#I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOUUUUU!!!!!!!!

[slytherinslut0]

STOP?????? STOP IM SOBBING AND SCREECHING AND HONESTLY SMILING SO HARD MY CHEEKS PHYSICALLY ACHE. IM SO INLOVE WITH YOU AND I TELL YOU THIS EVERYYYYYY MFFFFF TIMEEEE BUT I LOVE THESE SO MUCH THEY MAKE MY YEAR YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLLDDDD FOR THR EFFORT😭😭😭😭

THIS IS MEEEEEEEE LIKE PLZZZZ.

i loved writing this mattheo. i loved him fighting with his conscience and his attraction and knowing that no matter which choice he made it would be detrimental to him either way. it didn’t take much for you to alleviate his inner conflict but idkkkk something about a hesitant matt drives me insane because i like to think he’s normally so careless BUT NOT WITH YOUUUUU

ANYWAYYYYYYYZ i’m not even joking i love these so much and i love you so much more. thank you for the time you take for these dear god i will never be able to express how much they mean to me. 😭 my wifey my soulmate my babyyyyyyyy

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th. mattheo - virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART TWO | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

summary: pls read part one first for a lil buildup. also. im laughing at myself bc there was a perfectly good bed…right there…

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, virginity loss, PIV, so much dirty talk, so much patience from mattheo, (more of a realistic virginity loss bc it’s not always easy), praise!!!!, slight degradation, fingering, multiorgasm, handjob, best friends lil sister trope.

Mattheo Riddle was so accustomed to this. The pulse of adrenaline in the dead of night, the quiet hum of anticipation stretching every second longer than it needed to be. You weren't naive to that, not to him, nor the danger he carried so effortlessly in his stride. He wore it like a second skin.

But you—you were not accustomed to it. Not to any of this.

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

Too perfect. Too on the nose, like the castle itself had been watching you both for months and had decided this was the moment it would indulge you.

"You're late." Mattheo's voice cut through the quiet.

His back was to you, suit jacket discarded on an old oak desk against the wall, dark curls falling just above his collar as he stood by the window, eyes fixed on the lake. The moonlight made the ripples dance, just like the tension in the room.

You took a step toward him, silent.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

You gave him a small, nervous smile, hoping it would ease the weight of his stare. "I didn't realize you were the type to keep track of time."

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

"You've a lot to learn, little girl," he teased, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it did nothing to mask the conflict in his eyes. It was meant to disarm you, but it only made the air heavier. His jaw tightened. "You're sure about this?"

"Quite sure," you breathed, stepping closer, close enough to admire the sharp line of his jaw, the soft stubble. "You're the one who's hesitating."

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

You let out a small huff, your hand moving up to find his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Mattheo Riddle was nervous.

"You've been making me wait for months," you whispered. "I don't think a little rushing would hurt."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on your hand as it trailed over his chest, lower, teasing. Every touch was a flame against his skin, every breath between you a match struck in the dark. He wanted you, more than anything, but the weight of it—the wrongness, the danger—clawed at his conscience.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

"You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I'll regret nothing." Your fingers slipped lower, grazing his crotch, moving with nothing but instinct and need. Biting your lip, you felt the outline of him, hard and aching under your palm, and squeezed—he grunted, snapping his hips, and you throbbed. "Shit, Mattheo..."

"You are—fuck..." Mattheo's voice was a ragged breath, the words drawn out like he'd been holding them back for months. "...such a little tease."

You let go as quickly as you'd squeezed, and he growled against your skin, fingers tightening in your hair. Your hands found his face, pulling him in, crushing your lips to his. You moved with intent, pushing him back until his thighs hit the edge of the desk, and he groaned again—this low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

You smirked into the kiss, tasting his frustration, savouring the way his defences cracked open. When you pulled back, his chest was heaving, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

"I learned from the best," you whispered, teasing as your fingers slid down, finding the buckle of his belt. He watched you, every breath uneven, as you worked at the latch, pulling the leather free. "You've had months of fun tormenting me," you continued, moving to the button, the zipper. "Kissing me, only to say it was a mistake. Grabbing my ass every chance you could. Talking sweet when my brother wasn't looking..." your smirk deepened, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "...it's my turn now."

His pants sagged around his hips as you undid them and he cursed under his breath—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

"You think you're in control here?" His fingers slid up your hips, dragging your dress along with them, baring your skin to the cool air. "You think you have any goddamn idea what you're doing?"

