#social movement Saturday

[latenightdaydreams]

The Chair (fem)

Poll story!

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, mentions of cheating, p in v, oral, cucking, dirty talk

3.3k word count

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After three years of marriage, you found out that your husband, Hugo, has been having an affair for the last two years. He completely broke your heart. Trust was something you struggled to build, and he just completely shattered yours. After only three months of therapy, Hugo comes to you with the idea of making things ‘even’ between the two of you; allowing you to cuck him.

Hugo only made you even angrier when he said this to you. You’ve never thought about having sex with another man before. For one, your self-esteem was so low now. You love Hugo, you’ll never see another man in the same way as you see Hugo- so you thought.

It’s Saturday; you’re dressed in a simple white dress that clung to your shape. Hugo was invited to his best friend’s brother’s homecoming and took you with him. He quickly left your side at the party to go mingle with his friends, making you feel rejected. You make your way to the kitchen where it’s quiet, leaning back against the counter and looking out the window.

König sees you by yourself, so he approaches you. The way your dress clings to you catches his eyes immediately. He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, grabbing two beers. With one hand stretched out handing you a beer, his mask hides his expression.

“Hallo, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” His Austrian accent piques your interest.

“Oh, thank you.” You grab the beer. “I’m y/n.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m König.”

Your eyes go wide and you smile as you realize this is who everyone is waiting for. “Oh, everyone is outside waiting for you.”

“I know, I’m avoiding the crowd for as long as I can.” He chuckles as his eyes openly trail down your body. “Who are you here with?”

“Hugo—”

“Jakobs friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Who would have thought little Hugo could pull someone like you?”

A smile pulls across your lips as you let out a soft giggle. König stands at 6’10 while Hugo stands at 5’8. He chuckles with you as he steps closer to you. Just then, the sliding back doors open. It’s Hugo with Jakob.

“König!” Jakob excitedly rushes to his brother.

Hugo’s smile slowly fades away as he eyes you and König, seeing how close you two were just standing. You gazed up at him with bright eyes, the same as you used to look at Hugo with. His heart skins to his stomach.

König turns to see Hugo, his eyes dead as he glares at him. König wants his wife. Craved his wife. He’s going to have her.

A few weeks pass. König has added you on all social media. Today, while at the gym, he sent you a gym selfie. He’s shirtless and flexing. His body is riddled with scars, sculpted like a piece of art. König’s blonde hair covers part of his face, your eyes glued to the dark blonde hair that trails from his belly button down.

As you inspect the photo, you close your legs and press them together. Hugo see’s your movement and recognizes it as you being aroused. He smirks.

“What are you reading?” He stands and walks to you, assuming that you’re reading smut. As he gets closer, he sees you quickly close what looked like a man’s photo.

“Nothing.” You stand and walk away to the bedroom.

While there was a feeling nagging at him, he let it go. The sex life between the both of you is basically nonexistent since the affair came to light. He figured it was simply porn. The conversation that comes next, he wasn’t expecting.

You both sat at the dinner table, pushing your food around with your fork as you contemplated your next words. Hugo notices that you’re lost in thought. He clears his throat and sits up.

“Um, are you okay babe?”

“Hm? Yeah.” You place the fork down on your plate. “I want to talk.”

“Okay.” Hugo can feel his heart beginning to sink.

“Do you remember when you offered me the option to have sex with someone else? Cucking?”

Swallowing hard, Hugo nods with a look of dread on his face. Please don’t let it be König.

“I want to take you up on that offer.” You look up, making direct eye contact with him.

Hugo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you know who?” He picks up his glass of water, taking a big gulp.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Who?”

“König.”

Hugo leans back in his chair and rubs his hands over his face as he lets out a deep breath. “König?” He leans forward, arms coming down hard on the table. “What makes you think he would even like you?”

His insecurities begin to show through his words and body language. He holds himself like an injured boy. As if the simple mention of König killed his ego.

“He’s told me.” You look at him with a new found confidence.

“He told you? When?”

“We’ve been talking.”

“How?” Hugo’s eyes widened.

“Social media and texting.”

Hugo stands, combing his fingers through his hair. This can’t be happening. Not with König. “For how long?”

“Since the party.” You watch him pace back and forth.

“Have you seen him?” He stops and looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Only for lunch.” You admit.

“Only for lunch.” He repeats, shaking his head, dropping it to look at the floor.

“He said he’s free Friday night.”

Hugo slowly looks back up at you in disbelief.

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Friday night, you have fresh sheets on your bed, a bottle of wine, three wine glasses, and a chair in front of the bed. You’re dressed in a short silk negligee, the deep blue color complimenting your skin tone perfectly.

Hugo looks at you. He never thought he’d be sharing you with someone. Then he thinks about the pain he causes you over the past two years. The doorbell ringing pulls him out of his thoughts. He walks forward towards the door and opens it to see König without his mask on. His face is covered in scars, but he’s still a handsome man. Hugo always felt inferior to König, being over a foot shorter than him.

“Hallo, Hugo.” König smiles and walks past him into your home.

König’s eyes fall on you, the way your little negligee hugs your body; it’s like you’re a gift for him to open.

“Hallo, Liebling.” He walks to you and hugs your body tightly. “You look magnificent.”

“Thank you.” There is a cheerful giggle in your voice. It sickens Hugo. Your small hand slips into König’s. “Follow me.”

Hugo watched you lead König upstairs towards your shared bedroom. He followed reluctantly. He knows you’re going up with or without him.

You enter the bedroom with König. As you go to open the wine bottle, König gently swoops in and takes the bottle from you.

“I’ve got this.” He opens the bottle for you, his muscles flexing under his tight black shirt as he does so.

König pours wine into each glass, a little extra into the third. He hands you one, then turns to Hugo and hands him the fuller one. A little smirk on his lips as he looks down on Hugo. “Here go, a little extra for you to relax.”

You take a large drink of your wine and place it on the bedside table. König’s eyes travel up your legs to your plump ass, the way it sways as you move. He places his glass down alongside yours. His large hands wrap around your waist and hold you in a firm grasp.

König leans his body down, his lips pressing into yours passionately. You quickly reciprocate, your lips parting slightly to lick his lips, causing König to chuckle, “Eager little one, aren’t you?” He grabs you by your thighs and lifts you in his arms.

“You may want to take a seat now.” König turns to Hugo as he holds you in his arms.

Hugo looks at you in König’s arms as he holds you. You look like Aphrodite in Ares's arms. He saunters to the seat in front of the bed and sits, wine in hand. There is nothing else to do but to watch you with him.

König gently lays you down on the bed, his lips clashing against yours as your tongue twirls around one another’s. Slowly his lips leave yours and trail down your neck, drawing small sighs of pleasure from your mouth. One hand comes up and squeezes your breast gently, his fingers coming around your nipple and lightly pinching. A small moan leaves your lips, followed by a nervous giggle.

He backs up to see you with a warm smile, leaning down to kiss your lips again. Hugo sat, watching the chemistry shared between the two of you, and it makes him feel sick. This is suppose to be a fuck, not…whatever this is.

König stands upright and undresses. He pulls his shirt off to expose the body you’ve only ever seen in photos, in person. Your eyes roam up and down his body. He is stunning. The black shirt he had on is tossed to the edge of the bed. His hands undo his belt buckle. You sit up to help him, your lips pressing against the warm skin of his chest.

A deep sigh leaves König’s lips as he combs his fingers through your hair, your gentle kisses sending a chill throughout his body. Once his pants are undone, he pulls his pants down, kicking them off to the side. His enormous erection is pressing up against the fabric of his boxer briefs, his cock so big his tip sticks out the waistband of his underwear.

Hugo’s eyes travel up and down König’s body. He feels his anxiety spike, taking a big drink of his wine. The way you touch him, it’s as if you’ve been thinking about this for a while. You’re enjoying his body. His eyes follow your hand, go to his cock and grasp it through his underwear. König’s hands on your jaw, holding your face to him as he kisses you passionately.

You grab König’s hands and move them, kissing down his chest again until your lips reach the bit of cock sticking out. Your tongue licks over the tip, scooping up a dab of pre-cum that has come to the surface. König looks down at you as you pull down his boxer briefs, your warm wet mouth slowly wrapping around his cock.

König lets out a loud groan as he gazes down at you. He looks over to Hugo with a smile before wrapping some of your hair around his head and guiding your mouth down the shaft of his cock. You eagerly accept his cock, taking in as much as you can as you suck.

Hugo shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Even if he turns away, it doesn’t help. The sound of his cock fucking your mouth consumes the room. You gaze over at Hugo shifting uncomfortably and it made you feel happy to see. Slowly pulling your head off his cock, eyes gazing up at him.

“Let’s take this off of you.” König whispers as he moves back slightly to pull your negligee off. You lift your hands above your head and to assist him. He steps back more to see your bare breasts and the small blue thong that covers your precious little cunt.

Hugo feels sick watching König look at your body. He looks at you the same way a dog would look at a piece of meat. He’s hungry for you like Hugo has never been.

“Look at this body…you look like a work of art, Liebling.” König grabs your body and pulls you back onto the bed more.

Your head rests on your pillow as König crawls over your body. His lips meet yours as one hand explores. One caresses your cheeks, the other plays with your nipples between his fingers before moving down more to your pussy, his fingers rubbing the thin fabric. He can feel how wet you are for him and it drives him wild.

His fingers hook into the fabric of your thong and pull it down slowly. Your creamy pussy comes into view as he sees the mess you made in your underwear. “Beautiful.” He whispers to himself. Without looking back, he tosses your thong behind him. It lands on Hugo’s lap, causing him to just look at it before looking back up at you.

Hugo watches as König spreads your legs with his knees, getting his body comfortable between your legs. König’s cock rubbing up and down along your folds, relishing the wet heat. The view Hugo has, he watches as he slips his cock into your pussy. Your legs instantly tensing around König’s body. A loud moan leaves your lips as he sees König’s balls press against your ass, burying himself deep inside of your cunt.

König pulls his hips back before slamming them down into you again, watching as you jerk forward and your eyes flutter. Your fingernails are digging into his forearms as you try to hold on to him.

“Please…” You whimper.

“Please?” König teases, licking from your chin to your lips.

“Fuck me…”

König looks to his side and grabs a pillow, tossing it on the side of the bed. Without withdrawing his cock, he lifts your body and turns you. “So, Hugo can get a better view of that beautiful face with I make you cum.”

Hugo has no reaction but to glare at König. In that moment his mind begins to flash back to all the moment’s he has ever spent with König. He never thought he would be in this situation with him.

König lifts one of your legs to be over his shoulder, the other he pushes off the bed. Your foot falling on Hugo’s lap. König pulls out slightly as there are streaks of your creamy arousal up and down his cock.

“Look at that, your wife has a beautiful pussy.” König makes eye contact with Hugo before looking down at you. He grasps your breast as he fucks you.  His hips roll into you desperate to bury himself deeply into you.

Hugo can’t help but to get an erection as he watches König stretch you beyond anything he could imagine. Your face contorted into a pleasurable high, you don’t even look in his direction; as if he wasn’t even there.

“Oh my god König…” You mewl, lifting your head to look at your vagina and watch him fuck you.

“Your pussy is fucking…heavenly.” König growls.

“I love your cock.”

Hugo feels his heart drop and a pang of jealousy flare deep within. Especially when König begins to taunt him. He pulls his cock out, grabbing your effortlessly as if you were a doll. He moves the pillow too, placing you over it, lifting your ass to him.

You are now face to face with Hugo, König begins bullying his cock back into you. He grabs your waist and holds you, watching your ass bounce off of his hips as he bucks forward into you. Intertwining a handful of your hair between his fingers, he pulls your head back and makes you look at Hugo.

“Say it again, Liebling.”

“Please…” You whimper pathetically needing him to fuck you harder.

“Nein, the other thing.”

“I love your cock, König.” You moan out as you look into Hugo’s eyes. You can see the discomfort and pain he feels; you can truly careless. “Please fuck me!”

“Such a good girl!” He slaps your ass, continuing to hold your head up as he fucks you harder.

Your mouth drops open as you forget words and just babble sounds of pleasure. Hugo watches as your eyes flutter back. Reaction’s he’s never gotten out of you before. “König please!”

“Look at your husband and beg.” He growls pulling your hair harder.

“Please make me cum! Please!”

“More. Beg for another man’s cock!”

“Please! I want to cum on your cock!”

You look Hugo right in the eyes as you tremble on König’s cock. “Fuck…”

König pulls his cock out quickly and drops to his stomach between your legs. His tongue presses flat against your folds and licks up, tasting your cunt finally. His tongue lapping at your clit, causing your legs to twitch with every pass.

“I don’t know how you don’t eat this pussy every day.” König makes the comment to Hugo. “Maybe I should come over and do it for you.”

You moan and run your fingers through his hair, looking down at his pink tongue parting your folds to drink you in. If you could have König over everyday for this, you really would.

“Too bad you ship out again soon.” Hugo says in a snarky tone, reminding you both of the temporary bliss.

“Watch it, I can bring a spouse to base with me.” König makes eye contact with you as his wet lips kiss your pussy’s fat mound, biting it gently. You caress his face; he moves up to kiss your lips. Your tongue pushes out to taste yourself along his hips. König lets out a small moan; trailing his hands up and down your body, grabbing your waist and kissing you lustfully.

For a moment, you both forgot Hugo was even there. König pulls away from the kiss, letting his hand trail down your body before grabbing you and sitting you on his lap. Your back is on his chest as he drapes your legs over his muscular long legs. He scoots the edge of the bed, uncomfortably close for Hugo’s liking.

Hugo adjusts himself in his pants as he watches König grab his cock and slowly thrust up, showing it into you. He watches as your lips spread and wrap tightly around him. König wraps his arms under each of your knees and pins his hands back behind your head, holding you in the Full Nelson position.

You’re folded in half as König uses you as a flesh light. Ramming his cock rapidly into your messy wet cunt. König’s muscular legs flex with every thrust.

“Whose cock is better?” König’s voice is a low growl as he speaks.

Eye’s locked with Hugos, “Your cock König.”

Hugo looks away, still forced to hear you repeat over and over that you love König’s cock better. König’s humongous 10-inch cock over Hugo’s average 5.5-inch cock. Of course you liked his better. The way you look like you’re in a different world with every thrust, he already knew.

König can’t hold back any longer. Your little cunt is the first he’s had in four years and he’s done his best to not cum too fast. The sounds of your beautiful moans, the feel of your lovely pussy…he can’t.

“Beg for my cum, Liebling.”

“Please cum in my tight pussy.”

Hugo sits at the edge of his seat, about to speak up. You both agreed to not let him cum in you. He’s not supposed to risk getting you pregnant. It’s bad enough he’s fucking you completely raw, which you said you wouldn’t let happen.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” König pants.

“Yes!”

Hugo watches König’s heavy balls tighten as they drain deep inside of his wife’s pussy. His cock throbs as soft moans leave his lips.

König lifts you up, letting his cock pop out of your pussy. His white cum drips out of your stretched hold. Hugo just sits and watches it drip out.

“Want to taste it?” You rub your clit teasing Hugo.

He just looks into your eyes with a serious look, a look of pain. “No.” His voice cracks slightly.

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The next morning, you wake up with a pep in your step. Your skin is glowing and a wide smile is spread across your lips. As you pour yourself a cup of coffee Hugo sits at the kitchen table, watching you. He feels sick, but at least the ‘payback’ is over, he thinks.

You sit and sip your coffee, looking at your phone. König snaps you a photo of his hard cock with the text saying, “I dreamt of you all night.”

“I can’t wait to see you again.”

“When does Hugo leave for work?”

“Come over in an hour.”

[antifainternational]

Kirkcaldy reportback!

On Saturday the 18th of May 2024 a group of antifascist members of the community disrupted an event organised by Women Won't Wheesht in Kirkcaldy.

