#i think that'll be a good name for this??

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ran over here as soon as i could!

Imagine Tan with his baby girl (4 years) and shes playing with his hair, putting clips and bows and ties in his hair or making tiny braids? Mum an Lem are trying not to laugh out loud when they see them, Lem asks his niece if she wants make-up which she finds a such a great idea! Mum has to stop Lemon. Tan trying his best not to upset his baby girl. And so on and so forth...

Have fun with it🍊❤️🫶🏻

this is the cutest!!! I forever love dad tan!! and with all dad tan stuff, mandy is his daughter (it’s like mandarin, another baby orange) thank you for requesting, hope you like it 💌

BOWS AND BRAIDS.

dad tangerine x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 532

Lemon and Tangerine often acted like they were twelve - the everlasting phase of wanting to annoy each other, joining them into adulthood. They were the others' biggest windup, and now Lemon was having the fun poking at Tan, knowing there was nothing he could do to retaliate. 

Uncle Lem had popped by to see you all - to spend time with his family during the week off. All gathered in the living room: you on the sofa beside Lemon, Mandy, your daughter, sitting on the coffee table with Tangerine cross-legged on the floor facing her. 

Mandy had her tiny hands in Tan's hair, placing accessories and ties in his curls - cutesy pink and purple clips attached in clumps around the front of his face, messily placed bows at the back of his head and knotted half-braids starting midway through his hair. It was admirable, really.

"Don't daddy look pretty," Lemon teases, crouching beside the coffee table to get closer to Mandy. "He'd make a pretty girl, won't he?"

"No," she shakes her head, shoving her finger into Tan's moustache. "He has a hairy face."

You resist the temptation to laugh, instead leaning closer, resting your elbow on your knee to cover your mouth. 

Lemon snickers before continuing, watching the displeased expression grow on his brother's face. "That's right. You should shave it off, Mands. Make him all pretty looking."

Your eyes widen. "No, no, absolutely not. We're not doing that."

"Boo, mummy. Mandy boo her," Lemon eggs your daughter on, lovingly brushing over her face.

"Why can't we shave him, mama?" Mandy asks, turning around to look at you, her face sweet and innocent. 

"It makes him look pretty. You know how it doesn't make him a pretty girl? Well, it's the same thing. He's not a pretty boy without it," you tease, looking over at Tan. Your words are harsh, but nothing like the soft, loving expression on your face. 

"Do I not get a say?" Tangerine adds, looking between you all with lightly furrowed brows. 

"No. You're a mannequin. Mannequins can't talk," Lemon pipes in, immediately dismissing his twin. "How about some make-up instead, Mand? That'll make him pretty."

"Yeah," she smiles, her grin wide and genuine. "Mama has some," she adds, climbing off the coffee table. 

"What a great idea," Lemon encourages, standing up to follow after his niece.

You look over to Tan, noticing the 'help me' face he is giving you - silently asking you to stop it.

"I think daddy's had enough for now, no? He looks so pretty, and you did such a good job," you pick your daughter up, placing her on your lap - kissing her cheek. 

"Mands," Tangerine calls, dragging out her name. "I just had the best idea," he looks between you and Lem knowingly, a small smile forming. "We should give Uncle Lem a makeover, too. Wouldn't that be fun?" 

She gasps, her face lit up in excitement, grinning as she climbs off your lap. Tangerine stands, following his daughter. 

"I'll help you, poppet. We'll get all your mum's make-up, yeah?" he chuckles, hitting his brother on the way out. "He's gonna look so pretty when we're done."

[notapersob]

@mcythorrorgiftexchange

@turtlecase

Grian watcher god fae reference? Mayhaps?

I hope this is horror-y enough? Sorry I really struggled. Turns out this event collided with the last 3 weeks of college and I got super busy and struggled to come up with ideas. Thus drawing does have a short writing thing attached to it (under the cut) but I wrote it a year ago so I didn't wsnt to submit it for this event all by itself.

The writing thingy --->

Its neck snapped and cracked, contorting itself. The thing swiveled it's head around to stare at Scar. Six black wings tore out of its skin. They were covered in eyes. They all stared at him, glowing a dim violet.

"What a peculiar little thing you are" a voice echoed. It sent chills down his spine. He had never felt so small.

Scar could make out what resembled a human face but it looked wrong. It cracked when the thing moved, stitching itself back together. Scar wondered what was under the mask. He couldn't seem to look away, he wanted to know. Like a moth to a flame. Not realizing the danger till it was too late.

"What are you?" Scar tried to back away.

The creature trilled, it laughed at Scars ignorance. "That is of no importance to you,"

"But-"

"Hushhh, you've ran yourself into something you do not understand. What is your name?"

He wasn't sure how he should answer. "You may call me Scar"

"You're funny," it smiled. A talloned hand reached out. It's whole hand was covered in what looked to be a sort of mold. It was black like the sky. Where it warped a deep purple grew in place. The fingertips were sharp. They gently traced the scar across his lip, then moving to his hair. It was curious. Well, so was he.

"What can i call you?" Scar tread carefully. He may be curious but he would like to stay alive. Though, he heard stories where unfortunate humans became eternal servants to the fae they angered. But that's not the worst they can do. Maybe death would be a gift.

The hand left his hair, leaving it a mess. He pushed it out of his face. "Hmm, I dont know, why don't you choose"

"Oh" Scar was surprised. "Uhmm."

"Is something wrong" it's head tilted, or twisted. It was a little unnerving.

"Well, to be honest I wasn't expecting to still be alive, let alone have enough time to think of a good name to call you."