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked. His thumbs hooked around your panties and in one swift motion, they were gone—torn down your thighs before he urged you back onto the desk, parting your legs with his torso.

You were breathless, chest heaving, pulse thrumming wildly. His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

You stared up at him, mind empty, until—

Smack.

His palm came down on your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of sensation straight to your cunt. Your skin stung from the contact, but that wasn't the part that made you gasp. It was the heat, the way it surged through your veins, flooding your abdomen in a slow, aching pulse. You liked that.

"I asked you a question." His lips brushed against your ear, breath warm as he leaned in. "Two, actually."

You couldn't think, mind swimming—the press of his body, the rough timber of his voice, the weight of his hands as his fingers teased, climbing higher, brushing closer to the ache between your thighs. You sucked in a breath, trying to recall what he'd asked, trying to focus anything but the fire he was lighting in you—

But then, his fingers slipped further, closer, just barely brushing your slit, and your hips jerked involuntarily, chasing that touch.

"No—I don’t—“ the shame in the answer barely mattered. His fingers were so close, so close. "Gods—I just know I want you—"

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

Your nails dug into his back and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wetting his fingers in your arousal before gliding back up to your clit and tracing over it.

"Oh—Gods—" you whinged, moaning into his shoulder.

Mattheo’s hands were experienced—that much was certain. Those fingers knew exactly how to move, precisely how to trace light, delicate circles over your clit that made you twitch, squirm— nerves stripped as you took in the new sensation. It wracked every inch of you, and you could feel him savouring your helplessness, drawing out every ounce of tension that had been building between you for months.

“You’re soaked.” You could hear the disbelief in his voice. “...filthy little thing for me, aren't you?"

"Gods, Mattheo, yes—" your eyes rolled, thighs twitching against his hand. "I am—ohh—"

"Yeah?" His tongue traced a slow, wet path up the side of your neck, teeth dragging over your pulse. "You like this?"

His words were enough to make you want to scream, but no sound formed—just a low, broken moan that spilled from your throat, raw and shameless.

"Answer me," he murmured. "You ever orgasm from this before? Hm?"

"No—" your voice choked, trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at him, something like shame pooling in your stomach. "Oh, fuck—"

"No, what?" His fingers pressed harder, circles growing faster, more insistent, and his voice—Christ, his voice— "I asked you two questions, little slut. Keep up. You wanted this."

"Yes—mmf—I like it—" you whined, the words a desperate spill from your lips, too flustered to form anything coherent. "And no—Gods—you're the first to...to touch me like this..."

He figured as much but the admission tore through him nonetheless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a groan—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, a bruise, a reminder. His hand dipped lower, a finger pushing inside you without warning, pressing deep into your slick heat, and you cried out, your body tightening, pulsing around him, vision swimming.

"And this?" His voice was a smirk against your skin. "You let anyone else inside you like this?"

You knew he already knew the answer. You both did. He was reveling in it—the way he had you, trembling, helpless. You'd never heard him like this, never heard him so crass, so unfiltered, and the way he spoke made your whole body flush with heat.

"No." The word was a strangled moan, barely a breath. "Gods—Mattheo—you already knew that—"

He crooked his finger inside you, and your back arched, the stretch unfamiliar yet mindnumbing, his thumb working your clit. You felt teeth nipping at your earlobe, a hum into your eardrum—his body thrumming with the satisfaction of finally, finally letting himself have you where he wanted.

"Perhaps I did." He added another finger, curling them inside you, his teeth scraping along your neck in a smile. The groan that slipped from your lips was desperate, pained in its pleasure, your body reacting to every new inch of him. "Fucking hell—you can barely take two..."

Your head shook, words failing you. "Gods—Mattheo—I...fuck..."

A low grunt rumbled from his chest, his fingers moving quicker, slick with the evidence of your desire. "Feels good?"

"Yes—" you moaned, breath hitching, vision blurring as he pumped his fingers in and out, building something inside you that you couldn't name, something new, something overwhelming. "I feel—oh, gods—something...happening—"

"You feel something?" His voice was mocking, drenched in that innocent, teasing tone that had you falling apart. "Yeah? What's happening, princess?"

