#starlight-writes-stuff

taking care of you

it was the third time that month that it had happened .

you knew that it wasn’t your fault - MUCH less draco’s- but that didn’t help you to feel any better. it was the medication you were on; it had robbed you of the ability to cum at your boyfriend’s hands without at least an hour of build up. you weren’t going to make him do that.

but draco had other ideas.

the blonde boy practically sauntered in, an air of cockiness twining together with his usual arrogance. the combination was downright deadly, and draco knew it, too. his confidence was one of the first things that had attracted you- it was dizzying, the way he carried himself as if he was above the general population. something about it made you weak and wanting and desperately willful. you wanted to jump on the boy the minute he’d entered the room, a black bag dangling from his skilled fingers. 

“doll,” he mused, greeting you warmly. his voice was like a sweet honeycrisp apple, sending a warm tingling all over your body. reflexively, your eyes drifted shut; draco was using a tone that only came out in the bedroom and it melted you like candle wax. 

“dray.”

the pale boy water no time approaching you, wrapping one of his large hands under your jaw. his soft fingertips dug into your skin, your heart thumping in your chest. you’d slipped into an altered state in record time, dracos aroma filling your head with a hazy fog. the cold silver of his rings but into your warm skin, a pleasant sort of sting, and his eyes were heavy lidded as he ran his gaze up and down your body.

draco said nothing as his eyes snapped back to yours, only tightening his grip the slightest bit more as he dropped his mouth to the exposed skin of your collarbones. he peppered the flesh with featherlight kisses, his tongue dancing over you teasingly. “brought you something.”

“hmm?” you hummed, lifting the pitch of your voice as if it was a question. draco was no stranger to bringing gifts- he did it quite often. however, you could tell that today’s present was something different.

“gonna make you feel good, okay?” 

you pressed your thighs together, the soft fabric of your skirt crumpling. pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you drew yourself out of the desire-filled mindset you’d settled into and backed away from the green eyed boy. a sense of shame flooded your system as you placed gentle hands on the crisp, white fabric of draco’s button up. he knew you didn’t like addressing your... issue. the two of you had had one chagrin-filled exchange as you explained the side effects to him, and you’d made him promise that he wouldn’t bring it up again. it was humiliating, almost dehumanizing. before you could even open your mouth to speak, draco pressed a finger to the soft, pink flesh of your lips, tracing their outline.

“hush, bun. i got you, okay? i want to.”

you quirked a brow at him, frustration still coursing through your veins. “draco, you know that... sex isn’t working- i cant-“you stuttered, but the look in his eyes quickly shut you up. 

“not going to fuck you, bunny. gotta new trick up my sleeve, okay?”

you teetered for a moment. you trusted draco more than anything, but what if you still... couldn’t?

“get out of your own head, y/n. promise i’ll  take care of you.” 

you nodded as the words rolled off his tongue. draco looked elated at your permission- you could tell he’d been wanting to do this for a while. quickly, draco undid the velvet bag, producing a small, black device. you looked at him, confusion furrowing your brow; you were unsure of what he’d gotten. however, all your perplexity melted away as draco turned the top of the object. a low, buzzing noise filled the room. 

you were bewildered as you looked up to meet dracos eyes. you’d never used toys before- he’d always been enough for you. but with the way that desire seemed to fill every inch of the boys being, you realized he truly wanted to make you feel good; he wanted to make you cum in any way possible. 

“wanna try, bun?”

draco had lead you to his sitting room, and you knew why before you’d even gotten there. the blonde had undressed you hastily, situating your body in his lap- in front of the wall length mirror. there was a beautiful soft of contrast painted in the reflective glass; your bare form slinked over draco’s well dressed body. he’d pressed the toy to your clit without any hesitation, a sinful smirk ghosting over his lips as a moan was drawn from your throat. the vibrations seemed to wash in waves over your nervous system, arousal coating the black device within a matter of minutes.