These people were workers, locals and members of the public. They were transgender, cisgender, gay and straight. They were unaffiliated with any organisation, group or political party. Their actions were their own and were organised on their own initiative. They acted to protect their community from an intolerant group who aim to plant a seed of cruelty, a seed of hate that would grow and overshadow everything around it, which would poison the earth and kill off wildflower and bramble and thistle alike.

"A community is made up of many different types of people," one member of the group said, "and what makes a community strong is celebrating the diversity of its members and standing in solidarity with those who need it most. Trans people are one of the most marginalised groups of people in society, and yet groups like Women Won't Wheesht seek to sow division in our local communities by painting trans people as a danger. Trans people are part of the fabric of our communities and groups like Women Won't Wheesht have no place in inclusive and safe communities. We all need to stand up against hate speech and protect our neighbours and friends."

Women Won't Wheesht is a hate group which peddles anti-transgender bigotry. Their events, veiled under vague 'concerns about women' have historically been attended by anti-abortion anti-feminist groups such as the Scottish Family Party, homophobes such as the Destiny Church, and members of the fascist Scottish Defence League. Their members also attended rallies organised by the neo-nazi Kelly Jay Keen.

Women Won't Wheesht's rhetoric calls for the elimination of drag queens, transgender and nonbinary people from public life. It is the same rhetoric which was used to murder members of the gay community during the AIDS epidemic. It advocates both social murder (murder by inaction from the state) and violence against transgender people. To achieve this, they bully and harass transgender people in society and online. They publicly share people's addresses and names. They accuse all transgender people of being sexual predators, thereby toxifying and dehumanising them so they are seen as less-than-human. They lobby politicians to spread their hate and appear legitimate.

The anti-transgender reactionary movement in the UK has been called explicitly genocidal by the Lemkin Institute for Genocide Prevention.

We, as proud members of our community, denounce all genocides and any who participate in them. We stand for a world where everyone has the right to speak their mind, where everyone has the right to be who they are. We stand for a world where gay, straight, brown, white, man, woman, and everything in between can live and love together. We cannot stand by and allow Women Won't Wheesht platform to spread hate and cruelty. We are fighting for a kinder, more caring world.

If the members of Women Won't Wheesht reach out to their local queer community, if they choose to talk, and listen, and learn, if they come with humility and gentleness, they will be greeted and welcomed with kindness and respect. We understand that many of those who come to join these movements have done so under a deception. They have been told that their alienation is not due to the United Kingdom's misogynist society and the social murder and violence of neoliberal capitalism, but due to transgender people existing. Many of us have been caught and deceived by such lies too. We have learned, and we have grown.

But if Women Won't Wheesht continue their campaign of violence, they will meet resistance. Their platform will be taken away, because it is by the grace of the people of Scotland that they have it in the first place, and the people of Scotland will not allow genocide of any kind.

At the action on Saturday, members of the public were overwhelmingly in support of transgender liberation.

One organiser said "People of all ages stopped to speak to the outreach team and expressed disgust at the transphobia from the Women Won't Wheesht incomers." Over one hundred trans flags were distributed to supportive people of Kirkaldy.

SOLIDARITY. LOVE AND KINDNESS.

ANTI-FASCISTS OF SCOTLAND.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Is the leader of the federal torries a fascist and transphobe?

Yes, he supports the fascist truckers convoy and is a well documented Transphobe.

[thesiltverses]

Hello! Writing first to thank you for such an extraordinary creation - as a piece of writing and even more so in performance. Every episode manages to somehow build on and outdo the last; you navigated that transition from a smaller scale story of grisly mysteries and personal crises of faith to a grand scale of war, revolution and political satire with absolute aplomb, and never lost that throughline of exceptional characterisation and sharp writing, always steering to the most interesting conflicts. You are always very humble in your public comments, but I hope you allow yourself a little pride, because this is absolutely top notch stuff.

I was struck by Paige's final words, that she hopes what they left would be found 'flawed, inadequate, yearning'. As the show went on, I was surprised - in a good way - that the show's politics gradually crystalised into a full-on nihilist anarchism, something perhaps even along the lines of Monsieur Dupont. (Muna used the 'a' word in one of the Q&As but it was pretty evident even before that). Taking these gods as a metaphor for ideologies and social systems, the scope of it becomes pretty universal - and unsparing. And, equally, hard to answer.

I wondered when the Many Below/Wound Tree was introduced what answers they would find: what political movement could truly resist cooption or becoming its own horrible self-sustaining egregore. And in the end the answer you express I suppose is a negative one: that even Paige's god of victims is a tool, one that must eventually be discarded to go into some unknown place beyond it all (to walk away from Omelas), towards something that narrative fiction - as a form of the 'endless words' that are derided so much in the third season - can no longer address. Which I respect - to pose the question is vital, even if the tools can't reach any answers if they even exist.

I think this struggle exists in many stories that address themes of making a break from the rapacious society that created them (and take it seriously) - your Baru Cormorants and Mononoke-himes. We can describe the problem vividly, but since we do not have a counterexample to hand, any story we tell about ~what is to be done~ and what it will look like when it is feels like it will be just as hollow as the spins and angles and parasitic fantasies that so many characters advance in the Silt Verses. (How could there possibly be a time where it finally works out, after we have seen all this? But then, what are we living for?)

To try to make this a question and not a ramble, I wanted to ask - what do you see as the role of fiction in addressing the horrible machinery of this world? Is it enough to pose the question particularly sharply, skewer the bad and inadequate answers, and leave the readers/listeners to figure out how to make the killing of gods concrete? How do we punch through the bounds of it all being Content, another product to be bought and sold? What does it mean to sit here and fantasise about people making that revolutionary break when there is no revolution to be had?

I don't know what answer I'm hoping for here, but given the themes of the show, I feel like this must be a kind of thing you've thought about, and probably have a far more developed line of thought than I do. And if this is a bit too much to drop in your inbox on a Saturday morning, I will say again thank you for writing this story and all the actors for making it so strikingly concrete - it truly means a lot, and I will treasure it.

Hi, and thank you for listening and for a beautifully written and thoughtful ask! ('Horrible machinery of the world' stopped me dead in my tracks.) And I am very proud, genuinely.

I don't have a good enough answer to your questions, and for me a lot of TSV is very much about trying to figure those answers out, but let me try and sum up my perspective bit by bit.

Is it enough for fiction to pose the question, without also proposing the answer?

I don't think it's enough for fiction as a collective body of work.

I'd argue there's probably a tendency towards open-endedness and irresolution in these individual narratives simply because it feels like a more honest acknowledgement that in real life, the foe has yet to take a real body blow and will not go down easy; that the foe, in fact, is the marketplace for the work itself and ironically profits from the popularity of stories with easy heroic victories over villains who represent capitalism. That these stories inevitably become a pleasant consumable that serves our complacency within the belly of the beast, a kind of daily tonic to reassure us that good always triumphs and regular people always come out on top.

I also think that the sheer scale and scope of the topic creates its own challenges; you probably can't engage thoroughly enough with both the dystopian question and your ideas for a utopian answer all in a single story, without ultimately turning the latter into that false reassurance, a quick handwave of a happy ending.

You mention Omelas, and I think we could illustrate the problem by looking at how LeGuin handles her two successive masterpieces:

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, which gives us the titular resource-rich u(dys)topia built on invisible suffering, and the dissidents who turn their backs on that world and walk out into the inhospitable wilderness in search of something better.

The Dispossessed, which as its premise gives us Anarres, an imperfect but sympathetic anarchist society whose adherents turned their backs on a neighbouring world of capitalist plenty to live out in the inhospitable wilderness in search of something better.

Anarres can very reasonably be viewed as LeGuin's direct answer to the question posed by Omelas, and she would have likely had it in her mind already as she wrote Omelas. But if the short story had ended with 'I hear that against all odds, the ones who walk away have successfully founded an anarchist utopia where hardship is everywhere but it's shared as equitably as possible. THE END', the amount of lazy shorthand and empty comfort involved in that happier ending would inevitably make it a dishonest and unserious offering.

Instead, Anarres is a starting premise to be interrogated at length over the course of a separate story, rather than a happy ending to simply reassure the reader that better things are possible - and even at the end of the novel LeGuin's unresolved questions are still very similar to the ones that we're left with in Omelas (and the same questions that I feel like we were knocking about in The Silt Verses, and which I guess you could argue are all lingering concerns at the end of Mononoke, as well): how and where can we find space to create and sustain a genuine alternative when the narrative environment of capitalism is so powerfully all-subsuming and constantly growing to fill the space? Do we need to disconnect entirely, vanishing as if dead? If we disconnect, how can we possibly survive and what inhumanities or ethical compromises will be required of us? If we do survive, is our isolationism a dereliction of human responsibility to those left behind?

All of which is to say that I think present-day fiction absolutely can make the attempt to meaningfully explore potential alternative-utopian solutions in more depth and with far more tangibility than we attempted with TSV - but that dystopian fiction like ours which concludes with the unexplored promise of a revolutionary utopia and the vague reassurance that the irrepressible human spirit will figure things out from here on out (Chewbacca gets a medal, everyone's in the streets wearing a Guy Fawkes mask) doesn't do much more than dramatically undermine its own goal of disrupting the audience's comfort.

That said, one of my big regrets this season was that we didn't succeed in more engagingly exploring and articulating the Woundtree camp's development into a flawed but functioning society in Dispossessed fashion ahead of the ending. That was my intention, but what quickly became clear was that in a dramatic format, with a limited cast, it was just endless static meeting-room scenes with Paige and Elgin discussing difficult responses to impossible challenges, while everyone else was out having dynamic and exciting adventures with lots of fun and exciting gods. Dystopias remain too entertaining for utopias' own good.

What do you see as the role of fiction in addressing the horrible machinery of this world?

I believe that absurdist horror fiction specifically, founded on the principle of 'people in a world that makes no sense, deluding themselves that it definitely does make sense' can play a very powerful role in that stated purpose.

Many horror traditions carry the baggage of inbuilt or inadvertent conservatism - the concept of a peaceable, passive, safe, middle-class Normality which is then disrupted by a terrifying outside threat (alien, ultra-foreign, ultra-low-class, underworldly, wild, etc). But absurdist horror very directly identifies Normality as the true source of our terror and very directly confronts our human response to it. It creates the right environment for us to ask all of the good questions. Isn't this an unsustainable nightmare we're living in? Why are we expending so much energy pretending it isn't? How do we get out and what do we do if we can't?

Probably the only listener reaction that's genuinely frustrated me about both of our shows is the folks who come away turning their noses up at the bluntness of that approach and acting like they've Solved The Art simply for figuring out where our broad sympathies lie. "Hm, just listened to The Silt Verses and I understood it at once; it's clearly trying to say that capitalism is bad. A little heavy-handed in its messaging for my liking, hm-hm!"

Not to go full Garth Marenghi, but for me the directness of the provocation and the obvious outrageousness of the nightmare is the point; it then allows us to go to places that other genres (or more understated critiques) generally can't.

How do we punch through the bounds of it all being Content, another product to be bought and sold? What does it mean to sit here and fantasise about people making that revolutionary break when there is no revolution to be had?

God, I don't know.

Maybe it means nothing; maybe we can't punch through; maybe there is no story unruly enough to be truly unco-optable, and therefore even the most radical fiction ultimately serves as a distraction, a placebo, a reassurance (that we are not alone, that better things are possible) which will impact the wider world more by keeping us subscribed to the Kindle app than by any action we might feel inspired to take.

Amazon is paying Boots Riley to make TV shows. Disney won much praise for delivering a revolutionary fantasy in a Star Wars shell. Apple is funding excellent, discomfiting and furious corporate satires about how we happily ignore invisible worker abuses for the sake of our own lifestyles, but they also cannot be considered accountable for the deaths of Congolese child-labourers in the global cobalt supply chain. The Dispossessed is in development as a limited series and the LeGuin estate are closely involved.

The master doesn't just own the tools, he's been buying up the guillotines as well.

What if, as with the unknowable nothingness outside of Omelas, the only art that cannot be reduced to product in net service of the status quo is the art that's so invisible and inaccessible and disconnected as to not exist at all? Does being relatively small and ramshackle really lend us any ideological purity, any genuine detachment? You can listen to The Silt Verses on Apple and Spotify and Amazon Music. Brought to you by Acast.

Chapter 36 with Dev and Seb was to a large extent intended as an articulation of that worry. To what extent can we still trust in the integrity of a sincere love story (one that we want to believe in) it if takes place in an insincere and predatory environment? Can any meaningful story be told honestly within such a space?

This stuff really worries me. I think it's probably right to worry. I don't know the answer. I do know that there are some folks for whom the show has made a tangible difference in terms of their life's direction, and that's a huge comfort to me.

There was someone who said it helped them find their faith, strangely and wonderfully. Someone else who said it contributed to their decision not to go down a more lucrative career path within what they view as an exploitative industry. (I hope they don't regret that decision; I hope it makes them happy.)

So there's something there. Maybe.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How to write a secret society in historical fiction setup? Say, women-only?

Writing Notes: Secret Society

Secret Society

An organization whose members are sworn to secrecy about its activities.

Any of a large range of membership organizations or associations that utilize secret initiations or other rituals and whose members often employ unique oaths, grips (handshakes), or other signs of recognition.

Elements of secrecy may vary from a mere password to elaborate rituals, private languages, costumes, and symbols.

The term may be applied to such widely divergent groups as U.S. college fraternities and sororities, the Ku Klux Klan, and international Freemasonry as well as to similar phenomena in ancient or precolonial cultures.

Historical Fiction

A literary genre where the story takes place in the past.

Historical novels capture the details of the time period as accurately as possible for authenticity, including social norms, manners, customs, and traditions.

Many novels in this genre tell fictional stories that involve actual historical figures or historical events.

Characteristics of Historical Fiction

There is a wealth of accurate historical detail relating to setting (geography, customs, beliefs, culture, society, habits) as well as to characters and events.

Story lines may focus on a particular historical event or time period, or they may follow the life of a character (real or fictional). Novels may raise difficult social or moral issues through the plot.

Characters may be real or fictional, but they are portrayed in such a way that they fit the times. The historical setting shapes their lives and actions.

Historical novels are usually big books, with stories that unfold at a leisurely pace. Even shorter Historical novels are usually so densely written that they must be read slowly.

Language and style may affect a reader’s experience. Some readers appreciate an “authentic” style, while others find this distracting. Dialects and format choices (such as epistolary novels) also affect reader reaction.

The tone of Historical novels runs the gamut from rollicking to somber, and this tone may be a major, if unacknowledged, factor in reading choices.

Example of An All-Women Secret Society

Heterodoxy - a secret society that paved the way for modern feminism.

The female debating club’s name referred to the many unorthodox women among its members. They “questioned forms of orthodoxy in culture, in politics, in philosophy—and in sexuality.”

Born as part of the initial wave of modern feminism that emerged during the 19th and early 20th centuries with suffrage at its center, the radical ideologies debated at Heterodoxy gatherings extended well beyond the scope of a women’s right to vote. In fact, Heterodoxy had only one requirement for membership: that a woman “not be orthodox in her opinion.”

Heterodoxy met every other Saturday to discuss such issues and see how members might collaborate and cultivate networks of reform. Gatherings were considered a safe space for women to talk, exchange ideas and take action.

With 25 charter members, Heterodoxy included individuals of diverse backgrounds, including lesbian and bisexual women, labor radicals and socialites, and artists and nurses.

Meetings were often held in the basement of Polly’s, a MacDougal Street hangout established by anarchist Polly Holladay. Here, at what Berman calls a “sort of nexus for progressive, artistic, intellectual and political thought,” the women would gather at wooden tables to discuss issues like fair employment and fair wages, reproductive rights, and the antiwar movement.

The meetings often went on for hours, with each typically revolving around a specific subject determined in advance.

As the club’s core members aged, Heterodoxy became more about continuing friendships than debating radical ideologies.