You couldn't find breath, couldn't form the words to answer him. The pressure inside you was mounting, intensity unbearable, your body tense and straining toward an edge. You clung to him, breathless, desperate for more, desperate for something, anything—

"I don't—" your voice broke as his fingers curled deeper, wetness flooding between your thighs, his thumb relentless. "Pressure—fuck—so much—"

He nodded. "Yeah? Pressure in that pretty stomach? Feels fucking good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck—yes, yes," your lids fluttered. "S’good—"

"You're so close." He watched you, drunk on your downfall, and smirked as you neared the edge. "You're going to cum for me."

Sanity shattered in your throat—words trapped, swallowed by the tension, leaving only the soft, unbridled whimpers you once might've once found embarrassing. But there was no shame now, not when you were this close, the pressure coiling tighter in your core, ready to burst.

"Ohh—" you managed, lungs sputtering, head tipping back. The sound of your voice, the way you moaned, was foreign, unfamiliar to your own ears. "Gods—oh fuck-"

"I know," he cooed, sweet like sugar. "I know."

You were a mess. Too close, too overwhelmed—everything was him. His scent, the heat of his skin, the feel of his fingers working that magic that had your body convulsing before you could even cry out, before you could process the way your vision blurred with the force of it. The climax hit like a wave crashing over you, and your moans were swallowed by his kiss, his lips on yours the second your body tightened, shaking against his hand.

He was relentless, rough and insistent, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole—drowning out the world as your body pulsed around his fingers. You’d never felt such an intense sensation, lava coursing, replacing the blood in your veins. His breath stuttered against your mouth, a low groan vibrating through him, the sound making your spine tingle.

"F-fuck," he muttered, pulling his fingers from you, glistening and wet. "Messy little thing."

The words sent a shiver through you, not just from their meaning but from the way he said them, like something perverse, intimate. Your chest tightened with the warmth of them.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

"Shut up," you whispered, stomach flipping at the way he said your name, the way it dripped from his mouth like honey. "Have not."

"I've known for a while, you know," he mused, his voice so low, so quiet. "Don't think I haven't seen it—the way you look at me." He kissed your skin again, working his way up, each press of his lips something sacred, moving closer to your mouth. "The way you can't get enough of me."

You could kill him for it, for the way his words sunk into your bones, making all the feelings you've buried rise to the surface, pulling you under. He just had to go there—had to milk every inch of your composure out of you, because it's not enough for him to have you disarmed physically—sexually—he needed to have you disarmed emotionally, too.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how right he was. Arrogant bastard.

"Stop talking," your hand drifted down, grazing the bulge in his pants, your fingers slipping under the waistband, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers. It was reckless. You've never done this before, but God, you wanted to. "Stop talking and teach me."

The room tilted—the world off its axis. His breath caught, choked in his lungs as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his—his kiss wild, his tongue insistent, running along your gums and wrestling with yours for control.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth as you tugged his boxers down, freeing him, your hand wrapping around him. Hot. Hard. "Wrap your fingers around it, princess. Gentle strokes. Just like that."

Your heart stumbled at the sound of his voice, thick, raw and open. You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly, experimentally, and he hissed through his teeth, a groan vibrating through his chest.

"You're so big," you murmured, forehead against his, the words spilling out without thought. "So thick..."

"Fucking minx," he moaned. "Stroking me and telling me how big I am—fuck—you're not as innocent as everyone thinks."

"Only you know this," you whispered, your hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, pulse soaring as he groaned. "Does it feel good, Matty?"

"Fuck—Christ—" his breath was jagged, words ripped from his throat like they barely wanted to come out, hips jerking mindlessly. "Tighter, mm—little tighter—"

Your cunt throbbed—each whispered invocation of a god not his own, of something he didn't believe in, forced a shudder through you. That's how you knew. Knew how lost he was. He’d no mind left at all if he was muttering muggle gods.

"Like that?" Your fingers squeezed around him, your gaze burning into his as you looked up through fluttering lashes.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

"Yeah—shit—just like that," he gritted out, grip on your hips bruising, but you welcomed it. Needed it. "Fast learner, aren't you?"

"You're a good teacher," you whimpered, a sound that was barely yours as his fingers slipped between your thighs, finding your slit, teasing you open again. "Oh—"

"You've always been a little teacher's pet," he groaned, thrusting into your hand as he slipped a finger inside you. The stretch made you wince, pleasure and pain blurring into something that sent sparks behind your eyes. He watched you, gaze molten. "Fuck—it’s gonna hurt, you know that, right?"

The ache spread through you, but you didn't flinch. "I know," you whispered as his thumb found your clit, making you gasp. "I trust you."

"I know you do." His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning. Your hand tightened on his length, the heat between you flaring, and you moaned against his mouth, shaking with the need for more.