“how does that feel, doll?”

your back arched at the tone of his voice, goosebumps covering your bare flesh as you wrapped an arm around dracos shoulders, your fingers carding through his hair. 

“feels. so good-“ you explained, the statement broken up by uneven moans tearing through your throat. you hummed as draco removed his arm from around your waist, bringing king fingers up to tweak and tease at your chest. you felt something, some sort of sensation start to pool in your lower belly, absolute bliss spilling from your lips. the feeling was so foreign and yet incredibly familiar, a sensitivity beginning to ebb away at your nerve endings.

your eyes rolled back into your head as draco began pressing kisses and gentle bites into the soft flesh of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin only adding to your pleasure. he rasped filthy praises into your ear, his voice low and rough and filled with lust. he couldn’t rip his eyes from the reflection of you in the mirror, legs spread and beginning to tremble. you looked like a piece of artwork, the most expensive painting money would buy. he watched aptly as your face shifted with his movements- gauging your reactions, measuring how to make you feel best. he found your sensitive spots with ease, bringing you closer and closer to your high.

“doing so good for me, doll,” he murmured in your ear, the praise filling you with a sense of tranquility. you turned your brain off as euphoria infiltrated every centimeter of your being- you panted and whined, pulling at draco’s hair. 

“so close, dray,” you breathed, the pleasure taking your ability to speak correctly. you felt dracos lips curve into a wicked smile against your skin. 

“let go for me, sweet thing. want you to cum for me.”

your entire body racked with a sweet sort of satisfaction, your orgasm rolling over you in waves each more intense than the last. draco softened his pressure on your sex slightly, allowing you to buck your hips against the vibratory, riding out your high.

your eyes fluttered open as you came down, bliss running through your veins as draco dropped tender kisses to your temple, your hair. 

she earned her grades and i finessed mine

but not so obvious, a c minus is just fine //

she planned for college, i schemed and plotted

---

her friends are pretty, my friends are goonies

but maybe it could all work out like in the movies

---

she like daisies, i'm like gloom

without my rain, she couldn't bloom

she need me, i need her, too

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

you and clay (or dream, really. everyone in his life called him that except for you; it was a nickname he couldn't seem to rid himself of) couldn’t have been more different- and yet, the sandy blonde boy had managed to work his way into your head and wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. every time he touched you, whether it was accidental or on purpose, you felt your entire body go up in hot, white flames. your nervous system seemed to light up around him; even the sound of his voice made your heart skip and stutter. when you thought about him, the world didn’t seem so dark anymore. 

when you moved to florida at the beginning of the semester, you’d made yourself a promise: no boys. no hookups, no flings, no situationships. you’d been hurt too many times, and you weren’t in the market to put yourself back out there. and then you met clay.

the two of you were dead opposites. he lovingly described himself as a stereotypical ‘teenage dirtbag’: a lowlife kid who’d struggled through school and had a shitty home life, but has somehow made it into college. he cheated on all his tests and didn’t do assignments; he’d rather skate all his problems away, surrounded by the pack of slobbering boys he called his friends. his idea of a good time was running from the cops. clay was everything that you weren't- carefree, blissfully clueless, and entirely too calm for his own good. 

your whole life you’d been the ‘good girl’: straight laced and perfectly dressed, an academic superstar and all around teachers pet. you came from a happy middle-class home, and your parents kept up with you in a family groupchat. you’d done just the right amount of  extracurriculars to rise above everyone else in your class, but not enough to make you look pretentious, and spent most of your time volunteering. on the off chance that you had an ounce of spare time, you wouldn’t be caught dead at a house party; no, no, you were practicing piano. 

your friendship made no sense, and yet, here you were.

being clay’s friend meant you were never bored. even while he was living through hell at home, he was funny and sweet and brave. he was the first to get you two into trouble and the one to talk you out of it. he was spontaneous and alive and had a good taste in music. once you started to notice the light he got in his eyes as he flew down hills on his skateboard, the way he laughed so hard his voice would dissolve into silence, or the way he would suck on his straw after getting slurpees, you couldn’t stop. then you started to notice every perfect thing about him and it only made it hurt that much worse when he would cry. you started doing anything and everything you could to protect that light in his eyes, to make sure no more tears would ever fall from them.