By the early 1940s, the biweekly meetings of Heterodoxy were no more. Still, the club’s legacy lives on, even beyond the scope of modern feminism.

Other Examples. 19th Century Collegiate Secret Societies.

Organized women’s collegiate secret societies formed across America.

These societies were created with the intent of cultivating lifelong friendships with one another, encouraging passionate “sisterly” bonds with all members, and supporting an organized network of women that would encourage their own daughters to carry on this membership into the next generation.

Adopted a motto proclaiming values of boundless loyalty to their fellow “sisters”.

Below are examples of secret societies, their respective mottos, and the dates of their founding:

The Adelphean society (later ΑΔΠ) “We Live for Each Other.” 1851

The Philomathean society (later ΦΜ) “The Faithful Sisters.” 1852

I.C. Sorosis (later ΠΒΦ) “Friends and Leaders for Life.” 1867

Alpha Phi (ΑΦ) “Union Hand in Hand” 1872

Delta Delta Delta (ΔΔΔ) “Let Us Steadfastly Love One Another” 1888

Young girls at boarding school would be “adopted” by older girls who would play as pseudo motherly figures and role models for the younger classes to admire as well as emulate.

This same process can be seen in the pledging processes of collegiate societies.

Example: The Philomathean Society was originally created as a secret literary society, membership in one of these organizations was highly coveted, and the process of mutual selection between a potential new member and the respective society often caused a plethora of emotions to stir.

In their annual yearbook from the year 1900 is a story that was written with the intention to depict what life was like for a Philomathean, and detailed the secrecy and the high emotions that were involved in the pledging process.

Initiated upperclassmen were considered “the girls to be” and were admired by many freshmen for their demeanor and social presence in the school.

As these upperclassmen both from the Adelphean society and the Philomathean society sought out potential new members, there were secret interactions between potential new members and initiated members to try and connect more deeply with each new girl and sway her to pledge to a certain society.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Incorporate elements and characteristics of historical fiction in your story, and research more on which women-only secret society your work will center around. You may even take inspiration from more than one secret society from history. Do go through the sources above as I only included excerpts here. Hope this helps with your writing!

[djuvlipen]

The Talibans have closed all the women shelters in Afghanistan and are instead putting women in jail to "protect them"

The Taliban regime in Afghanistan is sending Afghan women to prison to protect them from gender-based violence, Khaama Press reported, citing the Office of the Deputy of the United Nations in Afghanistan.

The United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) has stated that gender-based violence against women and girls existed in Afghanistan even before the dominance of the Taliban. However, with the advent of the new regime, the social life of women has been limited, and family violence against women, especially by their husbands, has increased.

The UNAMA office added that before the re-establishment of the Taliban, there were 23 shelters for the protection of women survivors of gender-based violence in the country, none of which are now active.

The Taliban have also deemed protective shelters for women "safe houses" and declared them unnecessary.

The de facto Taliban regime has deemed protective shelters for women or 'safe houses' as originating from Western culture and declared their existence "unnecessary," Khaama Press reported.

The officials of the Taliban administration have stated that they take commitments from caretakers of violence-affected women to not harm them.

The UN report also says that women are no longer working in the judiciary or law enforcement, and are not allowed to deal with crimes of gender-based violence. Women are only permitted to attend work when called upon by their male supervisors.

"In cases where women survivors of violence had no male relatives or there were safety concerns, they were sent to prisons; similar to addicts and the homeless," the report stated.

Meanwhile, the 'Purple Saturday Movement', managed by a number of protesting women, has expressed concern in a statement regarding the realities reflected in this report, according to Khaama Press.

"Imprisoning women who are themselves victims of gender-based violence is not only against Islam and Sharia, but in reality, it is a horrific form of mental, emotional, and physical abuse of women that must be stopped immediately," the statement of the movement reads.

UNAMA has further stated that since the Taliban came to power again on August 15, 2021, the handling of gender-based violence complaints has been unclear and inconsistent.

The Office of the Deputy of the United Nations has also emphasised that women who have experienced violence are now afraid of seeking official justice for fear of arrest, Khaama Press reported.

More than two years have passed since the Taliban banned girls from studying beyond sixth grade in Afghanistan and there is no sign of reopening the schools to girls studying above sixth grade.

Since the Taliban took over Afghanistan in August 2021, they have issued several decrees that impose restrictions on women. Afghanistan's women have faced numerous challenges since the Taliban returned to power. Girls and women in the war-torn country have no access to education, employment and public spaces, Khaama Press reported.

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 1

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you’re in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, use of marijuana, use of alcohol, sexual speech and content, anxiety attack, homophobia, brief mentions of predatory men, potential smut in the future so minors do not interact, a little bit enemies to lovers

word count: 3.6k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

You lean against the living room wall, holding three of your friends’ purses along with your own. The intoxication from a cup of jungle juice from an hour ago was beginning to wear off. You didn’t mean to become the unofficial mom friend of the group tonight, but your reluctance to endure more close-quartered gyrating cemented the position. If you had to utter another “excuse you” to an incredibly handsy frat boy, you’d be getting kicked out for an aggravated assault attempt. 

You didn’t really mind sobering up a bit, not tonight. Whether it was your hazy thoughts or the particular ambience in this frat house, you just weren’t in a huge mood to socialize. 

Earlier this morning, your friends had flooded your group chat with enthusiastic messages about yet another party happening later that night. It was a regular fall Saturday at your university, which meant there was always a rager or two. 

You were perfectly fine tagging along with your friend group to these events, though. You were well aware of your friends’ ulterior motives in pushing you to come out, but you chose to ignore it. Instead, you’d allowed them to hype you up while getting ready earlier that evening. Some pre-gaming had ensued in the form of vodka shots, and sharing of eyeshadow palettes & lipsticks had occurred when dolling up pre-party. 

“Babes, if you don’t teach me how to do my eye makeup the way you do, I swear…” Your friend Sidney whined next to you as she watched your steady hand apply finishing touches to your eyes. 

You chuckled but said nothing as you set your liquid eyeliner down and reached for your setting spray. There was no need for such meticulous styling to your makeup for some trivial frat party. You mostly did it for your own satisfaction, but a particular memory had tugged at your brain with every brush stroke. But this memory remained unacknowledged as you fanned your newly set face. 

You’d allowed yourself a revealing outfit tonight: a lacy black bralette peaking from underneath a maroon leather jacket and a tight black miniskirt that flounced with the slightest movement. Peaking from underneath your shirt was a pair of fishnet stockings. Topping it off was your favourite pair of knee-high black boots. This particular attire garnered squeals and wolf whistles from your friends in their equally slutty outfits. 

A couple of hours later, however, your appearance was a contradiction to your spiritless demeanor. You were tired and sweaty, the majority of your foundation having been perspired off in this sauna of a gathering. Feet blistering as a betrayal of high-heel boots, you struggled to keep yourself upright against the wall. 

“Hey, hot stuff.” An approaching voice says. 

Your eyes darted to the sound, ready to hurl a harsh “fuck off” at whatever creep decided to enter your sobering bubble. But upon spotting the culprit, you relaxed immediately. 

“Hey, Jesse.” You exhaled. 

“Damn, you looked like you were gonna rip me a new one just now.” He chuckled. 

“Sorry, sorry. You know how it can be at these shit parties.” 

Jesse was a rare guy friend of yours. You didn’t make a habit of befriending boys at college, but he was an exception. 

You’d met him freshman year when your friend group merged with another on the way to some start-of-the-year party. After some mutual friends introduced you, you hit it off almost immediately. 

Jesse was easy to talk to, never a creep or too invasive. You loved his dumb dad jokes and loyal nature. He never hit on you, even before finding out you were a lesbian. During tough times in recent years, he was there for you. He was a genuine guy who you’d instinctively trust your drink with. And right now, he was good company to have when you were alone and wistful at these stressful shindigs. 

“I get it, dude. But mom friend again tonight?” He asks, gesturing to the mass of purses in your hands. 

You shrug and reply, “It’s cool.” 

“Man, you’ve danced probably a total of three times at one of these things since last year. Are you even having fun?” 

“Eh. After three years, I’m a senior citizen.” 

“So what does that make me, since I’m graduating this year?” He asks, mockingly put his hands on his hips. 

“Ancient,” You reply, sticking your tongue out at him. 

Jesse places a hand on his chest and gasps dramatically, replying, “Fucking rude.” 

You chuckle. 

“I’m really okay, though.” You reassure him. “The girls wanted to go out tonight, but I’m just a bit tired.” 

“Tired or overstimulated?” 

You smile at his understanding. 

“Both.” 

He chuckles.

“Some cool people are passing around a fat ass joint outside. Wanna join?” 

You hold up the handful of purses you were tasked to guard as a response. 

“Alright, gimme,” He says, reaching his hand out. “Mom friend substitute while you go get high.” 

“You don’t wanna smoke?” 

“It’s cool, that’s where I’ve been for the last half hour or so. I should cool off for a little bit anyways.” 

You feel guilty for leaving Jesse to watch your belongings, even for a few short minutes. But his fingers wiggle expectantly and you know there was no point in arguing. 

“Thanks, dude.” You exhale as you hand off your weight. “Probably been needing a few hits of a j all night, anyway.” 

“Looks like it. Go ahead; D’s out there smoking with them if you wanna say hi.” 

“Oh, nice. Haven’t seen her tonight yet. Be back in a sec, then.” 

You tear yourself off from your spot on the wall and will your blistered feet to move towards the door. Not absolutely sober yet, you stumble across the living room before you could push past the screen door and into the brisk October air. Following the smell of pot laced with lavender in the air, you see a circle of people hanging out by a parked Jeep, illuminated slightly by the embers of a joint being passed around. 

Lavender? 

“Oh, fuck.” You say a little too loudly. 

A few heads turn towards your voice, one of which was Dina’s. 

“Hey, babe! I didn’t know you were here!” She says enthusiastically, approaching you with a bounce in her step. She pulls you into a brief but tight embrace. 

“Been here for the past hour, D.” You laugh nervously. “Where have you been?” 

“Been helping El’s lazy ass roll a fuckton of j’s for the past half hour that she was supposed to roll for customers before the party. But now, we’re just chilling. Want a hit?” 

Dina’s chin tilts towards the Jeep. Your eyes follow her aim to the girl sitting on its hood. Your breathing stops when you see the very person you were hoping not to encounter tonight. 

She was unmistakable in a simple grey, unbuttoned flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves to show off an arm tattoo, slightly distressed jeans, and her old Converse sneakers. A few strands of auburn hair fell in front of her face out of the usual half-bun. You watch as her eyebrows—the right one with its notable slit slashed through—furrowed in concentration as she attempts to relight the joint in her pursed lips. 

Your throat closes up and you feel your heart clench tightly in your chest. 

Ellie. 

You immediately redirect your eyes back to Dina before Ellie can look up from behind her left hand shielding the lighter from the slight breeze. 

“Uh, no. I’m good. Just needed to step out for a hot sec. Needed a breather from the sea of raging hormones in there.” 

Another breeze suddenly hits your exposed skin, colder than the last. You figure this was a good way to excuse yourself back into the house. 

“I’m about to freeze my tits off out here, though. Gonna head back in.” You hug your arms around your bare stomach, goosebumps starting to form. 

You begin to turn right back around, but Dina grabbed your arm. 

“Oh! You came with Sidney and them, right? She said you were all planning on going to Sterling’s after this.” 

“We were?” You ask, thrown off and a little irritated that your friends hadn’t consulted you in this change of plans. 

“Yeah! We’re gonna come with ‘cause I’m craving a blueberry pancake bad and Jesse’s deranged self wants a strawberry milkshake.” Dina affectionately rolls her eyes. “Just let us know when you leave? We’ll head out with you.” 

“Um, sure.” Your heart begins to pound twice its normal speed. 

By “we,” did she mean—? 

“Okay, yay! We should go soon ‘cause I feel the munchies creeping up on me. I blame El for smoking me out as thanks for my rolling services.” 

The auburn-haired girl smirks at Dina’s comment, but you refuse to look at her this time. Instead, your eyes trail after the joint that Ellie was now passing to the girl to her left. 

The girl looked unfamiliar, but something in her face and posture screamed “freshman.” A brown motorcycle jacket was laying on top of her shoulders. Joel’s old motorcycle jacket. Ellie’s jacket. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and settle for pursing your lips. 

Chivalrous fuckboy graciously offering her jacket to a beautiful lady. Typical Ellie Williams move. 

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on whether Ellie had decided to lend her dad’s old jacket to a pretty stranger or a new girlfriend. You certainly don’t allow yourself to settle on which scenario would hurt your feelings more. And you definitely don’t dwell on the fact that she’s pulled this move on you more than once in the past. 

The girl takes no notice of your gaze as she accepts the joint, taking a hit. 

“I love that you always add lilac to these, Ellie. It smells so much better than a regular j.” 

Biting back the impulse to correct the girl, you merely look back at Dina to say, “Right. I’ll see y’all in a bit then, D?” 

“Sounds perfect. We’ll be here!” She replies happily. 

You give her a quick smile before returning inside the house, ignoring the green eyes now watching your departing figure. 

You don’t know how, but you know for a fact that Ellie’d been staring at you ever since she heard you mention your freezing tits and unintentionally pushed your breasts together when you’d grabbed your exposed stomach. 

You walk through the front door and head straight for the bathroom that was just to the right. It wasn’t clear at the moment why you’d known that there was a half bath in this direction, but you were busy catching your breath to care. 

The bright, ugly fluorescents illuminating from the bathroom ceiling was sobering you up quickly. You wished you had gotten drunker. Trying to recall some breathing techniques an old therapist had taught you, your eyes fall on your appearance in the mirror. 

Not awful. I still look kind of hot. 

You reassure yourself that Ellie had only gotten a dim glimpse of you and hadn’t gotten a chance to notice how flushed you looked. 

Is it from the alcohol or was it from seeing her again so close after all these months? 

You could bail from the party now. Tell your friend group chat that you were heading home and text Dina separately, saying you weren’t feeling well. 

I can’t…

It takes you about five seconds to scrap that plan. You weren’t that type of friend to just bail, especially not when you’ve got drunk friends who were all girls surrounded by creeps or creep-adjacent frat boys. Plus, you’ve barely seen Dina and Jesse since the start of the school year. You could set aside your selfishness for one night and endure Ellie for just a little while. 

It’s okay. It’ll be like old times, except I ignore her the whole night. 

You hadn’t noticed that you were tearing up a little. Quickly but delicately, you wipe any tears threatening to fall, carefully avoiding smudging your eye makeup. 

I shouldn’t be letting her get to me tonight. 

You give yourself a half-hearted pep talk that works, to an extent. Using your fingers to brush out strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and straightening your skirt out, you convince yourself to emerge from the bathroom and hunt down the man who led you to face Ellie. 

You find him easily, not far away from the spot you had previously occupied from the wall. 

“Jess…” You begin as you approach the raven-haired boy. 

He was conversing with a frat boy, yours and your friends’ purses now either draped on his shoulder or slung around his chest. You would have giggled at this adorable image if you weren’t slightly ticked off by him. 

Jesse sees you approaching and calls your name, beckoning you towards him and his conversation partner. 

“Yo, tell Adam about Ellie’s dope ass joints that she laces with that lavender shit.” He points at you with his thumb. “Her idea, originally.” 

“Huh,” Adam says. “Kinda cool. Not something I’d do for myself, but I know she’s always got primo shit. Must be a nice touch with the strains she got.” 

You let out a noncommittal “mhm” and look back at Jesse, who has a sympathetic and apologetic smile on his face. 

“You irritate my life, Jess,” You say, leaving out the guy Adam from the conversation. 

“Sorry. It’s all out of love, my friend.” He replies, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Did you end up taking a hit?” 

You glare at him and he chuckles. 

“Thought I’d try. I’m sorry.” He says, sighing in defeat. “Dina tell you we’re going with you guys to Sterling’s after this?” 

