#THE SKILL FROM MATTY

[nylwnder]

WHAT A PLAY WHAT A PLAY IM SCREAKING IM CRUING IM THROWING UPSNDKABEKJAK

[taidotonheiluja]

Käärijätober Day 5 - Pink Dancers

Hello I'm late. drops this and runs back to the next wip

[otrtbs]

smth abt dodie's 'a pep talk in a bathroom corner. do I down the gin, stick to water?' and matty healy's 'get in the shower if it all goes wrong' and sylvia plath's 'whenever I’m sad I’m going to die, or so nervous I can’t sleep, or in love with somebody I won’t be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: ‘I’ll go take a hot bath.'' samia's 'get to know your bathroom floor the hard way' and katie gregson-macleod's 'I cry in his bathroom, he turns off the big light' and richard siken's 'inside your head you hear a phone ringing, and when you open your eyes you’re washing up in a stranger’s bathroom standing by the window in a yellow towel, only twenty minutes away from the dirtiest thing you know' and MUNA's 'when I'm crying on the bathroom floor, tearing off the dress I wore, I wonder if I could ever ask for more'

[rainbenrry23]

You can take all your posts and put them in your ass. They don't matter when you then go and support 1975 and Niall Horan? Matty is a joke of a human and has Niall done anything when it comes to Palenstine? Cause last I checked he didn't say anything and yet you are not judging him based on his friends....like his best friend Ben Winston? Yet somehow we are judging Harry because of Ben Winston? Why not judge him based on his sister that has posted several posts about ceasefire? Or Molly, who has also posted several posts about ceasefire? "Larries" like you have always and will always be the biggest jokes.

Fyi: not a larrie; not a harrie; not a louie; not a anybody’s fan. I just enjoy singing and going to concerts. What’s your point? Can a freely choose what to spend my money on?

1 out of 100 pop artist have exposed their stance on the Palestinian cause - no big deal if matty or niall haven’t.

Plus, I have zero idea who Ben Wiston is friends with? Why would I care as long as he’s not mine? And I don’t usually follow family or friends just because they know the singer like you weirdos do… so why would I know what his sister posts?

Last question: what have you done for Palestine babe?

[selfshipping-gremlin]

🤗 with your fave pink boi >:3c -💚

Gawd this was a struggle to write fjhfhjg also feel a lil awkward about how it's written but oh well

Atlas helps fight marluxia, something he says makes them mutter, "you can be so infuriating sometimes.."

"So you remember me from those times?"

A puzzled look crossing their face with their reply, still on guard in a fight stance. "....hard to say, after reawakening, some of my memories have been.... vague."

"Does that not bother you?" He inquires, already knowing the answer, a slight teasing tone. "Knowing you've gained a loss, and loss what you've gained from then?"

It was like he was trying to provoke them.

"Gah!- that dumb, cryptic-ness, is so irritating with you-" they huff, eye twitching, "why cant you ever just be straightforward with what you're saying?!" They lunge forward, keyblade clashing with scythe.

"Funny, i believe you said something similar back then as well." He says, poking at them again, though, the look in his eyes is softer compared to the knowing one from the question moments ago. A bit of inner confusion in him, over this temporary and fleeting foreign feeling.

Taking a step back, Atlas rubs their face, hand(s) running through their hair in frustration. "That-! That too! You keep talking like you know me so well, but i can hardly seem to remember a damn thing about you-! It's so- frustrating!" Their voice starts to crack towards the end, fighting back tears that threaten them with heat. Memories trying to replay, without much clarity.

Larxene makes a noise of disgust before chiming in. "Ugh, feeling nostalgic all of sudden are we, marly? Dont forget hearts are just an inconvenience-" She's cut off by Sora trying to get her attention, annoyance coming from her before turning her focus back on him.

"Yknow, for once i think i agree with her. I cant focus on stopping you, if i keep being manipulated by feelings..." they mutter solemnly, taking a stance again.

Marluxia sighs, a small part of him was hoping, another brief foreign feeling, he wouldnt have to keep fighting them. Readying his scythe, he makes the first move, starting their battle once more.

"I dont think you truely believe that sentiment. You were so intent on learning how to feel when you shadowed me-" He closes in on them, grabbing their blade wielding wrist, leaning in close, "enough so to ignore her comments."

Atlas' heart was pounding now, the sudden close proximity making them feel flustered. He notices their pulse. "It'd been strange not having you around-"

He's cut short as he shoves them away, blocking sora's attack, the two facing off as Atlas tries to recover from the shock. However, it's only a few minutes until sora lands the final blow.

“Oh… So, now it all comes back to me.” He chuckles self-derisively, after falling to his knees.

“Hey. Is that a real laugh?” The hero asks.

“Yes… My heart is remembering how to feel,” He replies, touching his chest. "Thanks to you" he adds, though he's starting at Atlas when he says it.

He starts to close his eyes, only looking forward when Atlas speaks up, much closer than he realized they were, and kneeling next to him.

"For as much as you're cryptic tendencies annoyed me, i did- do, care about you...." There's a pause as the quiet words were said. "We'll find each other again then...okay..?" They meekly croak out, teary eyed.

Marluxia gives them a soft look and smile as they stand there watching as he finally fades from sight.

[zriasstuff]

Slytherin boys x reader (kinky shit vol.2)

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, orgasm denial kink (?), not proof read, long lost trashy & horny draft from my wattpad era (a moment of silence for that), cringe, enjoy ?

(not that anyone rlly cares, but i thought I’d at least pull this out since i haven’t posted actual writing in 1,5 weeks, vol.1 in case you’re curious)

Mattheo Riddle:

Mattheo was incredibly skilled with his mouth, knowing just where to flick his tongue and how hard to suck on your clit to make you melt. Shaking and squirming, you’d grab onto his curly hair, and he would hold your thighs over his shoulders and bury his face deep within your sweet cunt. Always licking up every drip coming from your precious cunt and sucking his fingers clean after stretching you out.

Eventually he figured that he could make you even needier by removing himself for a few seconds. In response you would desperately pull his head closer to your cunt and whine him “don’t you dare fucking stop now”, but he’d just tease your entrance by slowly licking stripes, so you wouldn’t be able to reach your climax.

It was torture, yet you have to admit he made it worth it. “Please Matty keep going”, you’d plea, “plea- please just pleasee”, you’d just repeat that as often as you could, but he enjoyed seeing you on edge.

Tom Riddle:

It’s his favorite form of punishing you for when you act bratty towards him, or when he’s in an angry mood in general, which is quite frequently. His practice of orgasm denial involves painstakingly long teasing until your cunt is all worn out and until you basically can’t think properly anymore. All your thoughts just revolve around one thing, riding out your orgasm completely without feeling as if something was being ripped away from you instead. Tom always fucks you first, pulling out just when you’re about to cum. Instead he releases himself all over your thighs, and leaves you to your own devices. The more needy you become, the longer he’ll torture you to see your breaking point. He has a dildo his size, which he’ll fuck you with, always pulling out just when you’re about to cum. It was an endless circle, even bringing out tears in you because it’s too unbearable and you just desperately want to experience that intensive orgasm. Usually he doesn’t let you have it though. Because of that you become unbelievably horny during the next few days, wanting Tom to use you and fuck you in any sort of way, but of course he’d rather watch you squirm and whine under him. “Should’ve thought twice before being a brat”/“Only good girls derserve to cum”/“You look so pathetic, begging for my cock”

Theodore Nott:

Instead of the popular silent treatment you gave to Theo sometimes when you were mad, you also enjoyed seeing him all fidgety and out of control. “Please don’t do this”, he’d beg, but it would all be in vain. Once you decided to bounce up and down on his swollen cock, he couldn’t keep it together anymore. You didn’t allow him to grab your tits, nor to cum. Once you rode his cock long enough to get you close, you got off of him and fingered yourself in front of him until you made a mess of the sheets. His cock would just leak precum from watching you get off, but he was gonna try to not disobey you. He wasn’t allowed to cum until you gave him explicit permission. After you rode him, he was most likely a swearing mess, desperate to touch his own cock and replicate what you do to him. “That’s what you get for making me mad”, you’d tell him and he’d apologize about a thousand times. Sometimes, out of pity, you then satisfy him by allowing him to touch himself, but other times he wouldn’t be so lucky and had to wait until the next day possibly. “I swear I’ll never do it again”, he whines or “Please I’ll do anything”

Blaise Zabini:

He knows that you enjoy your orgasms way more when they’ve been delayed because then they’re just so much more intensive that way. So, when you do it, he obviously wants to make you feel good, even if that means making you feel incredibly bad, even if it’s in a good way, for a moment. His cock was big by all means, it stretched you out perfectly and fit you just right. So after he comes inside you, he makes you cockwarm him instead of pulling out completely. This way he’ll watch you struggle to not roll your hips because if you did you’d try to get him to hit your g-spot. Then, all of a sudden, he’d grab your waist, make you straddle him, and control your body movements with his hands on your waist. Blaise will pull down, and thrust into you from under you. You can’t help but let out a series of cries because Blaise pounded so deep into you that you were sure you’re insides would never recover. Although he’s lying down, he’s still the one in control, so any pleasure you get is decided by him. “Not yet babe”/“Hold on a little longer ok” As you finally get to have your orgasm, it’s the most intense yet satisfying feeling in the world.

Enzo Berkshire:

Broken was the only word to describe Enzo when he was suffering from not being able to cum due to having a cock ring on. You used it for punishing him sometimes, for unintentionally flirting with other girls, but also just for fun and to spice up your bedroom activities. It vibrated his inflated cock, but also restricted it from shooting out his sweet release. The entire room would be filled with Enzo’s variations of noises, begging and whines. “How much longer”, he keeps asking while making filthy sounds and “I can’t keep it in anymore please” he’d always plea. Enzo would also always come close to tears, though he definitely enjoyed the sinful mix of pleasure and pain too. There were also several intensity settings on the useful cock ring and any time he’d swear, you put it higher. He was entirely under your control, and anything he did would result in his cock just suffering longer from the prolonged torture. You watched him squirm in his bed, completely naked, and even humping the bed at times to get some sort of friction, but that never ended well as you would set the vibrations even higher. His cock was so close to coming, yet only measly drops of precum came out. It was truly a sight.

