#but I was getting a little too into the satisfaction of it. And if you let yourself gloat in being nasty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 2 days ago

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kinikilig — itadori yuji.

“Ugh, they’re driving me crazy!" Yuuji groaned, flopping dramatically onto the dorm couch. He had dragged Megumi and Nobara into his ordeal, much to their dismay. “You’re driving us crazy, Itadori.” Nobara shot back, arms crossed as she glared at him. “Do you realize how many times you’ve ranted about this today?” “But I’m serious!" Yuuji sat up, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Every time I try to ask them what they want, I get all... I don’t know, flustered. And then I just start staring at them instead of saying anything. And then they make a joke, and I laugh, and—" He buried his face in his hands. “I just really love them, okay?!”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Safe For Work (SFW), Post-Canon, Christmas, Aged Up Characters (Yuuji and Reader are 18+), Fluff, Young Love, Dating, Relationships, Romance, Pet Names (Babe, Yuu-chan, etc), Established Relationship, Teasing, Minor Drama, Feelings, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Humor, Domesticity, Slice of Life, Light-Hearted, Pining, Holding Hands, Doubt, Profanity, Nanami and His Wife Cameo, Itafushikugi Sibling Coded;

WORD COUNT: 4.6k words.

NOTE: i promised to write this because there was a huge need to yuuji content. posting this for you @rreveurdoll as much as this is for me. and since it is christmas eve (still day time) in asia, i might as well post this since i will be sleeping for a bit!!! i hope everyone is well and happy this holiday. i'll be posting a christmas art everyone is welcome to enjoy and print out as a card or sticker. happy holidays to everyone!!! i love you!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

kilig (adjective) — "exhilarated by an exciting or romantic experience"; such feeling can be something as idiomatic as saying, "hey, i'm feeling butterflies in my stomach for you!" or next best thing to that which is "i'm genuinely feeling excited!"

“SHIT!” — THOSE WERE THE WORDS HE ENDED UP SAYING, EVEN WHEN HE DIDN’T MEAN TO. But the word echoed louder than Itadori Yuuji intended, startling an elderly woman walking past him on the crowded street. He winced and muttered an apologetic “Sorry!"under his breath, clutching the shopping bags in his hands a little tighter.

Itadori Yuuji wasn’t one to curse out loud. He prided himself on his optimism and his ability to keep things light-hearted even in the most stressful situations. But this? This was different. This time, Yuuji felt the situation demanded it. Because at this rate, he was setting himself up for failure.

He groaned, running a hand through his messy pink hair as he stood frozen in the middle of the bustling holiday crowd. Glittering lights adorned the storefronts, garlands hung in perfect loops above doorways.

And the faint melody of carolers blended with the hum of city life. The festive energy was palpable, but none of it helped ease the knot tightening in Yuuji’s stomach. How could it? This situation is driving him to a cliff of endless worries he doesn't want to end up in.

It was lovely Christmas time once more. You loved it as much as he did. It was the season of cheer, joy, and giving; it had everything and more! And the Tokyo streets buzzed with life for it. People rushed by with shopping bags brimming with carefully chosen gifts, their faces alight with excitement and satisfaction. It felt like everyone had their holiday plans perfectly in order.

Everyone except Itadori Yuuji.

This year was supposed to be special. It was his first Christmas with you as his lover, and he wanted everything to be perfect. Scratch that—he needed it to be perfect. You were his whole world, his everything, and this gift needed to show you just how much you meant to him.

But the harder he tried, the more overwhelmed he became. He’d scoured countless stores, browsed endless online listings, and spent hours walking in circles around the mall. Yet no matter where he looked, nothing felt right. Everything he picked up seemed too small, too impersonal, or just not enough.

It wasn’t that Yuuji didn’t know you. He knew the little things that made you happy. The way your bright eyes lit up at the sight of something sweet, how your laugh always started with a soft giggle before it burst into pure, unrestrained joy. He knew your favorite colors, your favorite snacks, and the way you always hummed under your breath when you were lost in thought.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because knowing you so well only made him want to give you something truly extraordinary. Something that could somehow capture just how much he adored you. But every time he thought about it, his mind short-circuited, overwhelmed by a love that was too big for words—or holiday gifts.

“Ugh, what am I going to do?" Yuuji muttered, dragging himself into yet another store. The cheerful holiday music playing in the background did nothing to soothe his nerves as he wandered aimlessly past rows of glittering ornaments and festive knick-knacks.

If he didn’t figure this out soon, he’d end up empty-handed on Christmas morning. And that, to him, was simply unacceptable. The thing was, Yuuji wasn’t bad at shopping. He’d always been good at it. Grandpa Wasuke said so! In fact, the act of searching was easy. He had a good eye for thoughtful details and a knack for picking up on what people might enjoy.

Over the past few weeks, he had ventured into dozens of stores, scrutinizing shelves of trinkets, clothes, and gadgets. He’d spent hours scrolling through endless online listings, carefully reading reviews and comparing options. He’d even braved the chaos of the mall during the holiday rush, weaving through crowds with a determination that rivaled a seasoned shopper.

He wasn’t just browsing aimlessly, either. Yuuji took his mission seriously. As serious as he would be a real sorcerer’s mission. If anything, he’d go on and on even longer than at his missions. Because you deserve nothing but the best. He knew that much. He was going to make sure you get the best and only the best from him. His love was premium. Shouldn’t his gift to you be like that too?

He’d lingered in the holiday gift section, picking up items and putting them back down, imagining how you might react to each one. Would this make you laugh? Would that make your eyes sparkle with excitement? He spent so much time in one store that an employee asked if he needed help—or if he was lost.

The problem wasn’t the act of searching; it was what happened after.

Every time he thought about what you might like, his brain short-circuited. It wasn’t that he didn’t know you well enough. Quite the opposite. Itadori Yuuji adored you. He knew the little things that brought you joy: how your hands curled around a warm mug on chilly mornings, the soft sigh of contentment that followed.

The way your beautiful eyes just lit up, full of passion, whenever you talked about something you loved. The way you had a talent for making the most ordinary days feel extraordinary, whether it was through your humor, your kindness, or just the way you smiled at him like he was your whole world.

And that was the problem.

Because every time Yuuji tries to take the logical next step about it all, he always seems to fail. When he thinks about asking you what you might want for Christmas—he’d freeze. Completely and utterly freeze.

His chest would tighten, his heart would hammer, and he’d lose his words altogether. He’d open his mouth to ask, only to get distracted by how cute you looked while you were busy doing something entirely unrelated.

It wasn’t just love. No, he was sure. It was more than that. Love is not enough to describe how much he loves you. It was the kind of love that left him lightheaded, giddy, and absurdly incapable of functioning like a normal person. Yuuji wasn’t just in love with you; he was ridiculously, overwhelmingly, head-over-heels in love.

And that made everything infinitely harder.

He couldn’t even concentrate when he was around you. Instead of asking what you wanted, he’d catch himself staring, marveling at the way you furrowed your brow while concentrating or how your laughter could turn his worst days into his best. When you cracked a joke (sometimes funny, sometimes not), Yuuji laughed anyway, not because of the joke but because it came from you.

Every time he thought about asking again, he found that the words got stuck in his throat, replaced by a flood of affection he didn’t know how to articulate. He would be a bumbling mess. And you would get worried and ask him if he was okay. But he would babble that he was okay. But he can’t help that either. How could he even begin to express how much you meant to him?

And so, instead of making progress, Yuuji found himself stuck in a loop of adoration and frustration. He’d groan and mutter to himself, pacing his room or staring at the ceiling late at night, wondering how something as simple as picking a Christmas gift could become so complicated.

When did things get complicated? When did things get hard? Everything about this was ruining his ability to think straight. And that wasn’t your fault. It never will be, no. It was his inadequacies as your lover. He was sure of that. He once more groans, earning the looks of his classmates.

“Ugh, they’re driving me crazy!" Yuuji groaned, flopping dramatically onto the dorm couch. He had dragged Megumi and Nobara into his ordeal, much to their dismay.

“You’re driving us crazy, Itadori.” Nobara shot back, arms crossed as she glared at him. “Do you realize how many times you’ve ranted about this today?”

“But I’m serious!" Yuuji sat up, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Every time I try to ask them what they want, I get all... I don’t know, flustered. And then I just start staring at them instead of saying anything. And then they make a joke, and I laugh, and—" He buried his face in his hands. “I just really love them, okay?!”

Megumi, sitting with a book in hand, sighed heavily. “We know. You’ve said it a hundred times.”

“But do you understand how hard it is?!" Yuuji looked at them, his warm eyes wide and desperate. “Like, they’re so amazing. And cute. And funny. Like, even when their jokes aren’t funny! I can’t help it! I laugh anyway because I just... I love them so much! And I just, grrrr! Why can’t I do this right?”

Nobara threw a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face. “You’re ridiculous. Just ask them already!”

“I tried! But every time I think about asking, I get all red and tongue-tied. I can’t even look them in the eye without grinning like an idiot!"Yuuji groaned, sinking back into the couch to wallow in his self-perceived ineptness. “I just... I just want this to be perfect! They’re the ones, guys! I can’t ruin this. I want to... I want to do well.”

“You’re hopeless, aren’t you?” Nobara muttered, rolling her eyes as she grabbed a Christmas cookie from the table.

“Maybe write them a note.” Megumi suggested, not even looking up from his book. “Or I don’t know; stop overthinking everything. I don’t think it matters what you give them. They love you enough for everything else. They’re with you for a reason, Itadori. They like you. Not what you can provide them. It’s not that deep.”

“But it is that deep!" Yuuji exclaimed, flailing his arms. “I want it to be perfect! I want them to know how much they mean to me!”

“Just pick something from the heart, Itadori.” Nobara said, her tone softening slightly. “They’ll love it because it’s from you, dumbass. You don’t need to stress so much.”

Yuuji sighed, hugging the pillow Nobara had thrown at him. Deep down, he knew they were right. It wasn’t about finding the perfect gift. It’s never been like that with you, no. It was about showing you how much he cared. And he already knew how he felt: completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That night, he sat at his desk, the dorm room quiet, save for the faint rustle of snow falling outside his window. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as his mind drifted to you. He thought about the way your laugh always seemed to bubble up like music, filling the air with warmth. He thought about how, even on the darkest days, your presence was enough to make everything feel a little bit brighter, a little bit easier.

With a deep breath, he picked up a pen and a blank sheet of paper, staring at it as if it held all the answers he was looking for. He twirled the pen between his fingers, his heart thudding in his chest. For once, he didn’t try to overthink it. He knew he had the words. He just has to let them go.

He takes a deep breath and looks at the page again. He can do this. He knows he can. Nothing is impossible for love. Nothing is impossible when it comes to loving you. And showing you that, well, he wants to make sure you see it! And so he let the words flow, raw and honest, straight from his heart. He doesn’t stop until he gets every bit of it out.

He started with the small things. How he loved the way you’d hum absentmindedly when you were focused, or how you’d always check to make sure he was okay, even when you were the one who’d had a rough day. He wrote about how much he admired you—your kindness, your resilience, your ability to find joy in the simplest things.

Then, as the words poured out, he wrote about the bigger things. How meeting you had changed him in ways he couldn’t fully explain. How, before you, he hadn’t realized how much brighter life could be. How he’d never known what it felt like to be this happy, this complete, until he met you.

The more he wrote, the lighter he felt. By the time he reached the end of the letter, his hand was cramped, but his heart felt full. He folded the paper carefully, tucking it into an envelope and sealing it with a quiet smile.

The next day, Itadori Yuuji ventured out into the bustling city again. The crisp winter morning coupled with the cold winter air was sharp and frosty, each breath forming little clouds that vanished as quickly as they came. Today was the day he'll get that bonus gift. He will find the perfect one. He knows it.

He wandered from shop to shop, weaving through crowds of last-minute shoppers. He studied every display carefully, letting his instincts guide him to the perfect one. He knew it just had to be here somewhere. Yet, after hours of searching, the doubt began to creep back in.

“What if I can’t find it?”He muttered to himself, the weight of his self-imposed expectations starting to press down again. “No, no. We had this talk, Itadori Yuuji! You will find it. You have the letter; that’s the present. Your love? That’s the gift. This is just a bonus, okay? No pressure!”

Lost in thought and incoherent mumbles to himself, Itadori Yuuji wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and nearly collided with a familiar figure. He blinked for a moment. It was a good thing he wasn’t carrying anything.

“Ah—sorry!” He blurted out, stepping back to apologize. Then he froze. “Nanamin?!”

Standing before him was none other than Nanami Kento, looking as polished as ever in a dark wool coat and a long, warm-colored scarf neatly tucked into place. Beside him was a woman with a kind smile; her arm looped casually through his. She gasped and smiled.

"Itadori-kun.” Kento greeted, raising a brow at the flustered expression on Yuuji’s face. “What are you doing out here?”

“I, uh...” Yuuji scratched the back of his head. “I’m trying to find a Christmas gift for someone. It’s... really important.”

Kento’s wife tilted her head curiously. “You look a little lost, Itadori-kun. Need some help with it?”

Yuuji hesitated, then let out a sheepish laugh. “Honestly? Yeah. I’ve been wandering for hours... Well, for a long while now. And I still don’t know what to get. I mean, I got the letter and everything and my love for them. I think that’s the most important part, but the other part of it is just...”

Kento glanced at his wife, who smiled warmly and squeezed his arm. “Well, lucky for you, I’m a bit of a pro at picking out thoughtful gifts, aren’t I, Kento?” She said to him. “Why don’t we take a look together, Itadori-kun?”

Before Yuuji could protest, she guided him into the next store, her pace brisk yet purposeful. Nanami Kento merely followed a few steps behind, his expression as composed as ever, though Yuuji could swear there was a flicker of amusement in his mentor’s caramel eyes.

“So, Itadori-kun.” Kento’s wife began, glancing at Yuuji as they entered a cozy boutique lined with handmade crafts and ornaments. "Can you tell me a little about your partner? What do they like?”

Yuuji scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling shy. “Well, they love warm drinks, like tea and hot chocolate, especially on cold days like this. They always get this little smile when they’re holding a warm mug.”

Kento’s wife smiled. “That’s a lovely detail. What else?”