"I want you," you breathed, each syllable shivering on your lips as you clenched around his fingers. "I've wanted you for months—"

Months? No, it had been years. Years of wanting, needing, watching from afar, heart in your throat. Years of avoiding anyone else because no one was him. You knew he’d felt the same and it killed him. It wasn't logical, wasn't supposed to be like this—not with you, not now, not his best friend's little sister, not him whispering sweet, dangerous things while knuckle-deep inside your virgin cunt.

It was as if you both shook those thoughts from your minds at once. You’ll think about the implications later.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

Hate him? The very idea was laughable, absurd. You could never hate him. Not even in those moments you tried, not even when he deserved it.

"I could never hate you," you murmured, drawing him closer, lips trembling against his. "Just—please—"

Something shifted in his eyes, and he knew. Knew what you needed. What you both needed. You were vulnerable, trembling, but you trusted him—completely. You’d been in his life for so long. You knew he’d never hurt you. He could see it your eyes, the trust, the in the way your body bent to his touch.

"Alright," he said softly, a hand running up your body to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Alright."

His fingers slid out of you, leaving you bare and breathless, and you swallowed. This was really about to happen.

"Lay back," his voice cut through your haze. "Legs to your chest."

The command wrapped around you like a vice, tightening the anticipation, and you fell back on your elbows, staring up at him as you raised your legs. Vulnerability crept in, making your thighs tense, but Mattheo was there, spreading you open with firm hands, pressing himself against your slick. His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't. He guided himself against you, the press of him at your entrance an unbearable ache. He was hot, hard, huge—and despite the wetness slicking down your thighs, your body resisted, too tight, too unsure of this.

You whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but he stayed, pressing kisses to your hair, your temple, whispering something that sounded like comfort but burned like fire. It hurt more than you expected, more than any of the fantasies you had dared to entertain.

Doubt curled through your chest, what if you couldn't take him? What if—

"M-Mattheo..." his name broke in your throat as you clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin. He tried to push in again, but your body resisted. "It—you—you can't fit..."

"Shh," his lips ghosted over yours, his hand slipping through your hair, trying again, moving slow, controlled. "You're just—so goddamn tight—"

The way he said it sent a spark through your veins. It was filthy, shameless, and it lit you up from the inside, despite the pain. No one had ever spoken to you like this. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears pricking as he tried to work you open.

And then—he was in.

"I-it hurts," you hissed—pain lighting up your spine as he worked his cockhead inside you, pushing against the resistance of your walls. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, each inch a battle. The pressure was unbearable, the sting so sharp it was paralyzing. "Oh, fuck, Mattheo—"

He groaned, a sound from deep within his chest, his head bowing, sweat creeping over his brow.

"Shhh, I know—I know..." he murmured through shredded cords, fighting to maintain control as his hips paused, barely halfway in, just enough to make you feel like you might break. "S'okay...you're doing so good..."

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Why—mmff—gods..." you could barely speak, the words tangled in your throat. "Why do you have to be so big—"

A strangled laugh escaped him, though his eyes stayed shut tight, his jaw clenched—cock twitching inside you.

"I don't—fuck—know." His fingers brushed your lips, covering your mouth gently. "Don't go talking like that—not right now—"

You might have laughed, too, if your body wasn't so taut, strung tight with tension and pain and something far more profound. He was barely inside you, his words making your insides clench, drawing another groan from his lips at the squeeze.

His hand held your jaw, palm pressing lightly over your mouth, enough to breathe, to speak—

"Why—" you knew what he meant, knew the warning in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself. "—not?"

His breath hitched. "Because—" he swallowed hard, words coming through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening around your jaw, a warning in his grip. "Because—fuck—your mouth will get you in trouble."

Oh. That was what he meant.

"But—oh fuck—you're so...big..." the words slipped out before you could catch them, a disgruntled moan falling from your lips as he sank all the way in, filling you so completely it was dizzying. The pressure, the heat, the sensation of being pried open—it was all too much, and you cried out, unable to stop the sound from spilling out. "Ohhh—so big—"

"I said, fuck," he cursed, hand clamping firm over your mouth now as his body shuddered, as he ground his hips gently into yours. "—don't say that."

It was too late. You didn't need to say anything further. He could feel it—he could feel everything in the way you clenched around him, barely letting him move—so goddamn tight it was almost painful—he could feel it in the look in your eyes, in the trembling of your body beneath his.

