Welcome to 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢'𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭 of horrific desires & lustful nightmares.
𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞…
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🖤 muse - writer!theodore x policeofficer!reader 🖤
summary: your boyfriend is keen to find inspiration for a novel he wants to write and you, make the perfect muse.
tw's: gunplay, blood (minor), drug use, noncon, dddne. first time writing something like this and i was very pushed out of my usual comfort zone so i hope you enjoy the little part of my brain that was able to think of this. (5.7k words)
It was rather late when you got home from work. You should have clocked off and have been done by roughly 9pm with it being a patrol shift, however; the captain had asked you to stay back and assist one of the rookies with data entry which was taking them far longer than it should have, and so; it was closer to midnight by the time you finally clocked out to go home for the night.
Toeing off your shoes at the front door; the souls of your feet were cold against the floorboards, the apartment itself chilly compared to the walk you’d just endured from the car. The lights were out. The apartment sat coveted with a veil of placid silence. You hadn’t expected your boyfriend to still be awake – yet low and behind, like the creature of habit he tended to be, you found Theodore slumped at his desk in the study where he’d spent most of his waking hours the last few weeks. His eyes, hollow and vacant as he stared at the laptop screen which painted his features the most gorgeous shade of glowing cornflower blue which emphasised his tired expression. He seemed both exhausted and frustrated by the tease of the flicking cursor which blinked hypnotically on the empty screen.
Theodore had taken a sabbatical year away from the professional world, leaving behind a rather comfortable and cushy job as a high school history teacher at a prestigious all girl college in east London in favour of pursuing his dreams. Author. Best Seller. Proclaimed literary scholar. You knew that he was capable and that he had a talent with words – in fact, you’d read a lot of his small, published work as well as drafts before that he’d often scribbled in notebooks which were often scattered around the apartment. While Theodore’s initial success had been rather spur of the moment – carelessly curated content posted on the right website at just the right time with tags it seemed other blogger and readers just couldn’t get enough of.
Since the summer had kicked in; the season marking the end of an academic year, and his sabbatical coming to a close end, Theodore had done nothing but stress out over and over about the time he had seemingly wasted writing nothing – the potential deadline of accomplishment hanging over the feat of his creative endeavours.
You had tried time and time again to convince him that it wasn’t the be all or end all if he didn’t write something that he wasn’t a fan of in the limited timeframe he had given himself. Many people – authors, journalists, script writers, bloggers, poets all at some point struggled with writers’ block. It was natural. Almost expected when one put a significant amount of pressure on themselves. You reassured Theodore that if he wanted more time, a few months, or even another year off that your job, along with the overtime it offered, would be enough to comfortable cover rent, pay the bills and continue putting food on the table while he worked towards his dream.
In particular, over the course of the last few weeks, Theodore had become rather recluse. His behaviour at times uncharacteristically erratic yet these phases never lasted long before he morphed into the loving, soft, curious boy that had melted your heart. There were times hat he didn’t leave the apartment; days where he’d barricade himself in the study and pace back and forth in front of his desk. The lights in that room were always off: Theodore claimed that he preferred to work in darkness, alleging that it helped put him in the mindset of what he was envisioning to create, however whenever you inquired about what he was writing – the storyline, the plot, the subtext changed quicker than you could keep up with.
First, Theodore had decided to try his luck with historical fantasy. Novels as such are what had initially sparked his interest in writing. Works by the likes of greats such as Emilia Hart and Helene Wecker. Then he had moved onto more modern interests – transgressional fiction; think Chuck Palahniuk with Fight Club and Irvine Welsh who penned Trainspotting. Theodore’s inspiration had seemed with the shift to have taken an uptick – you’d often caught him scribbling down life events and experienced he recalled from his younger years from a viewpoint of recycled controversy. Then, the universe presented him his online – ‘booktok’ craze, and Theodore became obsessed with the idea of dark romance. Of erotic fiction. Of smut.
Subjects that his adult self was far more attuned to than he realised.
Hanging your carkeys on the bronze hook which hung on the wall in the hall, your fingers rapped against the doorframe of the study, and you leant to rest up against the hard wood for a moment, wondering if tonight, Theodore would turn around to acknowledge you. Unfortunately, all you’d gotten in response to your hope was a gruff, low grunt. Rolling your eyes back; the sensation heavier and far more excruciating than you’d expected – feeling as if you could see the inside of your skull, you sighed.