"I could change that" it smiled deviously, the glow of its many eyes flashing bright purple and dimming just as fast as they appeared.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, It would be preferable to avoid death for the time being." Scar laughed nervously. He racked his brain for a good name for his new... friend? He tapped his fingers nercoulsy together trying to think of anything… bread.. Butter.. Wheat.. Grain. Graaiin.. Grian. Grian? For the life of him he cant understand why bread was on his mind. He thought of food when he was nervous and right now a nice good loaf of bread might just make him forget he’s face to face with some sort of eldrige god or something. "Hmmm, does... Grian work?" Scar offered.

"Yes, I think that'll do" it said excitedly. "Gri-an.. gria-nnn, grian" it tested the sound of the name.

Scar laughed. "So are you a girl, a boy? Neither?"

"None, all. It changes, does that even matter? I am a being beyond your mortal rules."

"Cool ok" Scar whispered, wiping his hands on his dirt covered jeans.

The wind picked up. The purple leaves spun up in the air. Grian slowly lowered himself from where he was hovering. His wings folded inward. Scar thought he could hear bones snapping. Grian landed on the ground. They looked a lot smaller then they had before.

He now only had one set of wings with significantly fewer eyes. Scar looked at Grian's face. Where the white of the eyes should be, they were black. He had short golden brown hair, the longest unkempt strands reaching his shoulders. He was a whole head shorter than Scar. He used to stand at least seven feet tall. He was beautiful. His pointed ears were decorated with silvers and golds.

"I owe you now." Grian grabbed hold of Scars hand, all too eagerly. His grip stung, the humanoid bird not quite understanding what a normal amount of strength is. A bright ring of light surrounded the point where their hands joined. The white swirls landed on their arms creating a beautiful pattern. The light disappeared into his skin. He blinked his eyes, getting used to the dark again. The swirls left white marks on his arm, it looked like some sort of abstract tattoo.

"Whoa". He knew he should probably be concerned by what just happened but this was the most spectacular thing to ever happen to him.

[moonlovesskunks]

This is a poem I wrote entitled, "The merciless murder of 18."

Sometimes I see news headlines.

“18 people were killed in a massacre!”

And people will cry, but forget the next day.

I think that's such a small reaction.

Those were 18 people.

18 human beings who lived on our planet.

18 people who had goals and dreams.

18 futures they probably wanted to seize.

And it makes me sad.

That same thing could have happened to me.

It could have happened to my sister, my mother, my friends.

But it wasn't. So it's fine.

Those were 18 people.

Whose voices I will never hear.

Whose stories I will never learn.

Whose faces I will never see.

I can just imagine those 18 people.

Men, women, white, black, rich, poor.

They came from some part of the globe.

They had some kind of life.

I see Sweet Uncle Joseph, who owns a farm.

He tenderly treats and raises his animals.

His traditional style, and laid-back attitude.

There's nothing in the wilds he wouldn't do.

I see Dearest Aunt Maria, the kindest soul.

She's a successful woman with a job.

In the face of danger, her strength prevails.

No business could step in her tracks.

I see Little Miss Rebecca, moody and sassy.

She takes what she wants, when she wants it.

Without asking for more. “That will be all!”

No one would interrupt her.

I see Good Old Harry, a devil at heart.

He's got a charm so endearing and bizarre.

Evil and mischievous, he doesn't hold back.

A man anyone would nack.

Who are these people?

What significance do they hold to me?

They were killed with a clatter.

But they were foreign. It really doesn't matter.

Those people whose spirits I won't know.

Those people whose souls are gone.

The merciless murder of 18.

And I can't name a single one.

18 lives that'll become naught.

18 legacies we'll never see.

18 seats that won't be filled.

18 families that mourn and wheeze.

That could have happened to my family.

That could have happened to my friends.

That could have happened to my colleagues.

It would be exactly the same.

But it didn't.

It didn't happen to me.

So I don't need to care.

I don't need to mourn or worry.

18 lives that could have changed many more.

18 lives that could have become famous.

18 lives that could have made contributions.

18 lives that could have saved the planet.

The world's population goes down by 18.

The number of saints goes down by 18.

Our fearless warrior count goes down by 18.

We know they died. That is all we will know.

We sigh, “Thank God it wasn't us!”

Because we don't have to worry.

We don't have to live in sorrow.

We don't want to live in sorrow.

But that's not just a headline.

That's not just text.

That's not just a statistic.

Those were 18 real people.

They're all dead.

They're all gone.

They do not exist.

They will never exist.

That could have happened to me.

What difference would that make?

[whirlybirdwhat]

There's a blonde man dressed in red and black with an automail arm standing in the doorway.

No, not that one. This one is actually tall.

Or: A Fullmetal Alchemist AU. Vash tries his best, does his worst, and perhaps Truth still exists out there.

-

10k, 1st chapter. 

[megullumverrr]

okokokok so seal kohane au (def not stolen i mean inspired by @tearwolfe's seal rui au)

[nostalgia-tblr]

[queenlucythevaliant]

Why did God harden the Pharaoh’s? I’m in a Bible as Lit class and someone brought up “wouldn’t that be against free will,” and why did God let the Israelites stay it in slavery for so long. Why is God different in the Old Testament to the New Testament? I hope this doesn’t bother you, with all these questions

Okay, so there are several different questions here and I'm going to try to address them all. I'm sure I'll miss something somewhere, so other more knowledgeable friends feel free to add on. Follow-ups are also very much welcome.

First off, Bible as literature class! Yikes. I took a Bible as lit class for my English minor years ago and my experience was pretty much wall-to-wall frustration. It was mostly an exercise in coming up with the most transgressive reads on Scripture possible and that really upset me.

