#🦷‌ ֶָ ࣪ ׅ mattheo! drabbles

[matsdoll]

᠀𓏲　⠀ ﹏ switch ! mattheo riddle who makes love. contrary to what most of the slytherin smut community thinks, that man is a sucker for soft! yearning! sex. he's got you all over his lap, the world outside doesn't exist. nothing, not even the quidditch victory after party could compare. he couldn't care less ... mumbles what lucky man he is to have you all over him, 'i'd give up all my trophies for you, pretty girl'

hell, not even his favorite scotch could compare to the soft feeling of your hands tangeled in his hair, at times digging into the brown locks, sometimes casually untagling small knots that have built. but this time your hands are wrapped around his bare back, faintly tracing over the little scars that he knows you know by heart. oh, what a pleasure it is to have you hug him, embrace him in such gentle matter when he's fucking right into you.

his mouth finds your shoulder, teeth grazing, lips pressing onto the fragile skin, for a seconnd you'll think he'll bite into you ── he rarerly does though. just resumes to pressing kisses onto every little mole, kisses that he knows you'll still feel tommorow, yet no one will see.

they are only yours to keep, yours to feel, yours to remember.

[matsdoll]

☆゙ ۫ 🦷‌ ֶָ ࣪ ׅ u get me so high ... 言 ʾʿ ›‹ aka. high! mattheo riddle fucking you stupid

high! mattheo riddle who rolls the joint between his fingers, lazy and slow, like he has all the time in the world. as if you weren't actively lying between his legs, thighs spread wide upon his earlier request, dripping onto the sheets, bare and raw.

just as lazily does he drag his thumb across your slick. you twitch, hips jerking up, but he tsks, presses you back down with one hand firm on your lower stomach.

mumbles how needy you were, 'what, that joint got you all dumb for me?'

you nod. half-lidded eyes, lips glossy, head light and floaty, all you can manage on doing is focus on the feeling of his fingers dragging up and down your soaked cunt, a repeated slow pattern. the little fucker is trying to rile you up.

he taps your clit, just once, just enough to make you whimper, and then he finally — finally— slides two fingers in, slow and deep. crooks them just right. watches the way your mouth drops open, watches the way your pretty little body trembles, and then, fucking hell — he laughs. mean.

he goes on; tsks about you squeezing around him 'already', that weed really does have you fucked up, doesn't it?

his fingers pick up pace, dragging slick noises out of you so loud, so filthy. then, presses his palm down on your lower belly, feels the way your cunt clenches. his free hand trails up, grabs your jaw, forces your dazed eyes to look at him.

“nah, no closing your eyes, sweetheart. you wanted this,” he murmurs, thumb swiping over your swollen bottom lip. he lets you suck it, lets you moan around it, before pulling it out with a soft pop.

you try to say his name, resulting in a string of little 'm's sprawled around the room, before you evntually give up. settling on a moaned 'm'love you'.