14 hours. Your shift in total tonight had stretched out to a mammoth 14 hours and you’d left house an hour before that because the precinct station you worked at was across the other side of town. As a general, unspoken rule; police officers tended to not work in their local areas – ‘their own backyard’ – as so many in the force referred to it, due to potential retaliation from disgruntled civilians they may have crossed paths with while in uniform. All up, you’d been away from home for a little shy of 16 hours and when you left this morning, aside from the lazy morning kiss from him that tasted like bitter caffeine because Theodore had decided to use coffee was a wakeup strategy over the intimacy you’d offered – you may as well have just left him in bed to sleep.
“T – you awake?”
You knew he answer. It was obvious. Clearly. His eyes were stretched open, jaw tight; a strained muscle in his cheek working overtime as he clenched his teeth together, almost frustrated at the fact that you’d out of the blue, interrupted the lack of inspiration he was having which in turn, caused Theodore to let out a sigh of relief as he slowly turned to face you. Computer chair swivelling around with a creak that echoed like an eerie symphony as he ran a hand down his face rather languidly before raking his fingers through his hair. The tawny brown mussed curls he sported that you’d first noticed when you met him at a local block party years ago were messed up like they would be after a rather heated makeout session that often followed arguments and disagreements neither of you really wanted to have.
Theodore smiled, genuinely; his lips curving upward at the ends which raised the apples of his cheeks up like a tired toddler who was desperately in need of a bottle of milk and sleep.
“Yeah”, he muttered; hands dropping to his thighs where he ran his palms up and down across the dark wash denim of his jeans. It was as if they were wet – from sweat perhaps. The apartment was cold though; to the point where you’d already mentally reminded yourself at least a half dozen time to turn on the oil heater in the bedroom and leave it to run over night. Hopefully, it would assist in combatting the chill layers and layers of flannel and duvet would struggle to coerce into playing nice. “Just; suddenly had an idea rush to mind but before I had a chance to jot it down.. it was gone.”
Now that made you pout; bottom lip pushed out innocently as you tilted your head to one side and shot Theodore not quite bedroom eyes. Doe eyes. Your shoulders collapsing with both disappointment for him which weaved into your own exhaustion, you pushed off the doorframe while exhaling a solid, irritated breath that tickled the back of your throat. With carefully choreographed steps, you made your way over to him; the floorboards cold beneath your feet. Mental note – a plush rug for the study would be a perfect way to help tie in the eclectic décor of academic print, mismatched mahogany furniture and moving boxes you’d both just not had time to unpack over the last year that you’d lived together.
“A penny for your thoughts if you can remember what it was about?”
Cupping the sides of his face as tenderly as you could with your hands, you allowed your thumbs permission to trace along Theodore’s jaw, encouraging him to ease into the familiar hold you often had on him. Letting your gaze flicker down across his wearied expression, you bent down; your lips meeting his own for a rather clandestine style kiss which caught his breath before he could even form the words he wished to speak.
“Romance.”
You kissed him again, this time, his lips tasting of gluttony for affection. For attention. Theodore’s hands, delicate in their touch, young their way to your waist – his calloused fingertips sweeping across your shirt before dropping to the utility belt you were yet to take off and in reality, should have left in your locker at work and not brought home.
Baton, handcuffs, pepper spray, gun.
Theodore often made it clear, usually over quarrel; that he was not one who believed in violence being the answer to anything. A traditional pacifist. You constantly felt like you had to reassure him that the tools of your trade were more to keep the peace through means of visual intimidation rather than be used. Outside of training at the academy and refresher courses as part of your role, you’d only ever fired you gun once. It was because your partner on duty at the time had gotten themselves caught in a rather sticky situation with an offender who held a gun of their own. You weren’t able to physically disarm the perpetrator – they were in a state of delirium, hallucinating over things the average person would not be able to envision within the worst of their nightmares or most vivid of dreams. The shot you fired had rendered them temporarily incapable and they collapsed, falling to the ground with the grace of a fallen angel – reduced to a vulnerability that you hoped to never again witness.