Draco Malfoy:

Combined with public factors, orgasm denial is your favorite way of watching your boyfriend struggle to keep it together. Otherwise everyone would find out what an obedient boy he was for you, totally unlike the usual bad boy persona he puts on. When all your friends hang out around the common room couch, near the fireplace, a blanket always covers you two. It’s normal, since everyone shares a blanket with either a friend or partner. The twist comes when you slyly slide your hands all the way down to his crotch and rub him through his pyjama pants first. Draco always inhales sharply, knowing he’ll have to be on his best behavior. He shifts all the time, trying to secretly hump himself on the palm of your hand, acting like a stupid fuck toy. So, to tell him to cut it out, you lightly squeeze his length, sending him a warning sign. He should remember that you were the one in control. When you decide he deserves it, you start massaging his cock, pumping it ever so slowly and circling your thumb over his crown. As soon as you hear the grunts, signaling that he can’t keep it in any longer, you slide your hands out of his pants again and act as you were. Draco’s own pleasure had to wait until you were in private, until then he’d quietly whine “Please let me cum, pleasee”/“I swear I’ll do anything you want”

[leaentries]

WORLD OF FIRSTS - MATT REMPE

SYNOPSIS: matt wants his girls first time to be perfect

WARNINGS: swearing, sexual content, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (pulling out), taking virginity, incredibly sappy matt, he’s just a big ball of love, not proofread

WORDCOUNT: 2.96k+

You took a deep breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Eyes alighted with fresh mascara and cheeks adorned with blush; you were ready for the night. You knew what was coming, yet the nerves still boiled inside your belly. Matt was nothing but courteous toward you, never pressuring you into anything. He promised he wouldn’t ask until you brought it up.

What is “it” one may ask? Sex.

You had never planned to end up a twenty-old-virgin, yet here you are.

It’s not for the lack of opportunities, not in the slightest. Sure, you’ve had the offers of hookups or one night stands with random men from the bar, but that just wasn’t your style. You weren’t holding out for marriage, per se, but you did prefer to wait until you felt it was the right time. In all honestly, it started to feel like that day would never come. At least, until you met Matt.

You had met Matt after securing a position on the Ranger’s media team, inevitably catching the eye of the 6’8 hockey player. His once confident demeanor was dwindled down to a blubbering mess the second you talked to him. Poor boy, don’t judge his size and skill on the ice, he was still just a kid who was head over heels for a girl.

Once he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out, it only progressed from there. You could hardly keep your hands off each other, taking to exploring other aspects of one another’s bodies. The first time things got a little too heated, you managed to break away and explain things to Matt. He clung to your every word, noticing the way you anxiously fiddled with your fingers.

Being the respectful guy that he is, he nodded understandingly, reassuring you that it was okay. He even pinky promised you that whenever you decided to go all the way, he would make it the most romantic experience you could dream of. And, he definitely tried his best.

You walked into his apartment on that clear Thursday night, only to be met with candles, all of your favorite scent, lit around almost every room in the place. Your eyes widened at the effort he clearly put in for tonight, not truly expecting it.

You turned to face your boyfriend, who stood biting his lip nervously, “Matty..” You cooed.

He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I promised you I’d make it special.” He quirked his head to side amusingly, “You know I can’t break a pinky promise.”

You smiled up at him, finally being able to take in his attire. His soft grey hoodie hung loosely over the black sweatpants that adorned his muscular legs. Matt’s hair was tousled, clear evidence of his hands carding through the brunette locks in his worried state. You could practically feel your heat melting with the warm drips of love that filled every fiber of your being.

His eyes raked down your body, adam’s apple bobbing roughly as his gaze lingered on your breasts a tad longer than considered polite. The rise and fall of your chest began to increase as his hands trailed under your shirt. Matt’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles against your bare sides.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, baby.”

His reassurance brought an extra blanket of comfort, but also even more solidity that he was the right one.

You shook your head lightly, “No, I want to. I want to do this with you.” You tilted your head up more, now fully looking him in the eyes, “I trust you, Matty.”

He leaned down, taking your lips into a soft kiss. Although it was gentle and sweet, it conveyed how much care Matt had for you. All of the unspeakable things and unsaid words were passed through this simple kiss.

Your hands moved to grip his biceps as his tongue slipped delicately into your mouth. His hands pulled your hips closer to his, a small gasp leaving your mouth as his hardening bulge pressed into your soft tummy. He took the opportunity to lick at your teeth, a low groan leaving his chest. Matt finally pulled away, eliciting a whine of protest on your end.

He chuckled lovingly, “Don’t worry, baby. Just wanna take you to the bedroom first.”

You nodded, swallowing nervously. Matt intertwined your hand with his, leading you through the apartment to the main bedroom. Upon entering, you felt your breath hitch in your throat. There were more candles, except this time they were accompanied by slightly crumpled rose petals that had been haphazardly thrown about the bed and hardwood around it.

It rendered you speechless.

Matt’s eyes scanned your face, still not fully convinced everything was good enough for you, “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes darted towards him.

“I-it’s not how I envisioned everything, the roses weren’t in season apparently, and the vanilla candles were all I could find at the store to match. I should have tried harder or-”

You cut him off, “It’s perfect.” You reached for his fingers, pulling his body into yours, “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

A conflicted sigh left his mouth, his bottom lip swollen from the anxious biting. You lifted your arm up to cradle his face, “I promise,” You forced him to lock pinkies with your other hand, “I pinky promise.” You reiterated.

His eyes searched yours for any discomfort or hesitation. You gently pulled his face down into a confirming kiss. You let your hand fall from his face, fingers cascading down the tense muscles of his chest and abdomen. You tugged on the bottom of his hoodie, signaling that you wanted it off.

Matt smirked as he pulled away, “I figured I’d be the one undressing you first.”

You smiled, kicking his foot lightly in retaliation, “Well, since somebody won’t take charge, clearly I’m gonna have to.”

With this, something darkened in Matt’s eyes, his smirk only growing. He quickly discarded the unwanted material, revealing his toned torso. You immediately reached out to run your fingers through the dips and divots of his stomach. His skin was warm against your fingertips, the muscle smooth under your touch. He watched your hands move, stomach tensing as you brushed over sensitive areas.

He grabbed your hand softly, just as you reached the waistband of his sweats. He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on each fingertip, “So” on your thumb, “eager,” on your index finger, then following with the last three, leaving a lingering kiss on your pinky. Your breath picked up as he trailed his kisses down your palm, sucking gently on the pulse point in your wrist.

“Matt,” You sighed, the pressure building between your thighs becoming overbearing. The room’s temperature seemed to rise with each kiss he laid upon your skin, igniting tiny fires in every vein. You could practically feel the desire pounding in your ears.

Matt leaned down further as he stuck his nose into your neck and jaw, burying his face there for a moment. You brought a hand up, tangling it in the hair at the nape of his neck. The locks were soft between your fingers and you tugged lightly. His mouth started to suck teasing kisses and red blotches into the supple skin causing you to deliver a harder tug on his hair. Matt let out a loud groan, and with panic, you let go.

“I’m sorry, Matty,” You brought his head up, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He just laughed, “Hurt me? Baby, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He took your hand, placing it back in its previous position, “And, for the record, I was into it.”

Your cheeks burned at his confession, but you believed him, especially with the evidence straining against the material of his pants. Matt resumed his attack on your neck, only this time he worked his way down until he was met with the collar of your shirt.

His hands hesitated for a moment at hem, his eyes looked to yours before moving forward. You nodded, giving him the consent. He gently pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere on the floor. His eyes immediately drifted to your breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Go lay on the bed," Matt rasped.

Not wasting time, you quickly crawled on the bed, leaning against the soft pillows. Matt kneeled down on the mattress, body coming to slot in between your legs. His calloused hands rested on your thighs, running seductive patterns into the plushy skin.

"So pretty like this," He panted through his need, "All laid out just f'me."

You whined, hips bucking with a mind of their own. The deep carnal desire was becoming too much, the new ache of want echoed through your bones. You shook with anticipation.

"Please, Matty," You begged, "Need you so bad."

"Use your words, pretty girl," He encouraged, "Tell me what you want."

You huffed with embarrassment, not yet used to having to voice your needs. Matt watched you closely, enjoying the flustered look on your face.

"I need you," You managed.

He tsked, "Gotta tell me exactly what you need, baby. Wanna give you what you want."

You swallowed the whine that bubbled in your throat, barely managing out your words, “Need you to touch me.” You grabbed his hand and placed it between your legs, “Need you to touch me here.”

“Fuck,” Matt mumbled under his breath. The feeling of your wet cunt through the fabric of your leggings was enough to have his cock weeping. He leaned down to kiss up your stomach, making sure to give the tops of your breasts attention. By the time he reached your lips, you practically inhaled him. You were desperate for him, and your body’s response betrayed any attempt to cover it up.

Matt’s hand snaked behind your back, fumbling with your bra clasp, his brows furrowed as he tried to focus on kissing you and unhooking it at the same time. Not breaking the kiss, you sit up slightly, reaching behind you to help him out. The second the hook popped off, Matt eagerly discarded the item. His breath stopped as he took in your breasts. Even though this wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, they never failed to make his stomach swirl and his cock throb.

His head dipped down to take a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling the peaked bud. Your head fell back against the pillow as you arched your back, pushing your tits further into his mouth. A load moan escaped your throat as he bit down gently.

“Fuck,” You panted, “Matty, need more.”

He smirked against you, fingers treading down to hook themselves on the waistband of your leggings. He sat up on his knees, before looking to you for permission. You nodded eagerly, the fiery desperation for him greater than anything you had ever felt. He slowly pulled them down, tapping your thigh lightly in order for you to lift your hips. Matt helped thread your ankles through, tossing the material with the rest of your discarded clothes.

Your legs instinctively fell apart, putting your glistening cunt on display for him. Matt could have sworn he’d cum in his pants right then and there. He sat for a moment, taking in your body. He took note of every curve, mark, and scar that littered your skin. He wanted to remember them forever.

Becoming impatient, you tugged at his drawstrings, “Don’t just stare. Want you inside of me.”

His body immediately fell to trap yours, his lips so close you could feel them as he spoke, “Can’t say things like that, baby. Or else this gonna be over far sooner than we’d like.”

He pressed one more searing kiss to your lips before dropping a hand between your bodies.

“Gotta stretch you out, okay?”

You nodded, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you where you needed him most.

His hand brushed against your clit, making you jolt with pleasure. Matt prodded at your entrance with his middle finger, before slowly slipping the digit into your slick walls. He quickly found a steady rhythm, your arousal seeping onto the bed sheets.

You bucked your hips as the pleasure coursed through your body. Matt took this as a sign to add another finger. He continued to work you up, gently adding a third. As soon as he sped up his fingers, you ground yourself down against the heel of his palm, the stimulation almost sending you over the edge.

"Matty," You cooed, "M' gonna cum."

And just as you began to ride to that peak, Matt removed his fingers. You almost let out a whine of protest, but the sight of him sucking your essence off his fingers had your soaked pussy clenching around nothing. Matt lifted himself above you once more, holding up his weight.