“Is she coming along with us, Jess?” 

“We’re a codependent trio, so yes. Hey, that rhymed.” He snickers at his own joke. 

You groan. 

“I think I’ll head home instead.” 

“Come on, don’t be like that. Just hang out with me and Dina. We really miss you and we’ve barely seen you. You don’t have to talk to her.” 

“What happened to being a codependent trio?” You challenge. 

“Our marriage counselor said to work on boundaries,” Jesse says jokingly. 

You sigh. 

“You wanna go now, then?” You say, relenting. 

“Sure, I’m craving a strawberry milkshake real bad.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Let me go round up the girls. We’ll meet you outside?” You say, reaching for the purses. 

He waves you off and says, “I got it, girl. See you in a sec.” 

You give him a tentative smile and proceed to the basement of the frat house. 

After you successfully herded your friends, all of whom were at different levels of drunkenness, you ushered them upstairs to the living room and towards the front door. 

You had your arm around one of your more intoxicated friends, who all of a sudden exclaims in her drunken stupor, “Babe, we should come to this frat’s parties more often! We haven’t been since freshman year!” 

This stops you in your tracks, almost pulling your friend into you. 

Ahh, you thought. 

That’s why you’d been apprehensive about this house since arriving. This was the very same frat house where you’d met Ellie Williams for the first time. You met her the same night you met Jesse. You’d spent an hour or two conversing with her on a shabby couch in that same living room. The same house where those ocean green eyes pierced yours for the first time. The same house where you’d begun a “friendship” with someone who ultimately broke your heart. 

Uttering a quick apology to your friend, you nudge her forward to exit the house you had no desire to remain in. 

The twenty-minute journey from the frat to Sterling’s Diner did not seem long enough to you. Though you were longing to sit and rest your sore feet (you gave up a seat on the bus to one of your drunker friends who could barely stand upright), you preferred moving in a rather large group of friends where you could easily situate yourself away from Ellie if need be. You remained at the front of the group with your friend Astrid, arms linked as you trekked towards the bright lights of Sterling’s. 

You all sit at a long makeshift table formed by three smaller tables pushed together. Your anxiety ramps up when Ellie sits across and a seat to the right from you. Refraining from glancing her way would be much more difficult now that you were both in each other’s line of sight. 

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. 

Your group was embarrassingly loud, disrupting the peace of the few restaurant-goers nearby. You silently make plans to pardon yourself to the bathroom and hide out for a good 15 minutes before you make an excuse to go home to your apartment. 

Some of them are sober enough. As long as I check up to make sure they all get home safe… 

Deciding not to order anything to avoid waiting til the end to pay, you tell the server that you don’t need anything. But before they can walk away, Dina, who was sitting directly across from you, interjects. 

“Oh, she’ll just get a hot chocolate.” 

You look perplexed. 

“Dina, I don’t need anything.” 

“I know for a fact that your tits are freezing cold and you need to warm up. Besides, I know you love hot chocolate.” 

“D!” You whisper, embarrassed at the loud comment about your tits in front of the server. Dina snickers.  

You smile at Dina’s thoughtfulness, though you’re slightly annoyed that your escape plan was thwarted. In the corner of your eye, you think you see Ellie make a certain facial expression. But refusing to look her way, you can’t make a guess as to what it was. 

Not wanting to hold up the server’s time by arguing with Dina, you give a quick thank you and glare at your nosy friend. 

“You and Jesse are really competing to see who is my number one tormentor tonight.” 

Dina rolls her eyes playfully, “Why? What did our sweet Jesse do this time?” 

You have to catch yourself from blurting out Jesse’s earlier endeavour. Despite the commotion your friends were making, you’re certain that your voice is still within Ellie’s earshot. 

“Uh… ask him later.” You say, making eye contact with Jesse, who sat to Dina’s right. 

He smirks and you grimace. 

It feels like a lifetime waiting for everyone’s order to arrive. You sat awkwardly sandwiched between your friend Astrid to your right and Frat Guy Adam to your left. You stay quiet, not engaging in much talk. Dina and Astrid would attempt to pull you into their respective conversations, but you merely give slight nods and smiles and an occasional “mhmm” before going back to scrolling on your phone. 

After exhausting all forms of social media that no longer entertained you, you sigh and place your phone down on the table. 

Frat Guy Adam notices your movement and glances at your lockscreen. 

“Boyfriend?” He suddenly asks, nodding towards your phone. 

“What?” You say, startled. 

“Dude on your wallpaper. Where is he tonight?” 

Your lockscreen photo was of you hugging your favourite cousin, Rafael, and it was taken after your high school graduation. 

“Oh.” You gulp. “No, uh. Older cousin. No boyfriend.” 

“Really?” He says suddenly interested. He turns in his seat to face you better. 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

“Not really the boyfriend type of girl…” You mutter. 

“Why not? You’re pretty hot. Can’t be that hard to get a date.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m a lesbian. Don’t need a boyfriend.” You say quietly but assertively. 

Adam tsks, saying, “Man, really? Didn’t clock you as a queer.” He adjusts in his seat to his original position, chatting instead with his friend on his left. 

You freeze. You knew Adam didn’t exactly intend for his words to be malicious, but you’ve heard enough comments like this in your life to understand its meaning. 

No one else around you could hear his comment over the buzz of conversation. Except… 

Your eyes meet Ellie’s, you having momentarily forgotten that this was what you were trying to avoid. It was strange to look into a familiar face and see an unfamiliar expression. 

What was she thinking? Is that concern on her face? No, that’s something else… 

You break her gaze, deciding that she’d only looked at you because you accidentally looked her way. She probably didn’t hear what had happened; and even if she did, it was none of her business. 

Before you can even decide whether or not to say anything to Adam, everyone’s orders come flooding out. Your hot chocolate was placed in front of you, and ignoring Ellie’s piercing green eyes, you just stare at the steam rising from your cup. 

You were growing more uncomfortable every second that passed. Being neither drunk nor high, you sit soberly in your seat and wish you hadn’t come out tonight in the first place. You suddenly feel tears welling up in your eyes, unsure if it was from your anxiety or Adam’s comments. 

Muttering a brief “be right back” to nobody in particular, you quickly make your way to the two-stall women’s restroom. You nearly collapse against the bathroom door once it closed behind you. Burying your face in your hands, you try not to break down into tears of frustration. 

After several moments, you pry yourself off the door and dare to look at yourself in the mirror. You look like a more tired, sweatier version of yourself from earlier in the night. Sighing, you grab a paper towel and dab it underneath your eye to remove any dripping eyeliner. 

You nearly jump and poke your eye when the bathroom door suddenly opens. You feel your throat close up and your heart clench once more. 

Ellie.

author’s notes:

this is the first ellie fanfic i’ve written and posted on here so be kind pretty please but feedback is very much welcome! i actually have more than one chapter written out already shdjfjf but hopefully this does well and i’ll post the rest if people would like!

i plan on making this a kind of long series, so i hope people will like that sgdjfjf (sorry, i know i should just post and not apologize and look for validation, but i haven’t written in a while!)

@lonelyfooryouonly asked me on my main to be tagged when i finally start posting my own fics on here, so here bby ty for the push! can’t wait for the next chapter of selfish to come out hehe

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Sixteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Jealousy, Angst, Possessive Behaviours, Syltherin!Boys, asshole!Berkshire, Kissing, Threats Of Violence, Weaponizing!TomRiddle, Dirty Talk.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

As darkness shrouded the castle on the overly-anticipated Saturday evening, Tom guided you into the lively heart of the Slytherin common room, a space pulsating with carefree energy and laughter. Students adorned in their finest attire swirled around you, their faces flushed with excitement, their voices mingling in a chorus of revelry. The air crackled with the tang of burning embers, and the room was bathed in a warm, golden glow emanating from countless floating candles overhead.

Amidst the joyful chaos, Tom's friends sat at a secluded table, an oasis of calm amidst the storm. Their demeanor was poised, their laughter soft and controlled, setting them apart from the exuberant crowd. As you stepped closer, you felt like a solitary figure navigating the maze of social intricacies. Emily, who had promised to join you shortly, was notably absent, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

Tom's hand in yours provided some semblance of comfort, grounding you in the midst of the lively chaos as he introduced you to each one of his friends individually. Every introduction was a meticulously choreographed ritual, marked by the graceful dip of heads and the soft rustle of silk against polished leather. Their smiles, though polite, held a hint of calculated charm, concealing a labyrinth of secrets beneath their composed exteriors.

In this enclave of refinement, Tom's circle stood apart from the rest of the common room. The casual revelry of the other Slytherins felt distant, their laughter and chatter forming a separate backdrop to the sophisticated symphony of Tom's world. The room seemed to bend to the will of this select group, accentuating the stark contrast between their cultivated refinement and the more carefree atmosphere of the rest of the room. Here, every gesture and word was carefully curated, preserving an aura of exclusivity. You could tell this was not something they did very often, so when they did, it was absolutely noticed--the rest of the room seemingly more tame in response, a stark comparison to the last party you had ventured in on.

This group represented everything you had ever dreamed of being a part of, all the aspirations you had ever hoped to achieve. Yet, your focus--or rather, your entire fucking mind--was elsewhere.

And the very reason it was elsewhere was seated amidst a circle of his elite friends-- Nott, Berkshire, Black, Zabini, and Malfoy, with Pansy Parkinson at his side--Mattheo's intense gaze bore into you from across the room. His dark eyes, like orbs of obsidian, were sharp and penetrating, dissecting the scene meticulously, and no matter what the fuck you tried to do, there was absolutely nothing that could distract you from the feeling of his gaze, burning flesh wounds into your skin with each passing second.

While his friends engaged in lively conversations, Mattheo's attention was solely fixated on you and Tom. His focus, both laser-sharp and predatory, traced every movement, every touch, every nuance of your interactions with his brother. The air around him crackled with an unspoken tension, his lips pressed into a thin line, a manifestation of the restrained emotions churning beneath his composed facade. It was as though he was dissecting the scene before him, his mind processing every detail with the precision of a master strategist, all while his dark eyes remained fixated on you, as though he was scared that he'd miss something if he looked away.

As the night bore on, you began to grow more comfortable amidst the sophisticated chatter--getting to know a few of Tom's friends fairly well, discussing ambitions and graduation plans without even being offered a single drink. You honestly thought things had been going well, almost far too fucking well--until Tom excused himself momentarily, his eyes meeting yours from the seat next to you as he prepared to make his exit.

"I need to handle something," he said, his voice low and confidential, his eyes flicking to his brother across the room, before returning to you. "I noticed Mattheo watching you...why don't you go say hi? I should only be a few moments, I'll join you when I'm finished."

"Oh, no-uh..." you hesitated, knowing that Berkshire was present, a fact you couldn't ignore. "I don't think it's a good idea, Tom, me and-" you began, attempting to voice your concerns, but he cut you off with a soft, reassuring kiss.

His lips pressed against yours, brief yet meaningful, before he pushed up from the table, leaving you in the midst of the party, alone.

As Tom's figure disappeared from view, you caught another glimpse of Mattheo from across the room, his gaze intensified, his stormy eyes ablaze with a potent mix of irritation and complete fucking fury--something you've seen in his eyes a few times before, but never like this. He sat slumped in the chair, his form swallowed by the shadows, his tousled curly hair falling over his forehead in disarray. The dim light caught the sheen of frustration on his sharp features, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth. His fingers tightened around his drink, the muscles in his hands flexing with the effort to suppress the simmering anger bubbling within him.

You knew him all too fucking well at this point to know that he was not bloody happy, and you weren't entirely confident that approaching him was at all the right move at this moment. Yet, you weren't sure what else you were supposed to do.

But before you could dwell any further, Blaise's eyes, a glimmering shade of obsidian, met yours from across the room. His lips curled into a playful smile, beckoning you over to his group with a subtle yet irresistible gesture. Despite your inner turmoil, the unavoidable feeling of dread pooling in your stomach, you excused yourself from the table and began to hesitantly make your way through the crowded room, every step feeling heavier as you approached the circle of Slytherin boys.

Mattheo's presence never relented, slouchily seated in the love seat, legs spread far too fucking wide, his intense gaze fixed on you. His eyes, like twin storm clouds, seemed to dissect every movement, scanning every inch of your body as you moved, as if he was searching for something hidden beneath your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, and you fought to maintain your semblance of composure.

As you drew closer, Berkshire, always the instigator, couldn't resist the opportunity to unleash his venomous tongue. "As if you're going to call her over here," he sneered, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. "Didn't know our circle was open to charity cases."

The rest of the Slytherin boys, visibly inebriated and riding the wave of arrogance, chimed in with smirks and condescending remarks, reveling in their camaraderie at your expense. It was a calculated display of power, a reminder that you were the outsider in this exclusive circle, a pawn in their powerful game.

Suppressing your frustration, you took a seat next to Blaise, your eyes darting briefly to Mattheo, who watched your every move with an intensity that sent your heart racing. The air crackled with tension, and you felt like a lamb surrounded by hungry wolves, each one waiting for the opportunity to pounce. Yet, amid the arrogance and hostility, Blaise's charm provided a temporary shield.

"Ignore them," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody amidst the discord. "They're always like this. Besides, you look stunning tonight, little raven. Don't let them get to you."

Despite Blaise's efforts to calm you down, to deescalate the situation as best as he could, Berkshire persisted, seemingly unable to control himself.

"I hear you're quite the favourite of the prodigy," he sneered, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Must be thrilling, being the chosen one for a night."

Malfoy, ever the arrogant asshole, added his own twist. "Or maybe she's just a distraction," he said, his tone conspiratorial. "You know how Tom likes to keep himself occupied, especially when the stakes are high."

You parted your lips to say something, to defend yourself in any sort of way, when another voice cut through the air, cutting you off before you could even attempt to force out a syllable.

"Tom's little plaything, isn't that right?" Regulus’ words were laced with arrogance, his voice like a low growl. "Who would have guessed."

Blaise shot Regulus a warning glance, his eyes urging him to rein in his hostility, but the damage was done. The room felt suffocating, the weight of their words pressing down on you, threatening to crush your resolve, and you couldn't hold your tongue any further--if they wanted to play with fire, you were going to make sure you were the one holding the matches.

A derisive chuckle escaped your lips as you assessed the Slytherins before you. "Jealousy, gentlemen, is a rather unflattering shade on anyone," you remarked, your gaze settling on Berkshire. "I'd refrain from it if I were you, Berkshire, you're already hard enough to look at as it is."

Berkshire's lips curled into a sneer, his arrogance on full display. "Well, well, we've got ourselves a little spitfire, haven't we?" he retorted, his voice dripping with condescension. "Someone really needs to fix that attitude of yours...perhaps I'll let Tom know, I'm sure he'd be more than willing to fuck it out of y-"

Mattheo's eyes turned icy, his rough voice slicing through the air like a blade of frost. "Berkshire, I suggest you keep your filthy mouth shut before someone decides to shut it for you," he said, his tone frigid and devoid of any warmth. "Let's start the fucking game, yeah?"

Mattheo's attempt to restrain his anger only made his words sharper, emphasizing the dangerous edge lurking beneath his composed exterior--Blaise, seemingly sensing the danger rolling over the horizon, nodded eagerly, shifting in his seat as he scanned around the circle.

"Absolutely, let's get on with it," he chimed in, his tone more playful now. He turned his attention to Nott, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Nott, truth or dare?"

Nott, appearing unfazed by the tension that had just unfolded, raised an eyebrow and smirked back at Blaise.

"Dare," he replied confidently, his demeanor cool and collected.

Blaise's grin widened. "I dare you to snog the next person who enters this common room."

Nott chuckled, seemingly unbothered by the challenge. "Piece of cake," he said, leaning back casually, his eyes scanning the room for potential targets.

You caught yourself smiling at his causality, but when you noticed a familiar blonde haired girl walking in, her eyes scanning the room as though she was looking for someone, your heart stalled.