For Theodore’s sanity, whenever you did bring work home with you; you’d lock the gun, the cuffs, the spray, the baton away in a safe you kept in the middle drawer of your bedside table. The code to the safe, his birthday 0516. Those items were by far the worst things you’d kept in those drawers – the other two, stuffed to the brim with sheer pantihose, half completed sudoku booklets, candy bar wrappers which were your secret self-indulgence as middle of the night snacks and clusters of cardboard coasters you’d collected from restaurants and bars you visited on nights out.
Boring. Safe. Discreet.
You’d never asked Theodore what he kept in the nightstand drawers on his side of the bed. Curiosity had once gotten the better of you and your thoughts once or twice however wanting to give him privacy like the good girlfriend hat you were – you convinced yourself that healthy relationships were built on trust and thus not bothered to keep or divulge yourself through his belongings. You were well aware that Theodore had his demons, he’d hinted at the sufferings he’d experienced and worked through which haunted him from his younger years, and yet while you were sure he’d disclose just what they were when he felt comfortable to, you didn’t push the subject.
Surely, his drawers just contained socks, jocks and cufflinks. Standard masculine inventory.
“Romance huh?”, you kept the smalltalk going after breaking the kiss.
“Mhmm”, he fainted hushed; his cobalt gaze shifting to glimpse up at you before he continued. “I was thinking that you could be my muse.”
Feigning minor offense at his words, one of your hands dropped from his jaw to land flush against your chest, the sound which escaped from the back of your throat that of a dainty choke. You smirked at Theodore, a teasing grin settling rather comfortably on your lips as you slowly shook your head at him. “You wound me love. I assumed that I always was.”
To that presumption, Theodore nodded lazily to confirm whilst reaching around him to lower and close his laptop screen; sending the two of you into an immediate darkness that indicated he had depleted the reserves of inspiration and innovation he had for the night. The bedroom was silently calling. More so – the bed. Theodore made an offhanded comment beneath his breath about sex. You giggled and mentioned that you were surprised that he could even think about such with how tired you both were. As he followed you down the corridor towards the bedroom; walls adorned with hanging photo frames that chronologically detailed the time and maturity of your relationship – you both worked out and came to the compromise of a cuddle, which turned into a snuggle; and ended in you being a rather looked after pillow princess.
(divider here)
You’re usually a heavy sleeper – the sound of rain, hail, thunder – not being anything of a bother to you. Honestly, a bomb could be set to go off in the corner of the bedroom while you slept and aside from prying your eyes open a slither to make sure that the ceiling overhead was still in one piece and didn’t look like it was about to collapse, you’d have just rolled right over, pulling the duvet up to cover your shoulders and blissfully fall back into a deep state of relaxation and sleep.
This time however – something was off. Something is different. Something feels different. It isn’t raining outside. The sound you hear is that of metal on metal. You feel cold. Cold around your wrists. What you at first think is light coming in from a neighbours’ apartment to wash across the bedroom is in fact, the flame of a single white candle perched upon the vanity unit, casting jagged shadows that dance and reflect through the mirror across the bedroom walls and over the curtains you’d spent far too many sleepless nights deciding on. Your body is still naked from last night.
The bedroom looks as if it’s been momentarily transformed by the candlelight into that of a sanctum. The bed, an altar. Yourself, the lone sacrifice.
Trying to shift your arms down to your sides in order to sit up, you notice in a panic that they’re cruelly shackled to the headboard above you. your wrists chained together – the skin beginning to scream as you lightly thrash about unbeknownst as to why you’ve worked up in this particular position. Looking down, you make a quick note of the nicks and bruises which plumed across your skin from the quick fuck you and Theodore had last night. He’d promised that he’d take care of you. You’d almost fallen asleep on him a few times. If it weren’t for how his teeth had nipped at your skin, marking the canvas which adored your body. You had almost thought that youd dreamt of the intimacy.
Eyes fixing upon the figure that looms over you; Theodore – shirtless – draped like a specter by the dim candlelight bares faint crisscrossed scars all over his chest that look like words of art which you’ve never before questioned. Your lips part; dry by thirst and ready to ask questions on what the hell he’s doing and why he went through your drawers to make use of your issued handcuffs when there was a perfectly fine set of fluffy pink ones you’d picked up for roleplay hanging off the foot of the bed, yet were paused to stop by the finger he placed over your mouth – his other hand mimicking the gesture to his own before a low ‘sssshhh’ sound escaped him.