"I can feel you thinking it," he grunted as you squirmed beneath him, every movement making him twitch inside you, drawing another choked groan from his throat. "Merlin sakes—"

You knew he wasn't used to this. To slowing down, to drawing out the tension like this, to the maddening slowness of every motion. He wanted to lose himself, to break you open hard and fast, to take and give and take again until both of you shattered into something unrecognizable. But he couldn't—not with the way your eyes glistened, not with the way you gasped and whimpered as he filled you.

"No talking," he sucked in a breath against your neck, his hips rolling into yours in slow, unbearable waves. "Only if you need me to stop."

He was breaking. So were you. Every thrust was an exquisite kind of torture—an ache that twisted and stretched, dulled only by the flick of his fingers against your clit. His lips pressed along your neck, kissed along the line of your jaw, groaning with each deep, patient push, carving his way into you as you clung to him, your mind floating through the fog of pain into something different—something overwhelming.

Your head fell back. “Oh—Oh gods—“

Each gasp felt like it might be your last as that something built deep inside you, tight and unfamiliar, an ache that didn't hurt but begged to be released. And he felt it too—Mattheo felt it, the way your body pulsed beneath his, the way you tightened around him like you couldn't bear to let him go.

"Bloody fuck—are you—are you going to—" his words were ragged, broken. He couldn't finish the thought, couldn't hold himself together. "Are you—"

“Mattheo—” your voice trembled, a breathless moan as your back arched, pressing into him, your body seeking more. The pain was null now, replaced by an overwhelming pressure, something tight and aching and good—you felt every inch of him inside you, every pulse of his cock as he moved, slow but relentless. “Mattheo—oh gods—”

"Fuck—" he bit down, teeth sinking into your neck as his fingers swirled your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You're gonna make me—"

You choked because there was no space for words, no breath for anything but the raw sound of your bodies—moans, gasps, ragged inhales tangled together as you both hurtled towards something inevitable. The light of the moon radiated the man above you and that was all you could register other than the rising crescendo of your climax—something so intense it scared you, almost broke you apart—your body seizing, trembling, as his fingers pressed harder against your clit, as he thrust deeper.

And then, there was only one more blink until you shattered beneath him, the orgasm tearing through you in oceanic motion, muscles clenching around him so tightly he could barely move—and then he was there, too, his body jerking as he groaned into your skin, his release ripped from him in jagged gasps as you milked him without mercy. He slumped on top of you, fingers digging into your skin, the two of you pulsing together in the aftermath, the room spinning, your bodies still trembling from the force of it.

The world was slow to return, the roar of sensations fading into something quieter, softer. The weight of him on top of you was grounding—his forehead pressed against the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Neither of you moved for a long while, just basked in the silence, kind that settled in after something irrevocable had passed between two people.

And then, Mattheo pushed up, enough to meet your eyes. Your chest ached at the softness inside his own.

“Are you—” he swallowed as he drank you in, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the flushed cheeks. His words hung in the air as if he didn’t know how to finish the question.

“I’m okay,” you nodded, voice hoarse. “I’m good.”

Mattheo nodded too but didn’t move, still buried inside you, just taking you in. Then, gently, he shifted, pulling back with a slow, careful movement that made you wince slightly. The second he’d pulled out, you felt different—more aware of the vulnerability you’d just laid bare, more aware of the line you two had just obliterated into absolute shambles.

“You sure?” he asked, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—

You nodded again, the smallest smile pulling at your lips, though your heart was still racing, the enormity of it all sinking in.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His jaw tightened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely audible, like he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Of course he was thinking it too—how could he not? This was no longer something you could pretend didn’t exist, no longer something you could hide behind banter and stolen glances and secret kisses.

“Yeah,” you breathed, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, the heat still radiating from his skin. “It does.”