Blaise's voice cut through the silence. "Hey, isn't that-"

"Yes." You said, raising a hand to wave her over as her sight finally landed on you. "It is..."

Emily hurried over, her eyes widening in curiosity as she settled into the seat next to you, giving you a small greeting. The room seemed to hold its breath as Theodore stood up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, perfect timing," Theodore said, his voice smooth and confident. "Emily, was it? Lovely name. I've been dared to kiss the next person who enters the room, so I must inquire, do you have a boyfriend, and would you be amenable to participating in this little game?"

Emily blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Um, no boyfriend," she stammered, her gaze shifting nervously between Theodore and the expectant faces around her. "I guess...I mean, if it's just a game, sure, I guess that's fine."

The tension in the circle seemed to heighten as Theodore closed the distance between them, his eyes fixed on Emily's lips. The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath as he leaned in, his hand finding her chin, tilting her head back as his lips met hers in a brief, almost chaste kiss. The atmosphere crackled with a strange mixture of anticipation and awkwardness, your eyes meeting Mattheo's for a fleeting moment--one that felt as though it lasted forever, noticing his jaw tense and his eyes darken as he glimpsed your mouth, and then, as Theodore pulled away, a sly smirk played on his lips.

"There we go, a perfect dare fulfilled," he said as he reclaimed his seat, leaving Emily looking slightly dazed. "And that's how it's done, boys."

Theodore's triumphant tone hung in the air, echoing his satisfaction at successfully completing the dare. Emily, looking slightly embarrassed but surprisingly amused, exchanged a bewildered glance with you. It seemed like Theodore had a natural talent for both charm and mischief, a combination that made him rather unpredictable.

Blaise let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Well played, Nott," he said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and approval. "I think we could all take some fucking notes."

Theodore's dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned his attention to Malfoy, who sat back, looking unfazed despite the intensity of the situation.

"Malfoy, truth or dare?" he asked, his voice dripping with calculated curiosity.

Malfoy, never one to back down from a challenge, arched an eyebrow. "Dare," he declared, his confidence unshaken.

"I dare you to serenade the group," Theodore proclaimed with an impish grin after a few moments of thought, his eyes flicking toward Pansy. "And Pansy here gets to pick the song."

You couldn't stifle the smile that crawled its way across your face as Malfoy's expressions dropped, Pansy sitting up straighter against the back of the couch as though she'd just been abruptly woken up from a slumber. As she pondered her thoughts for a moment, a sly smile crawled across her lips while she turned her attention to Malfoy.

"I heard this charming Muggle song recently. 'Can't Help Falling in Love' by Elvis Presley, do you know it?" When Malfoy groaned, reluctantly nodding, her grin widened. "Perfect. Sing it, Malfoy, let's see if you can capture the essence of a true romantic."

Malfoy, never one to shy away from a challenge, dropped the grumbling act and accepted the dare with a smirk. He stood up gracefully, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt with an air of confidence. The room fell into a hushed silence, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

With a deep breath, Malfoy launched into the Muggle love ballad, his voice slightly off-key but filled with an unexpected sincerity. Each word spilled out in an earnest attempt, and despite the imperfections, there was a genuine effort in his performance. The room was soon filled with laughter as Malfoy's melodramatic rendition took an unintentionally humorous turn.

His eyes, though, couldn't escape the challenge in Pansy's choice of song. As he sang, they occasionally flicked toward her, acknowledging the audacious choice. The laughter and amusement echoed around the room, mingling with the bittersweet undercurrent of emotions that danced in the air.

Amidst the laughter, Mattheo remained as serious as ever, his eyes continually locking onto you. For a brief moment, your gaze met his, and in that exchange, a torrent of memories flooded your mind--past moments shared in secret, a connection that had once felt unbreakable. The juxtaposition of Malfoy's performance and Mattheo's unwavering stare stirred something deep within you, a mixture of nostalgia, regret, and an unspoken longing that lingered in the pit of your stomach, leaving you both captivated and unsettled.

As his show finally came to an end, Malfoy took a bow, the circle erupting into a laughter-filled applause. As he returned to his seat, Pansy wore a satisfied grin, clearly happy with her choice, and Theodore looked especially pleased, reveling in the success of his dare.

"Quite impressive, Malfoy," Theodore remarked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Your secret talents never cease to amaze us."

Malfoy simply shrugged, his usual arrogance back in place. "Naturally," he replied, the corners of his lips quirking up in a subtle smile. "Now, who's next? How about you, Ravenclaw, truth or dare?"

You felt a sudden knot tighten in your stomach as Malfoy turned his attention toward you, his silver eyes sharp and calculating. The weight of the room seemed to press down on your shoulders as the spotlight shifted onto you. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each more precarious than the last. Truth might lead to questions about Tom or Mattheo, both topics you desperately wanted to avoid.

So, with a forced nonchalance that barely masked your anxiety, you replied, "Dare."

You hoped against hope that the dare he gave you wouldn't plunge you into deeper waters, although the mischievous glint in Malfoy's eyes suggested he had something particularly devious in mind--and of course, you most definitely were fucking right.

"I dare you to go into the broom closet with Berkshire for fifteen minutes."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief at Malfoy's audacious dare, your voice laced with incredulity.

"Are you completely mental?" you scoffed, glancing at Berkshire, who seemed equally stunned. "There's no way I'm voluntarily locking myself in a broom closet with him for fifteen minutes. We will undoubtedly end up tearing each other's heads off."

Berkshire, never one to miss an opportunity to mock, chimed in, "Yeah, I'm not signing up for a murder-suicide pact tonight, thanks."

"What's the matter, Raven? Afraid of a little close quarters?" Malfoy, clearly enjoying your discomfort, taunted, "you two certainly have no problems running your mouths at each other in public. I think a little private meeting might be good for you."

You clenched your fists, trying to rein in your irritation. "I promise you, I'm not afraid...I'd just prefer not to be expelled a few months from graduation."

"Fine, fine...you're a bloody baby," Malfoy retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Since you're so picky, how about Mattheo instead. He's not scared of a little closet, are you, Riddle?"

Your eyes darted to Mattheo, his expression stoic, but a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. The room seemed to tighten around you, a sense of foreboding settling in your bones as Mattheo's jaw clenched visibly, his eyes glittering with concealed anger as he put down his cup and stood up. The tension in the room grew palpable, the air thick with unspoken hostility. His voice was low and steady, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Fifteen minutes," he said curtly, his gaze fixed on the broom closet. "Knock when it's up."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his determined stare. There was a whirlpool of something in his eyes, something you couldn't quite decipher--anger, frustration, or maybe something entirely different. As he gestured toward the closet, you felt a shiver run down your spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

With a deep breath, you stood up, your eyes never leaving his. You walked toward the closet, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on your back. The door creaked open, and you both stepped inside, the darkness enveloping you as it closed shut behind you with a soft click. Inside the closet, the air was close, your breaths mingling in the confined space as you stood facing each other with hardly enough room to turn around if you tried to.

The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the tension between you almost suffocating. It was a daring game, one neither of you had expected to play, and now you were trapped together, the world outside the closet slipping away into nothingness, the tense energy in the room vibrating through your bones as the  silence grew to be unbearable, neither of you daring to speak.

Finally, Mattheo spoke, his voice rough like gravel underfoot, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder in the night. "You let him kiss you."

His words weren't a question, but weren't really a statement either--it was as though he was repeating something, reading something off a sheet of paper, trying to make sense of it, each syllable carrying a weight of disbelief, as if he was grappling with a reality he couldn't quite accept. Your pulse increased, your lungs stalling, his tone laced with something you couldn't quite place--accusation, curiosity, or maybe a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," your throat felt tight as you admitted your actions. "I did."

It was a confession, a truth you couldn't deny, even if you wanted to. The darkness seemed to amplify the weight of your words, and you could almost feel Mattheo's gaze piercing through the shadows, seeking answers. And even though you could hardly see Mattheo's face in the darkness of the closet, you could smell the hint of alcohol radiating off of him, not as strong as it usually was, but still enough to make your head spin. Mattheo's breath, warm and laced with the remnants of the party, washed over your face. His next question sliced through the air, sharp and accusatory.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice a low growl, echoing with frustration and confusion. "You said you don't-"

"I don't." You cut him off, already knowing exactly what he was going to say. "Not at fucking all."

The words spilled out, tinged with defiance, but beneath that was a current of vulnerability. You knew the truth of your feelings, but convincing Mattheo seemed like an insurmountable task in the darkness.

"Then why?" he pressed again, his tone more insistent, as though he needed you to unravel this mystery for him. "You're playing him...you're playing him like a fucking flute, yeah?"

His accusation hung in the air, a challenge, a plea for an explanation that made sense of the tangled web of emotions between you, and for some reason, all it did was further your anger.

"Does that bother you, Riddle?" you hissed, your voice cutting through the darkness like a blade. You shifted your weight, locking eyes with him, your gaze narrowed and intense. "Did you think you were the only one capable of playing games? Or maybe you think it’s only okay when you do it?"

The words carried a raw edge, a blend of defiance and accusation, challenging him to confront his own actions and hypocrisy. Mattheo's throat worked as he swallowed, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Raven, you're playing with fire-" he began, his voice a low warning.

"Don't even go there," you cut him off, your words dripping with venom. "I am the shape you made me, Mattheo...filth teaches filth..."

Your voice trailed off, the darkness of the closet adding weight to your words. You tilted your head, catching a glimpse of his parted lips and furrowed brows, a mix of frustration and barely-restrained anger etched on his features.

"And even still," you continued, your tone biting, "I could only dream to be as skilled at it as you are."

Mattheo's jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn't quite place, as your words hung in the air like a heavy fog. The anger and dread that had gripped you moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by an almost palpable tension. His energy shifted, seeping out of the closet through the cracks in the door, leaving a lingering, painstaking atmosphere in its wake.

You stood there, anxiety coiling in your chest, completely unaware of how close the two of you were until this very moment. His presence loomed over you, a silent force that you couldn't escape, and yet, a part of you didn't want to. His chest rose and fell with each intense breath, the confined space amplifying the weight of his proximity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and even if there were, you found yourself rooted to the spot, knowing that not even a fucking fire could force you to move.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, either." He whispered.

You paused. “You-“

"You haven’t left my mind…not even once." His words hung in the air like a sinful confession, catching you completely off guard. “Do you know how fucking annoying that is, Raven? Having to act like you’re not haunting me at all seconds of the fucking day?”

Utter shock seized you, your body tensing involuntarily. You stared at his face, desperately searching for any signs of deceit, but found none.

“The mind works in funny ways,” he said. “Memory…memory taps a fucking gun to your skull and demands you bring back the dead…meanwhile, the dead is out kissing my fucking brother in front of me…”

His gaze bored into yours, raw and unguarded, leaving you utterly defenseless against the truth he laid bare.

“I know we called things off, I know I used you in the beginning, I know I was a fucking asshole to you, and I’m…I’m fucking sorry..." his body seemed to vibrate with restrained emotion, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he was waging a war within his mind. "There’s so many girls out there, Raven...so fucking many that I could distract myself with, but it would do nothing...it's your body, it's your fucking pussy on my mind..."

Each word hung between you, heavy and charged with unspoken longing, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. "Matt-"

Mattheo stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his chest almost brushing against yours but not quite daring to touch. The tension between you crackled in the air, your every nerve on edge. His eyes, dark and searching, drilled into yours, seeking answers to questions you weren't sure you were ready to confront.

"Were you thinking of me?" His voice was a low rumble, an undercurrent of intensity underscoring his words. "When you're with him...every time you close your eyes, who do you see?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers trembling at your sides. The room seemed to spin, the air growing thin as your lungs struggled to draw in oxygen.

"You." The word escaped your lips, a fragile admission that hung between you, heavy with the weight of truth. "Always, always you."

Mattheo exhaled, his breath rushing out like a dam breaking, as though he had been holding it in, afraid of your response. His lips parted, wetted by a tongue that seemed to have forgotten how to form words.

"That's right..." he murmured, his voice barely audible over the racing of your hearts. "You know I'm your best-kept secret, Raven...why don't you show me like you know and believe it..."

His words lingered in the charged atmosphere, a challenge and a plea, leaving you suspended in the moment, torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could be.

Your voice wavered with a mix of concern and disbelief. "You're drunk, aren't you, Mattheo..."

"I'm not drunk." His reply was swift, like a crack of lightning. "I've barely had one fucking drink, I'm as sober as I've ever been...and even if I hadn't quit all that shit, there'd be no way I could drink tonight anyways."

Your breath hitched, your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign that this was some kind of sick joke. "Why?"

Mattheo emitted a low chuckle, but it lacked any warmth, carrying a sinister edge that sent shivers down your spine. "Because, if I was drunk, I wouldn't have been able to control myself...I would have knocked my own brother out fifty fucking times over without even a second thought…not a fucking soul in that room would have been able to stop me..."

His words hung heavy in the air, an ominous promise that draped over you like a suffocating cloak, leaving you with a chilling realization that the tangled web of your past was far from unraveling.

"You fucking ruin me, Raven..." his voice was a low, guttural whisper, dark and haunting, sending a shudder through your limbs. "That stare...it makes me fucking want things..."

Your eyes widened, his words wrapping around you like a vice, constricting your thoughts.

"Things...like what?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible.

Mattheo ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair, the veins in his hands standing out in stark relief, a silent testament to the intensity of his emotions. His eyes, usually so sharp and controlled, were now clouded with a raw, primal desire, a longing that had been hidden for far too long.

"Things like my fist in your hair and my cock in that pretty fucking mouth..." he growled, his voice cracking with the weight of his desire. "Things like bending you over in the middle of that party just to show every asshole out there who you belong to..."

Your mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spinning out of control, unable to comprehend anything except the burning desire that consumed you.

"Holy fuck..." the words escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of the moment. "Mattheo, I...."

Mattheo's eyes, darker than you'd ever seen them, searched yours desperately. "Can I touch you, Raven?" he pleaded, his voice a raw, heartfelt plea. "Please, let me fucking touch you."

In response, you barely managed to nod, your throat tight with anticipation. And then, his lips crashed onto yours with a fervor that made up for all the lost time, all the weeks of distance and silence. His kiss was passionate, demanding, a fiery reunion of lips and souls that ignited a wildfire between you two. His hands, warm and possessive, found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, sealing the gap that had kept you apart for far too long.

In that moment, every wall you had built around your heart crumbled, the fragments falling away like ash in the wind. You surrendered to the storm that was Mattheo Riddle, his touch setting your skin ablaze, his kiss a tempest that swept you off your feet. He was your drug, your haunting addiction, an irresistible pull that defied reason and logic. No matter how far you tried to run, no matter the crazy measures you took to stay away, you always found yourself right back where you started--entangled in his arms, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of his presence.

Mattheo broke the kiss, his hands gripping you as if he feared you might vanish into thin air. His lips trailed down to your jawline, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against your skin. "I can taste your fucking pain, Raven...is that because of me?"

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. "Yes," you admitted, your vulnerability laid bare before him. "Having experienced both, I'm not sure what hurts more...intense feeling, or the absence of it..."

"The absence...without a fucking doubt," he whispered, his touch on your skin sending electric sparks through your veins. His presence felt overwhelming, his breath warm against your neck in the dimness of the closet. "I know he's good for you...I know he's every fucking thing that you need...but I-"

"No." Your hands tightened around his neck, nails digging into his skin. "He could be fucking everything and more...he's just...he's not you."

Mattheo's teeth grazed your earlobe, a shiver running down your spine as your words spun in the silence between your bodies. Your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline in the midst of a storm.

"Better men could have you, Raven...I won’t deny that," he admitted, his voice a husky murmur against your skin. "But they'll have to get through me, now...I will leave such a fucking imprint on your soul that anyone you entertain after me will have to physically know me in order to fucking attempt to understand you..."