You call into place; nodding obediently rather than talking and decide to make the most of the situation that you’re in. It had been few and far inbetween conversational topics that you and Theodore had once shared, but you had mentioned to him earlier this year – around valentines’ day after a number of glasses of warm merlot that a fantasy of yours was to be ravaged while cuffed to the bed. Yes, rather tame compared to ideas that your friends had ever hinted at and from what you’d read in books; but it was a starting point and nothing to be ashamed of. A way for you to test the boundaries of your desires.
So that’s the reason why, from a novelty sex shop once afternoon on a day of, you’d come home to surprise him with these rather cute, but useless pink fluffy handcuffs which could be broken out of with a single swift pull. Pathetic. Right now, however, the skin of your wrists began to bruise and turn raw from how tight your work cuffs had gotten from every movement you’d made in an attempt to free yourself. Was this really how criminals felt when you’d restrained them?
“I had a dream..”, Theodore explains as his palms begin to draw p the sides of your waist. “You – me – these cuffs – a little impromptu roleplay. What do you say? It could be just the kind of inspiration I need to kick start my creativity.”
A greater good to the cause.
Okay, alright – a dream. Theodore just wanted to act out something that so happened to just be aligned with one of your fantasies. Nothing malice. Nothing sinister. Just sweet right? Well, as sweet as being woken up by handcuffs tight around your wrist could be..
Nodding in agreement to his monologue; eyes still half shut because your brain is in desperate need of sleep, you let out a kitten like mewl as his hands continue up to skim across the sensitive swell of your breasts that fit into his grasp perfectly before feeling something sharp and metallic slide heavy against your tongue. Ugh.
“Bite.”
That’s all that Theodore has to say for you to oblige his request and suddenly, you feel the key to your handcuffs sitting firmly between your teeth. The taste unexpectedly nearly making you gag. Theodore winks: the cue accompanied by a sinister smirk which causes your mind to race – wondering just what his ideas for this little roleplay might involve.
From the pocket of his pyjama pants – a deep green plaid – he pulls out a tiny bag filled with loose white powder that’s so bright, in the candlelight it shimmers and opens it; pouring half of it out onto your skin between your breasts and sternum.
That’s unexpected.
Not as unexpected though as his next move – reaching across to his bedside table to grab a hold of the latest book he’s become lost in the storyline of and plucking out the plastic bookmark with tassel before discarding the text from his hands with a single careless throw to the floor. Using the bookmark to firmly scrape the powder into a neat and thin line, he drops his head; a finger to one nostril as he snorts the drug off your skin before licking the rest that remains in the valley of your breasts.
The move is totally out of character. He tilts his head back as the rush begins to set in. You’ve never seen him to anything like this before. Drug use? By a partner? Hell, it could cost you your job if the two of you weren’t careful but for some reason although you’re meant to be anti-anything illegal, it’s a turn on. You go to say something but remember the key between your teeth so instead just hiss around the tiny piece of metal and the sound is met by the crack of his palm firmly against your cheek. The slap echoes throughout the bedroom, your skin turning a glorious hot shade of pink.
“Quiet now little one”, the words almost sound like a threat from him, “-we’ve got a dark romance to write, and I need my muse to be compliant and give me feedback for a best seller yeah? You’re going to help me whether you like it or not, so for now – just focus on not swallowing that key and let me use you.”
Theodore’s tongue begins to trail the curve of your collarbone; lapping at the salt that glitters across your skin. Your back immediately arches and he pulls back, just enough to shake his head in disappointment. “Don’t move sweetheart.”
You whimper out an acknowledgement around the key between your teeth to the request his just given. Simple enough.
Time to try again.
This time, his head lowers and his tongue tardily traces the drip beneath your collarbone, snaking down across your skin until his mouth finds a hardened nipple to suck on. His lips are warm and mellow, causing your eyes to fall shut in absolute bliss as your head tilts back between your arms onto the pillow. He pays it just enough attention that a fuzzy feeling begins to pool in the pit of your stomach and a heat rush down to your core. Instinctively, you clench your thighs together to hopefully rub them and rid yourself of some of the tension that has begun to build up throughout your body, however Theodore is quick to be unimpressed by how you’ve failed to abide by the instruction he’s imposed upon you and so his teeth roughly tug at your breast, hard enough that you would have yelped if it weren’t for the key between your teeth before you earn another crack of his palm across your cheek. The other side this time; both surfaces of your face now groomed the same shade of rosy hot pink. It’s like a school girls first crush blush.