[gothghostiie]

hiiii i absolutely LOOOVVVEEEEE your bully soap i want to eat him grahhh

do you have any thoughts/hcs for bully gaz/ghost???

i dont think we can call john price (and maybe ghost too) a bully bcs its not fitting due to their ranking/age so i will just say abuse of authority

love youuuuu, hope you have a good dayyy

love u too, i hope u have an amazing day anon

cw: bullying/harassment and whatever comes with it, sexual harassment, mentions/hints of violence, dead dove do not eat, gn!reader

okay so. Gaz is a more subtle bully imo?? like where soap will go full out he doesn't. more the type to go from a distance, making you feel anxious and having a sense of fear well up in you whenever he's close - even if he never really did anything genuinely bad to you. yet. whispers to his friends, chuckles, judgy looks, the type of highscool bully that calls you over to act friendly with you, forcing an arm around your shoulder and tries to talk to you while his friends laugh at whatever answer you give. he wants to embarrass you, humiliate you in a mental aspect instead of physical. but hes definitely not above pushing you around a bit, or grabbing you a little too harshly so you stay with him. he's definitely forced his tongue down your throat too (he laughed at how fucking helpless and taken aback you were).

ghost isnt quite what youd call a bully, he's a step further even. "only i can bully them" typa thing (the boys are usually an exception). will stare you down until you get so uncomfortable you leave, just to follow you and corner you, feeling you up. either doesn't talk at all - he knows he's intimidating without words. big arms crossed as he makes you stumble against the wall, begging softly to just let you go your way, but he just states you down. puts an arm against the wall to cage you, silent judging is all you get. only when someone else comes along he roughly pushes you on your way, glaring like you just did something to him. you don't even wanna know what happens if he ever gets his hands on you long enough.

now captain price isn't a bully. he's too old for that, it's too immature for him (he just abuses his position). however, LT. Price is a different story. was bullied himself when he first joined, got so desperate to move up the food chain that he decided someone else had to suffer in favour of him. it did work, suddenly he wasn't bullied anymore, he became a bully. definitely very physical. the worst was when he was a Sergeant, he'd regularly beat people up - and then you came along. shy, quiet, loner. how could he not want to absolutely bruise your pretty skin?

───── ⋆⋅Taglist⋅⋆ ─────

@maplewhisk

[extinctlesspains]

your writing is so good!! AAAHHDJFKV that post of kwon when he came on screen—(😏)— is relatable asffff LMAO

can i request like...kwon dating reader who’s studying to be a nurse? like, knows how to treat some injuries and since she doesn’t know karate, she offered to help treat anyone who got hurt and got accepted into the sekai taikai that way (but also another reason was to just be with kwon LMAO)

just your typical fluff yk

THANK YOUUUUU

A/n: Aww, thank you so much for your support! LMAOO I LOVE THAT POST OF MINE WHERE IT'S WHEN KWON CAME ON THE SCREEN SO DID I😭 I thought ppl would find it cringe😭🙏🏻

𝐴 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ:𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑛𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑜’𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑘𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑏𝑟𝑎 𝐾𝑎𝑖 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑖, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑈𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛, 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ��𝑖𝑛𝑔.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△

The fluorescent lights of the small clinic hummed quietly as you checked the clock. Your shift was almost over, and you were ready to go home and review your nursing notes. The door swung open, and in walked a tall, brooding young man, clutching his hand with a grimace. His dark eyes scanned the room before settling on you.

“Need some help?” you asked, walking over with a professional smile.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Training accident.”

You led him to a chair and carefully examined his hand. “Looks like you sprained it,” you said gently, grabbing an ice pack. “You’re lucky it’s not worse.”

He smirked. “I’ve had worse.”

You glanced at him. “Karate?”

“Yeah. Sekai Taikai is coming up.”

“That’s a big deal. You must be good.”

He didn’t answer, but there was a quiet confidence in his eyes. As you wrapped his hand, your fingers brushed, and a spark passed between you. You looked up, meeting his gaze.

“You’re good at this,” he said softly.

“Nursing is my thing,” you replied, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck.

“Mine’s fighting. I’m Kwon.”

“Y/N.”

You left the clinic that night with more than just a name exchange.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

Months passed, and your relationship grew. Kwon’s tough exterior softened around you, and you found yourself drawn deeper into his world of karate. You attended every Cobra Kai practice, watching him spar, feeling both pride and fear. He fought with an intensity that matched his personality—focused, relentless, and sometimes dangerous.

When Cobra Kai qualified for the Sekai Taikai, Kwon was ecstatic. “This is everything,” he told you, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. But you felt a pang of sadness. The tournament would take him away, and you couldn’t stand the thought of not being there to support him.

One evening, as you lay tangled together in his room, you whispered, “What if I came with you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t fight.”

“I don’t need to. I’m a nurse. Every team needs someone to treat injuries, right?”

He stared at you, processing the idea. “You’d really do that?”

You smiled, stroking his cheek. “I’ll keep your team on their feet. And I’ll be there for you.”