"You ready, pretty girl?" He asked, "We can always stop and watch a movie if you'd rather do that. I won't care, I promise."

You looked him dead in the eyes, "Matthew, I mean this in the most loving way, but please just shut up and fuck me."

He laughed as he took your lips into a hot fight of tongues and teeth, he mumbled against your lips, "I love you, woman." With that, he sat up and quickly threw off his sweats and boxers in one go. His cock slapped proudly against his abdomen, drops of pre-cum already seeping from his swollen tip.

He aligned himself, before slowly starting to inch his way in. Matt watched your face intensely, watching for any signs of you wanting to stop. You let out a gasp, the initial pain catching you off guard.

Matt leaned down to plant kisses all over your face as he eased himself in further, "I know, I know, baby. You're doing so good f'me." He hushed out, "Taking my cock so well."

You both let out moans as he sunk in the final couple of inches. You panted, overwhelmed by the way he split you open.

"You doin' okay?" He managed through gritted teeth. The tight grip your cunt had around his cock was almost too much for him to deal with.

You nodded, the dull pain finally fading away into need, "You can move."

He swallowed harshly, before pulling out gently and sheathing himself back in fully. Matt did this a few more times, or at least until he had a reign on his hormones. The feeling of being buried inside of you had his mind in a frenzy, wanting nothing more than to fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name. But he knew there would be time for that later, right now was all about you.

Matt reached up to intertwine your hands, his thrusts slowly getting faster and harder. You moaned loudly as the tip of his cock nestled so deliciously against your g-spot. Waves of pleasure surged through every sense you had, until all you could focus on was him. He intoxicated everything. There was only him.

Low groans left Matt’s mouth, his heavy breathing picking up as he tilted his hips in order to reach deeper into you. Your jaw fell slack, your grip on his hand tightening with the intense pressure in your lower belly. It spread from the tips of toes all the way to the tops of your ears, consuming you completely until the only thing still holding you to earth was Matt. His groans turned into breathy whines as he neared his peak, but he was determined to have you finish first.

Matt snaked a hand down your body, to rub sloppy circles on your clit. The added stimulation had your eyes rolling back and a loud cry leaving your mouth.

“Come on, pretty girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock.”

The sounds of his hips slapping against yours, paired with his encouragement finally broke the knot that had been tightening in your gut. Your moan fell silent as the force of your orgasm hit you like a truck. Blinding white pleasure danced through your body, your pussy spasming rapidly around Matt’s cock. Just your facial expressions alone were enough to send him toppling over that edge as well, his cock twitching as he quickly pulled out. He stroked his cock until ropes of white painted your stomach and chest, the warm liquid dripping down your tits.

Matt’s chest heaved as he fell beside you, rubbing soothing patterns into your hair. He whispers sweet nothings to you as you slowly came back to reality. You tilted your head to look up at him, smiling softly.

He placed a sweet kiss on your head, “There’s those beautiful eyes,” Matt cradled your face with one of his large hands, “You feeling okay? I wasn’t too rough was I?”

You shook your head, “No, everything was perfect. You were perfect, Matty.”

He smiled lovingly at you, eyes looking at you as if you’d hung the moon. He placed another kiss on your temple, before getting up and grabbing a towel to clean you off. Once his spent had been wiped off of you completely, you grabbed his wrist, tugging him back down to lay with you.

“Baby,” He laughed, “We gotta get you in the shower so I can clean you off.”

You groaned in displeasure, “In a minute, just wanna cuddle with you first. Want you to hold me.”

He fell into place behind you, pulling your body snugly against his, “If I ever say no to holding you, you have my full permission to kill me on the spot.”

You just grinned, burying yourself further into his warm body.

[kirain]

I decided to make adult designs and "where are they now" stories for all the child tieflings who are confirmed to survive to Act 3.

Unbeknownst to her, Arabella was a latent sorcerer with a natural connection to the Weave. Her powers likely would've manifested at puberty, but touching the idol of Silvanus imbued her with wild druid magic, multiclassing her prematurely. This caused an internal struggle between the two powers, which threatened to rip her and anyone around her apart. Fortunately, with Withers' guidance, she set out to follow the Weave and found balance in her new, strange abilities. For years she traveled Faerûn alone, honing her skills and making peace with her past. Eventually, she became known as the "Wondering Storm", so attuned to nature some would mistake her for Silvanus' Chosen. Those who crossed her, however, would swear she was Jergal's Chosen; able to end a life with a single stare. Though not unkind, Arabella became feared by many for her stoic personality, mysterious presence, and peculiar command of the Weave. It seemed that wherever she was needed, she would inexplicably be.

Though Raphael went silent, Mol continued to enjoy, and perhaps abuse, the gifts from her patron. With the Absolute defeated, she quickly clawed her way up the ranks of the Guild, eventually becoming a pseudo ward to Nine-Fingers Keene. For years she would sharpen her skills, mentored by Keene and her most trusted associates, until she challenged the notorious crime lord to a duel for leadership. Much to her surprise, Keene lost, and was therefore forced to relinquish command to the young tiefling. Seeing the move as a betrayal, however, the Guild's loyalty was split, causing the criminal powerhouse to fracture. This led to a dark time for the Guild, with many in Baldur's Gate referring to it as the "Outlaw Civil War". Much blood was shed during this conflict, but eventually Mol turned the tides in her favour, running Keene and those still loyal to her out of the city. She would go on to rebuild the Guild in her image, successfully and more fearsome than ever; though, when she approached her old colleagues with an invitation to join, they all declined.

Once he managed to enter the city, Mattis tried to find his companions from the Grove, but he ultimately turned his sights to conning rich families with "panaceas from the hells". For a while, he flourished under this racket, until his scheme was exposed by jealous competition. This led to him being violently assaulted by angry customers, nearly ending his life—he only survived by rolling into a rapid canal. After being saved by a kind, impoverished couple who fished him out of the water, he spent nearly three months confined to a bed. His recovery was slow and agonizing, but hardly discouraging. Instead of succumbing to his misery, he took the time to plot his revenge. With the couple's help, he learned the laws of the land and revived his strength. Then, when able, he cut his hair, disguised his face, spied on the man who wronged him, and subsequently tricked him into signing his business over to the couple. Together, they turned the questionable business into something respectable. Mostly. Mattis' silver tongue finally became an asset, rather than a survival tactic, though he was never above a good swindle.

Ide and Umi took up arms during the Absolute's attack on the city, each of them basking in the action. Realising that Umi had developed an insatiable bloodlust, and itching for more battles herself, Ide suggested they enlist into the army. Though technically too young, the new General—appointed by High Duke Ravengard after the fall of the Absolute—accepted them as apprentices until they came of age.

Though their time with the Flaming Fist was imperative to their training and survival, they found the rules and hypocrisy of the troop disheartening, and even more so when the General died. Eventually they deserted, leaving Baldur's Gate entirely and starting a small band of vigilantes. To some, they were a menace. To others, they became heroes of the Sword Coast. No matter the case, Ide and Umi were inseparable, never seen apart.

Inspired by his saviours, Mirkon continued to write stories about his time in the Grove and his rescue from the harpies. He never found his parents, but he refused to live in the slum's orphanage. Life was hard for the young tiefling, often forcing him to grovel for food and coin. On the worst days, he found comfort turning his stories into songs, which he slowly morphed into a semi-profitable street act. This eventually caught the attention of Alfira, who one day happened to be passing by. Recognising his talent, and overjoyed to be reunited, she took him in and taught him how to play the violin. Together, they created a lucrative show that expanded well beyond the Elfsong Tavern, which aided Alfira in opening her dream college. She and Lakrissa would soon adopt Mirkon, and he would later become one of the most beloved and celebrated instructors at the college.

Though working as a hawker for the Baldur's Mouth kept Silfy fed and relatively sheltered, she grew listless. Dealing with rude and racist customers hardened her enough to snap back, resulting in her termination. With nowhere to go, she found herself wandering into Ramazith's Tower, where she implored Rolan for a job. Feeling for her plight, Rolan put her to work stocking shelves and filling orders. It wasn't exciting work, but she was safe and satisfied, until one day a customer's tome exploded, causing a flurry of rainbow flames that whirled into the shape of a unicorn. This event, though frightening, would inspire Silfy to start reading the books in the shop, with the help of Tolna and Rolan. To everyone's surprise, she proved to have an impressive aptitude for magic, and she soon found herself enthralled. Within just a few years, Silfy would be accepted into Blackstaff Academy, where she would excel in her studies and catch the eye of the great Vajra Safahr. She would offer Silfy a position in the school, as well as a mentorship, but Silfy would politely decline, graduate, and return to Bauldr's Gate. Her true home.

[multifandom-worlds]

In The Shadows

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: secret relationships, non-canon, profanity

Authors Note: This is a reader insert fic, but the background is basically the reader is Draco Malfoy's twin sister. If I have forgotten any warnings, do let me know, please!

Your content consumption is on you.

“Why was she wearing your jersey, Mattheo? Answer me that: why does another woman get what’s mine?” You demand, walking into changing rooms. You knew everyone was out; you counted them yourself. Mattheo was standing up, waiting for you to arrive. 

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you wearing another man’s name?” Mattheo retorts, stalking towards you. He’s used to you cowering, becoming putty in his hand, but this time, you were defiant. You were not going to let him intimidate you. 

“I don’t think I’ve met someone with such pathetic critical thinking skills,” You shot back. “It’s not just “another man’s last name” like you so kindly said; it’s my fucking last name, Riddle. If you used your brain for once in your goddamn life, you’d see I’m wearing my brother’s jersey. Why am I wearing my brother’s jersey? Because someone is too fucking embarrassed to be seen with me that he refuses to let me wear his. I’m beginning to think you just want me for sex, and that’s is”

Mattheo stops his advances, caught off guard by your aggression. He was not at all used to you standing up for yourself. Not to mention reducing his love for you to merely sex. “...Don’t say that, love. You don't mean that you know I love you; it's just…”

“It's just what, Riddle? Your father? Do you realize who I am? Who my family is? I'm a motherfucking Malfoy. I am the daughter of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, the fucking death eater.” You look up at him, all your insecurities manifesting into anger.

“No…your brother,” Mattheo says meekly.

You look at him dumbfounded. “My brother? You're worried about my brother? My brother couldn't punch his way out of a wet paper bag. Are you worried he'll tell our father? Baby, father would be happy I'm dating the literal Dark Lord’s son. That gives him a leg up, so to speak.” 

Mattheo raises his hand to cup your cheek before he hears the changing room door open. He immediately takes three steps back as Astoria walks in, his jersey in her hand. “Here you go, Matty.” She says, a nauseatingly flirtatious tone in her voice. She gasps when she sees you, grabbing onto Mattheo’s bicep. “What are you doing here? This is the men’s changeroom.” 

