaling it was time to finally bake the cookies. she pulls her hands off of your hips and reaches for the pan, nodding at you to open the oven. “Careful, don't burn yourself.” you open the oven door enough for her to slip the tray in without accidentally knocking her hand against the wall and giving herself third degree burns (again)

you both high five once the cookies were in the oven baking. “i think we make a pretty good team!” you say as you turn the tap on to wash the dough off your hands. “Hell yeah we do, baby!” ellie shouts, smacking your ass. you laugh loudly at her antics. “Ouch ellie!” you cry, pulling a towel off the counter to dry off your hands. she rolls her eyes at your exaggeration.

“Sorry, babe. want me to kiss it better?”

“Will you shut up?”

Baking cookies with your mother was a stressful, if not brutal experience. she was a bossy, nitpicky perfectionist. it was like you could never do anything right with her, everything had to be 100% perfect. she would argue that you weren't trying or you didn't care, but you did. if anything you cared too much.

“I told you to do it like this! not whatever you're doing.” she scolded and nearly ripped the bowl from your hands, demonstrating how she really wanted it done. you throw your hands in the air, “I am, fuck!” you whisper yelled in frustration. your mother abruptly dropped the bowl onto the counter. “Don't you swear at me!” she pointed her pointer finger in your face.

“Oh my god.” you mumbled under your breath. you brought two of your fingers to your temples and squeezed tightly, trying to calm yourself down. “What is your problem?!” your mother crossed her arms as she yelled. “I cant fucking- I cant do this! this is exhausting!” you quickly untied your apron and tossed it on the counter. throwing yourself up the stairs. your mother followed behind you.

“If I'm so exhausting then why don't you pack your shit and get out of my house, huh?!” she shouted, grabbing onto your arm, you pulled it away from her. “Because! you asked me to come! i thought we could've had a normal christmas for once!” by now you had salty tear drops racing down your cheeks, it wasn't pretty.

“well i shouldn't have. so that was my mistake.” she stops on the stairs when she says this. your heart stops for a moment when she says this. the tears come harder when you slam your door shut and lock it.

right now you felt like you were a teenager again, petty arguments with your mom is when you needed ellie the most, you would hop out your window and run to her house. she welcomed you with open arms and told you how much she loved you. she would hold you for hours and whisper praises into your ears while you cried.

But right now, at this moment you couldn't do that, because there was no more ellie.

After scream sobbing into your pillow like an angry child, you fell asleep.

you woke up with a throbbing headache and the need for water. you also woke up to a few unread messages from a few of your friends from highschool.

Jesseee

Hey, r u coming tn? dina said she invited u but u didn’t answer. We miss U

smartass (derogatory)

hi its abby! heard ur in town

smartass (derogatory)

we should hangout before you leave!

you sighed and glanced up at the time. 8:04pm. you had two options, go pack to sleep, or stay up and wallow in self pity. or-

D-Dawg💘

were having a little get together tonight, if you’re up to it you should come by. you're always welcome

hii dina, i’d love to see you! what time does it start? :)

D-Dawg💘

8! didnt think u were gonna reply! but def come by!

her reply came fairly quick. you glanced up at the time on your phone, 6;00. you could work with that. two hours to make sure you look good, just in case you see.. she who shall not be named. you pulled your suitcase out from under your bed. you rummaged for a few minutes until you were met with the one dress you brought with you because you knew your parents had some stupid family dinner planned for christmas day. the dress was modest, classy but not too fancy. next was your makeup makeup bag. you decided to keep your makeup simple too, so you looked good, but not like you were trying to look good.

you brought your makeup bag to the bathroom and started the shower. you usually tried to be quick with your showers considering you were using the only bathroom in the house. you let the warm water hit the back of your neck. for a while, you just sat. sat and stared at the wall. the longer you did this though, the higher your anxieties got. finally, after your neck started to burn from the water, you got on with your business, scrubbing your skin raw and washing your hair as quick as you could. you might be a little late..

after an hour and four almost-breakdowns you had gotten your hair to cooperate. you knew your makeup wouldn’t take long to get done so you before you started you checked your phone. no new notifications from anyone except dina, a simple follow up text of “it will be fun, i promise.” you debated asking her to confirm your fears of ellie’s attendance. maybe knowing would calm you just a bit.

Is she gonna be there?

please be honest.

D-Dawg 💘

she was invited, im not sure if she’ll show up though.