“They’re really passionate about their hobbies, a lot really!" Yuuji continued, his voice softening as he thought of you. “When they talk about something they love, their eyes just... light up. It’s amazing. I could listen to them for hours.”

She chuckled, picking up a small handcrafted snow globe from a nearby shelf. “Sounds like you’re pretty smitten, Yuuji.”

Yuuji’s face turned bright red at her comment. “I mean... Yeah.” he admitted, scratching his cheek. “They’re just... really special, you know? Like, every moment with them feels like a gift.”

Nanami Kento, who had been quietly observing, cleared his throat. “Itadori-kun, while that’s touching, perhaps you could focus on specifics. What’s something they’ve mentioned recently? Something they’ve wanted or admired?”

Yuuji paused, thinking hard. Then his warm eyes lit up. “Oh! They mentioned this charm they saw once—something small but meaningful. They said it reminded them of their family. I didn’t think of it until now.”

Kento’s wife clapped her hands together. “Perfect! Let’s see if we can find something like that.”

As they moved through the store, Itadori Yuuji rambled on, describing your quirks and favorite things with so much enthusiasm that even Nanami Kento seemed amused. The kid is passionate about a lot of things; he’d observed that in the time Yuuji and him had spent time together.

But at this level? Never. He’s not seen that at all. But perhaps Kento could find himself relating to the younger man. He too is a man in love who can't help but be frantic when it comes to his own lover. And he too is the type of man who would never shut up about the person he loves.

“They always hum when they’re concentrating. They do that really well too!"Yuuji said, smiling fondly. “But to be honest, Nanamin, it’s the cutest thing. And they’re amazing at turning little moments into something fun, like making a random walk feel like an adventure.”

“You really adore them, don’t you?"Kento's wife asked him, her tone full of teasing.

“I do. I really do,” Yuuji replied earnestly, his expression softening. “I just want to make them as happy as they make me.”

Kento’s wife exchanged a glance with her husband, who gave her a subtle nod. “Well, Itadori-kun, with that much love behind it, whatever you choose will be perfect.”

A moment later, Yuuji’s bright-eyed gaze landed on a beautifully decorated charm tucked away on one of the displays at the corner. It was simple, delicate, and intricately designed—a perfect match for the one you’d described.

“This is it! I think this is it!" Yuuji said, picking it up carefully. His grin grew wider as he imagined your reaction. “I think they’ll love it. I just know it.”

Kento’s wife smiled approvingly. “You did great, Itadori-kun. And now you can relax knowing it’s exactly what they’d want.”

Kento gave a faint smirk at the young man. “Next time, save yourself the trouble and ask them directly, Itadori-kun." It might save you hours of pacing through stores.”

Yuuji laughed, clutching the charm in his hand. “I’ll keep that in mind, Nanamin. Thanks for the help, both of you. I appreciate it. Really.”

Kento’s wife waved off his gratitude with a smile. “It’s nothing, Itadori-kun! You already knew what you wanted, you know? You just needed a little nudge.”

As they walked out of the shop together, they parted ways soon after that. Itadori Yuuji clutched the carefully wrapped gift in his hands, his heart lighter than it had been in days. This wasn’t just a present. It was a piece of his love for you, wrapped in meaning and chosen with care. And he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you opened it.

When Christmas Day arrived, it was just too much. Itadori Yuuji was a bundle of nerves. He paced his room, the gift and letter sitting neatly on his desk. His stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. He practiced what he would say, only to stumble over his words each time.

“What if they don’t like it?” He muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. “What if it’s not enough?”

But all of Yuuji’s doubts melted away the moment you walked in. The door jingled as you stepped inside his dorms, shaking off the chill of the winter air, and the world seemed to slow. He felt like he couldn't breathe. You knocked his air away from his lungs with just your existence. You always have.

You looked effortlessly beautiful to him, even in the simple warmth of your coat and scarf. But it wasn’t just the way you looked—no, it was your presence. That radiant smile of yours, so wondrously bright and delightful. The one that always made his heart skip a beat spread across your face as soon as your eyes landed on him.

“Yuu-chan!” You exclaimed, your voice soft but bright, sending a flutter straight to his chest. You closed the distance between you in a few quick steps, your eyes lighting up with happiness. “I missed you, wah! I’m glad you’re back!”

Yuuji froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the sight of you. He had spent days thinking about this moment, stressing over the gift, over making everything just right—but now that you were standing in front of him, all of that seemed insignificant. The only thing that mattered was you.

“I, uh, got you something, baby.” Yuuji stammered, feeling the warmth flood his cheeks. His hands, which had been shaking since he first picked up the gift, now trembled even more as he extended the small package toward you. “It’s not much, but... It’s from the heart.”

You looked down at the little box in his hands, then back up at him with a soft, knowing smile. "Yuu-chan, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, trying to steady his breath. “But you know that I just….I wanted to. You’re... really important to me, you know? And I just wanted to show you how much I care. That I... I want to express my love for you like this.”

Your heart warmed at his words. You reached forward, gently taking the package from his trembling hands. You couldn’t help but feel like you were going to combust with how much warmth radiated in you because of his tenderness.

Everything about your lover made you feel like the world isn’t a cold place. He was everything that made life so good. You were convinced of that. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was so nervous yet so full of love. It made you feel more cherished than any grand gesture ever could.

You carefully unwrapped the gift, the anticipation in Yuuji’s bright eyes palpable as you slowly revealed what was inside. The beautiful and yet simple charm, delicately designed and elegant in its simplicity, lay nestled in the box.

You gasped softly, your fingers tracing the intricate design. It was everything Yuuji had described and more. It wasn’t flashy, but it held such deep meaning. You didn’t want it to be flashy. You just wanted it to be from him, from his heart. You felt the weight of his love in it and the thoughtfulness behind every detail.

And boy, did it deliver. He always does. Your lover boy always will.

“There’s a letter inside for you, Read it later, okay? If you want—"

“Yuu–chan!” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

His face turned a shade of pink so deep it was almost red, and he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Really? You like it?”

You nodded, eyes glistening. “I love it. I love you.”

Yuuji’s heart skipped a beat, and he could hardly contain the goofy grin that spread across his face. It wasn’t about the gift. Though he was surely sure that he was happy you liked it anyway. But of course, this was more important.

It was about the way you looked at him that made him feel whole and giddy all over again. The way your smile made his chest feel light, the way your love seemed to wrap around him, as real and as warm as the scarf you wore.

“I love you too.” He whispered in a relieved and yet so loving tone. “So much.”

“You’re the best, Yuu-chan!” You said, stepping forward to hug him, the gift still clutched in your hand. His arms instantly wrapped around you, and he buried his face in your hair, breathing you in. “I love it! I love you! Ah, I’m just so happy!”

“I’m just glad you like it, baby.” he mumbled, the words muffled in your hair, but you could hear the relief and joy in his voice. “I was really worried it wouldn’t be enough.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. "Yuu-chan, you don’t need to worry about that. It’s perfect because it’s from you. And that’s all that matters.”

He gazed down at you, the love in his eyes overwhelming. “I... I just want to make you happy. That’s all I ever want.”

And in that moment, as you stood there together, the soft glow of his dorm lights casting a gentle shimmer through the window, Itadori Yuuji realized something that took his breath away. He had already given you the best gift of all, his heart.

All the shopping, all the wrapping, the hours of nervous pacing. All of that. they suddenly seemed so trivial compared to this: the simple, unspoken exchange of love that had passed between the two of you. This was more than enough for him. This was his paradise. This was his Christmas miracle.

His chest swelled with warmth, and he looked down at you with a soft smile, his heart racing just as fast as it had the moment he first met you. No amount of material things, no matter how perfect, could ever compare to the way you made him feel. You were his everything.

Before he could say another word, you stood on your tiptoes, your hands gently cupping his face, and kissed his cheek. The touch was sweet, soft, and full of affection. Yuuji’s warm eyes widened in surprise, the blush creeping up his neck as he felt the warmth of your lips against his skin.

“You’ve done that and more, Yuu-chan! ”You whispered, your voice a little breathless with affection. “Don’t worry!”

His heart fluttered. He felt like he might melt right where he stood. His hands, which had been trembling when he gave you the gift, were now steady as they gently brushed a lock of hair from your face. The tenderness in your words, the way you made him feel so cherished and understood, filled him with a joy that no gift could capture.

“You really think so, baby?”He asked softly, a shy grin pulling at his lips.

“Of course I do,” you replied, smiling up at him with those sparkling eyes of yours. “You’re all I ever need, Yuu-chan.”

The sincerity in your voice made his heart swell, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. The world outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, quiet moment.

“I’m so lucky to have you, baby.” Yuuji whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m never letting you go.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a tight hug. “You don’t have to, Yuuji. I’m not going anywhere.”

He chuckled, his arms instinctively wrapping around you in return, pulling you even closer. “Good. Because I think I’d be lost without you.”

“Merry Christmas, Yuu-chan.” You smiled at him.

He grinned at you, taking to embracing you. “Merry Christmas, baby!"

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leona-hawthorne · 1 day ago

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okay i have been waiting for this on the edge of my seat and i'm so fucking grateful that i finally got to sit down and read it (alone, of course, because my reactions were quite literally animalistic)

let me also add that the warnings themselves had me fucking moaning—alright now let's get into this!!

zoya, your writing truly has me in complete awe. "english is not my first language" okay and it appears that that literally does not matter at all because this??? this was a goddamn masterpiece.

(apologies in advance bc this is going to be an extremely long reblog)

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying.

okay, but this right here??? the way you captured mattheo's essence so perfectly, i’m obsessed. like, he’s not just reckless—he’s raw and magnetic, and that’s such a powerful way to describe someone who’s constantly teetering on the edge of chaos. it’s like you reached into his chaotic little soul and pulled out the perfect words. it’s giving “force of nature,” and the way you wrote it feels so vivid and alive, like i can see him and feel the tension he carries everywhere he goes. your writing is so sharp and evocative, i can’t stop rereading this bit.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

my babyyy, he craves trouble like it’s the only way he can feel noticed. it’s like he’s reduced his own worth to just being seen and perceived by others, even if it means chaos. love how you captured that desperation in such a short line.

every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

how do you set the tone so well?!? the imagery is wildly vivid—i can almost feel the heaviness of the space, like it’s got its own dark history!!

The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

oh this killed me—the tension between wanting something and being terrified of it. mattheo’s vulnerability here is chef's kiss, showing how much he's fighting against his feelings, even when he’s almost lost to them. such a perfect snapshot of their dynamic.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

okay i am genuinely so in love with this whole part, i had to reread it like 3 times 😵‍💫 the internal conflict is so palpable—like, he’s torn between wanting to control something that’s clearly already beyond his grasp, but also secretly wishing to surrender to the one person who can break him. the image of him physically pressing down on his chest to stop it??? i am actually crying, zoya. ugh, and the fact that he doesn't care whether he'd be hurt or cared for—he just wants her, FUCK he is obsessed.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you.

AHDHSFG his possessive ass actually enjoying sharing something??? aw he likes her 😚🤗

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand.

the way he kept laughing like a fucking maniac throughout the entirety of this fic OMG i can almost hear it in my head, he's so fucking hot.

his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there

I'M BLUSHING, idk if he's doing that solely because of the ritual but either way, the fact that he wants to reassure himself that she didn't go anywhere is making my heart squeeze in my chest 🥹

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence.

BITCH??!?! YOU ASSHOLE, hold my hand i'm scared ☹️

He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one.

this is so true—HE'S FUCKING MEAN, but i genuinely have never seen a more angelic man 😭🪽

Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

alr here we go (i'm horny now)

Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care.

well shit, now we're both hard, mattheo!! 🤜💥🤛 (i am drooling at the thought of this rn)

Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin.

no, you actually don't understand—this is so intimate, i can just imagine the silence and the only sound being their heavy ass breathing, its so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 also i think i would lose my mind if my nips were like JUST BARELY brushing against him, what a tease

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did.

idk if you've seen stranger things but this is making me think of when nancy and jonathan did the same exact thing and cut their palms. that scene and the matching scars and just them in general is so dear to me, so this is making me feel so many things rn

Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood.

okay mr vampire!! (this is so fucking hot i am literally struggling to function rn and i am lucky i didn't read this during ovulation 🙂‍↕️)

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?”

MY JAW DROPPED PLEASE OH MY GOD, HIM SPREADING THE COLD BLOOD ON HER STOMACH?? I CAN IMAGINE MYSELF JERKING AWAY OMF YES DADDY I LOVE IT

Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound...

i'm being so serious, this part will live on in my brain forever. him MIMICKING/MOCKING HER MOAN??? HE'S SO MEAN AND COCKY HOLY FUCK THAT WAS SO HOT

he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth.

spreading her own blood all over her body just so he can lick it off, oml can you spread my legs open next, mattheo? 😇 (jk, they're already spread)

The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

first, AJDGHFDJHDRFGJHAFGHJSRGFJHSRF him pressing her tits together just to SHOVE HIS FACE IN BETWEEN oh he's so down bad 🤭 also the "your tits..." BOY. he was so cocky and degrading before—now he's all pathetic and obsessing over her tits? ah, just what I love to see 😮‍💨

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

yes sir please spit in my mouth (he's so nasty and disgusting and i fucking love him for it)

YES PLEASE LET ME SUFFOCATE YOU BETWEEN MY LEGS MATTY PLS 🙏 "let him one day die like this" he is so obsessed god i love this so much

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

THE WAY HE CAN'T TEAR HIS FACE AWAY EVEN JUST FOR A MOMENT TO SPEAK AJDGSGDFHSDFG i would actually be dying at all the praise

clearly, i got a little carried away with this reblog (this is literally the longest reblog i’ve ever made 🧍🏻‍♀️), but what can i say? this was 6.3k words of art and i had to include all my favorite parts 🤷‍♀️🙂‍↕️

love you zoya!!!! 🫂🤍

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which mattheo seeks power and needs your help to perform a blood ritual. WORDS. +6.3K. english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, porn w//plot, mean mattheo, aged up characters, friends to fuck buddies, blood play, blood kink, cuts, spitting, nipple sucking, oral sex f!receiving, pussy drunk mattheo, handjob, dirty talk, biting, marking.

navigation -> masterlist

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

Mattheo was like a storm no one could outrun, an enigma without resolution, and that was exactly what made him so intoxicating. There was something in his presence that pulled people toward him, whether in admiration or fear, and no one could quite decide if it was for better or worse. He wasn’t just hard to ignore; he was impossible to overlook. He demanded attention simply by existing, and it was maddening, the way he could dominate a room with nothing more than a simple glance.