His declaration felt like a promise, an unspoken commitment that bound you to him in a way that transcended mere words. In that moment, you realized that you were not just giving in to desire; you were surrendering to something far more profound and all-encompassing. Mattheo wasn't just another flame to be extinguished; he was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, leaving behind scorched earth and a desire that defied reason.

You pulled him closer, sealing the unspoken pact with a fervent kiss, letting the intensity of your emotions guide your actions. In that dim closet, amidst the whispers of Slytherin secrets and the echoes of your tangled past, you found solace in Mattheo's arms, embracing the chaos that came with wanting someone you shouldn't, knowing that in the end, the heart wants what it wants, regardless of the consequences.

The air in the closet felt charged with a potent blend of desire and desperation as you pulled away, gasping for air. The intensity of the moment coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless and exhilarated. Your eyes locked onto Mattheo's, your voice raw and unsteady, yet laced with conviction.

"You might be bad…so fucking bad for me, Mattheo," you whispered, your words hanging in the small space between you, "but I fucking want you...there's no one else..."

“Fucking hell, Raven…” Mattheo let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slithering up to grip your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. His stormy eyes bore into yours, his voice a gravelly murmur, carrying the weight of his emotions. “You’re my little devil, aren’t you?”

You smirked. “Yes…I am…”

"I'm in deep, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath warm and sweet. "Merlin knows we both feel it...you hold my fucking fate, so seal it…”

With those words, you closed the distance between you yet again, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, his hands slithering down to grip your backside with enough force to make you groan into his mouth. And just as things began escalating, just as your hands were trailing their way down the front of his body, reaching for his belt, there was a knock at the door.

"Fifteens up."

————————

Find seventeen->

[sissa-arrows]

God, I read liberal Zionists & centrists and I’m just so insanely happy that Algeria got its independance 60 years ago, imagine the horrifying opinions and articles about the FLN.

I mean we still got the horrifying opinions and articles about the FLN and about Algerians in general but we sure did avoid social media and whenever colonizers open their throats online I’m glad that I wasn’t alive back then and I admire Palestinians and Sahrawi people especially the women who stay strong despite all the doxing, insults, threats and constant dehumanization.

1st headline: Brutal terrorist soar in Algeria

2nd headline: Algeria is France and France won’t recognize any other authority than itself on its own territory

3rd headline: Really bad situation in Algeria where outlaws attacked military outposts

4th headline: Mr.Guy Mollet will have extended special powers for Algeria

5th headline: De Gaulle “I understand you!” (It’s about De Gaulle speech reassuring the settlers telling them he understood them and intended to keep Algeria under French rule.

6th headline: Bloody insurrectional movement started on Saturday at noon is crushed in a couple hours

7th headline: Good catch in a murderers den in the Casbah (the people they call murderers were the Freedom fighter under the orders of Yacef Saadi)

8th headline: You need to get in the mountains and stay there. Out first objectif “pacify” the rest will happen naturally.

That being said… this is how it ended. With headlines about ceasefire and independence. And this is also how it will end for Palestine. With a ceasefire followed by freedom and independence from colonialism.

9th headline: A huge victory for peace: ceasefire in Algeria

10th headline: With independence and teamwork; Algeria will live.

[daisies-daydreams]

Meine (König x AFAB!Reader)

Pairing: König x AFAB!Reader Category: Fluff, Angst, Smut (18+) Word Count: 4k+  Warnings: Harassment/Unwanted Flirting, P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (Wrap and Tap), Full Nelson, Vaginal Fingering, Handjob, Semi-Mutual Masturbation, Car Sex, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Size Difference, Dom!/Jealous!König, Biting/Marking, Manhandling, Stomach Bulge, Rough Sex, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Descriptions of Social Anxiety 

Summary: After a man tries to flirt with you at a bar, König starts to act…different. When he brings you home, he decides to show you just who you belong to. 

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You chewed on your flimsy straw mindlessly, waiting for your boyfriend to return from the bathroom. Seeing as it was a Saturday night, the bar was packed to the brim, rancorous noise pouring from every corner.

“We don’t have to stay for long if it gets too overwhelming,” you said as you looked up to König’s hooded face. He was adamant on trying to manage his social anxiety, and you promised him you’d be by his side for every step of the way. 

He always seemed more relaxed when the two of you went into crowded spaces like grocery stores. However, he had yet to try a more leisurely space. Your love took in a deep breath as he clung onto your hand, taking the first step into the bar. You smiled warmly as you walked in by his side, leaning your head on his burly upper arm.

That was about an hour ago. He fidgeted the entire time the two of you sat at the bar, his movements increasing as more patrons flooded the pub. König excused himself, nearly knocking over several tables as he made his way to the men’s room. Your eyes followed him past the corner before you turned your attention to the television playing above you. 

“Heaven must be missing an angel,” a snarky voice chimed next to you. Your brow arched as you gazed at the young man who slid into the empty chair…König’s chair. He was clad in a bright red polo and gray chino slacks, his body toned and face adorned with a wry grin. His mates at the table behind both of you were chuckling like a group of grade schoolers.

“Are you calling me Satan?” you spat with a piercing gaze. You heard a clamor of “oohs” behind you. The blonde scoffed as he readjusted himself in his chair, his smirk still plastered to his sharp face. 

“Maybe that’s why I feel so tempted when I’m near you,” he lilted. Another round of chuckles from the gaggle of drunk college boys. You rolled your eyes and flicked your index finger at his chair.

“Go bother someone else. I’m here with my boyfriend,” you huffed. The group snickered as the young man snorted. 

“Really? Don’t see anybody here but me,” he slurred. A pink blush burned on his cheeks as his blown pupils stared you up and down. You felt small beneath his gaze as his eyes grazed you up and down, drinking in the sight of you in your dark, skin-tight dress. You recoiled as he slung his arm around your shoulder, your hand quickly reaching for your pepper spray. 

“Come on, lemme buy you a-” his acerbic words were quickly cut off when a giant hand splayed over his shoulder and squeezed it roughly. His brows furrowed as he whipped his head around. 

“Can’t you see I’m in a conversation, you-” his eyes grew into the size of saucers when he snapped his neck just to look up at your boyfriend. His eyes were cold and piercing as he laid his other hand on the drunk man’s shoulder. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you watched König’s towering shadow swallow the man whole.

“Is this boy bothering you, Katzchen?” König growled, his hand gripping the man’s shoulder tightly. The man’s face was white as he shook in his chair, his mates long gone. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat as your mountain of a man yanked his arm off from around your shoulders. Tears pricked at the corner of the blonde's eyes, your lover clutching both of his fists into the joker’s collar.

You couldn’t help but notice the heat pooling in between your legs as you watched König’s hot breath puff beneath his dark sniper hood, his shoulders raised as he stared into the man’s soul. You bit your lip as you watched the younger man squirm in his hold. 

“F-Fuck, I’m sorry. Please, don’t kill me,” he sobbed. König’s icy blue gaze stabbed through the man's spirit, saying nothing. 

“König, baby,” you cooed, your hand rubbing up the bulging muscles of his arm. He gave you a quick glance, his vicious look growing soft for a brief second.

“Alright,” he murmured lowly. Your boyfriend huffed before releasing the now crumpled collar. The man dropped to his shaking knees and whimpered on impact. You squeezed your thighs together as König leaned down to the man, whispering loudly enough for both of you to hear. 

“Get the fuck out of here. If I see you near my Katzchen again…touching her like that…I swear to Gott I’ll make your mother weep when she sees what I’ve done to you,” he snarled, every word thick and heavy with his accent. Another pang of heat shot through your body, trickling down your spine and into your gushing snatch. “Got it?” König barked. The young man nodded, nearly breaking his neck.

“Y-Yes! Sorry, sir!” the blonde whimpered like a kicked dog as he scrambled to his feet. You watched as the man tripped and wobbled his way out between the rows of chairs and tables, finally bursting through the doors. The entire bar was silent, all eyes glued to you and your boyfriend. You felt him lightly pat your shoulder, the ice in his eyes now melted into warm pools.

“Meine Schatz, are you alright?” König asked, his voice soft and sweet like honey. His hands were trembling as they came close to your cheeks. His voice made you wonder if he believed his touch alone would shatter you after what just happened. You nodded, heart still racing beneath your sternum and an insatiable ache burning in your core.

“I-I’m fine,” you replied. He gave a small hum before pressing your hand to his clothed mouth.

“Would it be okay if we went back home?” he asked as he rubbed your hand against his cheek. The room began to hum back to life as you squeezed his hand. 

“Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here,” you laughed exasperatedly. He nodded and helped you down from your seat. König paid for your drinks before taking your hand back into his. His grip was almost too tight when he led you through the wide, wooden doors. 

“Thank you for standing up for me in there,” you said as you clung to König’s burly arm. He gave a sigh before kissing the top of your head, his lips still covered by his sniper hood. 

“Of course, Liebling. Nobody messes with my (Y/N),” he declared with a raspy voice. Another wave of heat shot through your body, your cheeks dusted pink. 

“Are you feeling okay?” your love asked as both of you slid into the car and buckled your seatbelts. You gave a short nod, though the shifting of your legs said otherwise. 

“Y-Yeah. Just some adrenaline still left over from what happened back there,” you said waving your hand. He looked you up and down before patting your thigh. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner, Schatz,” König apologized. You shook your head as he turned the keys in the ignition. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’m just glad nobody got hurt,” you admitted. Your boyfriend gave a low hum before shifting the car to reverse. 

“Me too,” he agreed. Your eyes raked over his body, his black t-shirt clinging to his sweat-covered torso. Your brows raised as they met with a familiar bulge poking from beneath his slacks. You licked your lips, your mind shrouded with the thick fog of arousal. 

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he turned out of the parking lot. You couldn’t stop your heart from racing as you shifted your legs, trying to relieve the relentless tension in your core. You stopped when you felt his calloused hand slide over your smooth thigh once more. His eyes were still on the road, though his fingers were tapping dangerously close to your clothed cunt. 

“Are you sure you're alright, Katzchen?” he asked, his fingers drumming on the top of your thigh. You stiffened a whine as goosebumps littered your skin.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you said before biting your lip. König drew out a long sigh, his fingers now drawing circles in your bumpy flesh. 

“I know you, Katzchen. I know what it means when you get all flustered like this,” the Austrian mused. You moaned as his hand cupped your heat, his long digits pressed deliciously over your hole. He sucked in a sharp breath and you swore his cock jumped in his pants. 

“Mein Gott, you’re soaked,” he groaned. Your fists bunched at the bottom of your dress as you felt the tips of his fingers rub against your pussy. Heat poured into every pore of your skin when his palm pressed against your aching clit. 

“Ah,” you moaned as your head tilted back. He slowed the car down as he approached a stoplight, not letting up on his ministrations. You didn’t mind the other cars that pulled up beside you, thankful that you had the cover of the dark night and your tinted windows. 

“Look at you, little thing. Humping my hand like you’re in heat,” he clicked his tongue. You arched as his fingers slid to part your panties aside, his digits slipping through your slick folds. 

“Kö-Oh!” you squealed when he pinched your clit. Your eyes shifted back to his twitching cock. You licked your lips as you reached over. He tensed in his seat as your fingers brushed against his hard member. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s getting flustered,” you snickered. König’s grip on the wheel tightened even more as he tried to maintain his current speed. You weren’t expecting him to plunge his digits into your sopping cunt, being split open by three of his ginormous fingers. You keened as he pumped his fingers in your walls, your pussy squelching with every thrust. 

Your hand made quick work to latch onto his pants, though he shook his head vigorously. You pouted before whining as he curled the tips of his fingers on the roof of your pussy. 

“I’m sorry, Katzchen. I...I just don’t trust myself. I don’t want us to get into a wreck,” he explained before swallowing a thick lump in his throat. You gave an understanding nod, though you still yearned to wrap your sweet lips around the head of his dick. Your hands gripped his sturdy arm as he pumped in and out of you, faster...faster...

“König! I’m gonna-” your eyes suddenly rolled into the back of your head. His thumb was circling your red clit, unleashing a wave of arousal gushing out of your stuffed cunt. Your vision was blurry as your body was wracked with silent sobs, your walls convulsing over his hefty digits. 

“Good girl,” König cooed as he continued to finger-fuck you through your euphoric ride. “So pretty when you cum around my fingers,” he praised as your walls snatched him in a vice grip. You babbled his name as he slid his fingers from your cunt, your slick dribbling onto the seat below. 

You looked over at your boyfriend as he pulled closer to your apartment complex. His sapphire eyes glanced over at his slick-coated digits. He muttered something under his breath before slipping his fingers beneath his hood. You groaned as you heard him suckle on his fingers, releasing them with a sudden pop. 

“You taste so delicious, Schatz,” he moaned as he pulled up to another light. You took your chance, mind numb from your orgasm as your hand sprung and clutched over his clothed cock. 

“Liebling,” he hissed between his teeth as you cupped your palm over his hard length. His eyes squeezed shut as he gripped the wheel with both hands. 

“Please, Kö. Want to make you feel good,” you slurred, drool dripping from the corner of your lips. His chest rose and fell as he kept his eyes on the light. He gave a small nod before your hand plunged below his pants. Your love grunted as your hand snaked around his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“S-Scheiße,” he swallowed thickly as you stroked up and down his veiny length. He tried to keep his eyes steady on the road in front of him as the light flashed green. You lazily pulled his cock free from his pants. It was so massive, standing to attention as the cherry red tip leaked with salty precum. You swiped your thumb over the tip of his cock before smearing his precum across his entire head. 

“So good, (Y/N),” he groaned, careful to keep his grasp steady on the wheel as your complex came into view. He nearly swerved the car as you curled your lips over his tip, pressing a quick kiss over his head before swiping small kitten licks up and down his throbbing shaft. 

“FUCK,” König hissed as he finally turned into the parking lot. His jaw went slack as you hollowed your cheeks and slowly sank down onto his member. The bulky man’s tip almost instantly hit the back of your head as he clumsily swerved into a parking spot, causing you to gag. Your nose was pressed flush against his abdomen, his tip shoved completely down your tight, wet throat. He shifted the car into park as you bobbed your head back up, soon taking him down into the deep cavern of your esophagus. You took one hand and mindlessly gripped at whatever you couldn’t take into your mouth, pumping the bottom of his shaft. König’s massive hands gripped your neatly made hair as he groaned out German phrases and curses. 

“So good, ah, Schatz-Scheiße, gonna make me cum!” his voice raised in pitch when your other hand fondled his heavy balls. You moaned around his length as he stiffened, shooting ropes of thick cum down your throat. Your boyfriend growled animalistically as he watched you swallow every drop before releasing your mouth from his gigantic length. You sputtered and coughed, throat aching yet warm from his seed. He rubbed your neck before giving you some water he had left in the car earlier. The liquid was comforting, helping your sore throat open a little more as he whispered praises into your ear. His hand slipped his cock back into his slacks before he pressed a deep kiss into your lips, not minding the taste of himself in your mouth. 

“Upstairs. Now,” he breathed when he pulled away. 

***

Stepping into your apartment was a whirlwind. As soon as König slammed the door shut behind you, he carried you to your bedroom. His burly form hovered above you on your mattress as he tore his hood and clothes off. You moaned when he dove into your neck, his wet tongue caressing over your beating pulse. Your hand immediately latched onto his forearms as you spread your legs. 

“Can’t wait to be inside that perfect, tight cunt of yours,” he bellowed, his gravely voice sending waves rippling through your nervous system. You whined when his cracked lips wrapped around your pulse, sucking hard enough for a hickey to bloom instantly. 

“Fuck, König,” you gasped. His lips continued to suck fresh hickeys on your skin, his canines pressing small, red crevices into the nape of your neck.