To his credit, Mattheo steps away from her but is not quick enough for your liking. “She was just...” he began before you cut him off, your jaw tight, and a look of pure hatred burned behind our eyes. 

“Leaving.” You spoke with absolute authority. “Goodbye, Riddle, good fucking riddance” You turn and walk away without even a second glance. However, you do linger at the door, silently hoping he comes after you.

You could hear Astoria laughing, “she actually believed she had a chance with you? She really is an embarrassment to her family. Now let’s go; I have a reward for you!” 

You walk away after that, knowing you’ll only break your own heart more. You walk away, the tears threatening to spill. How can you be sad about something nobody knew about? What do you say when people ask…what do you do? You move on in the shadows, just as you were loved in the shadows. 

You navigate your way through the Slytherin common room, staying near the walls and doing your best to avoid the partygoers. You have no desire to party; all you want is your bed. It was then that you felt a familiar, calloused hand grab your wrist. Turning around, you come face to face with Mattheo’s captivating smile. For a moment, you nearly forgot everything he put you through.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, Mally. A party is not the same without you.” He says, pulling you close and nuzzling his nose against your neck while wrapping his arms around your waist. You wanted to believe him, believe that he finally decided to love you publicly, but you could smell the fire whisky on his breath. He's drunk. 

“You’re drunk, Mattheo. Leave me alone; I’m not partying tonight.” You say, pulling away from his grip. “Go party with Astoria; she must be just dying to spend time with you since you’re single, after all.” 

He looks at you, confusion twisting his gorgeous features. “I’m not single? What do you mean, Mally? I’m dating you. I have been through the 7th and 8th year. I want to stay with you.” 

You sigh, stepping back away from him further, with tears prickling in your eyes. “That would mean so much more if you weren’t drunk, Matty. It’s over for us, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” You turn from him and slip effortlessly into the writhing student body. 

You collapse on your bed and release the sob that had been building in your throat all afternoon, ever since seeing Astoria wearing Mattheo’s jersey. ‘It’s better this way,’ you told yourself; this way, you can find someone who loves and appreciates you in the open, not hiding you away like some dirty little secret. You cried yourself to sleep that night with Mattheo's shirt tucked tightly to your chest, not wanting to wake up the following day.

The following days dragged on. You did everything you could to avoid your ex, but it was getting more challenging by the day. One night, after you and Mattheo had been partnered for Charms, you broke down to your brother, confessing everything. Your 2-year relationship with Mattheo, your “break up,” all of it. You cried in Draco’s arms for hours, and like the dutiful brother he is, he consoled you the whole time, quietly seething. How dare someone do this to his beloved sister? How dare someone reduce her to tears like this? 

You were almost asleep, floating just on the precipice of dreams while Draco was reading you a story, when there was a knock on your dorm door. You move to get it, but Draco stops you. “You need to sleep, moon. I’ll answer it.” He says softly, pushing your hair from your face. 

You heard the door open, and Draco stepped out into the hallway. What you didn’t expect to hear, however, was the conversation. 

“What are you doing here, Riddle? Haven’t you done enough?” Draco says, his tone angry.

“What are you talking about, Draco? I came to check on her, but she hasn’t been answering my messages; she’s ignoring me. I just want to talk to her. Is that so bad?”

“Why would you keep her a secret, Riddle? My sister is brilliant and incredible. She is more my father than I could ever hope to be. She is the greatest duellist this school has ever seen, which is why she’s the Slytherin Dueling Club Captain, and you threw her away for Astoria? All she ever wanted in her life was someone to see her for who she was, not what she could be. She hoped it was you, but keeping her a secret, that's not what you do to someone you love. Leave her alone, Riddle.”

Draco shut the door before you could hear Mattheo’s response. It warmed your heart that you had someone in your corner, your confidant, your protector. You now understood what Fred and George were saying - having a twin is the best thing. 

You pretended to sleep as Draco walked back over, but you felt his lips land softly on your temple. “Goodnight, little moon. I’ve got you.”

Mattheo catches you in the hallways while you are walking between classes with your brother several days later. “Mally, wait, please... talk to me. There has to be a misunderstanding. Please.” He looks like he hasn't slept in days. 

“For the last time, Riddle, leave me the fuck alone!” You yell while pushing him away from you, but he comes back like a moth to a flame. Clearly, you were going to have to tell him in a language he would understand. Once he got within arms reach, you punched him square in the nose. You could feel the cartilage break under your fist. “I told you, leave me alone, Riddle! You had your chance with me, and you gave that up.”

Mattheo holds his nose while looking at you in complete shock. Everyone in the hallway was looking at you in complete shock. You walk away, Draco hurrying after you, leaving Mattheo to deal with his broken nose himself. You could faintly hear a commotion happening behind you, but you didn’t dare look around. 

The rumours began mere hours later and steadily built up momentum as the days passed.

“Did you hear Mattheo Riddle got his nose broken by that Malfoy girl last week?”

“Did he actually? How did Tom react?”

“I still can’t believe Mattheo got his nose broken by a girl.”

You were growing tired of all the gossip about you. You heard from Draco that Mattheo had started withdrawing from everyone; clearly, he was, too. The guilt began to eat you up alive - was he actually that in love with you that your separation was this hard on him? There’s no way he loved you, not with how he acted; maybe he was just embarrassed. Hopefully, he was just embarrassed, but you couldn’t worry about that; you had bigger things on your mind - the Dueling Club tournament. 

You sit back, watching your team dominate, cheering them on and giving the newer ones points before they step into the ring. You have to sit with the other house captains, something about rules or whatever. You clock Mattheo, sitting a few seats down, but pay it no mind.

Slytherin and Gryffindors were neck and neck; this next duel would decide who won that year's tournament. You stepped up for your house, stepping into the ring amongst hoots and hollers. After some intense planning, Harry Potter steps into the ring. The whole room fell silent. The Chosen One, the boy wonder up against Hogwart's greatest dueler. This really would be a duel to remember.

“I guess we’re doing this, Potter.” You chuckle, taking your wand from your robes and holding it comfortably in your hand. You scan the room before your eyes lock with Mattheos, and you see a myriad of untold emotions. His eyes draw you in, locking you in place. The world beyond you slips away, melting into a sea of nothingness; nothing mattered to you more at that moment than Mattheo. 

Until, out of your peripheral vision, you see a spell coming hurling your way; instantaneously, you snap into action, quickly casting a barrier and returning the spell at him. “That was a good try, Potter,” You taunt, waiting for him to engage again. His eyes burn into you before slinging spell after spell at you. One or two of them connected, but it wasn’t enough to win.

“Fuck you, Malfoy! Fight back, you coward!” Harry hissed, growing more and more agitated as the duel commenced. He was getting sloppy, precisely what you counted on. He may be “The Chosen One,” but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a hothead and a thoughtless dueler. 

“Easy, Potter, don’t lose your head,” You taunt again, stalking around the ring like a predator stalking its prey. You watch closely, taking note of his actions as you patiently waited, waited for the right time to strike. 

Now.

You go on the offence, unloading a flurry of harmless attacks, each one hitting its target with deadly accuracy. Within seconds of your attack, that match was called, and Slytherin was named winner of the Tournament. Your whole house jumps up and swarms you, chanting your name. You were enjoying all the celebration when you saw Mattheo pushing through the crowd. You prepared yourself mentally for whatever argument was about to ensue, but when he reached you, instead of starting an argument, his lips collided with yours. 

The kiss was electrifying, hungry, desperate, and everything you needed it to be. Mattheo's hands danced their way down your face to the side of your neck, resting there as if they were always meant to be there…and perhaps they were. 

“You're mine, do you understand me?” He growls as he breaks the kiss. “No more of this ignoring me bullshit. I know where I fucked up, but I need you back, Mally. Please, no more hiding, no more keeping you a secret.”

You look at him, seeing the vulnerability he’s showing in front of everyone. He bites his lip, and his hands begin to tremble ever so slightly. You knew in your heart what to stay. 

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Mattheo Riddle, but you’re my goddamn idiot.” You punctuate your sentence with a kiss, sealing everything.

[recklessmatt]

nsfw alphabet - m.s ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

matty boy is just the sweeeeetest and bestest at aftercare, he’ll make sure you’re doing okay, if you need any snacks or water, if you need a bath, if you need a massage, you name it he’s ready. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

matt LOVES your thighs omfg he loves it when they’re wrapped around his head while hes eating you out and he loves feeling them up when you’re sitting on his lap or even just sitting next to him at a restaurant

OH AND HES A TIDDY MAN !!! matt loves his hands, especially when they’re accesorized with rings and he notices you tend to stare at em a lot so he flexes them on purpose to get you riled up. he loves feeling you clench around them when hes fingering you mmmm

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

matt likes to cum in you or in your mouth mainly because it’ll be easy to clean up but im like 99% sure he has a breeding kink so the feeling of him cumming in you gets him so turned on

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he likes to be submissive. he loves when you take control and ride him until he cries he thinks its so hot 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i wanna say matt is experienced but not like pro level, probably like 2 bodies max, like he knows enough to get you going and he would probably do research on how to please you even more ngl and he would love to learn from you if you’re more experienced than he is

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary or the one where you guys are both on your sides like spooning, he loves looking in your eyes and he loves to hold you (and your boobies)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i think matt would take this more serious than goofy bc he sees it as sensual and intimate but he’ll definitely joke around with you afterwards. he would finish WHILE STILL INSIDE OF YOU then be like “wanna get ice cream” 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

matt i wanna say is nicely shaved, little to no hair because he wants to feel clean and put together

i don’t think matt cares what you do, he does prefer if you were groomed but then again he doesn’t care just do whatever the fuck you want he’s going down on you no matter what, he’s called matt the munch for a reason

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

matt is a soft dom so he is definitely romantic, but he also loves to get down and nasty and call you a slut at times but he loves praising you especially saying something like “you look so pretty, taking me so well baby” AHHHHH

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i don’t think matt jerks off as often now that he has you, but he definitely will at times hoping you will catch him so you can dick him down

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

blindfolds, he loves seeing you squirm just by his touch not able to see and not knowing what will come next and he also loves to be blindfolded as well when you take control. it’s such a different feeling and it makes his orgasm feel so good

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

the bedroom, it’s a safe spot and you know, what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom. BUT he also loves the car, he likes the risk of possibly getting caught and because it’s a small space you guys are really close to each other

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

overstimulation and whining, he loves seeing you try to grab him and push him away when it gets too much for you, he loves to hear you whine and cry for him

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

pegging and threesomes. he doesn’t like to share you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