It could have been for a lot of reasons. Maybe it was the way he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, the sharp, biting comments he always seemed to have ready, words that stuck like blood on stone.Or maybe it was the fights, the way he seemed to throw himself into them too often, always coming out with the same satisfied expression. After all, he was the only son of the Dark Lord, and that alone was enough to draw all kinds of attention.

Whatever was the reason, chaos seemed to follow him everywhere, like he thrived on it. Perhaps he didn’t care at all. No outsider really knew, and no one ever tried to figure him out. Nobody had the courage to do so.

Either way, there were always whispers about him, cruel rumors about his personality and massive ego, some saying he was just like his father, or maybe even a darker version of him, while others came from students eager to get close in obscene ways, hoping to spend a night with their bodies tangled in his.

Yet Mattheo didn’t show that he cared, always pretending to be focused on his own goals, moving through the chaos unshaken and unbothered, though deep down, the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

But you had seen enough to know the truth. He was cruel, ruthless, and everything people whispered about him, perhaps even worse. And yet, here you were, trapped in his chaos, each moment with him drawing you deeper into the darkness.

You were trapped. Absolutely trapped.

Perhaps it was in the way he looked at you, his deep brown eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away, leaving you struggling to keep your heart from racing, as if he saw something inside of you that you weren’t capable of seeing. Or maybe it was the way his words stayed in your mind long after they were spoken, carving their way into your thoughts like a knife you didn’t want to pull out, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already in too deep.

If you thought about it more, you didn’t know what had brought you here. The main factor to why you were so attracted to an ongoing fire.

Could be the adrenaline from his strange proposal, or the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his presence always glued to your mind. Could also be the need to be near him, the way your body moved toward his as if it had no will of its own, or perhaps it was the way he seemed to control your heart in a way you couldn’t even understand. It was twisted, even a little scary, but neither of you cared.

After all, you were friends.

You didn’t know when it stopped feeling like curiosity—just a lingering thought— but the doubt never really went away. Instead it became prominent, tight in your chest whenever he was around. There was something darker about him, something dangerous in the way he lived recklessly, only focused on his own desires, how he thrived on the attention he got, pulling you deeper without even trying.

And now, standing there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever came next, there was no turning back. No escape.

The Room of Requirement was cloaked in dark shadows, the silence broken only by the faint hiss of flickering candles. Their soft, wavering light offered a fragile sense of comfort, though it did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, saturated with the acrid tang of burning incense and something darker, almost unspoken.

Torchlight flickered across the cold stone walls, making jagged patterns that twisted and stretched with each almost shiny flicker. That night, the requirement room felt weird, unlike the form other students seemed to used—every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

The faint metallic scent in the air lingered, sharp and heavy, mixed with something even more heavy, felt almost like a warning. On the stone floor, crude runes spiraled out in precise, jagged lines, their edges glowing faintly as though alive and energetic, pulsing in time with the biting silence as if they were watching, waiting to know what was about to take place.

In the center of it all stood Mattheo Riddle, the one person who seemed to take up every space in your mind, his dark robes draping loosely over his strong frame, giving him an effortless air of power, his features, defined and almost angelic, partially hidden by his messy curls that always fell into his pretty eyes.

The flickering torchlight danced off his hair with every movement, making it seem almost alive; there was something strange about how his appearance seemed almost angelic, yet you knew Mattheo’s true personality, making him all the more dangerous, like a trap just waiting for you to step in.

He could look still, even controlled, but there was nothing controlled about this. Nothing about him was controlled.

Mattheo looked at the dagger in his hands, his gaze drifting over the blade, but it wasn’t the dagger that had his attention. It was you. Your eyes were on him, and it felt like he was being torn apart with just that look. It wasn’t like the attention he was used to—no fear or admiration in it.

No, this was different. It was more like an assessment. The weight of your gaze was almost suffocating, as if you were digging into him, getting under his skin in a way that made him feel stupidly exposed and making him feel a strange sensation tighten in his chest, choking his throat in ways he couldn’t understand, and he hated it.

He hated how you made him feel like this—torn between wanting to get closer and wanting to run away from that. And even if it was good or bad; neither mattered. He didn’t want to know. The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers. He wasn't certain which would provide him with greater comfort, but he was certain that if you gave him that satisfaction, he will never be the same again.

Mattheo sighed and shook his head rapidly, making a dramatic gesture as he attempted to avoid your concentrated, evaluating stare on him once more. He concentrated on the tiny silver dagger in his hand, trying not to hold it too firmly in his palm, but nothing could take away the sensation, and even if it didn't cause him any discomfort, the pressure that made it was obvious.

He let out another sigh, this time frustrated, rubbing his forehead, but couldn’t help releasing another, this time a relieved one, when he saw your attention shift to the two circles drawn around him, almost like some kind of illustration, and he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly as he noticed the change in your expression; at the confusion in your eyes and at your furrowed brows as you tried to make sense of the strange symbols, carefully etched inside the circles on the floor.

Mattheo looked away, quickly shifting his focus to the symbol at his feet. In comparison with the other symbols, this one was far more complex, with each line and curve being meticulous and precise. As he raised his chin in satisfaction with what he did, Mattheo couldn't help but widen his smirk into a full grin, an equal amount of pride and arrogance coming across his expression.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you. Even though you were there not completely voluntarily, you still had a place in it, whether you liked it or not.

This time, it was Mattheo who looked at you with an intense, almost predatory gaze, his hand tightening once more around the blade in his palm as he kept his eyes on you. He was already preparing to take the first step toward the power he would gain from what you two were about to do. All he needed was your final confirmation and for you to step into the middle of the circle with him.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice broke the silence, low and almost a purr, making you look up at him. Ready? Fuck no. In fact, you were terrified. Every part of you screamed to run, to get as far away from this room and this stupid ritual as possible. But your body didn’t listen to your brain. Your heart didn’t either. Instead, you stayed still, frozen, your eyes locked with his own, already filled with amusement and something darker, like a challenge.

You knew this was stupid. Hell, it was almost suicidal. A ritual to give him more power, cutting your own hand, spilling your blood, mixing it with his just to make him stronger. It was madness. More than that, even.

But then again, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to leave a piece of yourself with him, to bind yourself to him in some twisted way. And for some fucked-up reason, you craved that. You wanted to be marked by him, to have a part of you inside him forever. Mattheo had already carved his mark into your mind, into the darkest corners of your heart, and now you wanted to do the same.

Stupid curiosity.

“Well?” Mattheo asked again, his voice dripping with amusement, though you could hear the faint edge of annoyance creeping in. He tried to hold onto his usual confident, relaxed demeanor, but it was slipping. “What’s it gonna be?” The same damn question. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to make him ask a third time.

“I…” You paused, your voice cracking, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath as you felt his gaze digging into you, waiting for the answer he wanted. “I think I’m ready,” you finally said, taking a step forward, ignoring the part of you screaming to get the hell out of there. Yet your body moved faster than your mind, and before you knew it, you took an unconscious step closer to him, making his eyebrow quirk in amusement.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?” he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. He almost laughed; if it were not for the situation you two were in.

“Fuck—” you hissed under your breath, cursing yourself again, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched wider. “I’m ready.” You corrected yourself, the words tasting wrong. “I’m ready,” you said again, this time to convince yourself more than him.

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand. The sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as his voice echoed in your ears. When he looked back at you, his eyes were softer than before, though the usual intensity remained, as if he was offering something that, despite not being comfort, somehow left you feeling relieved in a way.

He stretched his hand towards you, his voice calmer than before but still firm. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner this thing is going to end.” The sooner he would have control. Mattheo called you again, and you let out a soft sigh before taking that first step.

Each step you took was filled with hesitation, but your body didn’t seem to care. It moved toward the circle, fighting the doubt gnawing on your mind. When you finally stepped inside, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh as your hand found Mattheo’s. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing as you saw the same smirk on his lips, the reaction causing a tug on your heart. He didn’t need to say anything; you could feel how much he enjoyed this, how much he knew the effect he had on you.

Sometimes you wanted to punch him.

As soon as you took his hand, Mattheo’s confidence wavered slightly; his heart pounded just by your touch. However, he couldn’t hide the dark amusement in his eyes as he watched your flushed cheeks and how your body betrayed you. It was too easy.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the intricate runes carved into the floor with the tip of his dagger, his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there. “It’s going to hurt like hell.” He said it with such ease, as if the pain and the blood were just a minor part. You swallowed hard, the confirmation of what you already knew settling deep in your stomach. “At least for you,” he added with an eyebrow raised, his voice laced with amusement.

His words weren’t reassuring at all—not that you expected them to be. He didn’t care about calming you or making this easier to bear. That wasn’t his style, and it never had been. Mattheo thrived in chaos, in mess, and he wanted you to feel every bit of it. He wanted to pull you into the madness, to push you until you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re not exactly helping me calm down, you know?” you said through gritted teeth, barely stopping yourself from telling him to go fuck himself.

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence. “Glad to know, sweetheart.” He said casually, like it didn’t matter at all. “But who said I want you to calm down?” he murmured, and you might have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the fact that you had known him for years.

You scoffed at his lack of sympathy. It wasn’t surprising, though; his attitude was one of the things that drew you to him, even if it wasn’t exactly healthy. You watched as he lit more candles, the flame dancing with every step he took, highlighting the sharp lines of his features. He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one.

After a few seconds, Mattheo stood up, still holding the dagger in his hand. He glanced at you, and for a brief moment, something in his gaze made his heartbeat almost thud down his ribs. He took a few steps toward you, and your eyes met. His dark eyes were intense, unreadable, and the weight of the air between you made your stomach twist. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, with a hint of mischief in his tone. The corner of his mouth twitched, the excitement creeping slowly.

“Take off your shirt.”

You blinked, shocked, and for a few seconds, all your fear vanished. “Excuse me?!”

Mattheo observed you, almost as if he were stripping you bare. “Your shirt,” he repeated, his tone annoyingly dismissive. He spun the dagger in his palm with flawless precision, taking a step closer as if your hesitancy pleased him. “Take it off,” he said almost coolly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

You crossed your arms, feeling your heart race as your face flushed with heat. “And why, exactly, do I need to do that?” You snapped, your voice sharp. You had fantasized a thousand times about Mattheo asking you to do this, but you never imagined it would actually happen, especially not now, in this situation.

“For the ritual,” he said simply, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that bordered on taunting, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “I need access to your skin, sweetheart. The magic won’t work otherwise.” His words were smooth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling they held a hint of mockery.

You hesitated, studying him closely. There was something about his response that didn’t sit right, too casual in a way that felt almost taunting, like he wasn’t being completely honest. “You’re making that up,” you said flatly, letting your arms drop to your sides, your eyes narrowing as you searched on his face for a sign of truth.

His smirk widened, and he continued to twirl the dagger between his fingers, his eyes locked on you. The sight of your flushed cheeks only seemed to make him think with his other head. “Am I?” He took another step closer.

“Please, Mattheo, I know that’s bullshit!” you spat out, trying to ignore how his smug expression made your skin heat, though particularly of you couldn’t help but consider it.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the tension between you nearly unbearable. His voice dipped, rough and almost deliberate, as his dark eyes shamelessly trailed down your body before locking onto yours again.

“Alright,” he murmured, a smile laying wickedly on his lips. “Maybe it’s not entirely necessary. But it helps. A lot.”

The dagger moved lazily in his hand, the sharp edge skimming his palm without cutting his palm. His gaze never left you, steady and intense, like a predator watching its prey. “And we both know you want this to work out, don’t we, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, a truth you hated to admit even to yourself. You wanted him to notice you—really notice you—the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare, peeling back layers you didn’t even realize you had. But the sharp flare of anger clawed its way up your chest, tangling with the strange pull he always seemed to have over you, leaving you somewhere between furious and helpless.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head, the disappointment cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You weren’t sure if it was aimed at him or at yourself for falling into this moment—this trap. Probably both.

“And yet,” he said, taking another step toward you, “here you are.” He mocked you, making you bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off.

The space between you two was basically nonexistent now, and Mattheo fucking hated it. Hated that it was him moving closer, like he couldn’t help himself. Hated how his body had a mind of its own, reacting to you in ways that made him feel like an idiot. The thought of you, without your shirt, without anything, was driving him insane, his imagination running wild no matter how much he tried to shove it down.

Fuck. He could already feel the strain in his pants, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. It pissed him off—how easily you got under his skin, how fucking hard it was to keep his cool around you.

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice rougher than you felt, and Mattheo’s smile twisted with satisfaction, practically waiting for you to do it. You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way his eyes were glued to you. Your fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt, heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find the guts to go through with it.

Mattheo’s smirk only deepened, his eyes never leaving you, and for a moment, it felt like he was inside your head, reading you like a damn book. His gaze dropped low, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. You seemed so fucking soft. “Need help?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery.

“Shut up, Mattheo” you snapped, yanking the fabric over your head in one swift motion, a shiver running through your whole body. Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

The second the shirt left your body, the air felt heavier, but you felt the coldness against your exposed skin and nipples. Mattheo’s expression shifted, his smirk slipping for a moment as his eyes scanned over you, taking in more than you were prepared to show. You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra under the thin fabric, your chest bare under the dim torchlight and his searing gaze. Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

You couldn't help but feel trapped by his piercing stare as his eyes remained on you, shamelessly tracing your hard nipples. He seemed oblivious; nonetheless, his eyes burned with need as his mind wandered, thinking about the taste of his tongue on your nipples, sucking and biting until all you could think about was the feel of his wet tongue. He held the dagger tightly, only reacting when the blade cut into his flesh.

“Well,” he began, attempting to put the thoughts flowing through his head to the back of his mind, his voice rougher than before, “guess you were more ready than we thought.” He mocked you again, but it seemed like he was also mocking himself.

You could feel your cheeks burning, a mix of anger and something else boiling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to block him out, but the moment you saw the way Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you filled with desire, your hands fell to your sides, betraying your own brain. You wanted this. You wanted him to see you, to really see you.