D-Dawg💘

Please don’t stress over this though. its been so long.

im aware, but its still scary

plus you’re all still friends. im not really part of

that anymore.

D-Dawg💘

maybe you guys could talk about it?

i can’t do that. you know i can’t

i will literally die.

likr

my life will end.

D-Dawg💘

sighs loudly…..

fine. but if she comes you

aren’t irish goodbying out my back door.

…

MAYBE.

see u soon -_-

you turned up your music and then shut off your phone, leaving it face down on the counter as you began your makeup. you gently hummed along with the lyrics as the soft brushes worked over your skin. the delicate touches reminding you of ellie’s gentle fingers tracing soft shapes into your cheeks as you slept in her arms. she was never scared to hold you, to tightly pull you into her body and keep you warm.

by the time you had finished your makeup and wiggled into your dress, it was 7:45. the drive to dinas wasn’t long and you didn't want to get there early and be left to awkwardly wait around for everyone else to arrive. so you decided to scroll on your phone to pass the time.

at 8:12 you pulled into dina’s driveway and immediately noticed the differences in her home. the christmas decorations were no longer over the top, and the driveway was shoveled neatly. dina had told you to just let yourself in when you arrived. your hand shook with anxiety as you reached the doorknob. you took one last deep breath and entered the house.

“Bitch, you’re unseasoned chicken.” are the first words you hear as you shut dinas door. you easily recognize jesses voice, throwing insults at abby over a heated card game.

“yikes.” you say, heads turn in your direction. you awkwardly laugh at the group reaction. “I told you she was coming, you dummies.” Dina shouted, her voice booming from the kitchen as she walked over to you, pulling you into a firm embrace.

you scanned the room for any sign of ellie. well, there were many things that could be considered signs of ellie around the house. like the homemade ornaments on dina’s tree. you had all had a sleepover one night in sophomore year and decided to create little hand painted ornaments for fun. ellie’s was a painting of the four of you as stick figures, yours and ellie’s had a big red heart painted over the top of their heads.

the memories flooded in as you stared down the tree, to anyone else this probably would’ve looked really weird, but your friends new. jesses voice interrupts your thoughts, you tore your eyes from the tree to look at him.

“she hasn’t shown up yet.”

and she never did.

Ellies absence didn't make the night any better, however. you hoped it would but it didn't. you were still bombarded with questions that you weren’t quite sure how to answer. dina had probably asked you about a thousand times to just talk to her! but you refused. you were not about to start up a conversation with your ex like nothing had happened between you two. especially when it was her shitty actions, not yours.

you didn't regret going but by the time it was time for you to leave you were happy to do so, your friends bargained with you to stay the night like the rest of them but you politely declined. you did promise to see then all properly before you headed back to campus, though. stating that a proper hangout was long overdue.

after you had said your goodbyes dina had offered to walk you out to your car, you told her you would be fine but she persisted.

“So, ellie texted me.” she slowed to a stop with her arms crossed. you sighed and turned around to face her, leaning your body against your car. “Do i even wanna know?” you roll your eyes. dina steps closer to you, joining you against the hood of your car. dina chuckles, trying to recall ellie’s exact words. “said she wanted to talk, she sounded apologetic” she looks up at you. scanning your face for any emotions.

“Dina-“

“Please, just listen.” she interrupts, “i miss my best friends, everyone misses you guys. nothings been the same since.” her voice going from firm and loud, to a shaky whisper. you sighed.

“I know, D. this is hard for me too. you’d think it would've gotten easier to be here, in this town but its not. i feel like i can’t breathe.” dina nods in understanding. you softly sniffle, the cold air makes your face tighten. the both of you stay silent for a while. dina knew there was more to be said, but she didn’t want to push you.

“I’m sorry.” dina looks back up at your face, her voice now held a panicked tone. you close your eyes, throwing up your hand in a worn out manner, “It’s fine-

“But its not! you’re my best fucking friend. and even though it felt like shit when you just- up and ghosted us, i understand why.” she she paused for a moment, moving her body from beside you to standing in front of you, mirroring you. “And i understand if you never wanna see ellie again, but i missed you so bad, so fucking bad.” at this point shes crying, fat tears run down her cheeks. you coo and bring her into your arms.

”oh dina, if anything i should be the one apologizing.” the shorter woman sobs into your shoulder. you both cried into each other like a cheesy soap opera. this was the one thing you missed about being in jackson. “i missed you so much”

The sound of your doorbell reverberated across your house, “ill get it!” you ran so fast to the door that you had tripped over your own feet a few times. you opened the door to reveal ellie and joel behind it. a small smile growing on her face when it was in fact you who opened the door and not your mother.