OH THIS MAN LOVESSS TO GIVE YOU HEAD !!! he does it for his pleasure and ofc yours but the feeling of you trying to push his head away from sensitivity makes him want to keep going and he loves fingering you while sucking on your clit but he’ll never deny receiving from you, just don’t expect him to be quiet because babygirl he’s gonna be whining and groaning so loud

mattthemunchmattthemunchmattthemunchmattthemunchmattthemunch

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

honestly it depends on the day, but matt is so sweet he loves the intimacy and the feeling of going slow and deep and he wants to take his time with you but he’ll definitely have his rough sex moments

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

matt prefers to take his time with you but he’ll never deny a quickie when you’re both feeling it

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

i think matt is open to about anything to a certain extent, he likes to experiment and he lowkey likes the risk of getting caught

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

mmm i wanna say 2-3 rounds average, but if he’s looking to overstimulate you, probably 8 rounds. he has a lot of stamina idk why

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn’t own any himself because he has you but if you were to own a vibrator he’d want you to try it on him. or if you had a dildo he’d probably use it to fuck you as a tease like does this fuck you better than i do baby?”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

matt lovessss to tease you. he loves to see you begging for more

he won’t admit it but he does like when you tease him in public 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

matt is more of a groaner and whimperer tbh, he doesn’t dirty talk a whole lot but when he does, oh man you are GONE. he’s so good at dirty talk omg

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

hockey player matt! (like duhhh)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

hmmm, i’d say matt is pretty average just a little bigger, he fills you up perfectly, all snug in there, it turns him on to see his bulge through your stomach while he’s fucking you

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i don’t think he’s THAT horny but he’s just always down to fuck

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

matt would wait until you fall asleep first so he knows you’re doing okay, he would rub your back or pet your hair to make you sleepy and comfortable. it’s rare when he falls asleep before you.

CHRIS VERSION

author's note: hola i made a matt version, i have nothing else to say, goodbye stay sexy mwah <3 HAPPY 1K TO RECKLESSMATT AHHHHHH GRATEFUL FOR ALL YOU SEXIES !!!

taglist: @luverboychris @mattscoquette @strmbolisworld @nmegamett20 @sturniclo

@shadowthesim @surniolozzzprincess @sturnsintrouble @sturniolo-slvt @mattandchrismakemewett

@stonermattsgf @zivall @sturniolo-fann @gvf23

@thecynthh @jayz4dayz4 @beccaluvschris @cindylcuwho @sturngirly

@sturnslcver @nyktoxs-lover @simplysturn

@jnkvivi @sturncakez

@sturnzsblog @joemamaaa42069 @sarosfilms @il0vecatzzz

@freyaxoxoxo @loliek17372 @slutforsturniolos

[babygirlmurdock]

Devil’s Work

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+!!!! my god this is so NSFW please don’t read if you’re under age my god. oral (f!recieving) this is literally only matt taking care of his lady so dom!matt (i guess?) THAT FUCKING SLUTTY CHAIN OF HIS MY GODDDD !!!!!!! also some religious stuff (not really a kink but just to be safe!)

Taglist: @bellaxgiornata @abucketofweird @sleepysleepymom

Author’s note: Like literally all of us, I could not get this .01 second clip of darling Matthew doing to TOWN on that neck with his slutty little gold chain. I have also never ever written smut before so you all have to be nice to me (kidding, but please be kind I’m sensitive LMAO) Enjoy my sweets!!!!

˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Matthew Murdock, where do you even begin with him? For starters, the man is like an angel sent from heaven above. Never in your life have you dated somebody more understanding, caring and passionate in your life. Somebody that checks all your boxes. There was a side of Matt that he has only told you about but he has never shown you.

Daredevil.

When Matt told you that he was the masked vigilante running around on roofs all hours of the night, you were rightfully upset. All the countless lies about where he has been. You thought he had been cheating for the longest time. You finally confronted him after being so frustrated with the lies.

“So are you cheating on me?! Is that why you have scrapes on your chest and a bruise? Who is it, Matt?” Tears welled up in your eyes as your voice cracked.

“No—I, I would never think for a second to give another woman what I give you. I love you and only you.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing! Matt, all the clues are there. You’re out late at night, I have no idea where you are. I am up like a nervous fucking wreck.. I—I can’t handle this anymore,” you held your head in your hands as you tried to steady your breath.

“Do you really want to know?” Matt stepped towards the closet.

“Yes, my God with all my fucking chest. Please Matty, I love you too much. I don’t want it to be true that you found better.”

“Fine,” Matt opened the closet doors and pulled out his father’s old boxing trunk. Your head cautiously turned to the side as your heart rate sped up. Matt’s breath was shaky unbuckling the clasps of the trunk. Moving the two top shelves off revealing something red. His fingers brushed the crimson red horned helmet, he grabbed it and turned around with it in his hands. “I’m Daredevil.”

It’s been six months now since you had the conversation with Matt about his other side. You have your moments with it, like aiding him to health after being beaten half to death and making sure he’s somewhat presentable for court in the morning. It gives you anxiety, but you know Matt, you know his skills. You see him on the news, and feel secure that he’s doing the right thing.

Tonight was different. He’s usually back at the apartment by 2AM the absolute latest. It’s almost 2:30AM and he hasn’t made a single peep about being home late. You start frantically Googling if the police found Daredevil dead in a river, or hung up in front of the church.

Doom scrolling on your phone, you heard the roof door unlatch. Letting out a relieved breath, you got up in front of the couch and hurried over to the stairs.

“Thank God. I was getting worried, Matty. I was afraid I was going to have to call Foggy or Karen and ask if they’d seen you.”

Matt made his way down the steps removing his gloves and helmet as he made his way down. He stalked his way over to you, placed a callused palm on the back of your neck and kissed you like you’ve never been kissed before. This has a purpose to it, hunger. Desperate for more. Your hand landed on his leather covered bicep as you moaned into his mouth practically begging for him to kiss you more.

“Shower,” Matt demanded. You thought Matt came home. No, this was still the Devil out to play. You kind of liked it though.

Walking to the bathroom, you stripped off all your clothing, turned the shower on, got in and waited for Matt. Letting the hot water run down your naked body, your eyes fell shut as your hands started roaming your body. Hearing the bathroom door open and shut again, Matt shortly joined you.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I needed to touch you tonight,” Matt’s hands traced your sides and landed on your ass, causing your head to fall back in pleasure.

“Then why did it take you so long to get home?” Your hands fiddled with the gold cross dangling from his neck.

“Cops were taking too long to show up. I eventually just tied them to a pipe on a roof and hoped somebody could find them,” Matt said as his lips kissed up your neck. Your breath hitched as Matt’s teeth grazed the spot where your neck meets your clavicle.

Grabbing his face to pull him closer to that sweet spot on your neck and letting out a breathless moan.

“Matt,” you breathed out as he began to kiss down your body, getting on his knees before you.

Matt put one of your legs on his shoulder to get a better angle of you. Matt hungrily kissing your inner thighs, making sure to antagonize you with each one. Gazing down at him making his way to your center, pushing his hair back so you can get a better look at his face reaching dangerously close to your heat.

“Fuck, Matt, I can’t wait any longer, please,” you pleaded him. You felt his smirk against his thigh and he looked up to you.

“Good girls have patience, sweetheart.”

Matt has never called you good girl in that tone before. And boy, did it do something to you. Matt caught the skip in your heartbeat which caused him to run his fingers along your folds. Your knees nearly buckled at his light touch as you let out a whiney moan.

“You really are letting the Devil out, huh?” you said, sucking your teeth.

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Matt’s voice was a deep growl. Unlocking something feral in him, his mouth dove to your pussy, getting a surprised high pitched moan out of you.

Your hand immediately went to grab the slippery tile wall for some leverage as Matt devoured you below.

“God, fuck,” you breathlessly let out. Your hand grabbing onto his shoulder leaving nail marks on it. Matt was eating you out like you were his last meal on earth. Trying to grab whatever you can so you don’t fall to your knees as he sucked on your clit and entered two fingers inside you.

“Talk to me, sweetie. Do you like that?” Matt said.

“God, yes, I need you to fuck me, Matthew,” you said trying to catch your breath as Matt hooked his fingers up inside you. Matt took his fingers out of you and stood up. Pressing your back against the cold tile, causing your skin to prick up as the hot water wasn’t touching you anymore.

Matt took hold of your face and fiercely kissed you, getting a mix of his saliva and yourself. Both of you moaning against each other’s lips, your arms draped over his broad shoulders, as he scooped you up against the wall.

Your tongues intertwined with one another as you felt his hardness against you, just aching to enter.

“I’ve got you,” he said against your mouth as he slowly entered you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, adjusting to his girth. “Mm, fuck, Matt.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders as he pumped in and out of you. Your moans got louder as his pace quickened. His biceps flexing to hold you up as he was fucking you, deeper and deeper with each thrust.

“You take me so good. That’s my girl,” Matt set you down and turned you around against the glass of the shower door. Your nipples puckered against the glass and Matt thrusted himself into you. His one hand on the front of your throat and one on your stomach. His pace quickened and his cross gently tapping between your shoulder blades with each thrust.

“Matty, I’m about to cum,” you whined out.

“Not yet, I’m not done with you,” Matt snarled. His lips met the back of your neck, starting to nip at it. The room filled with your moans and Matt’s grunts. “You feel so good, my girl.”

Your body was practically begging to orgasm all over Matt. His cock hitting the right mark every thrust, you didn’t want it to end, but exhaustion was quickly taking over you.

“Please, please, I’m almost there,” you become more breathless. Matt’s hand lowered to your clit and started to go in circles.

“Fuck, oh my god, I’m so close,” you cried out as Matt was edging you towards your orgasm.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Matt’s hands on your hips now, thrusting deeper and rougher each time. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your own hand reached towards your clit, rubbing in circles for only a few seconds before Matt’s hand grabbed your wrist and pinned your hands against the glass.

“That’s my job to make you cum.” Matt growled in your ear, sending you over the edge.

“Oh, God,” you said through your gritted teeth.

“God has nothing to do with this, sweetheart. He sent the Devil for you,” Matt bit your neck and sucked on it, definitely leaving a mark for you to deal with.

Letting your orgasm overtake you, letting all of Hell’s Kitchen know who is fucking you into oblivion. Matt’s orgasm shortly following yours, he pulled out of you.

Turning yourself around to face him, your legs nearly giving out underneath you, Matt let out a chuckle, holding you up. Trying to catch your breath, Matt gently kissed your lips. You looked at Matt’s scratch marks you so graciously gave him, letting your hand run over them, meeting with the chain of his cross, taking it in your left hand and kissing it.

Matt and yourself finished up the shower. Stepping out, you looked in the mirror, examining your neck. Matt came up behind you and started sweetly kissing your shoulders.

