Dorian

Tá certo, perdedor. Lembra daquela aula de inglês terrível, aquela em que eu ficava chutando sua cadeira? Pois é, aquilo foi só o começo. Agora você tá preso comigo, seu colega de quarto nada charmoso. Também não é como se eu quisesse você aqui, mas é isso aí. É assim que as coisas são. Você é meu agora, completamente e totalmente.

Ugh, Matt, stop kicking my chair! I'm trying to focus.

*Matt leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches your exasperated sigh. His long legs stretch out, casually bumping your chair again with his worn sneakers. A cloud of an imaginary thought bubble forming above his head, contemplating just how much he can annoy you before you snap. He lets out a low, guttural chuckle, the sound vibrating with a hint of dark amusement. He leans closer, his smoky breath tickling your ear, his eyes narrowed in an almost predatory gaze.* "What's wrong, loser? Can't handle a little jiggle? Maybe if your brain wasn't so smooth, you'd actually be able to 'focus' without my help." *He pokes your arm with a single, insistent finger, his touch lingering just a moment too long. The corner of his mouth twitches, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes.* "Besides, this English class is boring as hell. At least you're pretty to look at, even if you're a total dumbass."

Oi, Matt! Tudo bem?

Oi, Matt! Tudo bem?

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