I hope that your experience is better than mine. However, assuming that the class is at a secular university, I'd still encourage you to be intentional about talking the things you cover in class over with knowledgeable Christians in your life. I certainly benefitted a lot from doing so, both in the sense that I got to vent a whole bunch and in that I got help contextualizing the secular perspectives within Christian scholarship.

That out of the way: The God of the Bible is the same in both the Old and New Testaments.

I do understand where you’re coming from. It’s not uncommon for people to find God kind of inscrutable in the OT when they're more used to reading the NT. I actually think that's a failure on the part of the contemporary church in the West; large swaths of the OT tend to be understudied among lay-Christians.

Systematic theology can help a lot here. I'm just going to hit a few really broad highlights, but I really can't recommend Wayne Grudem highly enough if you're interested in more in-depth reading. Lots of people start with Bible Doctrine, but my family happened to have a copy of his enormous Systematic Theology tome in the basement when I was in high school and I got a lot out of just poking through that a little at a time too. A few quick bullets though:

Across all the Biblical texts, God is love. He glories in kindness to his people, whether it's in the covenant with Abraham, the Exodus, the faithful ministry of the prophets, Christ's ministry/death/resurrection, or the promised coming of his kingdom.

God is holy; he gives the Law to the Israelites so that they can approach his holiness without fearing for their lives and he sent Jesus so that we can do the same. Both Isaiah and Peter react with fear and awe in the face of God's holiness.

God is just. By virtue of his holiness, he cannot allow sin to go unpunished. As modern westerners, we often chafe against this but has any of us experienced justice that was actually pure? Justice is a form of faithfulness, and the same God who sent his people into exile poured out his wrath on his own son in our place. He has promised that one day, every evil will face his perfect justice.

God is faithful. He keeps his Covenant with Abraham even unto the cross. In the OT he is faithful husband to an adulterous people. In the NT he tells us that when we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself.

Lots of other characteristics but this answer is going to be long enough as it is. The only way to get a real sense for the continuity within the Bible is to read the whole Bible with an eye towards the continuity.

The reason that God is more approachable in the NT than the Old is that he became human. In the Incarnation, all of that holiness and justice and faithfulness and love that was God came to earth in our perfect likeness so that he could live beside us and die for us. God is certainly easier to approach in light of Christ's work, but he is utterly the same as he ever was. Read the Transfiguration and tell me that isn’t the God of Mount Sinai. Read John 1 and tell me it doesn’t remind you of the end of Job. Read the Gospels, Hebrews, and Revelation and play spot-the-OT-parallel. It's beautiful.

Why did God leave his people in slavery for so long? You could ask the same question about the Babylonian captivity and even about why Jesus waits to return and finally defeat Death. Why does he wait? Why let his people suffer?

Well. God is sovereign and he only permits evil to the extent that it ultimately accomplishes the very opposite of what it intends. Because the Israelites were slaves in Egypt, the Exodus was able to occur. The Exodus glorified God in extraordinary fashion, both among his own people and to the peoples of the ancient world. It was also a necessary type and precursor to Jesus's work on the cross. I don't think it's an overstatement to say that redemptive history rests on God's work in the Exodus, which is itself contingent on a period of slavery in Egypt.

“How long, O Lord” and “Come Lord Jesus” are the same sentiment in different words. We are still in exile, even now. We are chronologically exiled from the place where we belong, the New Jerusalem, and we mourn because we live in a fallen world in which sin and death can still hurt us. We can ask, just as the Prophets once asked, why God waits to vanquish the Enemy, extract suffering from the world, and restore our years that the locusts have eaten. And in each case (the slaves in Egypt, the Babylonian captivity, and the period of waiting for Jesus to return), the answer is that God does not fix it yet because He is doing something bigger!

Regarding Pharaoh's heart: this is basically a question of human nature. The easiest way that I can articulate it off the top of my head is using Augustine's fourfold state of man:

Prior to the fall, man was able either to sin or not to sin (posse peccare, posse non peccare)

The natural state of man after the fall is one in which he is unable not to sin (non posse non peccare). This was Pharaoh's state.

Following the work of Christ, regenerate man is able not to sin (posse non peccare)

In eternity, glorified man will be unable to sin (non posse peccare)

When we talk about man's will, we must acknowledge that our wills are subject to our nature. In other words, Pharaoh was a natural, fallen man. His nature was inherently sinful and his heart inherently hard.

What we've got here is sort of a "Jacob I have loved but Esau I have hated" situation. Pharaoh, in his natural state, had a hard heart and a natural enmity with God. God did not intervene to give him a heart of flesh. My people I have loved, but Pharaoh I have hated.

Not a perfect parallel, but I think it serves its purpose. The point is that God's sovereignty isn't in conflict with man's will, since our wills are a function of our natures. Man behaves however his nature inclines him to behave at any given time. We call this free will; however, God is entirely sovereign over all of it.

This is definitely a long, messy answer, but like I said, feel free to continue the conversation. I've got some biochem to work on, but I'm always happy to talk theology :)

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Okay okay so. Thinking.