Frustrated, Theodore reaches up above your head to tighten the cuffs that are now painfully digging into your wrists – constricted enough that they leave welts if you dare move.
“You’re not in control tonight, Princess. You’re mine to use, mine to abuse, mine to test and torture for the sake of fantasy and fiction. Don’t – move.”
Shifting above you, Theodore leans across the other side of the bed now and opens up the middle drawer of the nightstand a little further, pulling out of the safe he’d opened earlier your gun that he casually spins between his fingers before aiming it at you. Your pulse hammers, your stomach lurches, you try to summon the courage and defiance that carried you through training at the academy, but your body betrays you – a tremor dancing through your bound arms and a flush creaming up your chest as your breathing labours.
He notices. Of course he does. Even in this drug induced state, Theodore still seems to notice and murmurs a ‘bang’ beneath his breath before holding the gun up to take a long, good look at the sleek lines of the weapon, the barrel catches the candlelight and his eyes gleam bright with a sadistic delight. Loaded and lethal, the tool you wield to protect has now become his to defile. He looks like a kid in a candy store. Like a madman unafraid of consequence.
“Look at your little equalizer”, he taunts, voice dripping with mockery as he strokes the firearm. “The little thing you wear on your belt to keep you safe out there in the scary world. It’s pretty, isn’t it? I wonder if it has any other purpose aside from the one it was originally made for.”
Ejecting the magazine with a practice flick – too practiced; a detail that pricks at your mind but slips away due to the invading fog of fear that takes its place, the bullets spill out onto your stomach hold and heavy, scattering across the bruises that he left there last night. Flinching at the feeling, the key wobbles between your teeth and Theodore presses his free hand down against your hip for a moment to still you. Your breath knots and your heart stutters. “Careful now love.”
Picking up the handful of bullets from your stomach, Theodore rolls them between his fingers like a lovers caress before lifting them up to inspect them with one eye shut. How smooth and how deadly they are. Like a perfect woman. The bullets are so tiny, oh so tiny. Who would have thought that something this small could cause so much pain and damage if in the wrong hands.
“One”, he counts aloud, voice dropping to that of a hypnotic drawl as he slides a bullet back into the magazine with a deliberate click – a chuckle creeping out from deep inside his chest, “For the way you kiss me and make me forget about who I was before I met you.” His words are a psychological vice, squeezing out your resistance. That slight tremor of an accent which underlies his choice of words, squeezing out your sanity.
“Two”, he continues; another bullet sliding in to click firmly in place, “For the bruises I’m going to later leave on your throat like a necklace to show the world who you belong to.”
Skimming the barrel of the gun down across your stomach, Theodore presses it firmly inside one of the dips at your hips, just enough to make you squirm as he toys with the trigger and you’re terrified although you know that not locked and loaded correctly, it can’t be used. Would he be insane enough to play a game of Russian roulette with a half empty magazine. Yes. Yes he would. You can’t help but let your mind race to the answer of – yes.
“Three and four – for the nights I’ll keep you awake, whispering the stories that you’ve inspired baby doll.” The bullets slip back into the magazine, and you struggle to breathe as its cold steel brushes down across the top of your thigh. You wince at the contact, key between your teeth still trembling dangerously as it threatens to fall into your mouth. Theodore’s eyes flick up malevolently as he catches the movement and the hand holding the last two bullets shoots up to grip your jaw roughly - turning your head, he forces you to meet his gaze.
“Don’t.”
All traces of tenderness which you once knew, have extinguished from his voice. “Drop it, and I’ll use this to keep you quiet and compliant instead.” Shifting the gun between your legs, he lets the barrel slip down between your damp folds, the cold steel biting into your skin before the opening catches your clit as he applies the kind of pressure that you’ve never felt before. Against your will, your back arches off the bed in a porn worthy curve, yet this time, he doesn’t seem to mind your movements. “Ooh, we like that do we?”