A rare, genuine smile broke across his face. “You’re in."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The Sekai Taikai venue buzzed with energy. You wore a Cobra Kai jacket, blending into the team. You set up a small first-aid station, organizing bandages and antiseptic wipes. The fighters barely acknowledged you at first, but when Tory took a brutal hit in her first match, you rushed in to help.

“Stay still,” you murmured, pressing an ice pack to Tory’s swollen eye.

Tory winced but said, “Thanks. You know what you’re doing.”

You grinned. “That’s the idea.”

Word spread quickly, and soon, even the toughest fighters respected you. You patched up cuts, wrapped sprains, and kept the team in fighting shape. Kwon watched you from a distance, pride in his eyes. You weren’t just there for him—you were part of the team now.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

Between matches, Kwon grew more intense. He hated seeing you tend to other fighters, especially the boys. When you bandaged Hawk’s hand, Kwon’s jaw tightened.

“Why are you glaring at him?” you asked later in your room.

“I don’t like it,” he muttered. “Them touching you.”

You laughed softly. “I’m a nurse. It’s my job.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You cupped his face. “You’re the only one I care about.”

He pulled you close, his voice low. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t."

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The semifinal match was brutal. Kwon faced off against a skilled opponent from another dojo, and the fight was ruthless. Your heart pounded as you watched him take hit after hit, refusing to fall. When he finally won, you rushed to his side.

“You’re hurt,” you whispered, examining a deep gash on his arm.

“I’m fine,” he growled, but you saw the pain in his eyes.

“Sit down. Now.”

He obeyed, letting you clean the wound. Your eyes met, and for a moment, the chaos around you disappeared.

“You’re too stubborn,” you murmured.

“And you’re too good for me.”

You smiled. “We make it work.”

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The final match was intense. Kwon fought like a man possessed, driven by something deeper than victory. Every time he looked at you, he saw his reason to win. When the referee raised his hand in victory, the crowd roared, but he only looked for you.

You ran to him, tears in your eyes. “You did it.”

He pulled you close, his voice rough. “I did it for you.”

“You don’t have to fight for me, Kwon.”

“I know. But I will.”

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

Back at the hotel, you cleaned Kwon’s wounds, your hands gentle. “You’re going to have scars.”

He smirked. “Makes me look tough.”

“You don’t need scars for that.”

He pulled you onto his lap, his eyes serious. “You saved me out there. Not just today. Every day.”

You touched his face. “We save each other.”

Your lips met, and in that moment, the battles, the injuries, the chaos—they all faded away. All that mattered was you two, together.

[teddybeartoji]

io here with a poll: does mickey love io? yes or yes or very yes. please submit your answer at your earliest convenience. thank you for your time. <3

MICKEY LOVES IO YES AND YES AND VERY YES AND VERY VERY YES AND VERYVERY VERY VERY YES!!!!!!!!! FILLED WITH LOVE I THINK I MIGHT EXPLODE ACTUALLYY HEHEHEEEE IF I DO BURST THEN HEART-SHAPED CONFETTI WOULD JUST FLY EEEVRYWHERE IT'S BE A PROPER SPECTACLE!!!!! AND IT'D BE ALL FOR YOU MY ANGEL!!!!!!!!

[yurokiku]

Thank you, my hero ❤️❤️❤️

[quartztwst]

Fem azul please give me a chance

[hooned]

"I like you."

[graceful-not]

@nyaskitten RAINE NYASKITTEN WHEN I FUCKIGN GET YOUUUUU...

I had to wade through a SEA of them. An OCEAN. Everytime I thought it was over another one would appear. I see an ad and I think, Oh! A light in the darkness! A tunnel out of this mechanical HELL. And then I scroll one more post, hope filling my heart, and there they would be. You are as merciless as you are CRUEL. They haunt me now. Everyday I close my eyes and I go to bed they're there. When I marry the love of my life they will be the officiators, and when I finally die, they will stand over my grave and laugh. This is what you have wrought. This is what you have done.

Ok its addictingh

[biblically-accurate-dca]

[seffien]

was listening to justin timberlakecore during lunch and i had the worlds worst idea ever

[tapakah0]

@somerandomdudelmao, aehehhe SORRY that's the last one, could not not appreciate the epic of the last one... it was tasty... Yes, that's Sans Undertale... Link to the song

[karkatbug]

This started as a joke but now I genuinely want a GBBO themed bday party.

HAPPY WRIGGLING DAY KARKAT! I CONTINUE TO LYSFM!