I've mapped out how I want to pay off my credit cards, which means I'll only be getting new stuff pretty sporadically, which means I need to appreciate the zero cost things in my life, like:

- the 2.5 foot tall stack of unread books I have

- the violin I might finally actually pick up again

- the 500+ drawing prompts I've been hoarding

- the list of anime I still need to watch

- the 3000+ songs in my watch later playlist

- the stickers I've been neglecting to cut

- yarn??? I have a lot of yarn

- all the pink fabric leftover from moth cosplay

- the candles and incense I also already have

In short, time to actually use the stuff that I have 😭

[birindale]

Which brings us back to our heroine of the year, and how she came to be. She-Ra was really born because of our relationship with Mattel. I wanted to do another show to latch onto the back of He-Man. I was in an Italian restaurant having a dinner conversation with somebody at Mattel. And I said, "Wouldn't it be appropriate if we could do something with a girl, a superheroine?" I wanted to do a superhero that had a real family. We had done some families on the Super 7 and others, and I said, "I'd like to give He-Man a sister." The guy says, "But she can't appear after 20 years." And I said, "What if they didn't know they were twins?" Shortly after that, we started development on She-Ra. At one point, He-Man was originally going to be called "He-Ro," and they suggested that the new character be called "She-Ro." But I said, "You can't do that because it's not feminine." Then they wanted to call her Hera, which was the name of the Greek goddess who was the wife of Zeus. But for some reason they couldn't do that. So Larry DiTillio, who was the main guy who helped develop her in the early days, came up with the name "She-Ra" because he was reading a book on Egypt, and in Egyptian mythology "Ra" was a word for a god. Larry was also the one who came up with the main background for She-Ra, with the twin sister who was kidnapped at birth, the parents who were threatened, and how she grew up being trained by Hordak, Skeletor's nemesis and friend, who really conquered the universe!

Lou Scheimer: Creating the Filmation Generation

[bonestrouslingbones]

anyway i never really wrote fluff's actual meeting of the other three in atbb so i think im gonna make him have a panic attack about it

[wildflowercryptid]

i'm sorry, but klara/gordie is so fucking funny. i just know they'd bring out the worst in each other and be so annoying, i love it more than anything.

[crehador]

finished koukyuu no karasu and well like many a chinese crab i am not immune to historical dramas about emperors and their most specialest consort which is to say asd;fklj;kj i loved this

first of all shouxue best girl and so so so pretty, yeah you can tell they paid for the flower animation and was like “we’re going to use this five times in every episode” but it’s so pretty that i don’t mind in the slightest

i really liked the dynamic between her and the emperor, really liked the episodic nature of the series, really liked the found family development, and basically just really liked the show as a whole

that said, i don’t think this is a series that would appeal to an especially wide audience (for various reasons)

personally i was a big fan of the art style, and i loved that a lot of the characters, even the emperor himself, just looked rather “plain”

but this might be a turn-off to some people, since besides shouxue the cast does look somewhat drab

the story definitely piqued my interest enough to want to know more, so assuming the anime didn’t fully adapt the light novel series, i would hope to see a second cour at some point!

the gaojun/shouxue dynamic legitimately wound up being my favorite thing it was just too cute (though i almost wish they leaned more into the potential for tragedy that’s very obviously there)

but two other things i loved were (predictably) ishida akira’s performance as owl and the ziyoou-vachi op (you just know a show is about to be crazy good when the op starts to play and you hear avu-chan!!)

i think this is going to end up in a similar category as baraou no souretsu for me, which is the “wow i want to read the source material BUT only when i’m emotionally stable enough to handle it and hahaha what is emotional stability i don’t know her” category

anyway, in short, shouxue!! best girl!!!

[worm-wood-words]

Once again glad I do a quick Google before naming a character.

[rowarn]

everyone stop what you're doing i just had an idea of simon who likes to edge himself.....omg....

afab!reader, no prns, edging obvi, ruined orgasm, simon being selfish <3 not edited oof

when he's fucking you, hips pumping in a rhythm that basically melts your brain. he's got you pinned beneath him in a press, legs spread obscenely wide so your knees are against the bed. he's got you stuck there under his massive weight. you can't do anything but stare up at him with wide eyes as he fucks you.

he looks so good above you, muscles flexing with every movement and his dark eyes lidded with pleasure that he's getting from working his fat cock into your dripping little cunt.

"fuck, that's good," he groans, blunt nails biting into the tender skin under your thighs, "feels so fuckin' good 'round me, love."

you clench around him at the sound of his voice and the corner of his lips twitches up at the blatant, shameless reaction you have to him. he brings one hand up to his mouth, meeting your eyes in a heated stare as he licks the pad of his thumb, quickly bringing it down to press against your swollen clit -- twitchy and sensitive from neglect since he'd just settled for fucking you so far.

"you gettin' close?" he practically coos, making you whimper. the sound goes straight to his cock and god, he loves the sounds you make, "yeah, i know, pretty thing...i treat you real good, don't i?"

you're tightening up around him and he practically feels the breath punch out of his lungs. you're getting close; he's learned all your tells by now. the way your back arches and your mouth open as you whimper his name. you get wetter and wetter, gooey cunt making a nice little mess for him to fuck into. it makes lewd, squelching noises as he sinks balls deep with a slow roll of his hips.

"s-so close, simon!" you cry out, blindly reaching your hands down to press against his hips.

you always do that -- it's adorable. you actually think that'll stop him from sinking deep, deep inside. his cock knocks against your back well, the little pang of pain making your body twitch. usually, he bats your hands away just to be mean and watch you whine. you really think your trembling hands would be enough to stop the powerful movements of his hips.

he's close to his own end. his cock throbs the closer he gets with every deep thrust he gives you. both of you racing to your ends -- it would be so sweet to cum together, he thinks.

but he knows that's not going to happen.

it's his favorite thing to do. he just can't explain what it is he loves about it.

just when his orgasm starts to crest he pulls his cock free from the hot clutch of your cunt. he feels a little bad, he knows you had just fallen over the edge as he did -- leaving you nothing to cum around, little pussy clenching and cumming all empty and no pleasure from it. a sob tears free from your chest and the sound goes straight to his cock. you squirm under his weight as he watches his own cock twitch against your drooling cunt from his own denial, willing himself not to cum untouched at the sight of you cryin' for him. he closes his eyes and waits for his orgasm to wane before he looks at you again.