“You look pretty” she says as she walks in,you thank her with a small kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas!” you greet joel quickly before he retreats to the kitchen, probably to drink wine and gossip with your parents. “I like your sweater.” you look her up and down, gesturing to the wool sweater that adorned her figure.

“Oh thanks, My girlfriend got it for me!” she says sarcastically, you roll your eyes at her stupid joke. “Yeah, I know.” you grab her by the wrist and tug her up the stairs to your bedroom. you shuffled her into your room and quickly shut the door behind you.

“Would you care to see your gift?” you asked, in a pretend seductive voice. she nodded persistently and shot you a toothy grin. “Perfect!” you clap your hands together and open up your closet, retrieving a small red box with a big green ribbon wrapped around the top.

you couldn’t contain your excitement when you handed her the gift, your body was seen to be vibrating in its place. “C’mon, ellie! openitopenitopeni-“ you ramble, basically throwing the box at her. “Okay! Okay! Slow down, babe.” you both sit down on the bed, you place your arms on her shoulders. at this point you were seething in excitement.

“Holy fuck.. you didnt.” her eyes practically shoot out of her head, staring at the object in the box, a white envelope sticking out from underneath. she turns to you shocked.

“How did you even-” she grabs the walkman and few tapes out of the box. you shrug, “Antique stores are great places.” she puts the cassette into the device, the one that you were able to get your dad to burn your playlist into. the others being the smashing pumpkins and nirvana.

“Do you love it?” she doesnt answer, instead throwing herself onto you, holding you tightly. holding fistfuls of your sweater, your wrap your arms around her and kiss her forehead. “I knew you would!”

after fiddling with the foreign object for a few minutes ellie figures out how to turn it on and off, she passes you one of the wired headphones and slips the other into her own ear. The polices ‘Every breath you take’ begins playing into your singular headphone. ellie added it to your joined playlist because she swears its the song that plays every time she looks at you. How corny.

You two sit for a few moments, just listening to the lyrics.

I’ll be watching you

(every breath you take)

(every move you make)

you suddenly feel her looking at you, you turn your head to meet her gaze. her eyes were practically hearts, she looked so smitten. you smile at her and lay your head completely onto the bed and ellie sits up, careful to not disconnect the headphones from your ears. “what’re you doing?” you asked in a hushed tone. she shakes her head, “Just looking at you.” her face shifts from soft admiration to something different. then suddenly, her lips are slotted in between your own.

(every single day)

(every word you say)

she gently rubs her hand up and down your side as she moves her lips against yours, your hand making its way to the side of her face. you sighed into her mouth and gently moved your arm around to the back of her neck. your legs tangled together effortlessly when she pulls away from you. “I love you.” she whispers, you look up at her, your faces almost touching. “I love you too.” you almost moan when she dips her head back down to continue kissing you.

I’ll be watching you

That Christmas ended up being the night that you took each others virginity and tried to hide it from your nosy parents, who of course, noticed right away but didn't say anything.

Your mother and father left early in the morning to go see some of your extended family, you planned to go meet them later in the day so for now you were left by yourself to wait. you anxiety was high, but the hard part was almost over. after your dinner with your family you could shove all your things into your trunk and leave. you'd be back in the comfort of your apartment before December 26th.

For most of the afternoon you found yourself lazing around, watching movies that you've seen a thousand times before. you sigh to yourself, glancing over at the clock which reads 5:00. you decide to start getting ready.

you had just finished your makeup, your hair still tied up and your body clad in pajama when the doorbell rings. How strange you thought to yourself. who could possibly be showing up for your parents at 5pm on christmas day.

“I’m coming!” you shouted from the stairs, feet quickly moving down the steps. you probably should’ve looked through the peephole before ripping the door open because to your unpleasant surprise you were met with-

“Ellie?” your eyes widen at the sight before you. your ex girlfriend was outside your door with a bouquet of flowers and tears in her eyes.

“Hi- Hey.” she looks just as surprised as you. her green eyes wider than ever. she looked different, her usually half up, half down was now cut into a thinner mullet like haircut. you had tried avoiding any news of ellie since you moved, so her look was entirely new to you.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” you asked, your voice harsh but quiet. she looks at you in disbelief, “I- Dina told me to come see you.” she whispers. Of course she did.