But as you realized you were staring at him in the same way, you quickly shook your head, trying to push down the desire and need, force some control back into your own voice. “Just get on with it,” you ‘snapped’, trying to hide how much it stung, how much you craved that attention.

Mattheo’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, full with devilment. He took another step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and gestured toward the circle with a lazy flick of his hand. “As you wish.”

His expression didn’t shift, his confidence simmering just below the surface as he stepped even closer to you, trying not to look at your bare chest. His eyes flickered to the symbols on the ground, their faint glow reflecting in the depths of his gaze. Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care. He didn’t look at you but still waited for your reaction. You had already drawn one from him—only fair if he returned the favor, right?

You, on the other hand, swallowed hard, your gaze shamelessly tracing the lines of his abdomen and bare, muscular chest. The candles and torchlight cast sharp shadows across the scars etched into his skin, and you held your breath without meaning to. When he glanced forward slightly, his eyes still on the ground as he did so, he had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of your clenched fists, trying to control yourself.

This was going to be fun, at least.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke or moved. The silence stretched thin, both of you consumed by the same thoughts, the same dirty images racing through your minds. Your chests rose and fell heavily, both of you struggling to regain a normal breath. It was fucking madness.

Mattheo quickly composed himself, standing at the point of the small symbol on the ground, making sure you mirrored his position on the opposite side. Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin. He gave a low sigh, words slipping from his lips in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice deep and commanding.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the symbols on the floor pulsed to life, glowing with an eerie light, while the candle flames flickered wildly, as though responding to his words.

He looked at the dagger in his hand, a proud glint in his eyes before letting his gaze drift up to your face. His eyes lingered on your features, the softness of your eyes, the way your lips parted just enough to drive him insane. He almost couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch you, but he stayed still, his jaw tight. “Are you ready?” he asked, his lips moving without sound. “I am,” you mouthed back, the hesitation in your eyes impossible to miss. But he ignored it, choosing to focus on the way you stood there—no turning back now, and honestly? He didn’t want you to cover up.

Mattheo gripped the dagger with steady hands, his brown eyes flickering briefly to the runes as if making sure everything was aligned. Without a second thought, he pressed the sharp blade to his palm, slicing through the skin with quick, practiced precision. The blood surged from the cut, dripping thick and dark onto the glowing runes below. They reacted violently, flaring brighter, more alive, as if the blood was feeding the symbols, feeding him.

You held your breath, knowing you were next. But you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the ground, watching his blood drip onto the floor beneath both of your feet.

After a few seconds, he lifted his chin, pride in his eyes, his curls moving like the magic around the circles. He grabbed your hand without a word, pressing the dagger into your palm, his gaze never leaving yours. He was waiting, daring you to cut yourself just like he had.

You felt his blood drip onto your wrist, the warmth of it sending a jolt through your veins. As the dagger pressed into your palm, a breath caught in your throat. The weight of the blade was more than you expected, and for a moment, your eyes lingered on the crimson stains left by Mattheo’s cut, almost hypnotic, tempting you.

Your heart quickened, your pulse echoing in your ears. You hesitated—for a moment. His eyes found you once again, a look that urged you to continue. The hesitation lingering in your heart suddenly dispersed; you wanted nothing but to mark him as yours.

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did. The pain was sharp, fleeting, quickly replaced by the blood spilling down your skin, as the runes reacted violently to your action, their glow flaring in response.

It was instantaneous. The moment your blood touched the floor, the room seemed to exhale, the light flaring brighter and the air humming with a charged, almost electric energy as the ritual began. But the reaction was brief, for Mattheo’s focus shifted.

Mattheo’s gaze was fixed on the cut on your hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he was mesmerized by the crimson blood streaks trailing down your wrist, mingling with his the drops of his blood already on your skin. His jaw clenched, and you swore you saw him swallow hard as he continued to look, his chest rising and falling with a depth of intensity you’d never seen in him before.

“Mattheo?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your heartbeat quickening against your bare chest. Yet, it was enough to break his attention.

His eyes naturally met yours once again, vulnerability flickering in his gaze, though the rest of his expression remained unreadable, like a contrast to the hunger simmering beneath. But Mattheo didn't step back. Instead, his calloused fingers brushed against the blood on your wrist, smearing it slightly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, neither of you remembered how to breathe.

“Mattheo…” you called out again, but this time it was almost a plea for him not to stop. He obeyed your unspoken request, his fingers tracing your skin as if exploring new territory, so gently that it almost made you forget the lingering sting in your hand.

Mattheo’s hands moved deliberately, spreading the blood from the deep cut on your hand. He seemed oblivious to the matching wound on his own skin as he dragged the crimson trail up to your neck, smearing it across your skin. Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood. He let out a low groan at the taste, and you couldn’t suppress your own when you felt the warmth of his tongue against you.

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.” His teeth continued to drag along your skin, while his hand slid down your arm, seeking more of your blood. His fingers tightened around your palm, squeezing to draw out more of the liquid, making you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure as the burn surged through you.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, biting your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin painfully. He didn’t care about the grunt of pain that escaped your lips, not when more blood joined the one already staining your throat. Right after his first bite, you moaned, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to ease the wetness in your cunt.

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured against your throat, pressing his lips to the marks he had left with his teeth. But when he noticed you hadn’t answered, he bit your neck harder than before and squeezed your stomach, causing more blood to spread across the area.

You swallowed hard, locking eyes with him as you tried to form a sentence, but the only words that escaped your lips were a barely audible, “Yes, fucking yes,” which only made him laugh harder. He tightened his grip on your skin, sending a sharp sting through your own body.

“Of course you do… such a fucking slut,” Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as he tasted your blood again on his teeth. His tongue throbbed with desire, savoring the metallic taste. Holy shit, he could cum just from the taste of your blood. “But you taste so damn good.”

He seemed to have completely forgotten the ritual, and you, too, had let it slip away. You didn’t want to remember, not when his blood stained your skin, not when your own blood marked him, and not when his mark lingered on you.

Mattheo pulled back slightly, looking at your state and the way your plush lips were parted as you stared at him, your eyes filled with the same desire he showed.

Without warning, Mattheo grabbed your cut hand with the one resting on your stomach, his blood mingling with yours as he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth.

You let out a loud moan as you felt his tongue teasing the tips of your bloodied breasts, the taste of your blood on his tongue making him swirl around your breast more eagerly. The sensation only made him harder beneath his robes, each moan of his growing louder as he savored the taste of you.

You were lost in the pleasure of his mouth, concentrated with the way his tongue lapped like a hungry animal. The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger. You didn’t hear nothing but the sounds of his mouth nor saw how he desperately reached for release, your body causing him to react out of character.

“Fuck...” he murmured, his hand releasing the softness of your skin as he reached down towards his pants. Fast, uncoordinated, he released his cock from the restraints, his bloody hands wrapping around his cock that dripped with precum. His movements grew faster, driven by the growing intensity of the taste of blood on his tongue.

You looked down, catching a glimpse through the small crease of his neck as he dragged his palm over his hard cock while sucking on your nipples. You couldn’t help but moan louder, your bloody hand gripping his shoulders as you tried to ignore how your body was responding—the wetness between your legs that you knew he could feel.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

“Fuck, your blood tastes so fucking good.” He moaned louder, and as he sucked harder on your nipples, his mouth closing around the bud tighter. Your chest was now covered in his bites, the marks of Mattheo Riddle, almost like a sign of ownership. Your body quivered against his hold, rubbing pathetically against him as you felt the tingle flutter in your stomach. You were close, lost in the daze, you had no idea whether it was from pleasure or the lost of blood—or both. You were desperately clinging to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a spell.

The hold on his length tightened in his hand, and he came instantly. Another hoarse moan escaped his throat, and he pulled away from your chest for a moment, gasping for air. You gripped onto his shoulders once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. So sudden, so quick you fell against his hold as your body convulsed with pleasure.

Mattheo leaned against you, allowing himself a moment to relax. But when he noticed the blood still running down your throat from where he had placed your hand, he couldn’t help but let out a growl. He yanked your hair back harshly, making you gasp and exposing your throat, your scream barely escaping as he did so.

“Mattheo…!” You tried to speak, but he didn’t care; he never did. He only pushed you further against him, your nipples pressed against his bare chest as he licked your throat, letting out another groan as he tasted the metallic flavor again. His tongue traced the line of your throat, dragging the blood up to your chin, before he licked it off obscenely, making you sigh at the sensation.

Mattheo’s hand in your hair tightened, and in one swift motion, he turned you onto your back, pulling your hair even harder as your back arched against him. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

The kiss was rough and erotic, the fire burning from the inside making it impossible to avoid it. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, and it only made your cunt wetter, the intensity overwhelming. It was too much—more than you’d ever imagined.

You had pictured moments like this, where you and Mattheo would kiss, tasting each other’s tongues, but this was different. It wasn’t the fantasy you had dreamed of; it was raw, wild, and rougher than anything you could have ever anticipated. His teeth clashed with yours, and your tongue tangled with his, as he unleashed his most primal side. He was giving you a taste of the part of you he had consumed, and you were trapped, just as you always would be.

You didn’t care about the pain in your scalp, only the hand that held you.

Mattheo’s hands were rough, touching everything he could. His mouth marking you over and over as he swallowed every small noise you released. He was warm, too warm, a sting feeling in your mouth as he sucked and bit into your lips, the softness of your skin tethering as his mouth was once again filled with the sweetness of your blood.

He was about to lose his mind.

Mattheo sighed against your now split lip, “Stop me… Tell me to stop, and I will.” He wouldn’t; you both knew it.

You held him against you tighter; you were already too deep into him—all you wanted was to devour him, mark him enough to show everyone he belonged to you, only you. You wanted to inflict a pain he would never forget, a pain similar to the pain he caused you, so you did. Your hands wrapped around his neck, your mouth tracing his lips, then his cheeks, then suddenly the warmth of his neck. Mattheo gripped you hard; he made no sudden movement, anxiously awaiting your motive. You bit into his neck, sucking the flushed skin as your teeth marked him with the same strength he did to you.

Another soft flow came into your mouth, you gasped, the metallic taste odd in your mouth but enough to send your heart thundering.

Mattheo whimpered, his dominant facade slipping as he sickly enjoyed the way you took control. You were so sweet, so delicate—you were completely the opposite. The idea he corrupted you twisted a sick, powerful thought in his brain. You were his.

Your tongue reached towards his mouth again, finding yourself eye to eye with the man you wanted nothing more than to control. “Don’t ever stop; I need you.”

Mattheo grinned, his lips bloody, his brown eyes becoming dark as he suddenly pushed you towards the runes that glowed against your body. The symbols glowed, vibrating with the blood that dripped onto it. As he stood over you, he wished to capture the moment forever. You looked so fucking pretty.

He leaned over, his knees staining with the blood smeared against the cold tiles. His fingers moved quickly, desperately. He watched as your body spoke to him, reacting to every touch. Your breasts covered in his marks, his blood and yours on them that caused his cock to twitch violently.

He wanted more than the taste of your breasts; he wanted to taste the juices that gathered in the silk of your panties. He wanted to feel the way your cunt twitched and throbbed against his mouth, and damn, did he want nothing more than to have you fuck yourself on his tongue. The sweetest angel from Hogwarts all displayed for him, to hell with the ritual; now he just wanted to swallow you whole.

Without warning, he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders with an almost violent urgency, a deep moan escaping his lips as he leaned closer to your wet pussy. The intoxicating scent filled his senses, making his bloodied hand tighten around your thigh, gripping it as if commanding you to choke him; a command you had no intention of disobeying.

Mattheo looked at your face, the dried blood around your parted lips, your cheeks flushed from everything he was doing to you, and your dilated pupils watching him anxiously. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and you instantly bit your lip. Fuck, he was about to get hard again.

“Please, I need you, Mattheo,” you begged, rubbing your hips desperately, trying to get closer to his flushed face. You needed his mouth, and he was more than willing to be a good friend and give you exactly what you wanted.

“No need to beg like a slut, sweetheart,” he said, moving closer to your pulsing cunt, the light from the dunes making your wetness glisten even more. You held your breath as his warm breath ghosted over your slick folds. “I’m eager to give you what you want,” he murmured, leaning even closer, his nose brushing against your arousal as he took in your scent. Just as you were about to beg him to do something, his tongue was quicker—teasing, tasting, and finally giving in to the need to lick you.

Mattheo followed his instincts and hunger, his palms gripping your thighs even tighter, leaving bloodstained marks on your skin just as he had on the rest of your body. The sting of his own cut burned with the pressure, but he didn’t stop, sliding his hands to your hips as his tongue moved swiftly against your folds, savoring and memorizing every inch of you.

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this—only after his hunger was completely satisfied. Your back arched, heat swirling in your stomach as Mattheo licked your pussy with reckless desperation.

He was ravenous, savoring every part of you, and when your nails dug into his scalp, he let out another growl, pushing himself even deeper between your legs, making you moan even louder.

“Fucking yes, sweetheart,” he murmured against your pussy, sucking harder as your cries of pleasure filled the room. “Keep moaning like a slut, keep saying my name.” He bit down on your flesh, making you moan even louder, your legs trembling around him. He chuckled darkly, the vibrations of his laughter sending shocks through your body and making you cry out even more.

Fuck the ritual, fuck the power—the only power he craved was the power he held over you.

“Mattheo,” you moaned even louder, rocking your hips against his face as your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him closer. “Right there, oh my—!” you cried out, feeling him lose himself between your legs, consumed by his thoughts and the blood still staining his lips.

Mattheo’s fast, steady movements continued, his almost feral tongue lapping at your cunt as his hands roamed your body. He could feel his cock harden at the sound of your sweet moans. Fuck, the taste of your blood mingled with your arousal was divine—almost too much for him to bear.

He continued kissing your clit, desperate to savor your full taste, his tongue messily exploring your folds, drinking in every drop he could. All you felt in the moment was him. The sounds muffled as if underwater. Your fingers dug into his scalp, causing him to flick his tongue against your bud faster, his fingers circling it, his grin plastered with pride as he heard you cry loudly.