Hacking saliva into his mouth from the back of his throat, bullets five and six are placed in the magazine as he continues his ritual, numbering and describing his intentions and conceits. “Five for the screams you’re going to swallow because they’re mine to draw out and six for the mornings you’ll wake up craving only the pain and suffering that I can inflict.”
Spit dripping from between his glistening lips, a wet string lands hot between your legs, coiling around your clit that he uses to lube the barrel of the gun with small aching circular motions. You don’t want to, but in a state of sheer fear and arousal, your hips buck as you let out a strained groan around the key you’re still biting. A bead of sweat begins to pearl across your forehead as Theodore starts to rock the gun in and out between your folds at your entrance, every thrust of the barrel inching in deeper and to your disgust, your thighs fall wider apart, welcoming the sensation.
“Perfect little slut.”
Snapping the magazine back in firmly before unlocking the safety trigger, Theodore continues to thrust the gun in and out of your cunt as he lazily hums the tune aloud of twinkle twinkle little star. His eyes are still void of any emotion other than psychosis as he reaches up to wrap a hand around the base of your throat; at first, just to keep your head still before he begins to apply pressure that has you struggling to breathe through your gritted teeth.
Hand sweeping up the curve of your neck without warning, he plucks the key from your lips and raises the gun to your mouth as he taunts you with the single word instruction of ‘lick’. As a shaky breath escapes you now that you can finally, properly breathe, you compel and do as asked; tip of your tongue poking out from between your dry lips to lick your own arousal off the barrel.
“Suck on it.”
Your eyes widen, pupils blown wide as they dilate in panic edged on by excitement. Your gun fits a little too easily and snug in your mouth. Cheeks hollowing as you begin to suck at the now warm steel, the only thought you can bring yourself to have is that you hope to god that in his euphoric drug induced state, he doesn’t pull the fucking trigger. Extracting the gun from your mouth, Theodore lazily tosses it back into the safe and shuffles down on the bed to get comfortable between your thighs. His arms wrap around them to keep you still and close; but not before sprinkling the remaining bagged powder between your folds that he licks up deliciously. Your back arches and this time he lets it do so, using the action to pull you in closer as his tongue slides into you, sending your conscious spiralling into a new oblivion.
“Fucckkk, Theo--.”
Your arms begin to trash at the coiling sensation building up again in the pit of your stomach; wrists torn and bleeding against the handcuffs restraints which have begun to dig in. His eyes flicker up the scape of your body as he continues to feast on you, your thighs clenching around his head causing him to groan loudly with glee.
Giving your clit a flick before tapping his forefinger quickly against it a half dozen times, he spits into his palm; pumping away at his semi-hard length before shifting to move over you – hovering; as he forces his cock into your pulsing cunt without warning. The friction is everything that you’ve been secretly craving and when he moves his hands to wrap around your wrists below the handcuffs and cage you in, it isn’t long before you’re counting the stars which are bursting behind your eyes.
As his cock threatens to split you open, Theodore drops his head into the crook of your neck to nip and suck at the sensitive flesh; etching a new layer of bruises above old ones that are yet to heal or even settle from earlier in the night. His thrusts become careless, but you’re not quite there yet. Like hell – you should be; the inside of your thighs are soaked, sheets of the bed drenched as they begin to stick to your skin. He half sits up, shifting one of your legs over his shoulder to deepen just how far down your cervix his cock can go and peppers kisses across the inside of your ankle as you begin to cry at the sensation because you can’t bring yourself to just scream.
“Oh baby girl -.”
Your clits throbbing.
“-.. look so fucking good.”
He spanks the curve of your ass with a snap before wrapping one hand around your lower shin, the other clawing into the meat of your thigh as he continues to fuck you until your throat becomes raw and hurts due to the screaming. Slowing down, just as Theodore is about to burst, he pulls his cock out from the vice grip your cunt has on it and shoots a load of sticky, hot cum across your stomach up to your chin. He’s spent but only drops his head to gaze down at you like a predator does prey. Struggling to breathe; he licks just below your ankle before blowing warm air across the damp spot and presses a final kiss against your skin. You’re trembling and he knows it; but he just can’t tell what from exactly.
“Don’t be scared sweet thing..” He reaches up and wipes away tears that have begun to spill over from the outside corners of your eyes, “..you’re perfect! My woman. My muse.”