“Why, Ellie.” you pause, crossing your arms. “I haven't spoken to you in almost three years, and now you're outside my door. Why?” she now looks disappointed with your reaction. she had partially hoped that you would throw yourself into her arms and tell her you missed her. but she knew that would never be.

“I messed up,” she looks down at her shoes, you clearly weren't having her half asses words. you sigh loudly. before you could shoo her away dhe interrupts you.

“I did you so dirty, and- i cant forgive myself for it. but youre the only person i've ever loved, truly.” she pleads with you unbeknownst to you, as your eyes stayed glued to the ground. “Would you please look at me-”

“I don't owe you anything ellie.” you snap, you did fulfill her request however, your eyes meeting her frantic ones. “i dont have to accept your stupid apology, why the fuck would i, ellie? what you did- what you did was so wrong. and i should hate you for it.” you slowly step out of the house, your angry pointer finger meeting her chest. tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“and im sorry, im so fucking sorry, baby. i couldn't even live with myself after what happened.” her final words making the tears finally start to stream down your face. you hadn't expected her to admit that, especially not with you practically beating your fist into her chest. but she did.

she notices your tears and grabs you by your face, she holds you as your legs buckle beneath you, something she didn't do years prior on this exact day. something she shouldn't have had to do. “Im sorry.” she whispered into your hair. her flowers now long discarded, and you crying into her arms on your parents front porch.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Ellie?” you cried, your body tensing up after her heartbreaking confession, you peered at her through wet eyelashes. and she couldn't even look at you.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered, fingers fiddling with the rings adorning her hands, the hands that held you whenever you cried, the hands that had made you see heaven just nights prior.

“You're breaking up with me cause why? ellie. im still confused as to what the fuck is happening right now.” your expression is one of incredulity.

“baby, don't do this.” your eyes widen, you couldnt fucking believe her. “Do not baby me, ellie. you’re fucking breaking up with me right now because what? did you fuck her?” her head shoots up from her lap, her bottom lip wabbling between her teeth.

“No! i- we didn't, i would never-” you scoff, rolling your eyes at her actions. trying desperately to hide the fact that she had just broke your heart into a million pieces. “Do you love her?” you ask quietly, the question you had been avoiding since the beginning in fear of its answer.

“I dunno. i just-”

“youre breaking up with me to be with her ellie so you better know if you fuckin’ love her or not.” you spit, your words harsh, but in reality you were about to have a full blown panic attack.

“I do.” she admits. and suddenly your whole world comes crashing down, four years you had wasted just for her to leave you for a girl she met two weeks ago.

your tears became heavy and all of a sudden it was hard to breathe. your vision quickly blurred, your hands shook as you lifted your glass to your lips. and your headache was hard to deny, you needed to lay down.

Your ears rung, ellie still trying to justify her unlawful acts. all you could really hear were clusters of “im sorry, Not your fault-” you sobbed uncontrollably.

Fuck you, Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou-

“are you two ready for your menus yet?” the waitress had came out of nowhere, a sweet girl who clearly had accidentally walked in to something she couldn't just ignore.

ellie kept her head down and you made eye contact with the waitress Ruth her name tag read, “No, actually. we’re done here. Well- I am. she might be waiting for someone else.” you point at ellie, and her head raises. you quickly stand up and begin to quickly shuffle your belongings into your purse.

you wished she at least had the decency to do this in the comfort of your own home, where you could kick her out if need be, but now the entire restaurant was watching as you ran out the door with snot dripping down your nose and mascara running from your eyes to your chest. You tuned out her inescapable voice and walked all the way home.

After a long, exhausting five minutes, ellie convinced you to let her take you inside and clean you up. she wiped the mascara off of your under eyes and kissed your forehead.

“Thanks.” you muttered. “Don't mention it.” she smiled, she placed the flowers on the counter beside where you sat. you examined them, a beautiful bouquet of red and yellow flowers, like the ones she had gotten you your first christmas together. you smile at the thought. remembering your innocent love.

“what are you smiling about? hm?” she asks, you look up at her, “just thinking, about us.” she inhales a sharp breath at that. “what could've been.” you finish, reaching for the flowers, holding them in your lap.

she walks over to you, your knees now touching the front of her jean thighs thighs. “or.. what can be?” she looks down at you, an overly hopeful look on her face.

“Ellie,” you sigh, you seemed to be doing that a lot today. “I cant just let you back in like that. i mean- when did you and Cat even break up?”