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

You only released a jumble of words, your bare back arching as you squirmed beneath him. You were on the edge, and you could feel it—both of you could. The anticipation was electric, and you were both eager for the release. All he wanted was to make you cum.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your folds, the scent of your cunt making him dizzy. “Come for me.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than you let out a final scream, the orgasm hitting you hard as your body arched, feeling your cum dripping from your pussy.

Mattheo groaned against your cunt once more, lapping at your release as he lost himself in your flavor. Quickly, he grabbed your cut hand, spreading its blood over your pussy to mix with the cum. When he felt it was enough, he ran his tongue over your folds, savoring the metallic taste of blood combined with the sweet remnants of your orgasm, only stopping when not a drop remained, and you pushed him away.

The runes still flickered on the ground, glowing brighter with the smell of your release in the air. Blood stained both your bodies, marking each other, marking the new connection between you that neither of you wanted to escape. Mattheo stood there, watching you, his brown eyes observing, shining with pride watching your state. His eyes traced the blood on your skin, lingering on the cut on your hand, before meeting your eyes again.

“We didn’t finish the ritual,” you managed to say, your voice soft, timid once again compared to the wildness you held as you let Mattheo control you, your body still shaking from one of the best orgasms you ever experienced.

Mattheo’s smirk grew, just a little as he continued to look at the mess he had done. “It’s fine, sweetheart. We can always try again.”

He was right; after all, friends helped each other.

— please be nice, it’s 4 am it probably has some mistakes!

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

also a big thank you for my favorite beta readers @earth4angels & @astrxq , without them i couldn’t write all this!! i love you both off you forever

venting: sometimes, i hate english because my hard lines in portuguese don’t make sense and seem so repetitive :(

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle smut #smut #harry potter #my recs 💫

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acciotaitlynn · 1 day ago

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ho ho ho, bitches

ft. xavier, sylus, and zayne sexual content, 18+, unprotected sex, fem reader, public sex if u squint, slight santa kink? idk what to title this; it's literally just christmas sex, #ovulating sb, can I pls just dress them up for christmas(*꒦ິᴖ꒦ິ) I hit a block on rafayel's, i'm sorry 🥺👉👈 unedited, just typed it up really quick in the car ♡ happy holidays-ily you all so much ᵕ̈ 3k wc

Xavier

You can’t deny that your goal was to push Xavier’s buttons when you sat on Santa’s lap in the darkened nightclub. Your intention was clear when you leaned in a little too close, tickling the edge of his beard, and giving Xavier a teasing grin. Sing-songing your request to stripper Santa, you made sure Xavier caught every word as you playfully poked at the fluffy white trim of his hat. “... This year, I want you to bring my boyfriend an outfit exactly like yours, Santa.” You knew exactly what you were doing.

However, you didn’t expect Xavier to drag you to the club after hours and plop you down into Santa’s empty seat with a wicked gleam in his eyes. His outfit shouldn’t even be legal. A soft, stretchy red fabric clings to his torso like a second skin, revealing a hint of pale skin through deliberately popped open buttons. Black suspenders cross his back and chest, and snug leather shorts hugging his hips and thighs. He pats his legs with a coy little smirk and spreads them wide, clad in combat boots with bold hardware and thick soles that squeak on the tile. A slightly askew Santa hat sits on his playfully tousled hair, shadows dancing with light along his angelic features. Innocence, mischief, and allure gifted to you in one insanely perfect package, and his eyes are drinking you in, making it perfectly clear that the only thing he wants this year is you.

Agile fingers leave you in nothing but your skirt, replacing your panties with sheer, thigh-high stockings. Xavier eases you into red stilettos, guiding them to either side of him as he stands you over him on the seat. He kisses the delicate bands of plush red and white lace that ensure everything remains in place, smiling when you toy with the glittering silver ribbon around your neck. Its tiny golden bell jingles softly as Xavier pulls you close, licking up a drop of arousal that trickles down your thigh. “Is this what you had in mind when you draped what’s mine over his lap, bunny? Maybe you’d rather I go get him instead…”

His head rests back with a smirk as his finger slips inside you, his thumb teasing your puffy clit. He lets his eyes roam over your body, unable to stop admiring how perfect you look. Xavier wants nothing more than to toy with you, make you regret looking so pretty, and let another Santa get so close. But dressing you up like his own personal gift is making him desperate and needy, his words a rough whisper as he fucks you on his hand. He knows he’s the only one you really want anyway, can feel your body squeeze him as he slides another finger inside your soaking cunt.

His hand trails along your ankles and thighs, drawing out a near whimper from you as you clutch his shoulders tightly. He kisses your inner thigh softly at first, but soon he pulls you harder against him, his words a hungry whisper against your skin, “... You’ll be good for me, right?” His hot tongue traces through your folds, humming softly at the taste of you. Your little whimper drives him wild, filling him with the need to hear more, to hear you cry out for him. He shivers, placing tiny, lazy licks over your clit, his glassy eyes locking on yours. “... So good, Bunny… I want to taste you for Christmas and every other day… forever and ever…” Satisfaction courses through him, seeing the collar around your neck, the way you shake under his touch when his finger hooks under it, guiding you to watch. His moan is soft, his voice hoarse, letting you know just how much he’s enjoying this, his hungry words muffled against your pussy. “Best gift I’ve ever received… I’ll never ask for anything else…”

Your walls are still clenching from your release when Xavier pulls you onto his lap, pressing your back against his chest and driving into you with one sharp thrust. Leaning back in Santa’s seat with a cocky smirk, he watches you ride him, his fingers gripping your waist tightly at the feeling of you sucking him in. “Riding Santa’s cock like such a good little helper,” he praises. His voice drips with satisfaction, his eyes slipping shut as he gets lost in the feel of you, the sound of his name on your lips, the way you shake and tremble around him as he makes you come again and again. He kisses your neck so softly, his tongue against your skin as he speaks. “Santa is going to make you feel so good, bunny…” You lose count of how many positions he melds your body into, moving inside you so desperately, his words still coming. “... I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just have to finish— you look so perfect, you’re such a good girl for me, just one more time, I promise…”

Zayne

Zayne’s face flushes with embarrassment as your gaze roams over his body. He can’t help but shift nervously in his seat, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. He feels exposed, vulnerable, and… a little excited. He can feel the weight of the leather harness against his bare skin, and the jingle of the collar around his neck only serves to remind him of his situation. With a soft, nervous voice, he speaks up. “You… really like seeing me like this, don’t you?” You poke the fluffy ball on his satin Santa hat with a little pout, your heart swelling at how adorably rumpled he looks. “I mean… Can you blame me, Doctor Zayne?” The way you’re looking at him, assessing him with that teasing pout… Zayne shivers involuntarily.

“No, I suppose I can’t,” he answers, his voice a little shaky. “I just… I can’t believe you convinced me to do this…” A genuine laugh escapes you at his words. “Honestly? Neither can I.” Zayne can’t help but crack a small smile at your laugh. Despite his nerves, your amusement and playfulness put him at ease. He shifts in his seat, feeling the leather harness move against his sensitive skin. “Then… Why did you want me like this?” He asks curiously, looking up at you. “Was there a… specific reason?” You tickle a feather under his chin, grinning when he shivers and blushes even harder.

Humming, you press a soft kiss on his lips. “... No specific reason… I just saw it online and thought of you.” Zayne can’t help but melt into your kiss. It’s sweet, soft, and only makes him more acutely aware of how exposed he is. He pulls away, his voice just a little shaky. “You…” he says, meeting your gaze. "You are trouble, you know that?” You hum in agreement, going to your knees before him. A shiver runs through his body as your fingers brush his shaft, his breath catching in his throat. You place a soft kiss on his inner thigh. “... Zayne? I want to give you your Christmas gift now, okay?” Sucking in a shaky breath, he nods in reply. “Okay…” He manages to murmur, already feeling his skin heating up at your touch.

His eyes widen and his breath hitches when you tease the tip of his cock with your tongue. It’s so intimate and intense… Zayne closes his eyes, his voice reduced to a shaky whisper. “Keep going…” A low moan escapes his lips as you take him into your mouth entirely. Despite your choking, he can’t deny that he’s enjoying this more than he ever imagined. His fingers thread through your hair, his touch gentle but needy. His heart hammers in his chest when you pop him out of your mouth, kissing your way down his body. He can feel each press of your lips, each touch of your tongue…

You rest your cheek against his thigh, gazing at him lovingly as you stroke his cock. “Will you finish in my mouth, Zayne? Want to taste you so bad…” His heart rate picks up impossibly at your words. He can’t deny that he’s excited… even if he’s also a little embarrassed. He swallows hard, meeting your gaze and nodding slowly. “Yes…” he whispers. “Y-yes, I will…” You work every drop of his release out into your throat, your moans of ecstasy at his taste nearly shameful. Zayne’s mind is still clouded with pleasure, his head spinning as you climb onto his lap. You pause, hovering above him with the tip of his cock just at your entrance. “Is… Is this okay?” you whisper. You know it is, but you can tell how vulnerable Zayne is at this moment. So you look into his eyes, searching for confirmation with a light touch to his cheek.

Zayne can only manage a nod, his voice hoarse with desire. “Yes… Yes… It’s okay…” he whispers, his hands grasping your waist. “I… I need you…” You wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly against you. The feel of his body, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his words… It’s almost too perfect to bear. “I always need you, ” you whisper, your words trembling with emotion.

Something deeper than desire flickers in Zayne. Something more tender and intimate. He presses kisses against your neck, his murmur low and husky. “Take me then… I’m yours…” A soft moan escapes his lips as you move slow and deep around him. The feeling of your thumb against his throat when you fiddle with his collar… He shivers as you grip his hair, tilting his head back and kissing him. It’s a gentle, featherlight touch… but it sends a shudder of need through his entire body.

He returns your kiss with all the passion and tenderness he can muster, moaning softly when your body pulls him in deeper. His gaze is so full of love and desire that it causes you physical pain. He moans and pants softly, feeling your movements grow more urgent, his body responding eagerly beneath you. The feeling of you on top of him, pushing him deep inside you… it’s like heaven. He can’t help but smile as you cling to him, a sense of possessiveness and joy filling him up.

Gripping your hips firmly, he moves you up and down on his cock in a steady, measured rhythm. His gaze never leaves your face, basking in the happiness and pleasure in your expression. Your fingers dig into his harness as he moves you, only serving to heighten his desire. Zayne can see in your eyes that you are as lost in the moment as he is. And as you pull him close and press kisses to his neck, he feels his heart flutter with emotion. “You… You were made for me… and I for you,” he whispers with certainty, his movements growing more intense, his body responding with increasing urgency. Holding you close, one hand moves to the back of your head to gently grip your hair.

Shivers of pleasure shoot up Zayne’s spine as you clench around him, coming in fast, spasming waves around his cock. He moans softly, his mind going blank as he loses himself in you. “... you feel so… I can’t…” His hoarse shout as he comes deep inside you is muffled against your neck, his release so breathtakingly perfect it renders him speechless. His hands tremble as they trail down your body, settling between your legs with a shaky sigh. He reaches out to stroke your clit before he can even stop himself, his cock twitching to life again inside you. Zayne’s words are a breathless whisper. “Can we spend every Christmas like this?”

Sylus

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Sylus…” you mutter, feeling incredibly flustered as he presses you against the closet wall, holding himself above you. Leaning down, his mouth hovers right beside your ear. “Got something to say, kitten?”

When you asked Sylus to dress as Santa for your company Christmas party, this is not what you had in mind. A classic red Santa jacket hugs his physique tightly, fluffy white trim lining the cuffs and collar. Crisscrossing over his chest is a matte black harness, drawing an unreasonable amount of attention to his chiseled form. Leather pants cover every contour of his long legs, while cutouts along the side provide a peek of skin. Completing the look is a pair of knee-high black leather boots and a red velvet Santa hat with sparkling silver studs that glimmer in the light. You narrow your eyes at the provocative holiday attire. “The women out there are practically drooling, Sy. You almost gave our elderly cleaning lady a stroke when you stretched and graced her with a peek of your thigh skin.”

Sylus’s smirk slides into place, his voice becoming dangerously low and smooth, “Oh? But I’m really only dressing to impress one person, kitten. I’m still wondering what she thinks about it…” His breath grows slightly ragged as he nuzzles your neck, breathing in your scent with a trail of light kisses. He can barely breathe as he parts your burgundy dress, his fingers tracing the dramatic slit that starts at your thigh.

Sylus had this exact moment in mind when he ordered it in your measurements, knowing it would give him easy access to your irresistible body throughout the night. He spins you around, propping the fabric’s slit on the round of your ass so the satin cascades around your body. His hand rests between your thighs, spreading them, while the other slowly travels down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your skin. His teeth gently sink into your neck, right near your shoulder, unable to stop the low groan that escapes when he feels how wet you are.

Nibbling along your skin, he leaves light bite marks until he reaches your ear, his words no more than a husky growl against your skin. “No one’s around to stop us now… No need to keep that pretty little mouth of yours quiet for me. Sing the song only I can make you sing, dove...” His fingers sink deep into you. The way your pussy tightens and pulsates around him has him groaning in ecstasy, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “So sensitive, sweetie… Do my fingers really feel that good?” Your hips press against him, wanting nothing more than to give him whatever he wants.

“... Will you fuck me, Santa? I… I’ve been a really good girl this year…” Sylus’s eyes widen slightly in surprise as you say those words so shamelessly. He spins you around, quickly freeing himself and using his hand to guide your legs to wrap around his waist. The other hand grips your hip tightly, pinning you against the wall. “You have no idea what you do to me, kitten…” His lips brush against your neck as he mutters the words, a growl leaving him as he pushes himself inside you.

He bounces your body around on his cock effortlessly, loving the way your kisses become more needy, how your body begs him without words. “You like being full of Santa’s cock, don’t you? You take it so well…” His fingers leave marks on your skin, so you’ll remember just how tightly he held you. Your breathless whisper of “More than anything…” brings a chuckle of approval.

He lets your words of confirmation wash over him, enjoying the way they make his chest tighten, making him want to be nothing more than yours. His hand slides from your hip to your hair, tugging on it just slightly to make you look up at him. “You’ll take Santa’s cum like a good little slut. Got it?” Your eager nod makes Sylus want to hold you closer, to make you his all over again.