Theodore’s touch returns to being gentle for the first time tonight while your heart pounds like a war drum against the inside of your chest. You give in and begin to relax beneath the tender familiarity of his touch.
Sickly, sweet Theodore. The boy who you fell in love with has returned and replaced this monster that had disregarded the sanctuary of your body.
Before excusing himself from the bedroom with the justification of wanting to head to the study so that he could begin working away on what he believed was going to be a dark romance masterpiece for the ages – Theodore tossed the key to your handcuffs into the bed between your legs with a sly chuckle and devious wink.
"Might leave you this way for the rest of the night sweetheart - just in case I need to come back and replay anything we've done for my own benefit and memory."
Nodding your head, unsure as to whether it was adrenaline that has now brought you to be wide awake or if you were about to crash and potentially fall into the greatest deep sleep you’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing, you sigh; almost disappointed.
“If you’re up for it – I’ve got another idea for a police chase a few chapters in”, he taunts while licking his lips and shoving his cock back into his pants. You nod, curiosity winning out over his idea.
“We’ll take your squad car out for a drive; find an overgrown cornfield on the outskirts of town and I’ll give you a minute head start on a little game of hide and seek with a slight amendment to the rules. I get to stalk your every move, and you have to keep yourself safe and out of reach from dusk until dawn – because if I get close enough to finding you, and catching you… I get to have my way with you and next time – I’m not going to be so gentle.”
huge thanks to: @viperify @lovesincerely @leeny-leens & @queenranaxox for keeping me on track with this one 🖤🖤🖤
“You are refined. Your soul is royal. You will never settle for less than what you deserve. Those that deprive you of what is yours play a most dangerous game, for your wrath is not something to be taken lightly. Dignity is the core of your being, and though you entertain acquaintanceships, true companionship is hard for you to find, for there are few who can match you as an equal without drowning in your sea of red. There is beauty beyond the petals on your surface, and a depth to you that longs to be seen, to be known in some way. To be held in worthy hands. And yet you fear it, don’t you? That they will look too far past your pretty petals and see what you hide from yourself?”
thank you for tagging me, darling! this was beautiful and brutal at the same time! ❤️
a white flame made of moonlight
"You are mystic. You are an enigma. You are a bright light in the darkest of times. A champion of justice, you fight for what is dear to you, and you take your duty seriously. Your sense of purpose comes from being helpful, from being needed. But your tragedy is that you are made of fire, and few would dare approach you. They will use your warmth. They will use your flames against their enemies. They will call you beautiful. But they will not touch you. They will not hold you. Some will even fear you, and you will readily keep your distance, for you have burned others before. You wish you could take it back, but the past cannot be undone. You will be the last person to forgive yourself, if you ever do. Why can’t you just let it go? Why do you keep burning yourself out when what you truly want is rest?"
thank you for the tags everyone!! this was adorably fun
a castaway heart
You want to be loved so badly. To be accepted. You are so eager to give your heart away, but it always comes back to you bruised and broken. You know you should never trust anyone again, yet you end up doing it anyway and making the same mistakes again and again. Take more care of your heart, please. It is worthy to be loved. It is worth more than what you give it. You deserve to be cared for, to be treated tenderly. Or do you not think so? Do you see no worth in yourself? You are not a thing to be used and discarded, and neither is your heart. The best keeper of your heart is yourself. Learn to trust yourself, and build the home you long for within your own chest.
hiiiiii i just found your blog!! i was wondering if you’ll ever make a part 2 of “accidental dick pic”, no pressure ofc! i just loved it so so much😣💕
Hiiiii!! Welcome!
I’ve actually been thinking about doing a part two but I haven’t been able to come up with any ideas that would be longer than 500 words, so if you have any suggestions, pleaseeeee send them! I’d love to see them! 🩶🩶
That’s how long you and Mattheo had been dating. Still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship of course. But it felt like you’d been dating for three years. The way he was already so comfortable around you made your heart soar. And the way you were able to let your guard down around him made you feel so incredibly safe.
Mattheo was actually your first real boyfriend. You’d had awkward situationships and “almost” boyfriends, but nothing official. Not until Mattheo came along.