“How will I explain to my job why I’m wearing a scarf in 86 degrees?”

“Raccoon attack. You took that little beast on with your own hands and it put up a fight,” Matt devilishly smiled at you in the mirror.

“Yeah sure, because I’m the raccoon wrangling type,” you rolled your eyes.

“I expect nothing less actually,” Matt matter-of-factly said.

You laughed at him, turning around kissing his lips and he deepened it.

“Something tells me that was only round one out of whenever the sun comes up.” You slyly said.

“Like I said, we’re just getting started,” Matt picked you up and brought you to your shared bedroom.

“Let the Devil out,” You kissed him passionately, mentally coming up with reasons to call out of work tomorrow.

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.” 

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something. 

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.    

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.” 

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face. 

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second. 

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.  

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips. 

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat. 

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?” 

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside. 

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.  

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.” 

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.  

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?” 

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.” 

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.” 

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?” 

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth. 

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”     

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.” 

“Why? Because you already are?” 

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose. 

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“ 

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor. 

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs. 

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother. 

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why. 

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”  

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance. 

“Who died and made you king?” 

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.” 

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.” 

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved. 

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.” 

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out. 

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.” 

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas. 

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.” 

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend. 

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth. 

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely. 

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?” 

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass. 

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite. 

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.” 

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.” 

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood. 

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back. 

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.” 

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.” 

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten. 

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.  

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump. 

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another. 

At least this one’s easy on the eyes. 

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (writing masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[estapa-edwards]

BAD DAY - M. REMPE

paring: Matt Rempe x fem! reader

word count: 0.8k

requested? yes - Hi! Hope you have a good week! I really love your work! My request; what about Quinn, Bedard, Rempe, Bordeleau, Matthews (& anyone else you fancy) with reader (either dating, friends, or siblings) who is having a bad day or something along those lines (reader is in needs of hugs & cuddles)?

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

In the bustling realm of professional ice hockey, where adrenaline meets the cold bite of competition, few stories captivate fans more than that of a rookie rising to prominence. Matt Rempe, a fresh face on the roster of the legendary New York Rangers, embodies this tale of determination, skill, and heart. But beyond the rinks and cheering crowds lies a quieter narrative, one of love, support, and comfort shared between Matt and his girlfriend Y/N.

As Matt's career soared, Y/N remained his steadfast anchor through the highs and lows. Yet, even the most resilient souls face days heavy with burdens, and one particular evening found Y/N battling the weight of a particularly trying day. The stress of work, combined with personal struggles, cast a shadow over her usual effervescent spirit.

It was amidst this backdrop of emotional turbulence that Matt returned home from practice, his mind still buzzing with the intensity of the ice. Stepping into their shared apartment, he sensed the heaviness in the air, the subtle shift in Y/N's demeanor. Without a word, he closed the door behind him and crossed the room to where she sat, a silent sentinel amidst a sea of thoughts.

"Matty..." Y/N's voice wavered, laden with the weight of unspoken troubles.

Matt knelt before her, his eyes gentle yet probing. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked softly, his hand reaching out to brush away a stray lock of hair from her face.

Y/N sighed, the dam of her emotions threatening to break. "It's just been... one of those days, you know? Everything feels like it's going wrong," she confessed, her gaze seeking solace in his steady presence.

Matt's heart clenched at the sight of her vulnerability, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand to her. "Come here," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil of her mind.

With a hesitant nod, Y/N accepted his offer, allowing him to draw her into his embrace. In the shelter of his arms, she found refuge from the storm raging within, the warmth of his touch chasing away the chill of uncertainty.

As Y/N leaned into Matt's embrace, she could feel the tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and security that only he could provide. His arms enveloped her with a strength that was both comforting and reassuring, anchoring her to the present moment amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

With her head nestled against his chest, Y/N could hear the steady rhythm of Matt's heartbeat, a steady cadence that echoed the promise of his unwavering support. Each beat seemed to whisper words of solace, soothing her troubled mind with its gentle melody.

Matt's fingers traced soothing circles along her back, his touch a gentle caress that seemed to chase away the shadows lurking in the corners of her consciousness. In that moment, there was no need for words—his presence alone was enough to dispel the lingering doubts and fears that had plagued her throughout the day.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, time seemed to stand still, cocooning them in a bubble of tranquility amidst the chaos of the world outside. For in that fleeting moment, all that mattered was the love they shared, a bond forged in the crucible of life's trials and tribulations.

With a soft sigh, Y/N felt the last remnants of tension slip away, replaced by a sense of serenity that washed over her like a gentle tide. In Matt's arms, she found the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead, secure in the knowledge that she was not alone.

"You don't have to carry this alone," he whispered, his words a gentle reminder of their shared journey. "I'm here for you, always."

Matt's voice was a soft murmur, his words a gentle reassurance that washed over Y/N like a soothing balm. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability.

"I know," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "And I'm so grateful for you."

Matt's expression softened, his gaze filled with an understanding that went beyond mere words. He brushed a tender kiss against her forehead, a silent affirmation of his love and support.

"Whenever you're ready to talk about it, I'm here," he said, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

Y/N nodded, the weight of her troubles still heavy upon her shoulders, but somehow lighter now, knowing that she didn't have to face them alone. With Matt by her side, she felt a renewed sense of strength and courage, ready to confront whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Matt simply smiled, his eyes reflecting the depth of his love for her. And in that moment, as they stood together in the quiet sanctuary of their love, Y/N knew that no matter what life threw their way, as long as they had each other, they could overcome anything.

[sailorgoon13]

Mattheo Riddle

Basics:

Full Name: Mattheo Riddle

Nickname: Matt, Matty

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 31 December, 1979

Heritage: English

Blood Status: Half- Blood

Wand: Yew, Dragon Heartstring, 13", Flexible

Appearance:

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Dark brown, almost black in some lighting

Skin Tone: Fair. Porcelain like

Height: 6'2"

Body Type: Lean, Athletic

Style: Mix of sophisticated and modern comfort. Tailored joggers, designer hoodies, and sleek leather jackets for a look that's both stylish and comfortable. His wardrobe is filled with premium basics like fitted T-shirts, cashmere sweaters, and designer sneakers.

Features: Intense gaze, Chiseled Jawline, Athletic build, Confident demeanor, Dark Aura, Magnetic Charm, Style, Always smoking a cigarette

Personality:

Traits: Ambitious, Intelligence, Charisma, Protective, Independant

Likes: Reading, Hanging out with friends, Causing Mischief,

Dislikes: Incompetence, Weakness, Conformity, Modesty

Hobbies: Quidditch, Dueling, Learning thing outside of the school curriculum, drawing

Fears: His father, Failure, Loss of control, Betrayal

Family and Friends:

Father: Tom Riddle Jr.

Known as Voldemort/ Dark Lord

Imprisoned on maximum security in Azkaban

Mother: Unknown

Was a follower of the Dark Lords

Died in childbirth

Friends: Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Enzo Berkshire

Magic:

Special Abilities: Natural aptitude to the Dark Arts, Parseltongue

Boggart: A dark version of himself

Patronus: Raven

Polyjuice: It might appear as a deep shade of burgundy or midnight blue. It would have a complex taste of rich spices like cinnamon and clove with a bitterness of black coffee

Amortentia: Old books, fresh pine and smoke

Backstory:

Mattheo Riddle was born on a cold winter's night in December 1979, the only child of Tom Riddle Jr., better known as the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort, and an unnamed witch who was a devoted follower of the Dark Arts. Mattheo's mother died in childbirth, leaving him orphaned from the moment he drew his first breath. Raised by other followers of his father, Mattheo grew up surrounded by darkness and secrecy, his childhood steeped in the shadows of his family's dark legacy.

From a young age, Mattheo exhibited a keen intellect and a thirst for knowledge that surpassed his years. Despite his upbringing among dark wizards and witches, he was drawn to the complexities of magic and the mysteries of the wizarding world. He devoured books on ancient spells, studied the intricacies of potion-making, and honed his magical skills with a diligence and determination that belied his tender age.

As Mattheo grew older, he began to chafe against the constraints of his family's legacy, yearning to carve out his own path in the world beyond the shadows of his father's name. When he received his letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of eleven, it was both a moment of triumph and trepidation. He knew that Hogwarts would be his chance to escape the dark influences that had surrounded him since birth, but he also feared the expectations that would follow him wherever he went.

At Hogwarts, Mattheo quickly distinguished himself as a student of exceptional talent and ambition. He excelled in his studies, earning top marks in every subject and mastering spells that left even his professors in awe. He became known for his sharp wit, his confident demeanor, and his ability to effortlessly navigate the complexities of wizarding society. Despite his aloof exterior, he formed close bonds with a select group of friends, including Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Enzo Berkshire, forming a tight-knit circle that would become the envy of the school.

Outside of the classroom, Mattheo's reputation as a Quidditch prodigy preceded him. He was a natural on the broomstick, with a skill and agility that made him a formidable opponent on the Quidditch pitch. He led the Slytherin Quidditch team to victory after victory, earning accolades and admiration from his peers and cementing his status as one of Hogwarts' most celebrated athletes.

Despite his success and popularity, Mattheo struggled with the weight of his family's legacy and the expectations that came with bearing the name of Voldemort. He grappled with questions of identity and morality, torn between the darkness of his heritage and the light that flickered within him. He yearned to break free from the shadows that had haunted him since birth, but he knew that the legacy of his father would always loom large over his life.

As he approached his final year at Hogwarts, Mattheo stood at a crossroads, torn between the past that defined him and the future that beckoned with promise. With graduation looming on the horizon, he knew that he would soon have to make a choice that would shape the course of his destiny. But for now, he would continue to walk the fine line between light and darkness, navigating the complexities of his heritage with courage and conviction, determined to forge his own path in a world that sought to define him by the sins of his father.

Academics:

Best Subject: DADA

Favorite Subject: Potions

Favorite Professor: Snape

Worst Subject: Muggle Studies

Least Favorite Subject: History of Magic

Least Favorite Professor: Binns

Student Life:

A mix of academic excellence, social prominence, and a constant struggle to define his own identity in the shadow of his father

Stood out as one of the brightest students, excelling and mastering more than just the curriculum

Popular, despite his challenges.