Hearing the little moan as he pulls your hair doesn’t exactly help. He can’t help himself as he gives your hair a second tug, aching to possess you. “Good girl. You know your place, dove.” He has to lean against the wall to steady himself, a slight groan escaping when he feels your fingers trailing along his abs. “Mhm… and you know yours… Right here inside me,” you murmur, your gaze locked on where you join.

His eyes follow where yours have traveled, his breath hitching at your words, at the way you keep pulling him in deeper, claiming him as your own. Sylus doesn’t fight it. He lets you have him, all of him. His lips move against yours in a feverish and needy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, desperate to taste you, wanting, needing, to claim you in return.

His chest grows tight, feeling you kissing and nibbling at his skin, knowing you’re marking him. He’s so damn weak for you in this moment, his body feeling like it’s on fire as you pull him in impossibly deeper, your body pulling him to release. He growls into your neck as he comes undone inside you, your name tumbling from his lips in a ragged gasp of ecstasy. Your soft murmur of “So good for me, baby…” caresses his skin just as much as your touch does, and he leans into your hand, nuzzling against your palm like a happy pet.

He leans down a little, his eyes still full of lust and desire, his hot breaths against your ear making you shiver as he bites down. “Enough fawning women have graced my lap tonight to last me a lifetime, dove. Santa’s staying in here…” Sylus doesn’t necessarily mean he’s staying in this closet so much as he’s staying in your tight little pussy until this stupid party clears out. ♡

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neptilius · 3 days ago

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MUNCH!; satoru gojo

IT WASNT, uncommon for Satoru to get a little handsy when you were relaxing together, but tonight was different. His energy wasn't playful or teasing. He had a certain look in his eye, a spark of mischief and hunger that you hadn't seen in a while.

You were lying on the couch in one of his oversized shirts, scrolling through your phone when he crawled over you, completely ignoring your soft protest.

"Don't mind me," he murmured, voice low and smooth, as he kissed your exposed thigh. "Keep scrolling, baby."

"Uh-huh," you replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he said, feigning innocence as his hands skimmed up your legs, spreading them slightly. "You just look... too good not to touch."

You rolled your eyes but didn't stop him. "Satoru, I swear if this is another one of your games—"

"It's not a game," he interrupted, his lips pressing to your inner thigh now, dangerously close to your center. "Just relax."

Your breath hitched as his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, pushing it up slightly. His mouth followed, kissing and nipping at your skin with a focus that made your head spin.

"Satoru," you whispered, half in warning, half in anticipation.

He looked up at you then, his crystal-blue eyes darkened with desire. "I just want to taste you," he said simply, his voice a soft plea. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

You couldn't say no to him, not when he looked at you like that.

With a small nod, you leaned back, your heart racing as his lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with praise.

And just like that, he was gone, buried between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as if he couldn't get enough of you. He kissed you there like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted, like you were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

Every flick of his tongue, every hum of satisfaction sent shivers down your spine. He was relentless, refusing to stop even when your hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly in an attempt to pull him away.

"Toru," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

"Mm?" he replied, the vibration of his voice against you making your toes curl.

"You're- you're such a munch," you managed to say, your words broken by a moan.

He chuckled, his eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly. "And I'll be your munch forever," he said with a smirk, diving back in like a man starved.

It wasn't long before he had you trembling, your back arching off the couch as he worked you over like it was his life's mission. And when you finally came undone, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, he didn't stop, he just held you tighter, savoring every moment like the insatiable man he was.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his grin was nothing short of triumphant.

"Yeah," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "I'm definitely a munch. But only for you."

You couldn't even argue, too dazed to do anything but pull him up for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips as he chuckled against your mouth.

"You're insufferable," you muttered.

"And you love it," he shot back, his voice full of smug affection.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #munch

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daenysx · 2 days ago

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hii!!!! i saw u wanted sleepy maurauders request so can i request a jamie and reader go on a run or to the gym and reader is sooo out of it bc of an injury in the beginning of the year (not kidding i literally can’t run a mile anymore) and he’s like ugh im so sore too just to please the reader and they lay in bed and it’s all very sleepy and cute???

thanks angel, i hope you enjoy

james potter x fem!reader, fluff

"jamie." you whimper, moving your achy legs to get under the covers. "would you please- i can't feel my legs."

james is acting dramatic today and you're kinda having fun with it. he's strong and he must be less sore than you, he doesn't have any past injury pulling him down when he works out. you're still proud of yourself, though, moving your body felt nice. even if it doesn't change the fact that you feel numb and achy all over your body.

"okay, okay, come here." james finally gets you closer to himself to help you settle down. "what should we do to help you feel better?"

"sleep." you mumble. he smells so good, it distracts you.

he takes a breath before turning to his side and adjusting his head to put it on your shoulder. his hair tickles your neck, but you don't mind. "i can give you a massage." he offers, gently.

"you're tired."

"you can give me a massage?"

"i'm more tired."

"aw, poor girl."

neither of you gets any massage, that's okay. james is fond of your warm body next to him, he drags his hand on your thigh just to keep it there. lifting his chin to find your cheek, he gives you a nice kiss. poor, lovely sweetheart. all tired and achy, james wants to be wrapped around you.

you turn your head to hold him, hug his shoulders as much as you can by moving your arm enough in bed. his lips find your collarbone and he draws a line with kisses there, your heart beats tiny bit faster for him.

sleep is like honey in your eyes, intense and effective, you find yourself drifting off suddenly. james listens to your breathing, your fingers unconsciously move on his shoulder blades, and he wishes for you to press harder right there. you could if you were awake, but he realizes the yearning for touch is a part of loving you. he's gonna look for satisfaction in the little touches you give him as you sleep.

"jamie?" you murmur after a minute. you move your arm, it'll go numb if you don't.

"yes, baby?"

"can you hold me?" you ask without opening your eyes. maybe you're still asleep, james isn't sure. "like- closer."

he follows your every word and gets you in his arms, your head fits perfectly on his shoulder, and you settle on his chest. you're the cutest when you're asleep, all pouty lips and sleep filled eyes. james thinks he can watch you like this for an eternity, but his eyes betray him, and he falls asleep.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james x fem!reader #james x reader #james x you #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #the marauders #marauders era #marauders imagine #the marauders imagine #james potter fluff

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bullet-prooflove · 3 days ago

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Hey hey! How about "Fog up the windows in the parking lot" for Buck please?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @sophiah2253 @qutequeersstuff @gatefleet

Companion piece to:

Catalina Island - You and Buck meet for the first time during a daring rescue.

Not Yet (NSFW) - Buck loves it when you tug at his curls.

Burning Down The House - You and Buck cause a fire during date night.

Buck is in heaven, pure unadulterated heaven. His face is buried in the curve of your throat, his hands on your hips holding you in place as he thrusts into you in the passenger seat of his Jeep. Your back is pressed against his chest, your khaki forest ranger shirt rustling against his navy LAFD as the windows of the car start to fog up, drowning out the rest of the quiet parking lot.

It's been a couple of weeks since you’ve been able to do this. Between his shifts and your stints on firewatch there’s barely been time to catch up with each other. When you’d requested he come up here to the national forest and do a fire safety talk he’d jumped at the chance to see you, even if it was surrounded by 20 excited Eagle Scouts, who were about to disembark on their first overnight field trip.

The two of you had headed out with their leaders to make sure they set off ok before you were back in Buck’s Jeep kissing the hell out of each other because ten days, it’s a little too long to go without seeing you.

“Harder.” You whisper and that thin thread of restraint that Buck’s been holding onto, it snaps. He picks up the pace, his hips arching, plunging deep. His fingertips gripping your waist so tight, it’s going to leave bruising and he gets a little thrill out of that, out of the idea of you looking in the mirror, seeing his marks.

The sound of your hitched breathing fills the car, each one punctuated with his motions as he drives you to that peak, driving you higher and higher until you finally hit nirvana, shattering around his cock. The way you say his name in that moment, it has him coming with you, his release spilling inside that perfect pussy of yours, his teeth biting down on the fabric of your shirt, stifling the sound of his orgasm.

“God, I’ve missed this.” You murmur as you lean back against him, your head coming to rest in the hollow of his neck.

“Me or the sex?” He whispers, his breath ghosting in your ear as he cradles you against his chest.

“You.” You tell him and there’s a sense of satisfaction in that because there’s a lot of physicality and as much as he enjoys that aspect of the relationship it’s the intimacy he craves. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other lately and I’m sorry, it’s just my job…”

You’ve been pulling a lot of extra shifts lately because it’s the busy season and another search and rescue operator was injured a few weeks ago. You’re picking up the slack the best you can and he understands the pressure of that.

“Hey.” He murmurs against your temple. “I get it, you know I do. My jobs not exactly a 9-5 either, that’s why this works. There’s no pressure, we see each other when we can and that’s good enough for me right now.”

He knows where this stems from, the man before him. He didn’t understand the job, he made impossible demands on your time and in the end he gave you a choice.

Him or the job.

You’d picked the job and you haven’t been in a relationship since. You hadn’t seen the point because you’re job won’t change and you can’t expect someone else to understand that, or at least you couldn’t until you met Buck.

“We’re forever you and I.” He tells you, using his fingertips to tilt chin up to meet his gaze. “We’ll always find time for one other, no matter how busy we may get.”

Love Buck? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 #buck x reader #evan buck buckley #911 abc #911 show #911 season 8 #buck buckley #buck buckley x reader

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ajellybee · 1 day ago

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I am a firm believer that sex is NOT the only gift you should give someone as a gift HOWEVER...

imagine a full day of festivities on Christmas day with your husband, Nanami. You guys exchanged gifts almost feeling like you were trying to top each other with the next gift you watched each other unwrap.

You got Nanami the watch he showed some interest to -> he handed you the little wrapped box of the newest Vivienne Westwood drop

You watched him unwrap a new standing mixer -> he pushed a box towards you that contained your favorite perfume that was discontinued years ago.

Do you get the gist now? BUT!! you had one last card up your sleeve, after having a dinner full of giggles and laughs you stand up abruptly. Nanami raised an eyebrow but didn't ask where you were going.

"Could you clean up here, ken? I have one more gift I wanna give you" You smile softly at him, trying to look as innocent as possible

"Honey, that's no fair you're giving too much" he furrowed his eyebrows realizing you gave more than he gave you

"no no, it's okay, my love. It's something small don't worry" Again you give the same innocent smile and instead of questioning further Nanami sighs and nods, moving to clean the dining table. "Okay give me like 5 minutes" You run upstairs to your shared room and get to work. While in the shopping district, you ran across a small intimacy store. From the open door, you could see some of the lacy pieces so you decided to check it out, and it's a good thing you did because you found the sexiest set ever, dark forest green with intricate embroidery. It left nothing to the imagination and you knew it was going to be Nanami's favorite set.

after doing a once over making sure everything was perfect it was go time.

"Okay, ken- honey. I'm done" you called for him and right when you finished your sentence the said man opened the door, seems as if he was waiting for your go-ahead to walk in.

"Oh, my love..." In three big strides, he makes his way to you, large hands finding themselves on your waist, rubbing up and down. "Gimmie a spin yeah?" giggling you do as he asked slowly twirling in a circle so he could take everything in. "this is your 'something small'?" he scoffed. Because to him this was anything but. His favorite color looks heavenly against your skin. And the way it fits so snugly against you, highlighting all your soft curves, he was practically drooling. Nanami pulls you in for a kiss groaning as his hands roam down to cup your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You pull away and make your way to the bed and set on the edge. Nanami watches as you spread your legs apart revealing what he wanted to taste most at the moment, and much to his surprise (and satisfaction) the slit in the middle of your lingerie exposed your glistening folds and he falls to his knees immediately ready to devour you.

"Merry Christmas, Ken"

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

small Christmas piece I wanted to do. Happy holidays!! and if you don't celebrate anything I hope you have/had an amazing day !!! <333

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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dearru · 2 days ago

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soju kisses | s.hinata

synopsis -> shoyo loves parties— and you.

HINATA SHOYO loves parties. The hum of conversation, the burning sensation of a shot sliding down his throat, the pulsing bass of music— it’s heaven sent. He’s in his element at gatherings like this, when everyone’s inhibitions are lowered from the openness that alcohol promotes.

What he loves most about parties, though—is having you as his plus one.

Right now, he’s engaged in an animated conversation with friends, chatting about a training regime his coach has him on. Heart swelling with joy from the easy-going laughter that surrounds him, he freezes mid-sentence when he hears a familiar voice call out from across the room.

“Shoooo,” You whine, and the noise from the party fades into the distant background at the sound of your tone, melodious and siren-like.

He turns, and is captured by the sight of your lips puffing into a cute little pout that he hardly gets to see.

“C’mere. Wanna kiss you,” You call out, and his body moves on its own.

Smiling brightly, he bids his friends a quick goodbye before hopping off the stool and bounding over to where you’re waiting with your arms spread expectantly. Ignoring the howls and teases from people in the background, he pulls you into a big hug, smooshing your face against him, “I’m here!”

Grinning, you paw at his chest with hearts in your eyes, and it makes his face heat up. You look at him like he’s the only person in the world. He’ll never get used to having your attention. Never.

“You’re soooo cute!” You squeal, pinching his cheek with the one hand that isn’t on him and giggling. Your speech is slurred and it fills him with a sense of endearment, “I loveeee you.”

“I— mmph love you too,” He laughs, voice impaired from your doting behavior. When you get like this, he feels fluttery inside. You awaken something in him, it’s as pure as it is primal.

“Can I have a kiss?” You beg, and he can smell the remnants of strawberry soju on your breath. Its pungent scent mixed with sweet wafts of your fragrance flood his scenes and overwhelm him with a sense of possessiveness.

“You can always have one,” He grins, leaning into you and pressing your lips together. It starts soft but soon turns fervent and hungry. He deepens the kiss and drinks you in like he’s been deprived. You squeal and push against him, the weight of your body as comforting as it is enthralling.

Shoyo wonders how he’d ever gone without your love when everything is so much brighter with you around. He moves his hands to cradle your face, holding you tightly so you can stay with him forever.

When you first met each other, he was immediately enamored by you. It almost makes him laugh when he thinks about when he finally gained the courage to ask you out. Anxious and embarrassingly eager, he remembers stuttering through a hurried confession, anticipating rejection.

