#i hate you

[rystiel]

KILLLLLL MEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[fleshbash]

I downloaded oil brushes, blame DE and @ninineen in particular

[michaelharmony]

and fuck d*ana ross for basically being the reason we don’t get a directors cut since her wrinkly babadook fonky ass didn’t wanna get exposed for being a groomer

[theruinofus]

[flocklings]

this is what i'm talking aboutttt

[crossaints]

this basically sums up my relationship with this fuckass cunt blue eyed siberian husky looking hot delicious shithead

[parseltonguekisses]

told you so !

based on this ask! draco is the only one allowed to hurt you.. 18+

Draco’s smirk had been carved into his face since lunch, sharp and unrelenting. He’d overheard something painfully funny—your so-called friends gossiping loud enough for half the Great Hall to hear how Finnigan had fucked some Hufflepuff behind your back. Pathetic. He’d warned you. Told you the idiot couldn’t handle a girl like you, that he’d burn out faster than one of his own failed spells. But you’d hissed at him that he was just jealous, just bitter that you’d never taken him seriously.

Now he was going to enjoy every second of being right.

The rivalry between you had always been viciously addictive. Hate laced with heat, loathing sharpened by the memory of how perfectly your body betrayed you both. It had been nearly a year since that first hazy afternoon in Slughorn’s empty classroom. Your books scattered across the floor, your skirt shoved up around your waist, legs spread wide over the desk while he buried himself inside you. He still remembered the slick, pulsing heat of your cunt squeezing him like a vice, the way you’d gasped his name against his ear.

His blood was already singing as he reached your private dorm and raised a hand to knock, lips curling in anticipation of the fury he’d see in your eyes.

But then the door cracked open.

Bloodshot eyes met his. Your lashes were wet, cheeks streaked, lips pressed into a trembling line. The smirk died instantly.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then something in Draco’s chest twisted with something sharp, unwelcome, and impossible to ignore. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The room smelled like you: the faint vanilla soap, the lingering trace of salt from your tears, and a candle you’d lit in hopes to make you feel better.

“You look like shit,” he said, voice low. Somehow not cruel, tone almost gentle.

You tried to glare, but it wobbled. “Thanks. Come to say ‘I told you so,’?”

“I did tell you.” He moved closer, slow, giving you time to push him away. You didn’t. “But I’ll decide what I do to Finnigan later.”

“What do you care?” You wiped your snotty nose on the sleeve of your shirt—an ugly, miserable motion that should have repelled him. Instead, two cool fingers caught your chin, tilting your glassy eyes up to his. His touch was gentle, almost alarmingly gentle, thumb brushing away the wetness on your cheek.

“I’m the only one who gets to hurt you,” he murmured, silver eyes dark. “I believe I’ve told you that before.”

A bitter laugh caught in your throat. “Yes, that’s so chivalrous of you.” You rolled your eyes, gasping sharply when his grip tightened just slightly. Firm, possessive, a silent reminder.

You remembered exactly when he’d said those words. His bicep locked tight around your throat from behind, veins standing out as he pounded into you so deep and ruthless you saw stars. That had been the day Marcus Flint mistook Draco’s bullying as an open invitation to try the same. You still remembered the sickening crack of Draco’s fist, the blood pouring from Flint’s split lip and the rapidly swelling black eye the next morning. Draco’s apology to you had come fast and rough, his pride tucked away for once before he propped you up against the wall and fucked you until the only ache you felt was the delicious stretch of his cock and the imprint of his teeth on your shoulder.

“Just leave me alone, Dray,” you whispered, how small your voice was made something ugly bloom hot in his chest. “I’ve had a bad day.” You tried to turn your face away, but his grip stayed firm, those pretty silver eyes locked on yours like he was memorizing every tear-streaked detail.

You’d ruined the smug satisfaction he’d been savoring, and somehow he wasn’t mad about it. He hadn’t realized you could actually like someone as pathetic as Finnigan.

“I know you have,” he said quietly. “How bout I make it better?”

“All you know how to do is be mean to me.”

A dark little smile curved his lips. “I can think of a few ways to be very nice. Now lay your pretty ass on the bed.”

He finally released your chin. For a long moment you stood frozen, debating whether to push him away and out the door. This exhausting game between you had always been brutal—yet all you’d ever really wanted was him, no matter how cruel he could be. And after all of it you’d still ended up heartbroken by someone else.

A sharp smack landed on your backside, the sting blooming hot across your skin and making you gasp. The sound of his low chuckle followed as you finally moved, climbing onto the bed.