Is at every Slytherin event

Slytherin beater on the Quidditch team

Walks a fine line of light and dark, wrestling with his demons from his past

Is really just a puppy-eyed boy behind his tough exterior

Template: @hazyange1s

[aswaki]

just think of dacryphilia and how matthew would be into that

seok matthew x reader. blurb. explicit (minors dni). contains: afab bodied!reader, dacryphilia, oral (reader receiving), edging

it happened on accident. really, you must believe him.

matthew didn't mean to... guilt would rise up in him for a little bit but did you have to be that beautiful when tears were welling up in your eyes and spilling over your lashes?

he couldn't help himself adoring your tear stained cheeks, red waterline, and quivering bottom lip... his cock found itself adoring you too as it got painfully hard as he looked at you crying.

this was an interesting discovery for him. it'd give him an idea— he'd make it his mission to have you in tears when fooling around to test his depravity.

you were sweet and obedient— you'd do it, right? even when he wouldn't tell you of his plans? you'd definitely cry for him, right?

you were his angel because you did cry for him.

matthew was just eating you out yet here you were already overstimulated by his skillful tongue and nimble fingers. he indulged himself with you; depravity be damned.

he would find his gaze shifting to your face every now and then as he continued to eat you out just so he could admire your mouth hanging open to release whimpers and the salty tears streaking down your face— if you had make up on, you bet the mascara streaks would make matthew lose his shit.

he loved hearing how your voice contorted into sobs. was it from pleasure? or pain? he didn't know.

all matthew knew was that you were so cute holding on to his hair to find something to ground yourself on while soft mewls escape your alluring lips.

you'd end up begging— for what? again, the both of you had no clue if you wanted him to stop or if you finally wanted him to fuck you with his cock. you were simply out of your mind begging and crying for matthew.

it really shouldn't turn matthew on— your vulnerability —but it made him feral to have you be a sobbing mess. he knew you'd be like this for him.

he was sure you weren't even aware you were crying.

later on, matthew would come to find that not touching you for a while would have you be overly sensitive to the brink of tears. also edging? an easy way to get you to cry. he thought it was worth it to prolong your orgasm as long as he got to see you shake and sob under his command. (he wondered if you've caught on with his little obsession.)

oh, how he had a passion in learning ways to make you weep.

shh, don't worry, though. it's okay. your matty's here to caress your cheeks and whisper sweet nothings in your ear afterwards to show how good you were in letting him do what he wants with you.

you're so pretty when you cry.

[abiiors]

the ball's in your court - george x reader (ft. matty tihi) ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🔆:✧˚.🍉⋆𖧧🐚

a/n: aka the challengers au threesome aka utter summer filth. this is mostly george, matty's just in it because he's pretty cw: very pathetic descriptions of tennis because i know fuckall about it. men kissing (happy pride month), semi awful flirting i guess but it's not too bad this time, threesome, cumplay, joint fingering??? blowjobs, masturbation, no actual p in v sex though wc: 4k

sweat. that’s the first thing you remember. sweat dripping on the hot tennis court on a blistering day in june, running down their faces in rivulets and flying off in droplets whenever they jump and run and swing and breathe. 

sweat, soaking their t-shirts, making it cling to their sculpted bodies. their sun-tanned arms move beautifully. they’re visually appealing, at least, even if their tennis skills are a bit pathetic. too much twisting of the wrist, too much swish, a shot that’s too wide, a shot that’s not wide enough. 

at least they’re good entertainment if not good players. the joy of watching country club brats fall flat on their asses is like no other. 

you pop the gum in your mouth, and watch them from the shade. matty and george. george and matty. 

they’re regulars, and they might not know you or your name, but you know them. in the same way you know the creak in a stair—not because you’ve tried to look for it and made an effort, but because it’s a force of habit. 

you’ve watched them so many times too, right here on this court, taking out their aggressions on their rackets and tennis balls. their t-shirts ride up each time they jump, exposing their tattoo-covered torsos, the bands of their underwear. the muscles in their thighs are pulled taut too—they’re nice to look at, you think. certainly easy on the eyes. 

“we have audience,” george says, his eyes trained on matty, his mouth curved upwards into a smirk. not once does he look at you. 

matty looks at you from the corner of his eyes. his gorgeous, dark curls are plastered on his forehead, the bridge of his straight nose glistens with sweat. you bite your lip in anticipation. 

you should have gone straight inside after making sure all the balls on the empty courts were collected. you should’ve been making sure you’re not needed somewhere else. and yet here you are… indulging. 

“what do you do? just watch?” george asks loudly. suddenly, his dark gaze is trained on you. the sun might be on them directly but it’s you who feels dizzy. 

you push off the wall, walk a little further and out of the shade. “i work here.”

for a bit he doesn’t say anything, he just looks at matty who seems to be barely stifling a smile. you can’t quite decipher what happens between them then, a nod and a coy smile, like it’s their little secret code. it’s about you, that much you’re sure of. 

and your point is proven a second later when george sets his racket down and walks up to you. 

up close he’s huge, tall enough to tower over you and leave you craning your neck. the hollow of his throat is pink with a hint of sunburn, glistening just like the rest of his forehead. his white uniform is stained with grass a little, but you doubt that bothers someone like him, someone rich enough to afford a year long membership at one of the top country clubs. 

you don’t back away from him though. if anything, you wonder if you should take a step closer, wonder if you should give matty a show since he’s so busy gawking at you and george. 

george, to his credit, doesn’t try to cross the boundary. although he certainly toes it. 

“no, i can see that,” george thumbs the top button of your uniform, the one right below your throat and just above the dip between your breast. he toys with it a second, until it threatens to pop open. “i mean what do you do on the court? just watch? or…” 

“do i play, you mean.” you place your thumb over his, pop the button open easily since it’s already so precarious. when george raises his eyebrow, you shrug. “what? it’s hot.”

george rolls his eyes, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his face too. “oh, do you?”

“a little, we aren’t allowed, technically,” you admit, “but the patrons…” 

“old, sleazy men who like pretty girls in tennis skirts?” 

you laugh. “yeah, them. the managers can’t say no to patrons. and i can’t say no to tips.” 

the club’s not being very subtle either, what with your uniform being a literal tennis skirt, not one that might be functional in the slightest, not for its actual purpose anyway… 

george takes a moment to look you up and down. you can’t lie, it’s certainly flattering to steal his attention like this. 

“george!” matty calls out for him, shitting-eating grin stretched wide on his face. “quit flirting and come back for the next set.”

“yeah, go back for the next set, george,” you tease, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. he doesn’t move an inch. 

“come play a few sets with us.”

“there’ll be three of us. a bit crowded, no?” 

“why?” he cocks an eyebrow, “afraid you can’t take both of us on?”

you look him up and down, lingering especially on the t-shirt sticking to his stomach and his broad chest. then you click your tongue. “the real question is… can you take me on?”

george is distraction personified. 

you decide it’s best to play against matty first—george decides it, more like and you agree. except now that he’s sat in a chair, legs sprawled wide and t-shirt discarded on the ground, you regret it.

the tattoos covering his arms glisten under the sun, his tanned sweaty chest makes your head turn every few seconds, and every time george catches you staring, he smirks. insufferable, annoying, fucking hot. 

focusing on matty’s no better for you. he’s worse than you at tennis, that much is a fact. you’ve already won the first set against him, but then he has that way of staring at you across the net, curls dropping in his eyes, and his crooked smile on display. it’s disarming, if you’re being completely honest. 

“a break?” george calls out when you set your racket down. you are panting a little, but it has little to do with the sport and more to do with the other kinds of heat coursing through you. 

“maybe…” you begin walking off court, toying with the idea of undoing another button. it would be crass… 

across the court, matty takes his t-shirt off too, throws it on the ground and takes a swig out of his bottle. you sit closer to george. 

once your breathing returns a bit to normal, you train your gaze on him, on the way he looks at you with barely concealed interest, subtly flexing his arms while he leans forward, elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists. his jaw looks sharp enough to cut like this, and yet you have the strongest urge to run your finger along it. maybe even your tongue. 

“my friend’s dying for your number.” his tone is so nonchalant that you almost miss it. 

“matty?” you steal a subtle glance at him, lying there on the court shirtless, sun warming his skin. “and he told you this…when?”

george pokes his tongue in his cheek, concealing a smile. “we don’t always have to talk, love…”

“i see…” you mirror his pose, leaning forward with just as much interest, relishing in the way his gaze dips to your cleavage and then back up to your face. a quick glance, a stolen glance. “and you’re not? dying for my number?”

“would you like me to?”

“would you rather i go home with your friend?”

“oh who said anything about going home?”

an image flashes in your head. you, george, matty—in the locker room that would be empty this late in the day, but of course there’s always a chance someone might walk in. someone might see… quickly, you cross your legs together. george notes the movement with much interest. 

“what would you do? just watch?” you steal another lingering glance at matty, who’s sitting up by now, forearms on his knees, watching this exchange with a kind of intensity on his face that you haven’t seen yet. 

“there are worse things than watching, won’t you agree?” george steals your attention away again. 

“and is that what you do? watch?”

george laughs, leaning back. then he hooks his foot under your chair, swiftly pulling you closer somehow on the grassy turf. 

“where?”

“the lockers are free.”

“i’m serious…” he looks at matty, nodding subtly, “we are serious.”

“who says i’m not?”

matty gets up then, dusting off his shorts and walking up to you, right behind you, until his hands are on your shoulders, lightly massaging. you can’t resist a low moan that slips out of you, rolling your head back and closing your eyes. you hope he’s just as good with his hands everywhere else…

“have you decided then,” matty asks, “picked one of us?”

“why not both?”

matty grins, all sharp teeth and wicked smugness. “if that’s what you wish.”

“aren’t you so bold on the court,” george’s breath is hot on your neck, his arms circling your waist, fingers trailing under your t-shirt and up, up, up until the graze the underside of your boob. you hiss, matty falters in his step. 

still, he doesn’t turn, surveying the locker room like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “matty?”

george’s hand still. “oh is that who you want now?”

“want you both,” you moan, “like i was promised.”

“you were promised—” george whirls you around, manhandling you like you weigh nothing to him until you’re pressed flush against his chest, and he’s close enough for you to kiss him “—nothing.”

“come on, now…” matty’s there suddenly, pressing his chest against your back, grabbing your hips until you can feel his hard dick against your ass. “let’s not lie.”

“mmm i like matty,” you smirk at george, then turn your head sideways so matty can grab your jaw like there’s no tomorrow. at this angle it’s an awkward kiss—teeth against your lips and his tongue on the inside of your cheek, but you gasp just the same, throwing yourself into it. 

george takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck. it’s more than just a kiss, if anything you know it’s going to leave a mark impossible to hide. his teeth graze over your pulse point, tongue circling it until you moan loudly into matty’s mouth. 

george pushes against you. “shower. now.” 

his voice is a growl, low and urgent, and not one bone in your body is capable of disobeying him. you break the kiss and turn back to george, walking backwards toward the open showers, making sure not to break eye contact. you do however undo a button of your shirt with each step until it’s completely off you, leaving you in a cream lacy bra and the tiny tennis skirts. matty whistles appreciatively, about to take his shirt off too. 