“Need you König, need you so bad,” you whimpered, his cock twitching above your clothed heat. König grunted into your flesh before giving your ass a hard squeeze. You felt warmth explode inside of your chest as your eyes raked across his scarred face, his dirty blonde hair still matted from the dark hood. Your fingertips delicately traced each and every divot from his face, down to his broad, heaving chest. He smashed his lips down against yours, moaning into your mouth while grinding his cock down onto you. 

“I’m here, Katzchen,” he rasped into your ear.

Your brows furrowed as he suddenly guided you towards the end of the bed. König remained seated, broad thighs spread as his cock sprang to life between his legs. He pulled you onto his lap, spinning you around so you were face to face with your reflection in the full-length mirror. He smiled, eyes dark and drinking in your heaving chest while his hands bunched up the bottom of your dress. 

“Such a tight dress, showing off all your perfect curves for me,” he beamed. Your pussy quivered as you wiggled your ass in front of him. He finally peeled your dress off of your body, letting it drift to the floor below. He let out a low growl as his hands grabbed your hips, firmly pressing your heat down to his length. You craned your neck and exchanged sloppy kisses as the pressure in your core skyrocketed with every drive of his cock. 

“Want me to fuck you, Schatz? Want me to make you cum around my thick cock, hm?” König murmured with a string of spit connecting both of your swollen lips. You nodded vigorously with another grind of your hips on his hard length. 

“Fuck, yes,” you pleaded with blown pupils. König was usually so soft during sex, always so gentle like you were made of fine porcelain. However, you had to admit that his feral groans, him firmly manhandling you and his new dark and commanding voice made your pussy flutter. 

His soft smile quickly shifted into a smirk as he gave your ass a sharp smack. You squealed as the warm pins and needles bloomed over your plush cheeks. He sucked in a sharp breath as you pressed your ass to his throbbing dick, your breasts jiggling in your push-up bra. 

“A g-string, hm?” he mused as he snapped the elastic band of your underwear. You yelped at the light sting against your skin. “Makes me wonder if you were wanting to get fucked tonight once we got back,” he pondered aloud with another snap of your g-string. You drooled as his cock continued to slide beneath your soaked panties. 

“Eyes up, Schatz,” König softly commanded. Your eyes flitted up at the reflection staring back at you. You looked utterly desperate, head hung back and chest pushed forward as he slid your panties off. The corner of his eyes crinkled at the sight of your flustered cheeks, drooling lips and lidded eyes. His eyes were wide at the sight of your soaked folds.

“Scheiße,” he muttered under his breath. Soon your bra came flying off, your breasts bouncing down and into the firm grasp of his palms. You shifted on his lap, the weeping head of his red cock nudging against your tight entrance. Knocking, but not coming all the way in. You were a mess of babbles and moans as he rubbed the top of his cock against your wet folds, coating his dick with your slick arousal.

“Katzchen,” he groaned. Your hands went back to cling around his neck as he spread your legs with his hands. You keened as your lover moved your legs up, positioning you into a full nelson in his hefty arms and Herculean strength. The stretch was borderline painful, but you were too drunk on the feeling of his tip snug against your hole. 

“Fuck, please, Kö,” you begged. He moaned as he pushed into you a few times before he slowly sank you down on his member. Your back arched and mouth snapped open as he split you in two, inch by wonderful inch. He hissed as he bit his lip, his grip on your legs threatening to imprint bruises on your skin. 

“So good and tight for me, G-Gott,” he shuddered as your walls clenched around him. You gasped as your hips became flush with his, his heavy balls aching just below you. König’s icy gaze was locked to the mirror. He was mesmerized by the crisp, reflected image in front of him: your weeping cunt swallowing him as he bottomed out within you. 

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he praised as he bit into your pulse once more. You whined, pussy fluttering around his massive member as he littered your skin with violet hickeys and magenta bitemarks. “Love how well you take me, Mini,” König rasped into your ear. Your entire body erupted into flames as he suddenly bucked into you. Your eyes were wide as you saw a refection of the bulge that poked beneath your lower abdomen. 

“Kö-Oh, Oh my God,” you moaned so loudly, surely the neighbors next to you would’ve heard. König grunted as he raised your entire form as if you weighed nothing. Your walls clenched and unclenched as he left his leaking, red tip at the lips of your entrance. You shivered as he sank you back down onto his thick, pulsing cock. The world seemed to melt around you as he kept ordering you to keep your eyes on the mirror. The sight before you was beyond lewd, your pussy squelching and bubbling with arousal as he relentlessly fucked you on his cock. 

“That’s it, Schatz, just like that,” he groaned into your neck. Your slick dripped down your ass as his cock brushed against the spot that made your soul invert and toes curl. Your legs were taut and stretched beneath his leviathan grip, the veins of his dick dragging against your walls so smoothly from your slick. Your pretty moans were music to his ears as he reached down to play with your swollen clit.

“Kö!” you yelled. His lips fluttered over your neck as he sped up, his hips coming up to meet with yours. A high-pitched squeal escaped you as he sucked another dark spot onto your pulse. 

“So beautiful, all spread out for me like this,” he groaned as his hand spread your arousal up to the bulge poking at your lower stomach. Fuck, he always filled you to the point where pain and pleasure melted. “Meine, meine, meine,” he chanted hungrily as his head fell back. You felt your walls tighten around his member as he pistoned into you. 

“Bet that man back at the bar couldn’t fuck you this good, huh Maus?” König growled into your ear. Your ears perked up at his words, your attention turned from the feeling of his cock to his tight face. You shifted your head as much as you could to meet his unhooded gaze.

“Kö, are you…jealous?” you squeaked as he continued to bounce you on his length. His pumping slowed as his lips curved down, a deep frown etched onto his sweaty face. A heavy silence swallowed the room for a few moments. König swallowed, his pale eyes turned away from you.

“M-Maybe,” his face broke out into a deep merlot. Your face softened as you brought your hand up to his sharp cheek. You placed a gentle kiss on his lower chin while his hand found purchase over yours.

“Oh, König, you don’t have to worry about that,” you cooed. “I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him with another kiss. His large fingers tightened around the back of your knees as he shuddered. 

“I know, Katzchen. I just…” König trailed off. Your love gave a long sigh, his eyes focused on wooden floor as he tried to find the best words to say. You continued to pepper his chin with kisses, your hands now lovingly rubbing his ripped forearms. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted with a shaky breath. His grip on you loosened as he let your legs fall back over his sturdy thigh. You turned your whole body towards him, the tendrils of ecstasy grappling over you as you took his face into your palms.

“Kö, look at me,” you stated. His eyes lingered up towards yours. “You won’t lose me, König. Those guys back there were just some young, drunk assholes looking for a piece of ass,” you explained. You firmly pressed your lips to his, drinking in the warm feeling of him. “I love you, König. Nothing and nobody will ever make me want to leave you,” you said with a strong nod. His blue orbs were soft and misty as he released his grip on your legs. 

“I-I love you too, Schatz,” he stammered. You smiled as König enveloped you in a tight hug, nearly forcing the air out of your lungs. You brought your arms up to wrap around his scarred back, your fingers brushing and tracing along his spine. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I doubted your loyalty. I just can’t bear the thought of you being taken away from me,” your boyfriend confessed. You pulled back from your embrace, though you kept your hands resting on his back.

“It’s alright, König,” you breathed into him. He gave a slow, solemn nod, his cock still twitching inside of your tight cunt. You smirked as you leaned over his cheek, your hands now raking up his hard abs and resting on his rough pectorals. You leaned up to his ear. “You know, I kind of liked it when you were really possessive about me,” you whispered before nipping the shell of his ear. König shivered, his fingertips pressed tightly on the plush of your hips.

“R-Really?” he murmured, his face still remaining a deep shade of red.

“Mhm,” you hummed as you trailed kisses down his sharp jawline. You circled your hips slightly and flexed your walls around his cock. König groaned between gritted teeth as he clutched your hips in a vice grip. His jaw was slack as you continued to dance on his quivering length. “Maybe you could show me…who exactly I belong to?” you mused as you lightly pinched the corner of his jaw with your teeth. He was still for a moment, chest rising and falling as silence hung over the room.

You yelped as you felt him grab you and spin you around. Your back was soon planted on the mattress as he crawled on top of you. König’s chest heaved as he lined his member back to your entrance. His cock was rock-solid, his cherry-red tip weeping with precum as he dragged it to your lips. 

“Listen here, Schatz. You belong to me,” he emphasized the last word with a sharp thrust into your cunt. Your mouth formed into a silent “O” as his head slammed into your cervix. Your boyfriend panted above you as he drilled his cock into your tight hole, his lips now latching onto your nipple and sucking hard.

“Meine, meine, meine,” he moaned ceaselessly. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with every melodic groan, every delicious thrust into your plush, aching walls. His ball slapped against your asshole as he sped up. You felt him spit on your clit before he rubbed his thumb over the swollen button. 

“König,” you moaned. He smirked against your breast as he drove into you at a rapid pace, his thumb dancing over your clit. 

“That’s right. Say my name, liebling. Tell me who you belong to while you cum on this cock you love so much,” he groaned. Your mind grew numb as your walls constricted, tighter and tighter. Every cell in your body coursed with lava as your back arched off the mattress.

“KÖNIG!” you screamed as your high crashed over you. His eyes never left you, enraptured by the way you writhed beneath him, your walls contracting around him while your nails raked down his back. 

“F-Fuck, (Y/N)!” he groaned as his body began to grow stiff. Your mountain of a man suddenly slammed his cock into you one last time. A primal growl escaped his lips while his member twitched inside of you. Both of you moaned as he filled you with rope after rope of his thick, warm cum. You drank up the feeling of fullness, blushing furiously when you gazed down to see where your wet sexes joined. König panted above you before he dove into your lips. 

“Schatz…are you alright? I’m so sorry. I was too rough, wasn’t I?” König panicked as he looked you over for any signs of pain. You laughed and pecked his lips. 

“No, God no-that was amazing,” you exhaled. He smiled sheepishly as he captured your lips with his own. You whimpered when he slipped his cock out of you, his cum dribbling down your thighs and onto the crisp sheets below.

“Did so well for me,” he praised between breaths. He laid down on his side, his arms pulling you to his wide chest. “My Katzchen,” he murmured into your tousled hair. You snuggled against him, his body radiating warmth like no other. Your eyelids felt heavy as you listened to his heartbeat steady.

You were his, and he was yours.

[calabria-mediterranea]

25 April - Anniversary of Italy's Liberation

25 April also known as the Anniversary of Italy's Liberation is a national holiday in Italy that commemorates the victory of the Italian resistance movement against Nazi Germany and the Italian Social Republic, puppet state of the Nazis and rump state of the fascists, culmination of the liberation of Italy from German occupation and of the Italian civil war in the latter phase of World War II. That is distinct from Republic Day (Festa della Repubblica), which takes place on 2 June and commemorates the 1946 Italian institutional referendum.

Every year on 25 April Italy celebrates Liberation Day, known in Italian as Festa della Liberazione, with a national public holiday.

In addition to the closure of schools, public offices and most shops, the day is marked with parades across the country, organised by ANPI, Italy's partisan association which preserves the memory of the Resistance movement against Fascism.

The occasion is held in commemoration of the end of the Fascist regime and of the Nazi occupation during world war two, as well as the victory of Italy's Resistance movement of partisans who opposed the regime.

Formed in 1943, the partigiani comprised a network of anti-Fascist activists, from diverse backgrounds including workers, farmers, students and intellectuals, across Italy.

Resistance

Together they united in armed resistance against the Nazi occupation and the Fascist regime, making their struggle both a war of liberation and a civil war.

The annual event marks the day in 1945 when a nationwide radio broadcast calling for a popular uprising and general strike against the Nazi occupation and Fascist regime was announced by the National Liberation Committee of Upper Italy (CLNAI), a political umbrella organisation representing the Italian Resistance movement.

This announcement - made by partisan and future president of Italy Sandro Pertini - resulted in the capture and death of Fascist leader Benito Mussolini, who was shot three days later.

The Festa della Liberazione represents a significant turning point in Italy's history, paving the way for the referendum of 2 June 1946 when Italians voted in favour of a republic and against the monarchy which had been discredited during the war and whose members went into exile.

Scurati controversy

This year's event takes place against the backdrop of a political controversy after the state broadcaster RAI stopped a well-known Italian writer from delivering an anti-fascist monologue on television a few days before the Festa della Liberazione.

Antonio Scurati accused RAI of censorship after his monologue was dropped abruptly from the Saturday night talkshow Chesarà for "editorial reasons".

The writer claimed that the move highlighted the alleged attempts by premier Giorgia Meloni's right-wing government to exert its influence over the state broadcaster which has seen several veteran presenters leave over the last year including Fabio Fazio, Bianca Berlinguer and Amadeus.

 In his speech Scurati criticised the "ruling post-Fascist party" for wanting to "re-write history" rather than "repudiate its neo-fascist past".

RAI director Paolo Corsini rejected any talk of censorship, as did Meloni who responded to the controversy by posting Scurati's text on her Facebook page, stating that the broadcaster had "simply refused to pay 1800 euro (the monthly salary of many employees) for a minute of monologue".

Meloni added that the Italian people "can freely judge" the contents of the text which was later read live on air by Chesarà presenter Serena Bortone in an act of solidarity with Scurati.

[lupinsversion]

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 - 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

• summary: reader has been struggling to keep her feelings to herself, so what’s a better way to ignore them than to push away her best friend who is the source of these feelings?

• a/n: enjoy part one, part two will be out on 10/14

• contains: billy russo x fem reader, best friend trope, partying, drinking, angst

• word count: 1.7k

masterlist || requests || part two

She was in a predicament. The pair had been friends for what felt like forever, and recently she had started to realize something: she was falling for him. She knew it was foolish, knew that the odds of him returning her feelings were slim to none, but she couldn’t help it. The way he smiled, the sound of his laugh, the way he always knew just what to say to make her day better - it all sent her heart into a flutter.

The problem was, she was terrified of losing him. Billy meant so much to her, more than he could ever possibly know. She feared that if she acted on her feelings, she would ruin their friendship irreparably. So, she tried to bury her feelings, to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat every time he touched her, to act as if everything was normal.

Saturday night was party night. Friends gathered in Frank’s house, music blasting, drinks flowing. She was there too, standing off to the side with a beer in hand, watching as people danced, talked, laughed. Her eyes kept straying towards one person in particular, a certain tall, dark-haired man who was laughing heartily at some joke. Billy Russo.

Billy was in a good mood. The party was lively, full of his favorite people. He’d been mingling, chatting, and laughing like the social butterfly he was. However, his eyes would occasionally flicker towards a specific person, a woman with the most striking features who was standing slightly apart from the group, a beer clutched in her hand. Her.

The one time their eyes met, she cut it short by taking a long swig from the glass bottle. She cursed herself for choosing a lame beer instead of something stronger, she definitely needed something stronger.

Walking over to the kitchen island cluttered in various bottles of different shapes and sizes, she chose the latter and grabbed some tequila, pouring it into a new red solo cup. A piece of her hair fell into her face during the act, causing her to stubbornly huff and attempt to blow it out of the way.

She set the bottle down with a decently loud thud, though the sound was covered by the music that blasted through the speakers. She picked up the red solo cup in one hand whilst the other tapped her fingertips against the marble countertop. With a swift movement, she took a decent amount of tequila into her mouth, humming from the burning sensation it left in her throat

“Trying to drown something there?”

His voice, smooth and deep, suddenly appeared right next to her, causing her to jump slightly. She didn’t hear him approach, and there he was, leaning against the countertop, a half-smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, my sanity.” She grumbled, placing the solo cup back down onto the counter, her hand remaining around it as she stared at the contents as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

He let out a soft chuckle, watching her intently. He could tell there was something going on with her, something more than just the typical party boredom. He studied her profile, the way her hair fell into her face before she impatiently blew a strand out of the way again.

His gaze flicked to her hair, noting how it stubbornly fell into her face twice now, almost as if it was trying to get in the way. Watching her blow it back again made him let out an amused scoff.