"simon..." you practically wail in despair, drawing his gaze up to your face. and fuck, you're so sweet for him.

your eyes are teary and he clicks his tongue, "sorry, love...that was mean of me, huh?"

you nod your head, pouting up at him. despite the ruined orgasm, you're still sensitive enough to twitch beneath him when he sinks his cock back into you with a swift grind of his hips.

"let me make it up to you, yeah?"

your sweet, trusting eyes makes his heart melt and he almost feels bad. almost.

because he knows for the rest of the night, he's going to be edging himself using your pretty little pussy until he finally decides he's ready to cum. and he's not going to care if you actually properly cum or not, because this is gonna be about him using you.

by the end of the night, his cocks so hard that it fucking hurts. he'd edged himself more times than he could count, the more he did the less time he got in between. he started simply dipping his length into you and pulling it right back out, eyes rolling at the sticky strings that connected the head to your clenching hole.

"please, simon...please, please, please..." you're breathlessly begging. he has no clue if you'd even properly cum the entire night, he had practically entered a trance and become a mindless beast thinking only with his cock. theres tears on your cheeks, dried and new and the sight is so lovely that he wants to take a picture and keep it on him at all times.

he finally takes mercy, however. your pretty little clit is so swollen and he just has to press his fingers against it. it's so sensitive that you almost immediately start cumming -- this time around his cock, he makes sure of it.

you pull him over the edge with you, letting him dump a nice, hot load into your pussy while you cum nice and hard around him.

when you sag into the bed and sniffle, cutely reaching out for a hug, he can't help but press a kiss against your forehead <3

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE ONESHOT- We Aren’t Over

VOTERS RESULT FROM MY POLL<3 XOXO ENJOY

Info: FWB gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, PIV, FWB, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Begging, Teasing, Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Good Sex

"You look so fucking sexy..."

large hands belonging to an admittedly handsome Ravenclaw student that you failed to acquire the name of gripped your hips; firmly pulling you against his tall body as his lips grazed your ear, hot whiskey breath washing over you, intoxicating you even further than you already were.

One hand slid around to your ass, gripping a palmful of the plump flesh over the fabric of your Slytherin uniform skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as he nipped your earlobe, teeth tugging gently on your emerald earring, his voice a low reverberation down your spine.

"I'd love to rip that awful fucking uniform off of you and get a taste of what you're hiding under there..."

Your cheeks burned, warmth flooding you as you chewed on your lip, bringing your mouth toward his own ear now as the two of you could hardly hear yourselves think amidst the blaring music coming from the speakers in the out-of-control Friday night Slytherin party, green flashing lights blurring your vision further than the alcohol was as you squinted to try and get a better glimpse of his face.

In your intoxicated state, you couldn't recognize this guy for the life of you. The only thing that gave away his Ravenclaw status was his uniform.

"I'd be careful with your next words there, little Raven," you purred, your unsteady fingers finding his shoulders. "I promise you, you'll regret coming into my house and disrespecting my emblem like that..."

Gods, you were fucking hammered, but since you and your friends-with-benefits had called things off last weekend; you'd been desperate to find someone new to hopefully satisfy you just as well as he did--but admittedly, your hopes were low.

Not many boys knew your body like the back of their hand, or knew exactly how to drive you sexually insane, the way Mattheo fucking Riddle did.

"Is that so?" His grip on your body tightened, a deep groan leaving his throat as he pressed his lips to your jaw. "I'm not quite sure a poor little serpent like you is any match for a big bad raven like me..."

"You'd be surprised," you retorted, slowly threading your fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's been proven that even the most intelligent birds couldn't elude the cunning serpent's snare..." you tilted your head, smirking. "But go on, underestimate me...that'll be fun."

His eyes widened, the darkness inside his pupils boring into you, drowning you in their endless voids. Your stomach twisted as your sight locked in with his, and you took a moment to analyze his features a little better. Gods, he looked so fucking much like Mattheo.

Why was it that you could never seem to get that fucking guy out of your head?

You were convinced that you were going to die one day with his gorgeous fucking face still haunting you--those dark penetrating eyes, that devilish, seductive smirk--that messy mop of chocolate curls that sat effortlessly adorable over his forehead. Fuck, you hated him.

You hated him for fucking you so good you couldn't stop fucking thinking about him; even after the endless bickering and arguing the two of you had been going through over the last few weeks, causing a consensual end to your hookups--you hated him for occupying your mind even while you were pressed up against an undeniably sexy new guy, who clearly had a deep interest in you, who clearly wanted to fuck you until your legs gave out.

You should be happy right now, you should be overly fucking ecstatic, practically brimming with relief as the Ravenclaw guy leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sloppy, intoxicated kiss; his tongue slipping past your teeth as his hands gripped your ass with enough force to bruise--you should be completely fucking overjoyed as your lids fluttered shut, your mouths working over the others with a little too much desperation as you stood in the middle of the crowded common room, fervent fingers gripping onto each other as though your lives depended on it.

You should be happy, but you're not.

When you broke the kiss, the Ravenclaws brows furrowed, but before he had a chance to ask you to his dorm, and in a hopeful attempt at subtly saving yourself, you brought your lips toward his ear, trying to sound as sexy and inconspicuous as possible. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"

When he smirked, nodding in agreement, he graced your ass with one last squeeze before he spun around, making his way across the room and heading toward the bar station. You watched him as he went, and as soon as he had disappeared within the sea of inebriated bodies; you let out a long, exasperated breath; spinning on your heel to quickly make your way to the bathroom and away from that spot before he returned.

Sure, you felt bad for ditching him like that, but he was just as drunk as you were. He'd forget you even existed by the morning.