“no,” you object, almost inside the cubicle. “i want george to take off your t-shirt. go on now.”

matty raises an eyebrow and turns to look back at george. his eyes are still trained on you however, glittering with a challenge. 

“oh you want a show, darling? she wants a show matty…”

matty hmms, “go on, do it then.”

you bite your lip, eyes trailing on their bodies with barely concealed lust. george grips matty’s jaw. it’s not forceful or harsh, but it is enough that his eyes widen. he doesn’t move away though, he just lets george pull him closer and tilt his chin up. he just lets george pull him into a kiss. 

it’s a sloppy kiss—teeth colliding against each other, mouths moving out of sync—it’s a mess, frankly. and yet you can’t look away as george holds onto matty’s neck, fingers tight around the nape and lips hot on his jaw and for a moment it’s like you’re not in the room at all. 

matty whimpers. it’s a pathetic little sound that sends a bolt of thrill straight to your cunt, and you rub your thighs together, clenching in anticipation.

they only break the kiss so george can pull the t-shirt off matty and discard it into a rag. you’ve had enough of being ignored. 

“oh you are greedy,” he taunts, gripping your wrist tight just when you try to undress him. something tells you he’s used to getting what he wants, inside the bedroom and outside. 

“you’ll have to earn it though,” matty joins in. 

earn. yes. 

breathlessly, you nod, blood pumping through you at a dizzying pace. you know what george wants as he stares at your mouth, far longer than before. and so you give in, eager to please and to taste him, and you kneel, right there on the cold bathroom floor. 

“is this good enough?”

“much better,” he smirks, tracing your lip with his thumb. it would almost be a loving gesture if it weren’t for the utter and complete lust written all over his face. 

george looks eager, exchanging glances with matty, who stands against the wall, watching. his shorts are almost pulled down, exposing the v of his pelvis and the boner that he palms. matty is content watching. you turn your attention back to george. 

george leans against the wall, discarding his t-shirt somewhere and letting you pull his shorts down until they’re around his ankles, until he’s completely exposed with his hard cock centimetres away from your face. your mouth waters at the sight of him, but you choose to put your hand around him first. around his base, holding him in one hand while the other rests on his thigh. the bathroom tiles dig into your knees, but george groans and suddenly it’s all worth it.

he moans when you move your hand—a trail of your finger up along the thick vein that runs along his underside. you stare at him through your lashes, making sure he’s looking at you when you lick up his slit, already leaking with precum. 

“fuck…” matty groans behind you. 

you rather like this attention, like the fact that he’s getting off to the sight of you on your knees, about to get face-fucked by his best friend. 

george tries hard to keep his eyes open, to watch you as you put just the tip of his cock in your mouth. your hand is wrapped around his base, pumping lightly. you know it feels good because a moment later, his eyes flutter shut. 

his soft sighs turn into groans as you take him deeper into your mouth, only halfway through, still pumping him with one hand and swirling your tongue around his tip. the weight of it feels delicious on your tongue, the taste and the smell of sweat and grass and remnants off his cologne. it’s an odd mix, one that wouldn’t appeal to you otherwise. but here, now, it breaks through any semblance of control you feel over yourself, even as you try to take it slow, tease him mercilessly before you give him anything else.

but george is getting desperate, his hips bucks as he thrusts into your mouth reflexively, making you gag slightly. instead of apologising, george smirks. matty whimpers too, the sound of skin on skin and you look up at george, at his eyes that flit between you sucking him off and matty pleasuring himself. 

“do it again,” you tell him, clenching your thighs together for at least some friction. 

george raises an eyebrow. “that how wanna be treated?” his voice has almost turned into a growl, something so deep and feral, it has you taking him deeper into your mouth, all the way until you gag around him once more. 

“she’s asking so nicely,” matty taunts, breathing harshly between words. 

whatever hold george has on himself snaps at the encouragement. his fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts his hips again, faster than before, harder. and with each thrust you feel more of his control slipping. 

you feel the saliva pooling in your mouth each time his tip hits the back of your throat, feel the burn around your mouth from his thickness. feel the ache between your legs that grows stronger and stronger. 

“oh fucking! shit—” he moans, cutting himself off as you hum around him and hollow your cheeks. your scalp stings from his hold, mixing pain and pleasure, making you hiss each time. 

somewhere in the meantime, matty has walked up to you, completely naked now and so much closer, closer still when he kneels next to you. you whimper, pleading to be touched, even if it’s just a little. matty seems to understand what you want. 

“such a perfect girl,” he coos, words falling carelessly off his lips while he pumps himself slowly. matty waits a moment, then unhooks your bra, letting it fall off you before he grabs one of your tits in his hand, pinching the nipple between his fingers and rolling it until white hot pleasure zings through you. your jaw grows slack and george groans in frustration. 

“did i tell you to stop?” 

you come back to the present, back to matty touching you while he’s touching himself, back to george with the tip of his cock resting on your lips, back to the ache between your legs. 

you take him in deeper as frustration builds in your body, a need for release so strong that you might almost be on the brink of insanity. 

both george and matty pant, their breaths coming out harsher, and even when your jaw aches and saliva dribbles down your chin, george keeps going, fucking your face like your nothing but a blow-up doll to him. 

“good girl,” he grunts between them, “perfect, perfect girl.” and you know it’s not long now, you can feel him twitching inside your mouth, can feel the way his hips buck and his moans grow louder. you hollow your cheeks again, moan again to let the vibration do its job. 

matty moves to stand behind you, breathing loud and almost irregular.

“shit shit shit—” george pants, eyes rolled to the back of his head and jaw slack from pleasure, “gonna cum,” he moans, “gonna cum in your mouth okay?”

you want to say yes, nod, something to let him know how badly you want to taste him, for him to fill up your mouth. 

his entire body tenses in that moment, stomach tightening visibly before you feel the thick, warm cum shoot right into your throat and all the way down. you try to keep up with him, swallowing everything he gives you but some of it dribbles down your chin anyway, mixing in with the drool, making a mess. 

almost exactly a second later, ropes of cum shoot down your back, your spine. matty, reaching his own orgasm. it’s utterly pornographic, the scene—you on your knees with cum dribbling down your chin and your spine. two men staring at you with lust-riddled eyes, in complete and utter awe.

“pretty little mess,” matty sighs softly, as if reading your mind. george still thrusts in your mouth, gentler now as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, his cock leaking with the last drops of cum. 

you keep your mouth open when he pulls out, letting him see his release on your tongue—thick and white and milky. then you turn to matty. “wanna share?”

matty nods, crashing his lips against yours. the moment his tongue slips inside your mouth you moan. he can taste george on your tongue, can taste every drop of his cum you failed to swallow. you bite his lip, enjoying his hiss a little too much. matty lets you though…

he’s too busy digging his fingers in your jaw and your neck, almost squeezing the sides of your throat. it’s not enough to cut off air completely, but it’s enough to make your head spin. 

when matty pulls back, milky release almost coating on his lips, you feel the breath leave you in a whoosh. 

george kneels next to you, hand on your hip. 

“take this off, yeah?” his fingers taps against the waistline of your skirt. “your turn now.”

“touch me,” you whimper, grabbing george’s hand and moving it up your thigh until his fingers are practically at your aching cunt. he stills and looks at you with a grin. 

“matty can help, can’t he?”

“wha—”

“you’ve been so good to us” he whispers right into your ear, nips your earlobe while he’s at it too and you moan just from the thought of it—both their fingers stretching you out, making your see stars, the taste of cum still linger on your lips and you nod, breathless, spreading your legs to bare everything to them. 

“please,” you nod eagerly, letting matty part your legs wider, letting him graze your thigh. george, not one to be outdone, joins in a second later. 

this time when you kiss matty, you make sure to slip your tongue inside, something he seems to enjoy a little too much, and you take advantage of his distraction. 

“like that,” you moan in his mouth and grab his hand, pushing a finger inside and searching for george’s hand right after. 

“want more?” he smirks. his eyes look pitch black, blown out wide and so dark, it sends a thrill down your spine. 

george presses a kiss on your neck again, mouth rough, all teeth and tongue until you’re close to a blackout and grinding on his hand. you feel the stretch when his fingers enter you, right alongside matty’s. their hands work in tandem, pulling out and pushing in, and the burn of the stretch is divine. your eyes close of their own accord, hips undulating, back arched. 

“please d-don’t stop,” you beg, moving your hips faster and faster, matching the thrust of their fingers, “i’ll die if you stop.”

your voice is raspy and rough, like you’ve been screaming unintelligible things for hours. and maybe you have been; your body certainly feels like it, on fire with a current running down your spine every time their fingers push in deeper. 

“won’t” george promises, at least you think it’s him. his voice has morphed into something you barely recognise. but his hand moves faster and faster, thumb circling your clit, and that’s all you seem to care about. 

“ohgodohgodohgod,” you chant like a blind devotee, drunk on them both, pathetic and desperate. matty’s moves, kissing the other side of your neck, teeth over your earlobe and tongue against your collarbone. if tomorrow you woke up covered in hickeys, you won’t regret it one bit.

heat burns hotter in your chest, the bottom of your spine as you clench around their fingers, stretched out and almost at the edge 

“that’s it baby, look at me,” george says. no…it’s almost an order, “look at me when you cum.”

instinctually, you open your eyes, look right at him—at his face that is so close to yours you can practically feel his breath fan your cheek, at his completely dilated pupils and swollen mouth. he kisses you hard and rough, probably tasting himself on your tongue and that tips you over the edge. 

with a cry you cum all over their hands, panting and breathing hard. it’s barely even audible over the rushing blood. 

“fuck—” matty chokes, utterly speechless. you feel no different. 

instead, when matty pulls his hand out, you take a hold of it, place it in your mouth. he makes a sound at the back of his throat—a choked moan like he can’t take it anymore. the moan frees itself when you swirl your tongue around his fingers, licking every inch of them, sucking them clean, not breaking eye contact even once.

you turn to george next, almost expecting him to stick his fingers in your mouth, shoved deep down until you gag around them too but he’s quicker, eager enough to swirl his tongue around them while you and matty watch. 

“at least you’re better at this than tennis,” you mock, earning an eye roll from george and a laugh from matty.

the showers stink of cum and sweat. 

your uniform is probably unusable now. fuck.

with shaky legs you get off the floor, utterly naked, with no idea how to go back outside and how to do your job. 

“shower?” matty asks, utterly nonchalant. 

george looks at you for an answer. oh well… “and a smoke after that,” you add. 

“that’s the plan then,” he agrees and turns the shower on. 

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