It was funny how you met. Definitely a meet cute moment. You both had been out after curfew. Sneaking around a corner, you both bumped into each other. Not expecting someone there, you both tumbled onto the floor. Causing a relatively loud sound of bodies clashing onto the floor. Mattheo was used to the amount of prefects on duty after curfew so as soon as he got up; he lifted you up with ease and immediately stuffed both of you two into a broom closet.
After that night, you both happened to notice and recognize each other’s faces more. Seeing him in the halls or in class, you would immediately remember his hands on yours, pulling you up so easily.
But despite all that, he still exceeded your expectations. Always texting you back in a reasonable amount of time. Bringing you flowers on a date. Laughing at your dumb jokes. Tucking your hair behind your ear. The small things. But they felt so big to you.
Tonight was especially exciting. He had snuck out just to see you. He snuck out of his dorm just to got to your own dorm. Spend the night. He claims he’s not interested in sleeping alone anymore. Wants to feel your warmth all night.
You were giddy as soon as you saw his smile. The cheeky grin that lit up the room everytime he graced the earth with it. You giggled and immediately shot up from your bed, kissing his nose.
He immediately reciprocated by pressing a loving kiss to your lips. His hand gently traveled your collarbone and neck; finding its way into your hair. As you pulled away from the kiss, he frowned a bit playfully.
“That was over too soon.”
You grinned and gave a playful remark
“There’s more where that came from”
He laughed and shook his head. Untying his converse and slipping them off at the door. Placing them next to your own. He crawled into bed with you and scooped you up. His strong arms gently embracing you. He kissed your forehead and sighed into your hair
“Mmm…did you change your shampoo?”
Small things, like you said.
“Yeah, actually. Honey scented. You like?”
“Most definitely. Smells like home if that makes sense.”
You looked up at him and smiled. Gently placing your hands on his forearms as his thumbs gently caressed your soft skin
“I think I know what you mean.”
He hummed into your hair. Closing his eyes as he soaked up this moment with you. You were his whole world. Of course, he’d only had you for a few months. Yet he planned on keeping you longer than that. So much longer.
“You wanna play 21 questions?”
You asked, trying to fill the comfortable silence
“Sure, why not?”
You grinned and looked up at him. Ready to ask him the most out of pocket questions.
“Okay, I’ll start. Hmmmm…would you rather shag Snape or Professor Lupin?”
He barked out laughing, he gently slapped your thigh and then gave his answer with no other explanation
“Lupin. My turn—..”
You grinned and laughed as well
“What, that’s it?! No reasoning?”
He shook his head, the most proud smile.
“Snape would be too bitchy, too whiny, Lupin looks like he knows what he wants and knows how to get it.”
You burst out laughing, buying your head in his chest. Muffled laugher spilled throughout the dormitory. The warmth and love that radiated through the walls was too contagious.
“Oh, gods! My cheeks burn!”
“I’m just too funny for you, princess”
You shook your head and gently smacked his chest
“Oh really? I’ll tell you a joke that’ll make your grandkids laugh”
He furrowed his eyebrows but grinned anyway. Ready for the joke of the century. He smiled as you started telling the joke.
“Why did the chicken cross the road? To go see the idiot. Knock knock”
“Who’s there?”
“The chicken.”
He gave out a good hearty laugh but immediately wrestled you onto the bed, tickling you
“That’s what you get, you little minx!”
You squealed and giggled, kicking and squirming around under him. Laughing as he then started to attack you with kisses. When he finally stops to catch his breath? You cant help but smile stupidly as you see his love struck eyes. You both laid there panting softly. The love and affection still lingered so heavily.
“Is it too soon to say I love you?”
You asked with a grin, mostly joking. Expecting a stupid answer.
“No. I don’t think so. Cause I’m 100% inlove with you.”
You looked over at him, eyes soft and full of affection love.
“Really..?” You managed to mutter out. Still a bit struck by the fact he said it so confidently. You slowly started to smile and spoke in sweet tone.
“I’m inlove with you too.”
He grinned like a madman as you admitted your love for him. He pulled into a kiss, the most affectionate and passionate kiss you’d ever experienced with him. His lips on yours felt like heaven. It felt like you had truly, ultimately, won in life. Hands and limbs slowly started to intertwine as you both started to make out.
The word love hadn’t meant much to you until now. Until Mattheo.
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thank you my gorgeous @dearmisshoney for tagging me💕
i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child
i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child