And now, here you are, in his arms, kissing him like you are undoubtedly and irrevocably his.

It’s only when you gasp for air that he has half the mind to pull away. Your chest heaves as you touch your forehead to his, smiling at him crookedly. His lips hover against yours, silently asking for more.

“Another one?” He murmurs, his breath mixing with yours. Unconsciously, he realizes his hand has snaked down to your thigh, and his finger traces your plush skin impatiently. You shiver at the feeling, and he feels a twisted sense of satisfaction at your reaction. He loves how breathless you get around him; how hard you try to keep up with his unrelenting and demanding personality. Maybe it’s unfair— to need you as much as he does— but he can’t help himself. Not when it’s you.

You giggle, and a rush of adrenaline crashes over him.

“You’re so greedy, Sho,” You tease, and he smiles because he knows it’s true.

Humming, he lets his hands wander, staking claim over you because he is yours and you are his. He revels in the feeling of you, the party long forgotten.

“Greedy?” He echoes.

You nod, “The most.”

Shrugging, his eyes flicker to your lips. They’re swollen and inviting and he can’t control the sudden impulse to press his mouth against yours again. The taste of the alcohol you've consumed sends him in a trance.

When he pulls away, you whine. Wanting more. He chuckles and brushes his thumb against you. When he sees your gaze, doe-eyed and expectant, something twists in his chest.

He may be greedy— but it’s only because you make him so.

—a/n: i love hinata and soju. shoutout iris for being a beta reader :3 @cherrysurf ily iris

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ostaramoon · 2 days ago

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01. eyes full of stars

ᯓ★ story index abt, your winning streak has caught the attention of outlaw dean. but when he challenges you at your own game, you may have just met your match. warnings, bar scene, alcohol use, strong language, 18+ 2.6k words

The low hum of Tequila Cowboy’s neon blue sign buzzes over the murmur of voices and the clink of beer bottles. Smoke curls through the air, catching the dim light as it billows out of Dean’s lips. He’s leaning against the bar, one booted foot propped on the brass rail. His green eyes peek from under the brim of his worn-out Stetson, locked on the pool table in the corner, where a small crowd has gathered around you.

Your body folds over the table, a coy smile playing on your lips as you line up your shot. Dean didn’t need to watch to know the eight ball was going exactly where you wanted it. It isn’t the game that has his attention. It’s you—the way you work the room, charming the rich ranchers out of their wallets with every sway of your hip and winning flick of the cue stick.

The crowd erupts as you sink the shot, and Dean caught the faintest flicker of satisfaction in your fox-like eyes before you straightened and collected your winnings with a dazzling smile. When your gaze finds his stare, it lingers for half a second too long.

A smirk plays at your lips as you lean against the pool table, “Didn’t think you’d have the guts to stare me down,” you called out, loud enough for the room to hear. Your voice was light, teasing, but there was an edge to it that cut through the bar.

Dean’s lips curled into a lazy smirk as he pushed off the bar and saunters toward you, his spurs clicking softly against the wooden floor. “Didn’t think you’d be bold enough to call me out.”

The crowd watches with rapt interest as the space between you closes. Dean stops a few feet away, his tan arms crossing as he gives you a slow once over. “Nice hustle,” he drawls, his voice low and rough like gravel warmed by the sun. “But I’m thinkin’ you haven’t played your best game yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until the toes of your boots nearly touch his. “And you think you’re the one to bring it out of me?”

Dean’s tongue swipes over his lips, jade green eyes boring into yours as you notice the dimples in his smile. “I know I am.”

The tension between you crackles, hot and electric, like a summer storm brewing on the horizon. The crowd has faded into background noise as you lean in, your voice dropping just enough to make it private.

“Careful, cowboy. Playin’ with fire gets you burned.”

Dean’s head tilts, eyes dancing with mischief. “Yeah,” he starts, his voice dripping with a boyish charm that hits all your sweet spots at once, “but what’s life without a little heat?”

You laughed softly, the sound low and dangerous, before stepping back and tossing him a cue stick. “Rack ‘em up, Sweetheart. Let’s see if you can back that silver tongue with a little skill.”

And just like that, the match was set. A game neither of you could afford to lose—one with stakes far higher than a few crumpled bills. Because you recognized something in him. The way he stalks around the table deliberate and unhurried, was the mark of someone who knew how to play the long game. But there was fire there, too—smoldering beneath his easy smirk and sharp green eyes, daring you to push him, to see how far he’d go before he broke.

And dammit, you wanted to know. You wanted to unravel him, see if the silver-tongued cowboy could handle being outmatched.

This was a stand off with a lone wolf like yourself, someone who tricks and swindles their way through life. The rush of such a match was irresistible. It sent a thrill down your spine, sharper than the bite of whiskey and more intoxicating than the smoky haze filling the room. This man, watching you from the otherside of the pool table wasn’t just a charming outlaw; he was a mirror held up to your own reckless soul.

Dean bent over the table, lining up his shot. The room had quieted some, despite the growing crowd watching the close competition of the first few rounds. The air between you two remained charged. His gaze flickering up to meet yours with a spark of mischief.

“You know,” he starts, his voice dripping with mock sincerity, “I’d hate to embarrass you in your own game. You sure you wanna keep going?”

You smirked, leaning on your cue stick with the confidence of someone who already knew how this was going to end. “Big talk for a guy who’s down by two shots.”

Dean grins and draws back the cue, the crack of the shot slicing through the tension. The striped ball rolls cleanly into the corner pocket. He straightens, flashing you a cocky wink. “Make that one shot.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’re still losing.”

As the game went on, it became clear just how evenly matched you were. Every shot Dean made, you countered with one of your own. Every taunt he threw, you lobbed back, sharper and more daring.

“You always this good?” he asked as you circled the table, lining up a tricky bank shot.

“Maybe I’m just inspired,” you replied, flashing him a quick smile, holding his eye contact as you flick the cue stick forward, sending the ball careening off the cushion and into the pocket.

Dean let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “You know, for a sweet little thing like yourself, you sure do play dirty.”

You laughed, stepping aside to let him take his turn. “Flattery’s not gonna save you, sugar. But nice try.”

Dean leans over the table again, his biceps flexing just enough to catch your eye. He took the shot with deliberate precision, sinking another ball with maddening ease. When he looked up at you, his smirk was back in full force. “That one was for you.”

You bit back a retort, focusing on the table instead of the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like warm honey. It was your last turn, the eight ball poised perfectly for the win.

Dean steps back, giving you space but watching you like a hawk. “No pressure, sweet thing.”

You arched a brow. “Don’t need luck.”

With a steady hand and a flick of your wrist, you sank the eight ball, the final pocket dropping with a satisfying thunk. The crowd quickly resounds around you, whistling and cheering as you retain your winning streak. But your attention can’t find a break from your opponent, eyes locked on him as he coolly joins in the applause.

Dean let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he straightened. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re somethin’ else.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you set the cue stick back on the rack. “Told you I’d win.”

Dean follows suit, close enough that you caught a whiff of leather and whiskey. His attention stays trained on you, his head having to tilt down to yours at this closeness. “Guess I owe you somethin’ for the show.”

Your lips quirked. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way to repay me.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, before nodding toward the bar. “How ‘bout I buy you a drink? Least I can do for gettin’ my ass handed to me.”

You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Well, I am thirsty… and you do look like the kind of guy who can afford my usual.”

Dean shakes his head, clearly amused, as he steps back to let you pass. “Lead the way, miss.”

With a smirk, you took his offer, knowing full well you’d be sparring with him long after the drinks were gone. For once, though, you don’t mind the company.

You settle into the seat across from Dean, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. Tequila Cowboy might be rowdy enough to make the walls shake, but the corner table you’d claimed offered a rare pocket of quiet.

“So,” you start, leaning back in your chair with an easy smirk, “what do they call you?”

“Dean.” He lifts his glass to his lips, his smirk curling against the rim. “Dean Winchester.”

You snort softly, shaking your head. “Ain’t no way that’s your God-given name. Winchester? Like the rifle?”

He hums, jade-green eyes glinting with amusement. His gaze holds an undeniable pull, the kind that could unravel most anyone if they weren’t careful. You’re trying your hardest not to fall into that quiet gravity. “Wouldn’t lie to you, little miss.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“I swear it.” He crosses his index finger over his middle, pressing them to his lips before pointing them at you in a playful gesture. “And what about you? Got a name to match that sharp tongue?”

You lean forward slightly, eyes narrowing with a knowing glint. This was a question you heard often enough, and you’d learned long ago to keep your name—yourself—guarded from wolves in cowboy boots. “Whatever you want me to be, sugar.”

Dean chuckles, low and warm, a sound that doesn’t crumble under your carefully constructed allure. It piques your curiosity; clearly, he’s not like the others. The thought lingers, tempting you to learn more about the man with green eyes and a devil-may-care smile. “Holdin’ your cards close. I can respect that.”

“I haven’t seen you around these parts before,” you change the subject, tilting your head. It’s not uncommon for wanderers to pass through town. You only came here for the high stakes pool games, but never spent more than a few nights in this town. “You just passing through?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He sighs, leaning back, his knees knocking against your crossed legs under the table. “I’ll be here a few days, then it’s back on the road. I don’t stay anywhere too long.”

A ghost of a laugh escapes your lips, “Yeah, you don’t look like the type to linger.”

“Oh, yeah?” His brow quirks, eyes roaming over you with lazy interest. “What do I look like then?”

“Haven’t figured that out yet,” you admit, feeling a blush creep up your neck. The admission surprises you; you’re not one to get flustered, especially not when trading sweet talk with another smooth-talking cowboy.

Dean notices, his grin widening as he watches you try to mask the pink dusting your cheeks. His voice is as smooth as the bourbon he’s sipping. “Well, you let me know when you do.”

Shaking off your momentary slip, you smirk. “Oh, I will.”

A charged silence settles between you, comfortable yet crackling with something unspoken. Dean leans forward, breaking it with a question. “So, you always make your living hustlin’ rich ranchers outta their pocket change?”

“Depends,” you say, your voice playful but cautious. “Why? You looking to hire me?”

Dean’s smirk deepens as he sits up to lean over the table. The smell of cigarettes and dark liquor dances between the small space between you. His eyes meander around the people surrounding you as he lowers his voice, the warmth replaced by something sharper. “Word is, there’s a little stash of gold sittin’ in the hands of a real bastard.” His pupils have grown, eyes boring into yours with a dangerous glint of excitement as his voice quirks with sarcasm. “Seems like a damn shame for a guy like that to carry all that weight alone. Was thinkin’ I’d help lighten his load.”

Your brow arches, interest piqued. The thrill of his words settles over you like a second skin. “You asking for my help?”

“Maybe,” he drawls, his smile slow and deliberate. “Would you?”

“What’s my cut?” you quip, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Oh, sweet thing,” he rolls the pet name off his tongue like honey, the sound making you lean in closer, “you’ll be paid generously for your trouble.”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re a dangerous man, Dean Winchester.”

“And you don’t seem like the type to play it safe,” he shoots back, tipping his glass toward you.

He’s right, of course. This is the kind of thrill you can’t turn down, not with a man like him by your side. “When do we start?”

Dean turns toward the window, where the faintest glow of pre-dawn light softens the edges of the night. Only his eyes flick back to you, a hint of teasing swirling in the green, “Sunrise ain’t for a few more hours.”

You finish the last sip of your drink and set the glass down, standing with a grin. “Lead the way, cowboy.”

He pushes back his chair, unfolding with the grace of someone who’s always ready to move as he slips on his leather jacket. “I reckon we’ll make a damn good team, me and you.”

@a1ecmcdowell @titsout4jackles <3 ily ily ily mwah

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester au #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

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sugar-coat-it · 1 day ago

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Love Me! (If That’s What You Wanna Do)

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals <3

Fem! Reader

Contains: Sub!Matty, Matty being bratty, hair pulling, jealousy, male masturbation, nipple play, praise (good boy), riding.

—--------------------------------------

Matty guides his girlfriend through being dominant for the first time.

—--------------------------------------

WC: 4.5k

You knew Matty liked to put on a show, but this was just too much…

You watch as he sings into the microphone, the stage lights bathing him in purple and pink hues while he reaches for the buttons of his blouse. The shrill screams from the audience almost pierce your ears as he undoes them one by one. His inked skin is revealed inch by inch until his shirt lays open on his chest, a useless accessory hanging off of his shoulders. You swallow thickly, the tight, black leather of his pants sitting so low on his hips that the band of his Calvin Klien boxer briefs is visible, his v-line and sharp hip bones on full display. The ravenous girls at the stage barrier look like they want to eat him alive. You can’t blame them.

Matty waltzes about the stage like he owns it, swinging his hips and swigging his wine, lips stained a dark, salacious shade of red. You know he can feel your eyes burning into him. In fact, you’d bet anything that he’s counting on your attention. He’s doing almost everything except getting on his knees and begging for it.

He approaches the barrier, allowing stranger's hands to grab at anything they can reach, a sea of nameless faces touching his hair, his chest, his face. It’s worship, in a sense. He smiles like he deserves it.

Matty catches your stare, eyeing how your arms are wrapped tightly to your chest. You can’t find a way to hate his audacity. He wears it too well, even as he shoots you a wink while hands that aren’t yours feel his skin.

You’re fuming by the time the show ends, watching the boys take their bows while you simmer in your jealousy. No greeting is necessary when Matty comes backstage. He just smiles as you grab him by the wrist, pulling him to the nearest dressing room while he lazily tags along behind you. You don’t even bother to look back at him. You walk with purpose, ushering him into the room and locking the door.

Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, your mind racing as you take a few menacing steps forward until he’s backed up against the door. Cornered. A smirk pulls at Matty’s red-stained lips, feeling the possessiveness radiating off of you in waves. Your eyes have a wild look to them, and he’s just relishing in it. He knows you’re not just jealous and pissed off. You’re turned on. It’s all over your face. You’re painted with a flush like a mark of your hypocrisy.

"What are you doing?" you snap.

“What d’you mean?” he answers casually, his gaze flickering over your face. The cocky glint in his eyes is simply insufferable. You’re only feeding into his satisfaction, and it’s making you want to sink your teeth into him, rake your nails down his back. Make him squirm.