As you shoved your way through the endless amounts of drunk, sweaty bodies, you'd almost successfully broke through the crowd when a strong, firm grip wrapped around your wrist; hot breath washing over your neck as a tall body pressed against your backside--a height so towering and presence so intoxicating you already knew, without hearing his voice or seeing his face, that it could only be one fucking man.

"Where you headed, princess?" Mattheo's deep, husky drawl rolled through your eardrums like honey; a slow, thick, and admittedly fucking seductive pitch. "You're not really going to ditch that poor bastard after getting him going like that, are you?"

You turned your head, trying to glimpse him over your shoulder, fighting to hide your smirk. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Riddle."

"Ouch...one week without my cock and we're already back to second name basis, huh?" His grip tightened, his body heat enveloping you, his plush lips pressed tight against your ear. "I'm just surprised...you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Stalking me, are you?" You scoffed, trying to pry your wrist from his hold but he tightened his grip even further, other hand snaking around to your hip. "Is the big heartless Riddle boy jealous?"

He chuckled, and you could almost see the smirk on his lips. The feeling of his chest rumbling against your back did inexplicable things to your cunt. Gods, you hated how you were already fucking melting for him and you haven't even taken one single look at his face.

"Were you thinking about me?" He purred, teeth nipping at your ear, the arrogance in his tone igniting flames in your veins. "When his tongue was halfway down your fucking throat, were you wishing it was mine?"

"Give me a break, Mattheo." Your head was spinning, oxygen evaporating; but you knew you needed to play it off. "Don't fucking flatter yourself."

"You know you love the things I fucking did to you..." by this point his voice was a low growl, his tone so deep and dark in your ear it sent shudders skittering down your spine. "You know you'll search for me in every single sad sack you try to distract yourself with."

Heat flashed your face, his fingers digging into your hip with enough force to bruise. "Jealous of a Ravenclaw...must be a tough pill to swallow for the Slytherin prince-"

When his teeth sunk into your earlobe with enough force to basically tell you to shut up without actually saying it, you yelped--eyes fluttering shut as he tugged you back against him with added force.

"Keep talking, princess, and I won't hesitate to walk over there and rearrange his fucking face..." he spat the words through barred teeth, your bones shaking with the deep vibration. "Do you even know his name? Huh? Do you even know who the fuck he is?"

Gods, you were cursing yourself. As if you were about to fold for this man after he'd basically told you to fuck off and leave him alone no less than a week ago. Your brain knew, above all else, that what you were about to do was completely fucking wrong--but your cunt paid no mind to your brains protests. Your cunt wanted Mattheo Riddle.

"No, Matty, I don't..." you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to you neck. "Lots of night left, though...I'm sure I'll be quite familiar with it when I'm screaming-"

He sunk his teeth into your neck now, forcing a sharp squeal from your lips--another commanding gesture to silently warn you that if you kept talking, he was going to fucking lose it. Part of you hoped he would.

"What have I told you about saying my fucking name like that, princess..." he growled, licking a flat strip up the side of your throat. Fuck, you loved that tongue. That skilled, tentative fucking tongue. "And if you keep talking like that, the only thing you'll be screaming is for me to stop when I'm beating his fucking face into the floor..."

His words made you fucking shudder, a full body tremor against his built chest, entirely unable to control yourself now. The need between your thighs was becoming more insistent by the second, and at this point--you were at a complete loss for words; your lips involuntarily uttering the one word you knew you'd never forget how to say, regardless of how speechless you were.

His name. "Mattheo..."

"There she is..." he murmured, the praise in his tone making your breath hitch in your lungs. "Aren't you glad you met me? I know you got me stuck inside your memory..."

Long fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, grazing over your stomach. Bodies were everywhere, drunk students around you paying absolutely no mind to the intoxicated sins the two of you were about to commit.

"No," you uttered, so quiet you weren't even sure if he'd heard it. "I want you out of my fucking head..."

He purred in satisfaction, revelling in the fact you'd finally admitted to missing him. "Should've listened to me, princess...told you I was bad for you..."

More heat swarmed you, your thighs screaming; begging in need. "We can't keep doing this...it's so wrong, Matty..."

"But it feels so right, doesn't it?" His hand around your wrist snuck down to your hip, his other pressed against your stomach; pulling you tighter against his crotch--your breath evaporated when you felt his aggressive bulge against your ass. "Feel that, princess? That's what you fucking do to me..."

He pressed his lips to your pulse, teeth softly grazing over it, and you mewled; head falling back against his shoulder, body melting into his own--surrendering yourself to his intoxicating dominance just as you've done time and time before.

"I hate myself for letting you do this to me..." you breathed, head rolling to the side as his teeth worked purple possession marks into your skin. "I'm so stupid for you..."

"That's it, admit it, baby...admit that you missed this..." his grip tightened, tone thickened with lust. "You're my little devil, you know I'd sin for you..."

At his words, your entire body ignited into pure fucking flame, magma replacing the blood that flowed through your veins; threatening to melt your uniform and leaving you in nothing more than a pile of ash at his feet. You were done talking, you needed his fucking cock.

"Are we gonna quit the talking and do something about it then, hm?" You purred, tilting your head back to meet his eyes for the first time; your head spinning as you drowned in the dark hurricane of their desire. "Show me how you'd sin for me, Matty..."

"I'll show you, baby, I'll fucking show you..." he said, wetting his lips as he held your stare. "Your dorm or mine?"

Music to your fucking ears. "Yours."

Without another word, Mattheo gripped your wrist, his hold like a snake, slithering around you gently at first; slowly increasing its pressure until he'd cut the blood flow, threatening suffocation of your lungs and leaving you with only hungry, primal desire--eradicating all thoughts of just how horrible of an idea you knew this was. He dragged you out of the common room and toward his dorm, not sparing you a single glance as he ripped open the door and pulled you inside; slamming your back up against it as it closed, one hand snaking toward the lock and clicking it tight into place.