2024 . 06 . 12

(1/2)

[klauw22]

sandy dusty and crusty

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

thinking about how mulder loves to get scully a gift, usually terribly heartfelt, even if disguised as something flippant:

the superbowl vhs tape he brings her when she wakes up from her coma in one breath (and her deadpan "i knew there was a reason to live")

tickets for a football game to watch together in irresistible

bringing her flowers to the hospital in memento mori (he lies, saying he stole them from a guy with broken legs to make her laugh)

the birthday keychain in tempus fugit (and when she finds a meaning to it, he claims "i just thought it was a pretty cool keychain")

that is a man who is always thinking about her.

[teddybeartoji]

(If you are uncomfortable with period mentions plz feel free to delete this 🙈)

Thoughts on snow leopard!gojo when you on your period (I am pmsing and I need someone to comfort me.)

snow leopard!gojo would be sooo worried about you!! One minute you are fine and now you have the smell of blood is on youuu!!! Poor baby think you are hurt or injured and even when you reassure him it’s just your period he’s still worried especially when you show other symptoms (like throwing, headaches, being sensitive and crying)

He would sooo overprotective and clingy he would never let you outside alone always have to be by your side holding or wrapping his tail around you.

He would love to take care of you!! He would massage your shoulders or knead your tummy, also when they are injured cats lick their wounds so I do see him going down on you if you let him it also helps with cramps.

He loves to cuddle you he lie on top of you and he’s so big and warm and fluffy And when you sleep he would be right next to you extra alert and “on the look out” if anyone tries to hurt you.

He holds you soo tight tail wrapped around your thigh making sure you are safe and protected.

(I’m sorry that this so long I got carried away 🙈😭)

NONNIEEEE🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺HE WOULD BE SOOOOOSO WORRIED🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 he just wants to make you feel better, make you feel good!!!!!!! he's gonna sit with you the whole entire time, he just refuses to leave your side. he's literally sitting with you in the bathroom, he's cuddling with you (and on top of you bc he's so warm and it feels so good when he rests his head on your tummy). and the tail!!!!!! yess!!!! he always has it around your thighs bc he loves your thighs!!!!!!!! also he follows you around like a little lovesick kitty and he literally just looks like this emoji🥺🥺🥺🥺 the entire time. he's baby.

now now now....... the licking the wounds thing.... nonnie... you really did something here🥴🥴🥴🥴 that's exactly how he's gonna convince you too btw. he's gonna tell you about how it's his way of healing you. and it works like magic!!!!!! he does it slowly, he wants you to forget all about the pain so he's extra focused. he's kissing your folds just like he'd kiss you, he's giving her smooches and small kitten licks while keeping his eyes on you. he's gently pawing at your thighs and your waist, he's kneading your skin and it's all just so good. he can smell your arousal mixing with the blood and he's getting dizzy himself, too.

he can't take his eyes off of you, he needs to make sure that you're enjoying it, that you're feeling good!!!!! he fucking purrs as he eats you out and the vibrations feel heavenly. he has your back arching in no time, your hands tug on his white roots and his own eyes are rolling back into his head.

also. despite the fact that he's going slow, he's still a messy eater!!!!! so sometimes... he gets a little blood in his perfectly white hair but he literally couldn't care any less. (he loves it. he thinks of it as your way of marking him. no matter whether it's intentional or not.)

after you cum in his mouth and he has swallowed every drop of you, he draws you a hot bath and he carries you into the bathroom himself. his entire lower half of his face is covered in blood, it's dripping from his chin but you're still his main priority. you try to tease him for it but you're just too tired, so you just end up brushing against his skin, dirtying yourself with your own blood.

he takes your finger in his hand and raises it to his mouth. he licks you clean while keeping eye-contact, and takes it back out with a loud pop. he's sure he can smell another fresh wave of pure arousal pooling between your legs but he doesn't want to push you or your body too far. so he presses a very gentle kiss to your nose before helping you into the tub.

he climbs in with you and he washes your hair. he washes your body with the sweetest motions, he rubs your shoulders and your tummy, your thighs and your sides. he leaves kisses on your jaw and neck. he whispers praise and pure love into your ears and he loves to feel you melting into him.

after you've gained some of your energy back, you help clean him up too. you wipe the blood from his marble skin anf then from his hair and he just stares at you with hearts in his eyes<3333333 wahhh nonnie he's the best boyfriend in the world he's so caring and so sweet:((((((( i luv him:((((

[isacoremeow]

She 💜