but you didn’t want to be clay’s friend anymore- you wanted him, in every sense of the word. you wanted all his time and attention and love and affection. you wanted to be that one that made him smile that stupid, crooked smile of his, and make him laugh until he couldn’t breathe. you wanted clay to look at you the way he looked at life- like a challenge, a puzzle that he wouldn’t stop messing with until it was solved. you wanted to call the lanky, troublemaking boy yours, to take him somewhere where he would never hurt again and love him until he wasn’t broken anymore. against all odds you had fallen for clay, hard, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to get up.

little did you know, clay was feeling the same way. 

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

it wasn’t odd for clay to just show up at your dorm. it was pretty common, really. he seemed to pop in more and more these days, sometimes with friends, sometimes without. you’d more or less been adopted by the group of boys; as far as you’d been told, they had all been friends since childhood. growing up together, the clan had earned the name ‘feral boys’- one that you didn’t want to know the backstory behind. as far as you knew, they were all loud and slightly aggressive but overall sweethearts, and they’d taken you under their wing once it had become painfully obvious that you had no other friends. again, it was an odd pairing; clay, george, alex, nick, karl and… you. but it worked, to say the least.

clay didn’t have any of the other guys with him this time, barging into your room unannounced. you’d been trying to get him to knock for forever, but none of your protests had stuck. 

“clay!” you exclaimed, throwing a pillow at him. you were sitting in your bed, typing away at a psych paper that had been plaguing you for days. “what if i had been naked?”

he fell onto your bed, shutting your laptop with one of his long arms. “then it would be my lucky day.”

scoffing, you rolled your eyes at him while you prayed that your flushed face wouldn’t betray you. his answer made blood swoosh in your temples, your heart skipping a beat before lapsing into an upbeat sort of rhythm. “yeah, sure- good to see you too. what do you need?”

the blonde boy grinned up at you. “since when do i need a reason to stop by? you like my company,” he boasted. clay wasn’t wrong; you loved every moment that he was around, even the most mundane ones. something about him made you feel more alive.

“are you working on something important?” he asked, his voice taking on an unusual sort of tone.

you lifted a brow at him- clay’s voice very rarely changed from his confident, over easy tone, so when he did, you were going to call him out. “no,” you mused, drawing the vowel out. “why? you seem weird.”

clay’s face morphed and fluctuated before he pulled a tight smile. “you really don't miss anything, do you?”

“nope,” you said brightly, transferring your laptop to the nightstand by your bed. clay was jumpier than usual, shifting his weight and repositioning himself three times before finally sitting up, leaning against your wall. he bumped his knee against yours and the slight, innocent touch sent butterflies out of your stomach, soaring into your chest.  

“clay, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice taking on an embarrassingly gentle tone. you realized that he could be having issues at home again and your heart sank- that would explain his odd demeanor. your chest flooded with affection for the boy, your heart achingly soft as you grabbed one of his hands. clay quickly turned your palm over in his, playing with your fingers as he spoke.

“i want to talk to you about something.”

you froze for half a second, swallowing hard. your throat was dry as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“okay. what’s going on?”

biting at his bottom lip, clay’s face flushed with blood. his cheeks took on a rosy sort of pink tone, and he pulled his eyes from yours as he let out a long exhale. he allowed his gaze to settle on the ceiling, tracing the pattern of the old popcorn ceiling with his pupils. 