“You know hair ties are a thing, right?“ He teased lightly, still watching her carefully, noting the way she seemed to be avoiding looking at him directly.

“I don’t have one.” She murmured as she finally looked up at him.

He quirked an eyebrow in response, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I refuse to believe that a woman with hair like yours doesn’t have even one hair tie.“ He teased once more, his eyes still studying her features as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Plans went astray, didn’t think I would be needing one.” She shrugged, running her finger along the edge of her cup.

He hummed in response, the sound low and deep, almost like a rumble in his chest. His eyes flicked down to her finger tracing the edge of her new cup, then back up to her face.

“Well, lucky for you, I always come prepared.” He drawled out, his smirk growing as he gently lifted up his wrist, showing off the elastic hair tie he had around it.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of it. “Where on earth did you get that?” It wasn’t a usual sight, or a sight at all really, for Billy to be having a hair tie.

He looked down at the hair tie, a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of his lips, knowing he would get a reaction from her.

“This little thing?“ He said in a faux innocent tone, “Found it a while back, just been holding onto it in case someone needed it.“ He looked back up at her, his smile still present as he held his wrist, the hair tie looped around it, out to her.

“No, thanks.” She said softly, running a hand through her hair to brush some strands out of her face. “I’m not one to wear another woman’s hair tie.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as she refused his offer, his smirk faltering a little, replaced by something else, a different kind of gleam in his gaze. “Who said it was another woman's?“ He retorted, lifting an eyebrow in question, his tone now carrying a hint of curiosity mixed with some kind of challenge.

“It definitely isn’t yours.” She shot back before taking another sip from her drink. She knew that much was true, Billy would never be caught dead tying his hair up.

His lips twitched in a small, almost mocking smile, his arms still crossed over his chest as he looked down at her, his eyes holding her gaze. “Maybe I’m just hiding my secret feminine side.” He drawled, his tone sarcastic but with a hint of playfulness behind it.

“I don’t need your help.” She stated kindly before refilling her drink once it ran empty. She couldn’t be this close to him, not right now, and definitely not sober. “Just go back to joining the party, William.”

He watched as she refilled her drink, his gaze flickering up to her face again, his expression turning more serious as she dismissed him, his name coming out of her lips in a tone that he wasn't used to hearing.

He pushed himself off the counter, standing up straight, his eyes still fixed on her as he moved a little closer, his voice dropping to a quieter volume.

“What’s bothering you?“ He asked gently, his tone softer than before, his eyes searching her face for any sign of an answer.

“Nothing is bothering me.” She shrugged his words off. Everything was wrong, she was growing bothered with every second his cologne filled her senses. “I’m just not in the mood for company.” Yeah, that was a good excuse she thought. Dumbass.

He let out a scoff at her words, unbelieving of her attempt to brush him off with such a piss poor excuse. He knew her better than that. And he wasn’t about to let her get away with it so easily. He leaned in closer, invading her personal space, his head tilting slightly as he studied her face, trying to figure out what was really going on. “Bullshit.“ He said simply, his tone holding a bit of an edge to it, clearly not buying her excuse.

“Bullshit.” She repeated. “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.” She continued with a bit of an attitude that she hadn’t meant to have. “Just go.”

He watched her repeat the word, each time with more heat in her tone, his lips pressing together into a tight line as his eyes darkened slightly. He leaned in even closer, his body practically pressed against hers now, pinning her against the counter, his arms now resting on either side of her, trapping her in place.

He was close enough that he could see the subtle shift in her eyes, the way her features tightened as she tried to mask whatever was going on. He could practically smell the tension and something else… frustration?

She hated the way his chest felt against her back, but loved it so much she didn’t want it to go away. ‘We’re just best friends, that’s all’, she kept repeating to herself. Her fists clenched and unclenched against the counter. “Can you back up? I don’t want you touching me.”

His jaw clenched slightly at her words. It was clear she was trying to put up a front, trying to put some distance between them. But he wasn’t about to just back off so easily.

He leaned in even closer, his chest now fully pressed against her back, his breath warm against her ear. “I don’t think you mean that.“ He said lowly, his voice smooth and deep, the sound sending a shiver down her spine despite the way she tensed up in response to his proximity.

“Damnit, William!” Her frustration poured out in her words as she forcefully moved his arm away from her so she was able to escape. “I don’t want to be around you tonight, okay?”

He let her move his arm, though his hands gripped the counter tighter, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his jaw. He was annoyed, frustrated at her for pushing him away, and her words only made his irritation grow. “What the hell is your problem?” He snapped back, his voice rising as he turned to face her, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. “You’ve been avoiding me all night, then when I try to talk to you, you blow me off?”

She huffed, closing her eyes for a second. “Just leave me alone. It’s better.” And then she turned on her heel, pushing through the bodies of the other party goers.

He watched as she walked away, his expression a mix of anger and confusion.

"Better for who!?" He called out after her, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter of the others. He wanted to go after her, to make her explain herself, but he knew she wouldn't talk even if he did try.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

© lupinsversion 2024

[creatingblackcharacters]

If you’re still taking submissions for CBC saturday, I’d like to submit my character Anthony Franklin! He’s a Black scottish naturalist/botanist in the uk in the 1790s, something of a Gentleman™️, who is loosely involved with several of the social reform and radical political movements which were going on at the time (which the story is focused on). He’s a fairly quiet and cautious man who really just wants to be able to live at home with his family and play the violin and tend to his extensive garden, but he is driven to a role as a pamphlet writer and public speaker by a natural hatred of the colonialism and racism perpetrated by the country he lives in, as well as an uncompromising dedication to his beliefs in liberty, equality, abolition of slavery, universal suffrage, etc. Still doing some research on the sorts of hairstyles Black men of his position and social class would have had back then/how to draw them so I’m sorry that his hair isn’t really the best rn!

[ID: a dark-skinned Black man with short natural hair in 1790s clothing. He is wearing a blue coat, a green waistcoat, tan breeches, a white cravat, and he is holding a plain book. End ID]

Tbh, I love it when Black characters in period pieces aren't forced into them damn wigs. Like, I get that it's technically right because they were supposed to reach for whiteness, but I hate it. I hate it most in fantasy.

Anyway, I like that his natural hair is showing. His story is interesting too! Thank you for submitting!

[breelandwalker]

October 2024 Newsletter - Willow Wings Witch Shop

Happy Spooky Month, witches! It’s time for pumpkins and cider and crunchy leaves and haunted houses and all the tricks and treats we can squeeze into our schedules. And for those of us doing a bit of spiritual housekeeping this October, the shop is featuring items designed to help clear unwanted visitors and disruptive energy from your home!

Whether you’re removing that which no longer serves your purposes, banishing something unwanted, fending off baneful intentions, or just trying to keep sneaky spirits from following you home, there’s something for everyone this month. And don’t forget about the Spirit Work Mini Bottle Charms for augmenting your divinations, invocations, and ancestor work while the veil is thin!

Use code CAULDRON for 20% off featured items and new arrivals all month long, and watch for a new merch drop later this month!

Happy Witching! 🎃

Upcoming Events:

First Friday Moon Market (First Friday of each month) Next Event – Friday, Oct 4 2024, 6-9pm Historic Hilton Village 10369 Warwick Blvd, Newports News VA (USA) Hosted by Styx & Stones

Samhain Witch Market Sunday, October 13 2024, 12pm-6pm Diversity Richmond 1407 Sherwood Ave, Richmond VA (USA) Hosted by River City Witch Markets

Nighttime Witches Market Saturday, October 26 2024, 6-10pm Alewerks Taproom 189 B Ewell Rd, Williamsburg VA (USA) Hosted by Alewerks Brewing

Hex Positive, Ep. 049 - Satanic Panic? In MY Witchcraft Community? with Trae Dorn Premieres October 7th

Welcome back, witches! We’re diving back into things with another classic collaboration between your friendly neighborhood Witchstorian and everyone’s favorite curmudgeon and host of BS-Free Witchcraft, Trae Dorn. Feeling the weight of our years just a LITTLE bit, we sit down to discuss the stubborn traces of Satanic Panic rhetoric that still linger in the modern witchcraft movement. Not in external gossip or talking-head suppositions, but in the internal discussions that witches maintain in live spaces and especially on social media. Tune in to hear a couple of weary elder millennials ramble about devil worship, community paranoia, and how much it irritates us when people don’t know their own history. Remember, witches - you are not immune to propaganda.

Featured Products:

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

temporary craving

↖ navigation: ateez masterlist || main masterlist 

pairing: bf! hongjoong x gn! reader

↬ tags: established relationship!, saw this somewhere on socials and i for some reason thought of hongjoong pookie bear <3, anyways this is entirely self-indulgent i love men who care so deeply for their partners

summary: you want it? he'll get it

word count: 397 words

it was a lazy saturday afternoon at home: the 4pm heat mildly stiffling but still bearable with the gentle breeze from the ceiling fan.

both you and hongjoong were idly resting on the bed while scrolling through social media in comfortable silence: a typical lazy saturday afternoon for the two of you.

you were curled beside hongjoong, his arm draped over your shoulder and fingers drawing patterns up and down whatever exposed skin he could reach. he had the speakers on, a low melody filling in the room as background noise.

not much was spoken, save for the occasional "look at this" and muffled laughter from the two of you. he catches you dazing ever-so-often and affectionately pats the top of your head. you stretch in his embrace, a loud yawn escaping you. hongjoong cranes his neck to press a kiss to your forehead, "done scrolling?"

"mmm no, i'm kinda craving some ice cream. it's warm today." you hummed, absentmindedly reaching up to play with his fingers. hongjoong immediately gets up, and you pout at the sudden movement, no longer in the comfortable position you were in.

"where are you going?"

"to get ice cream from the convenience store downstairs?" he didn't even wait for your reply, gently peeling your arms off his torso. "joong, i was just saying it...didn't mean it..." your confused face made him smile nevertheless, "if you want it, i'll get it. it's that easy, hmm?"

he leans over the side of the bed to give you a kiss, "i'll be back." you grabbed onto his arm, "then let me go with you." he looks at you: despite your determined gaze, your body posture said otherwise. limbs all tangled up in the comforter and hair mused from your tossing and turning—he'd rather you stay comfy in bed.

"it's okay baby. i'll be quick!" he swiftly grabs his keys and his phone, and hongjoong leaves the room. the jingle jangle of the keys was the last thing you heard before silence consumes the room.

you dramatically slapped a hand over your mouth (a/n: i channeled ryu sunjae for this one), gasping at how his gesture literally melted your heart through and through. giggling like a lovesick fool, you beamed at the very thought of him.

damn were you lucky to have hongjoong as your boyfriend.

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[billskeis]

could you write a story where like bill is away on tour with the band and reader sees his instagram story and texts bill to complain/flirt. And could it be m!reader or gn!reader pls.

(This one)

https://www.instagram.com/stories/billkaulitz/3267364916998050112?igsh=cXl5ODl5dXA5OWlx

ᡣ𐭩 bill's instagram story

with the constant concerts, meet and greets, interviews, and being on the go, tokio hotel has been making their way through fame being the youngsters they are. how incredible!

and despite your appreciation for bill’s passion in music, you miss your boyfriend so much.

tossing and turning in your bed, you stare at the ceiling in your bedroom. boredom completely consuming you as most of your time before was spent with bill.

it was a saturday night and you had no school. with bill being gone, you resorted to any other alternatives to kill some time. unfortunately, all of your friends either had plans or just were simply out of town.

so that’s crossed off the list.

you decided to open your phone and check your social media. one of your favourite shows in the background playing and some snacks left to the side where your bedside table lay.

a highlighted rainbow ring surrounds the profile. the profile picture is familiar.. oh wait, it’s bill! you smile seeing how active your boyfriend was on his social media. what made you even happier was the fact that he had thousands—no MILLIONS of fans but he was dating YOU.

yeah that’s right.. you’re that bitch.

it didn’t occur to you until a few seconds later that bill didn’t respond to your text, but he was actively posting on instagram. how peculiar.. you decided to open the instagram story and immediately dropped your phone on your face.

“fuck—ow! bill, you little shit..”

“what the hell are you doing bill..?” tom barges into the hotel room of his little brother to retrieve god knows what.

bill jumps a bit at the unexpected voice that emits from out of nowhere. almost dropping his phone, bill fumbles around with the phone in the air as he attempts to grasp it once more.

“tom what the fuck!? you scared me,” bill rolls his eyes at his twin brother, “still didn’t answer my question,” he bends down to grab a coke from the mini fridge, popping the lid open to take a swig out of the carbonated beverage.

bill smiled at his phone as he opened the camera app once more, clicking pictures after each second and changing the angle to which he held his phone in, “just a lil’ sumthin.. for y/n of course!”

tom raised an eyebrow, “you might as well show them your dick while you’re at it.. pants hanging so low you’re like a whore,” “uh—rude first of all, and this is coming from the same person who’s rummaging through my bags for a condom?” tom stills his movements with his hands inside bill’s carrier looking for a specific piece of.. rubber…

“potato pitato bitch i live life freely..” “whatever,” as bill scrolls through the images he’s taken, he chooses the perfect one, adds a little caption and posts it to his story, “aaand done! posted!” “huh? posted?” tom questions.

“yep! on my story ;)” “i hope y/n beats your ass,” tom sighs as he begins to leave the hotel room to go god knows where—probably some one night fling he’s found during the concert, “i wouldn’t mind it,” as bill opens his story to look at his own picture and giggles to himself about it.

“now we wait.”

you stare at your phone in disbelief. now you knew bill was an expert in leaving you on edge constantly but this just does it for you.

on bill’s story it’s a picture of him, completely topless and his pants hanging so low to reveal his v-line. his waist is slim, and curves inwards. now he’s not the most fit or as active as in comparison to tom but you still adored his physique.

his nipples are out, you realize you were now drooling and begin to inhale sharply.

on top of that, his tattoos are exposed. even the new one he so declared that he wouldn’t reveal until a few years later but here we are. it’s only been a few months. now the whole world, and not only you, can see it.

you feel your face heat up, jealousy or anger. you can’t believe he’s stirring up a storm with you.

a few more seconds of you analyzing every little detail of his story, because you clearly couldn’t get enough you forgot the most important detail of them all.

the caption.

there was a little text on the screen that bill had typed to accompany the photo. in black bold text, how could you not notice this?

‘concert done, missing you more everyday ;3’

scoffing, your lips begin to curve in an upward smile as you swipe up to respond to bill’s story.

11:49pm

couldn’t have texted me back like a normal person?

11:50pm

hehe, so u saw it!

nuthin abt me is normal :>

11:52pm

ur so lucky ur not in town rn..

11:55pm

or what schatz?

11:56pm

i’d eat u, bill. >:)

11:58pm

oh noooo don’t eat me D:

i’m soo scared

12:01am

wait until u cum back..

b prepared..

12:03am

i really miss u, y/n.

i need u.

12:04am

oh ya? miss me so much? ;)

12:05am

so much baby!!

a few minutes pass, no answer.

12:10am

schatzi? where did u go T_T

*click to open photo from _*

there you lay, in bed. shirt pulled up a few to reveal your soft tummy, from the graphic of it, it appears that you’re currently in one of bill’s shirts that he originally ordered but ended up being too big for his desire so he gave it to you.

no pants, you had no pants on. bill begun to sweat as a particular tightening formed in his pants.

12:12am

y/n!! u little maus!! >:o

12:12am

oopsies :p

bill had to put down his phone to look up at the ceiling. it’s been since before the tour that bill’s got some action.

just imagining you under him, heavily breathing, mouth agape and eyes clenched with tears falling to the side of your face as he uses his thumb to swipe it away.

the uncomfortable feeling in his lower groin becomes one that is unbearable.

“fuck.”

12:26am

bill?? bb?? r u punishin me 4 the picture??

i’m sorryyyy -3- don’t ignore me

*click to open a voice message from billkaulitz*

“oh…”