“last year, october.” you nod, swallowing whatever was in your throat. “i see.” the room filling with a heavy tension. your intense eye contact has you shifting on the counter.

“Will you kiss me?” you whisper, what the fuck were you doing? she opens her mouth slightly, before grabbing you by your waist. kissing you softly, before she realized what you wanted. you moaned at the contact, and she kissed you harder.

“fuck, okay, okayokay.” she stops for a moment, you look at her confused. “are you sure you wanna do this right now?.” you nod, profusely.

she moves her hands under your shirt, quickly lifting it off your body. “No bra?” she smirks, you roll your eyes. and reach for her own T-Shirt. you slipped it off with ease, unknowingly biting your lip at the sight before you.

she grabs you again, slotting her lips between your own, you wrap your legs around her waist.

“your room?” she whispers against you, “couch.” you confirm. Ellie drops you onto the cushions, you grab at your sweats, quickly lifting your hips to get them off. ellie, preoccupied with taking her own pants off.

“fuck, you’re beautiful.” she positions her body against yours, her lips trailing from behind your esr, all the way down to your lower stomach. small praises leaving your lips at her wet kisses.

she begins to move her lips towards your clit, sticking her tongue out and licking a dtrip over your underwear. “Ellie, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up into her face. she looks up at you and begins to slip your underwear off your body.

“Fuck, youre so wet.” she observed, moving her finger to play in between your folds. you eagerly bite your lip, her face admiring you from her position between your legs. you moan softly as she begins to eat you out, swirling small circles on your soft button. “Oh, ellie!” you whimpered, your body twitching against her mouth.

“ohmygod, baby.” she moans into you, slowly slipping s single finger in and out of your sopping hole, your moans growing increasingly loud, your eyes meet her own when you entangle your hand into her hair, pulling fightly at the back if her neck.

your back arches as she adds another finger, your release so close you can feel the sweat dripping down your back. “Im cuming! ellie, ellieellie!” you scream as she fucks you through your orgasm, her fingers slightly slowing down before she pulls them out.

you beckon her between your legs again when she lift your head from between your legs, she slots her legs between yours, slowly starting ti grind into you. “missed this pussy s’bad baby.” she groans as she continues to move her hips, speeding up as she pleases. “mhm,” you moan, greedily grinding back up into her, small whimpers starting to leave her throat at the feeling of your pussy on hers.

“Tell me you love me, ellie” you ask, your voice breathy. her head snaps down, looking down at you. her movements speed up as she looos at you.

“W-What?”

“Tell me you love me.” you bump your clit against her sweet spot and she moans. “I love you, fuck! so much, i love you soso much.” she could feel her orgasm creeping up on her, she speeds up her movements between your legs. your grab at her brests, pinching her nipples between your pointer and thumb. “you gonna come?” she bites her lip, nodding at your question.

“cum all over my pussy, please ellie.” you moan loudly, her fluid slowly leaking out of her and onto you. you quicken your hips, ellies lip finding home between her teeth until she suddenly falls into you, both of you moan when she untangled your legs.

“fuck.” she whispers, looking down at the mess that spread between the two of you, connecting you. you slowly lift yourself into a now sitting position. gingerly adjusting yourself so that you don't irritate your already sensitive nerves.

“so.” ellie starts, looking over at you, her eyes again filled with hope. you sigh quietly. “So, im gonna pee and you're gonna be gone by the time im done.” you state matter-of-factly as you stand up, slipping you oversized shirt back over your body. she shakes her head in confusion. “What?! But i thought-”

“you thought what, ellie? that i was just going to let you come back? you broke my fucking heart.” you can see her starting to tear up but you ignore the fact. instead slipping your underwear back on but discarding your pants.

“i told you it was a mistake! baby, i love you!” you scoff, your lips curling up into a smile, how fucking ridiculous.

“Listen to me ellie. Im going to go pee and you're going to go home. and then, tomorrow, im going to leave this fucking town forever and i swear to god you will never fucking see me again.” you argued, ellie still sitting there, with no clothes on. you didn't think she deserved your forgiveness. You felt guilty for denying her in such a vulnerable state but you convinced yourself that she deserved it.

you begin to walk up the stairs, you can hear her stand up from the couch and slip into her clothes once again. without turning around to face her you bid your final goodbyes,

“Tell your fiancée i said hi.”

unbeknownst to ellie, you had noticed the wedding band that shined around her left ring finger. that was when you decided not to let her back in.