When he paused, two hands finding residence against the wood on either side of your head; not moving, only staring, it was as though the rest of the world faded away--and all that was left was the cunning, messy brown haired boy in front of you. His presence filled the room, suffocating you, stopping your heart mid-beat. He loomed over you, toes centimeters from your own, chest so close that you both would touch with a deep enough breath.

You scanned his body, heart pounding, palms sweating from the impending reality of your desire, and he smirked, leaning closer.

"I don't think I can allow another man to lay a fucking finger on you ever again..." he whispered. "I don't think that perfect fucking pussy can belong to anyone fucking else."

"Since when did it belong to you, Matty?" You shuddered, deciding to test him a bit. "I thought we were just casual-"

"You think anyone else could fuck you stupid like I do?" You could practically feel his fingernails digging into the wood beside your head, the anger building in his eyes. "How about your exes? How'd they fuck you, huh?"

Your throat tightened. "Mattheo-"

"Say it." He growled, leaning closer--so close your noses brushed. "You want me to make you fucking cum, princess? Say that little pussy is mine."

Gods, curse your fucking insatiable need to get fucked. At this point, you were fully cognizant of the fact that this man could make you say damned-near anything if it meant he'd get inside you. Swallowing your ego, you met his stare--as intense as it had ever felt--and licked your lips.

"It's yours, Matty..." you murmured. "It's all yours."

Mattheo Riddle smirked. "That's fucking right."

Unable to decide between indignant and patronized, you eschewed both, and instead opted to hook your fingers into his belt, pulling yourself into him while you boosted yourself on your tiptoes to meet his lips with your own. Your kiss was hungry and demanding as you sought to memorize his mouth with your tongue. Mattheo's large hands cupped your face, fingers delving into your hair while he pressed into you, forcing you back tighter against the door.

You groaned against his lips, writhing underneath him while you slid your tongue along his teeth, seeking to know every part of him, needing him to want you--to fucking need you like you needed him. Mattheo drew in a breath through his nose and pushed deeper, like he wanted to fuse you with the door, and your hands shot into his hair, a shiver running through you as you felt how soft, how luxurious it was between your fingers.

Another soft groan rumbled in your chest, and--having distant, fuzzy deja vu of the countless encounters prior--you wrapped the curly tendrils of his hair around your fingers and yanked it.

At that, a deep moan left his throat, and he pulled back, waves of harsh breath crashing over him. His blackened eyes darted across your face, switching between your lips and eyes. "Fucking naughty little thing..." he huffed, smirking.

"For you, always," you murmured, and he groaned, wetting his lips as he leaned closer.

"Fuck-that's right...I love it when you're bad...you only act this way for me, huh?" His voice was a low purr, warm breath crashing your face. "That why you didn't fuck him? That why you ran?"

Chewing your lip, you nodded, and tugged his hair again, bringing him to your mouth once more.

He smirked against you and his hands fell to your hips, roaming the swell of your curves before gripping the underside of your thighs and hiking you onto the door. Immediately, the aching length in his pants ground into your center while his tongue fought its way into your mouth. Without you having to think, your legs circled him, and your hips were grinding back, pursuing any friction and heat you could find.

You peeled away to catch a breath, hands resting in his hair, and his lips went to work on your neck, suckling and nibbling the skin there.

"Matty...please..." you murmured, already begging for something, anything. "I need you."

Snuffing a groan, Mattheos grip bruised your hips as he bucked into you, grinding you against the door.

"You want me to fuck you, slut?" he said, breath hot on your neck. "Didn't get enough of my cock last time?"

"No-fuck-I didn't," you mewled, a slight embarrassment washing over you. "It's never enough."

Mattheo growled, his grip hardening to iron, and he licked a warm, wet line along your pulse. "That's right...that's what I like to hear..."

Sinking his teeth into your neck, he pushed off the door, walking over toward his bed as he held you against his chest. You watched the door get further and further away, lust building and growing in your chest as he nipped your jawline before grazing his lips over yours again, softly and briefly as he reached the edge of his mattress and laid you back against it.

When you hit the bed, he kept his mouth on yours while his hands left your waist; fervent fingers finding the fabric of your button up blouse and untucking it from your skirt, cold hands slipping underneath and groping your tits through your bra--a deep groan leaving his chest as you bucked your hips up against his crotch; wanting him closer, needing him closer.

His hands slid back down, finding the hem of your skirt and flipping it up your stomach, wasting zero fucking time before he hooked his thumbs around the band of your thong and peeled them down your thighs. The minute you were exposed, you heard the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and your pussy throbbed.

"Matty..."

Mattheo chuckled, the weight of his stare resting on your naked pussy; wallowing in your clear desperation for him.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So fucking wet." He released a long breath--he was testing his own patience, now. "This perfect body can't help but to crave me..."

You groaned as he teased your inner thigh with one hand, the other working to peel his shirt off his torso in one swift movement--exposing his hard, firm fucking abs and leaving him looming before you in just black briefs--looking as delicious and sexy as you've ever goddamn seen him.

As his long fingers ghosted over your folds, you arched, groaning when he brushed past it toward the inside of your other thigh; squirming in slight frustration, admittedly the teasing was absolutely getting to you now.

"Mattheo, I swear to-"

A firm, sharp smack to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh stopped the words in your throat; your stomach twisted as you watched Mattheo's eyes darken and lips curl sadistically.

"Is that how I taught you to ask for what you want?" He sneered, wetting his lips as he met your pleading eyes. "You know what I want to hear, princess."