Draco followed, his touch surprisingly gentle, like the one person who had always torn you apart had decided to put you back together. He started at your ankle, kissing slowly up your legs with soft, open-mouthed presses of lips and teasing flicks of tongue against sensitive skin. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he groaned, low and sinful, as he pressed his mouth over your cotton-clad core. The heat of his breath soaked through the thin fabric, and the first firm kiss made your hips twitch. Your taste bloomed on his tongue even through the barrier, sweet and addictive.

He chose not to comment on your outfit—the oversized t-shirt that barely skimmed mid-thigh or the faded Hello Kitty panties he used to mock. You were sad. So for once, he’d let it slide.

The minute his tongue started lapping at your cunt, you knew you hated how easily he was winning. Every broad stroke melted away thoughts of Finnigan, of the cheating, of anything outside the wet heat of his mouth. When he finally hooked a finger under the soaked fabric and pulled your sticky panties to the side, sliding his tongue directly along your slit, your mind went blissfully blank.

The needy little noise that slipped from your puffy lips made him hum in satisfaction, the low vibration shooting straight through your clit. Your hips bucked against him involuntarily. Immediately his strong hand clamped down on your hip, pinning you exactly where he wanted you as he drowned himself in your dripping pussy.

Frosty lashes lifted, silver eyes dark and pupils blown wide as he looked up at you. “Missed this pretty pussy,” he murmured against your folds, voice thick with arousal. He flattened his tongue and dragged it slowly, perfectly, over your swollen clit. Your fingers twisted into his white-blond hair, tugging hard as your hips rolled against his face as much as he’d let you, desperate moans spilling freely into the room.

He pulled back just as you teetered on the edge, leaving you whimpering. A sharp smack of his palm landing directly on your clit, making you yelp—the exact sound he loved.

“Since you can’t stay still,” he said, lips shiny with your arousal, “you can ride my face. Consider it a gift for your bad day.”

He kissed you quickly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue—your slick sweetness mixed with the faint cool bite of his spearmint gum. Then he dropped onto his back and pulled you over him. Your soaked, drooling pussy pressed against the expensive fabric of his shirt, leaving a wet mess he didn’t seem to care about in the slightest. He licked his lips, scarlet flush painting his sharp cheekbones as he stared up at you with pure hunger.

“Come on, sweetheart. Take what you want.”

You barely had time to hesitate. His strong arms hauled you forward until you were hovering over his handsome face. Any worry about crushing him vanishing under the heat pulsing between your legs.

“But—”

That was all you managed before he yanked you down. His mouth latched onto your cunt with greedy hunger, tongue thrusting inside you while two thick fingers slid deep into your tight hole, all the way to the knuckle. You clenched hard around the sudden fullness, a broken “Oh fuuck—” tearing from your throat as your hands flew to the headboard and your body slumped forward in overwhelming pleasure.

There was something painfully intimate about how desperately Draco wanted to erase the hurt—how fiercely he cared even when he pretended he didn’t. Even if the only way he knew how to help you was with his mouth and hands and cock, he still chose to help.

He was messy, utterly pussy-drunk on the taste of you. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass hard, fingers digging in as he pulled your hips down tighter against his face. If he suffocated beneath you, he’d die happy. “Fuck, that’s it pretty,” he growled against your soaked folds, voice vibrating through your core. “Gonna cum f’me?”

He already knew the answer, of course. He could feel your walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers and the frantic pulsing of your swollen clit against his tongue.

“Yes—ah! Draco, please, ngh—!”

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum all over my face, be a good girl f’me.”

The tension in your belly snapped. Your hips rutting unashamed against his mouth as pleasure crashed through you, hard and overwhelming. His fingers stretched you wide, the faint scratch of his stubble against your sensitive skin driving you higher while your release flooded his tongue. He drank every drop like it was communion. Loud, wet slurping and filthy sucking sounds filling the room as he worked you through it.

He didn’t stop until you were a whimpering mess, thighs shaking violently around his head. Only then did he ease his fingers from your drooling cunt, leaving you empty and pulsing.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you came down, small aftershocks twitching through your hips and dragging your sensitive folds against his lips a few more times until finally you slumped forward, boneless and sated.

Draco’s touch turned gentle. His long arms skimmed up your back, holding you in place as he stared up at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

“Better?” he asked, voice low and rough, a hint of hopefulness if you listened hard enough.

You managed a blissed-out nod, a soft hum vibrating in your throat as your gaze finally met his. A lazy smile tugged at his lips. You shimmied down his body and tucked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to your temple, then let his smirk return as he whispered hot against your ear.

“Told you so.”