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

you secretly loved moments like this- moments where clay was too preoccupied within his own head to realize that you were staring, studying his face. he was the kind of boy you could only describe as pretty, all high cheekbones and bright eyes framed by long, golden-brown lashes. you stayed like this for a moment longer, drinking him in; you’d be thinking of him like this for weeks. every time you got a chance to look at him like this, you added another mental painting of him to your art gallery. in some paintings, he was surrounded by soft orange light, usually sitting on a curb or the lip of a halfpipe. in others, clay was painted on soft blue tones, shadows reinforcing the hollows of his face. 

there was one common thread in all the mental works of him, though: he was never looking back at you. in your mind, clay would only ever see you as a friend- the slightly odd girl that had fallen in with him and his groupies. you truly believed that he only perceived you in small quantities- only ever seeing you when you made a rather good joke or fed him something. the rest of the time- the majority of the time you two spent together- you thought clay seemed so enamored by his own mind, or that he was was too busy doing something else to pay you any attention.

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

clay pulled his mouth to one side, face scrunching up before he dropped your hand, letting it fall on the bed.

“i’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff lately.”

you blinked, then looked back at clay, unsure of what this meant. his whole body seemed to stiffen as you looked over him- he seemed uncomfortable, which never happened. you dropped your gaze to your duvet and busied yourself with tracing over the floral pattern, your mind seemingly exploding with thousands of thoughts per second. you, for the first time in your life, felt strained around clay, and it scared you more than you’d like to quantify.

“oh. what kind of stuff? do you want to… talk about it?”

“yeah. no. not really, but i’m going to make myself do it. this thing- the thing i've been thinking about- if i don't get it out,” he said, stressing the words as if they had some sort of deeper, more intense meaning, “will just… consume me. you know?”

you did, but you weren’t sure if it was in the same way that clay was meaning. “sort of.” clay groaned and tangled his hands in his hair, tugging at the roots before letting his head fall into his palms. he made another frustrated noise then pushed himself up and off of your bed, beginning to pace.

something was glaringly wrong; clay only paced when he couldn’t release in any other way. even so, his pacing was more aggressive than usual, more stomping than stepping. clay was quickly working himself into a hole, and you were watching him spiral. you knew that he would only rile himself up more, past the point of stopping himself now. 

pushing yourself to standing, you grabbed one of clay’s wrists- his skin was hot to the touch and you could feel his heartbeat, strong and erratic, thumping under his skin. 

“clay-” 

his lips were on yours, hot and rough and needy and the slighted bit desperate as he knotted a hand in your hair, the other cupping your jaw. you froze for half a second, shock flooding your system, before kissing clay back even harder. you were entirely overwhelmed and you could feel the sharp spurs of desire cutting through your blood, replacing it with the yearning you’d been suppressing for months. his tongue tangled with yours, quenching the thirst that you’d only been adding to with an ease, and a small whimper escaped your throat. 

clay seemed to realize how hot and heavy things had become in a matter of seconds and pulled away, running a thumb over your lips as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“oh?” he asked, his usual cockiness returning with a force. you weren’t able to form words- much less piece together a whole sentence- so you settled for pressing another kiss to his lips, answering him in the only way you knew how

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

the two of you stayed like that for a while, communicating through rough, sugary sweet kisses, hands on hips and chests and necks. after you’d kissed until your lips were sore and you were both out of breath, clay had given you a concerned sort of look.

“was that too much- or too one sided?”

“what? no!”

clay had laughed at the way you’d defended yourself, peppering your face with tender pecks. “so you really do like me, huh?”

“i do. i really do, dream,” you stressed, pressing a kiss to the boys scruffy jaw.

“ew,” he groaned, hitting you with the pillow you’d thrown at him earlier that afternoon. “don’t call me that.”

“why not?”

clay had readjusted, wrapping an arm low around your waist and pulling you to his chest, looking you dead in the eyes. “you’re the only person in my life that calls me clay, you know that? and for some reason, it fits. you and me just… fit. we work. we’re so different that we fit together like a complicated sort of puzzle piece.”

your heart swelled and you looked over clay with pure adoration. “we do seem to work well together.”

“ever since you came into my life, it’s like, i can't function without you. like you’re- you complete me, in a way?”

emotion seemed to drown you, and you pressed another kiss to his lips. “the yin to your yang,” you murmured against his neck, burying  your face in his shirt.