You winced, swallowing your pride furthermore, until it was eroding in your stomach acid. "Please, Matty...please make me cum..."

His lips parted. "Good girl.”

His hum of approval was followed by the warm kiss of his fingertips along the sensitive lips of your pussy, feathersoft at first, and then one thick finger slipped between your folds, gliding between them, slicking itself with your wetness and grazing the swollen nub of your clit. That did it--blinded with relief, you cracked, moaning deep in your chest. Blood flushed your face, tingling your cheeks.

"You like that?" He brushed the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. "You like the way I touch you? The way that pretty pussy responds to me?"

"Yes...Gods, yes..." you replied, the sentence coming without thought.

"That's right..." his free hand wrapped around the back of your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, fingers swirling around your clit in tight circles, and you gasped, your mouth dropping in bliss, your rapid panting filling the steamy air.

"Fuck you're so sexy, my dirty little whore in her short little uniform skirt..." a stifled groan cut through his throat, and you shot a glance at him; one hand rubbing his strained erection through his boxers. "It took everything I had not to bend you over the fucking desk in class all week...fuck you know how to test me..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Matty, fuck-please..."

"Please what?" He growled.

Gods, curse him--curse him to bloody hell. You couldn't fucking handle this anymore. You knew he was punishing you, making you fucking beg and shatter and cry for it after what you'd done; and the way his fingers stroked your clit had you spasming, jerking--so close to cumming, you just wanted him inside you.

"Please." You banished all pride and ego and fucking common sense to the perimeter of your mind. Asylum. Just this once. "Please, fuck me...please."

"Tell me I'm the only one." He hissed, slipping a finger inside your wet, throbbing core; your back arching off the mattress as his thumb increased its pace on your clit. "Tell me you'll never let another man put his fucking hands on what's mine."

A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. Your response was pieced together by the efforts of your need for release alone.

"Fuck-no, never, Matty...I'm yours...all fucking yours..."

He was staring at you, face blank, surveying you while you twitched and jerked underneath his ministrations. His focus switched between your pussy--desperately throbbing and melting against his touch--and your red, sweating face, jaw slack from your haze of pleasure. You chewed your lip--it was bruised by now, certainly--clenching hard, and he groaned, pulling his boxers down to let his thick, needy cock spring free.

"Cum for me, slut." He ordered. "Cum for me right fucking now."

As if controlled by a remote in his hands, a tidal wave of euphoria slammed into you, walls pulsing, body wracked with the convulsions of an aggressively pent up orgasm, vision whiting out as you threw your head back, a loud string of unintelligible curses flying from you. Mattheo hummed, hand working you to the end of your orgasm as his free one slowly stroked his cock, watching every tiny ministration of your face with an exasperated expression until he was certain you were past it.

And when he was, he wasted no fucking time before he gripped your ankles in his hands, staring down at you as he began to rock his hips; his hard, throbbing dick sliding between your slit.

"Tell me you want it," he purred. "Beg for it."

You groaned. "Please, I want it Matty…I want you so fucking bad."

With a goddamn suffocatingly arrogant and devilish grin, he braced himself as he sunk into your pussy; your wet walls swallowing his cock with ease as you let loose a long, satisfied moan--Mattheo sucked a breath in through his bared teeth as sheathed himself all the way inside your cunt, pausing there to feel you clench and adjust around him.

"So fuckin' tight..." he groaned, head bowing. "Fuck you feel so good around me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers finding Mattheo's hands until he gathered both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with just one of his, leaning over you to fuck you deep and hard as his free hand snuck down to your clit. Throttled cries of pleasure were leaking from you, your conscious slipping from reality as he pummelled your pussy like you deserved the pain.

"Fuck, yes," you practically screamed. "You fuck me so good Matty...so deep, fuck-" 

A deep snarl roared from Mattheo's chest, his grip on your wrists tightening while he fucked you deeper, harder, your body rocking from the power of his thrusts. You could feel his ragged breath on your face, knew without seeing him that he was above you, lips parted, pupils blown.

"Look at me," he growled. "Let me see those eyes as you fucking cum for me."

Groaning, you obeyed, lids fluttering open to meet his gaze. Mattheo was possessed, looking past you, through you, panting with every snap of his hips. You lost yourself in his stare, the rest of the room falling away, and his fingers moved faster over your clit, bringing you to that precipice once more. Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you imploded. Mattheo watched you, not even blinking once.

You thought you kept your eyes open, but you weren't sure, because you whited out, spasming and convulsing as your orgasm wracked your every cell, your every nerve, taking you to a height you'd never been to, never thought existed. Distantly, you were aware of your cunt drawing out Mattheo's climax as he cursed and dug his teeth into your shoulder, fucking you harder as he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You hadn't realized what had happened until your spirit returned to your body and you felt the burn of hot, wet tears streaming down your cheeks--evidence of your relief--followed by Mattheo collapsing on top of you, cock buried still inside your pussy, and both of you drank in lungfuls of air, starved for it, your brains fuzzy with the static of euphoria. You both laid there for a moment, rapt in the descent back to reality, until he pushed himself up and pulled out, holding you firmly in his stare again.

As he began to piece his clothes back together, you gathered your composure, pulling yourself up and off his bed, fixing yourself back to some form of decency. As you swallowed, watching Mattheo latch up his belt, he met your eyes again; the dark lust slowly fading, being replaced by an unspoken emotion you couldn't attempt to name.

"This isn't over." He breathed, moving back toward you. "We aren't over."

When your lungs hitched, you nodded, admitting to yourself that you already fucking knew you couldn't live without that. Without him.

"No," you whispered. "We aren't."

[southislandwren]

are you guys normal or do you spend your evenings stressing out so much about your future you start researching how much it costs to drill a well