"What do I mean? Flirting with the girls in the audience? Letting them fucking grope you?” you snap, looking him up and down in disbelief.

“Babe, it’s all part of the show. They wanted a little piece of me, was just giving them what they wanted.”

As if you don't know that. Almost every single girl in that audience wanted him to take them home. Your face feels hot. He just. Won’t. Behave.

"Your pants are so low, I can practically see your dick," you bite, your upper lip twitching with annoyance, "And so could everyone else."

Matty chuckles, his tongue darting out over his lips to wet them. Your eyes follow his movement, but you tear your gaze away like you’d been burned, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your lust. He slowly takes your hands into his, placing them on his warm, bare chest. Your breath catches as he begins to guide them down his slender frame, almost like a peace offering, until he ruins it.

“Maybe I wanted them to know what I’m packing,” he quips.

Just as your fingertips graze the rose tattoo on his hip, you yank your hands out of his grasp.

“Jesus christ,” you mutter, your frustration bubbling up dangerously inside of you.

“Oh, come on, it was a joke,” he defends, rolling his eyes, “My dick is yours. Is that what you want me to say?”

You reach for his hair, grasping a fistful of his dark curls and tugging until his chin is tilted upwards. You don’t pull hard enough to hurt him. You know the gasp he makes isn’t out of pain. You see the flash of surprise in Matty’s eyes, having never been handled like this by you before.

“Do I not give you enough attention? Is that it?” you sneer, narrowing your eyes at him.

Matty’s breath shudders, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a thick swallow. He looks a lot more harmless like this with his throat bared to you.

"You give me plenty of attention, love. I just like to play around a bit. It's all harmless fun, yeah?" Matty smiles, trying to downplay how much your hold on his hair is affecting him.

"You like it?" you murmur lowly, your eyes boring into his, “Watching them go crazy for you? Feels good, huh?”

Matty nods, his pretty lips parted with shallow breaths as he peers down at you, not fighting the way you keep his head back. You hum softly in response, knowing he’s being honest. He’s a natural frontman, and of course, he thrives on attention.

"Do you ever want any of them?" you mutter, your grip tightening just slightly, making him moan softly. The air changes between you for a moment.

“No,” he says instantly, his eyes widening in a slight panic, “No, never, love. I swear. Only you. Couldn’t hold a fucking candle to you, my love.”

You nod, satisfied with his answer. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. You didn’t know how much you needed to hear that until it felt like you could breathe again.

“So, what? Why were you being a tease? Wanted to rile me up ‘cause you were feeling needy?” you coo with faux empathy, your tone almost mocking.

“Smart girl,” he grins, “Yeah. Wanted to see you all worked up and possessive and stuff. It’s hot.”

You huff, your face burning as you let go of his hair, knowing you’d played right into his hands and he loved every moment of it. Matty chuckles, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. His touch is gentle, a contrast to the cocky expression on his face, that lazy smirk that you just want to wipe off. He takes a step away from you as if he’s off the hook, scot-free.

“You didn’t like the striptease?” he says, tilting his head at you condescendingly.

He’s not going to get off that easy. You deliberately stand in his way, keeping him trapped between the door and your body. Your breathing is heavy, your eyes piercing into him like you’re contemplating what to do with him. Matty could probably push you off of him, but he doesn’t. He stares at you like a deer in headlights. He’s close enough to you that his hot breaths fan across your lips.

“What? Gonna punish me?” he asks, his voice wavering more than he’d intended, his taunt falling flat.

“Maybe I will,” you shoot back. You’re bluffing, but he doesn’t need to know that.

You have no clue where your next words come from, but they’re already falling from your lips like they’re being spoken for you.

“Go and sit on the couch.”

For just a second, Matty looks genuinely rattled before he shrugs, slipping out from between you and the door. He straightens up, starting to stride towards the red, velvet loveseat.

“As you wish,” he says, a challenge laced in his tone.

Matty takes a seat, leaning back against the pillows carelessly with his blouse still open and hanging at his sides. You follow after him, knocking his legs open with your knee so you can stand between them, towering over him. It feels good. Powerful, for a change.

“If you like being watched so much, I’d like to see a show,” you declare, peering down at him.

Matty’s brows furrow slightly, hardly able to recognize the fiery girl above him, his eyes flickering over you with astonishment. He clears his throat, shifting on the couch.

“Yeah? What kind of a show are we talking about, babe?”

“One that your fans aren’t allowed to see,” you answer, your voice dripping with implication.

You reach down, running your fingers through his mop of hair, watching as he automatically leans into your touch, reaching to hold your arm. The look in his eyes… he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He’s not new to submission.

You feel the fire inside you being stoked, building and sparking, flames upon flames. You want to explore this. You want to know what it’s like to have control over the great Matty Healy.

“Alright. Let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything. Just tell me,” he murmurs, turning his head to kiss your wrist.

"Oh, you're playing nice now?" you say, raising your eyebrows at him. Your mind swims at the idea. Anything? He’ll do anything?

You glance off to the side, biting at your lip. It's clear that he means it, but you find yourself stonewalled by the thought of actually taking what you want and being commanding the way he can be with you. You can almost feel your confidence and fire from earlier draining from your body. Sure, you’ve fantasized about what it would be like to be in control, but now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to say or do that will be sexy and domineering. “Take your pants off, now”? No. No, that’s stupid. “Whip it out”? God, no. That’s worse. So much worse.

Matty’s expression softens at your uncertainty, finding it endearing and arousing all at once. He gently reaches to hold your hip, his thumb rubbing in little circles. He can see the way your conflicting thoughts have left you frozen.

"Hey, it's alright, love. It’s just me. You can tell me what you want. I'll give you anything. Just ask, yeah?" he says, speaking softer than before, the heat between you temporarily put aside as you try and wrap your head around the role reversal. “I want you to.”

You nod, focusing on the soothing feeling of him rubbing your hip, small circles that keep your feet grounded. Deep breath…

"Wanted to watch you touch yourself," you admit.

Matty’s eyebrows raise slightly. You search his eyes for aversion, but all you find is curiosity in their depths. The gears in Matty’s head are turning.

“Oh, do you now?”

“Mhm. Would you?”

He reaches for your other hip, beginning to guide you to sit on his lap until your legs are straddling him. You place your hands on his chest for support, your breathing shallow. There's a whole swirling mix of feelings inside of you: anxiety, desire, curiosity… but mostly need.

“Yeah, love. You wanna sit right here and watch me do it?” he says, his voice gravelly, “Touch myself right here in the dressing room?”

“Oh god, yeah,” you breathe.

Matty chuckles, leaning in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers.

"You're so sweet like this, all nervous.”

You shake your head as he starts to tease you, inching one hand up his chest to his neck, holding it there possessively. Not squeezing, but just resting, your fingertips brush over his throat. Matty smirks.

"No, no, don't do that. I'm still ticked off," you murmur.

"Oh, yeah? You still annoyed? What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

“Let me… let me be in charge,” you whisper.

Matty nods slowly, glancing down at the hand around his neck, his breathing a little heavier. He wants to let you have this because, really, it’s so hot for him to see you this way. He’s finding himself a bit lovestruck over being manhandled. He reaches up and places his hand over the one on his throat, gently holding it there before he looks up at you.

“Tell me what to do,” he says.

"Okay... okay," you whisper, bringing your other hand up to knot into his hair, "... kiss me."

“Yeah,” he murmurs, tilting his head up, “I can do that.”

His lips are on yours instantly, making you melt in the way only he can. It’s deep. He has your lashes fluttering as he licks into your mouth, his hands firmly on your hips. You rub your thumb up and down subtly against the column of his neck as your lips lock, the heat between you spiking.

“I’m yours… baby, please,” he murmurs against your lips, making warmth flush through your body.

Releasing your hold on him, you kiss from the corner of his swollen lips down Matty’s neck, feeling a pang of satisfaction at the way he instantly tilts his head for you. He lets out a low moan while you kiss and nip with your teeth, being unapologetically greedy with him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his hips twitching under you, “Mark me.”

And you do. You suck and kiss at his collarbones until you’ve littered him with love bites. By the time you’ve pulled away, Matty looks desperate. He’s hard and aching under your thigh. His cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown wide as he softly pants.

“You’re— you’re looking at me like you wanna devour me,” he pants.

“Maybe I do…”

Matty shudders, taking your hand to kiss your palm with reverence, his deep, brown eyes locked on yours. The eye contact alone is enough to make the air feel electrified as he kisses his way up your arm.

“I can perform for you, baby,” he whispers, his voice laced with submission. Matty spreads his legs wide under you, his body language screaming surrender as his lips press to your skin, his breathing heavy. “You’re so fucking hot like this. See what you’ve done to me?”

Matty presses his hips up against yours pointedly, letting you feel how hard he is already. The stir between your legs only feels more prominent as he starts to rock against you. You’re soaked. You could really get used to seeing him be so needy.

You hold the side of his face, feeling the heat of his skin as he reaches down his body for the zipper of his leather trousers. Matty taps your thigh, signaling for you to lift your body. His eyes stay locked on yours, not once straying as he shimmies the tight fabric down his legs until they’re around his ankles.

“See something you like?” he whispers, watching your eyes flicker to his briefs.

Something bristles in you at that. He’s getting too cocky for your liking. He’s meant to be here to please you. To be pretty for you.

“God,” you mutter, gripping his jaw, “You’re such an attention whore.”

“Can you blame me? Been wanting your attention all day,” Matty grins, relishing your nails digging into his cheek.

“Well, you have it…” you say softly, your eyes flickering over his face, “Keep going.”

He chuckles, taking one hand and running it down his inked chest lower and lower, over his ribs and his stomach and…

“Whatever you want.”

Matty traces his fingertips over the outline of his erection, biting his lip as he teases himself. His cock jumps under his touch, causing him to shudder beneath you. He suddenly grasps himself through his underwear with a long exhale, his lashes fluttering at the sensation. It feels like every inch of your body was jolted awake at the sight. He starts to rub himself through the fabric slowly, precum darkening a spot on the front of his briefs.

“Is this good? This what you want?” he murmurs, “Me playing with myself for you?”

With a nod, you let go of Matty’s face, running your hands down his chest. You catch the way his hips twitch when your fingers brush his nipples.

“Fuck, touch me more,” he whines, his brows knitting together.

“Keep going, and maybe I will,” you whisper, watching him bite his lip with frustration.

Something possesses you as you reach for his right hand, bringing it to your lips. You kiss each of his fingertips before you spit into the palm of his hand, watching Matty’s lips part with a moan. Hastily, Matty shoves his briefs down just enough for his cock to land heavily on his stomach. He wastes no time, wrapping his slicked hand around himself and starting to stroke. It’s better than you could have dreamed.

“You look so good,” you murmur, thumbing over his chest just enough to make his hips arch off of the loveseat, “Feels nice?”

Matty whimpers as he tightens his fingers around his tip, nodding quickly. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours.

“Yeah, even better when you’re watching me,” he pants, his eyes squeezing shut, “Wanna please you, baby. Wanna get you so wet.”

He starts to buck his hips into his fist, moving in tandem with his working hand. He’s moving faster now, like he wants to give you more, to give you everything. The obscene, slick noises fill the dressing room with his pleasured groans. Your other hand cards through his dark curls, pushing them away from his eyes that are dark with lust and concentration, his cherry lips parted with shallow breaths. He looks desperate, his hand tugging at his cock over and over, getting off on the attention just as much as his touch. With your heated gaze on him, he finds himself nearing the edge so much faster than usual. Matty’s voice comes out in a ragged, pleading whisper.

“Baby, I–” he gasps, running his thumb over his slit, spreading the pearls of precum.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m getting close, love. I need you… need you to tell me what to do,” Matty pants, looking at you with his pretty, hazy eyes as his hips rock below you.

“Already?” you smile teasingly, “You want me to take over now since you’re being so good?”

Matty nods vigorously, his eyes widening with need. With a sweet whimper, he takes your hand and places it on his flushed cheek, leaning into your touch desperately.

“Please, please, I’m so good. I’m a good boy. I want you to… need you to,” he mumbles deliriously. God, he really can be so sweet when he wants to be. You feel drunk on his submission.

Matty lets out a whine as you rewardingly pinch one of his nipples, his hips stuttering at the sensation.

“You like being touched like that?” you whisper, running your thumb back and forth over his cheek, watching his eyes roll back in his head.

Matty hesitates, his cheeks flushing a lovely, deeper shade of pink. He curses under his breath, his lashes fluttering as you rub in small circles on his chest.

“Yeah,” he admits breathlessly, too high on pleasure to truly feel embarrassed, “I’ve not… had a girl do that to me before.”

“No? Do you do it to yourself, sweetheart?” you whisper lowly, leaning down to kiss from his jawline to the sensitive spot just below his ear. He nods slowly with a moan, a shiver going down his spine as he continues to jerk himself off for you.

“Sometimes. But it feels much… much better when you do it, fuck.”

“That’s adorable,” you smile, feeling his head loll against your palm, his hair spilling to the side. He’s simply melting.

“Baby, please. I can’t… I can’t. I need you,” he pants, his body starting to tremble as he pathetically tries not to spill all over his fist, his muscles taught.

Your smile only widens against his neck. This is all too satisfying. You place both hands on his face, holding it, brushing a damp section of curls away from his face that’s painted with desperation. You can’t help but take a moment just to admire him, the way his brows draw together tensely as he tries to stave off his orgasm. You almost laugh, thinking about how audacious he was only twenty minutes ago, only to be reduced to a mess beneath you.

“You can stop now, honey,” you murmur, seeing the flash of relief in his eyes as his hand slows to a stop, falling back against the velvet couch.

“Oh christ, I nearly fucking blew my load. You’re terrible,” he shudders, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

“Ah, is that what you say to your lovely girlfriend who’s about to ride you?” you berate teasingly, lifting your hips up off of his lap.

Matty’s eyes go wide as you reach up your skirt and slide your thong down your legs, catching a glimpse of the glistening fabric. He groans softly, grasping your thighs and letting his fingers dig into the meat of them.

“Oh, no, no. Of course not. What I meant was… erm— god, I can’t think. Just fuck me,” he relents with a hazy sigh.

“That’s what I thought,” you grin, reaching to grasp the base of his cock.

You stroke him once, twice before positioning yourself over him, watching his eyes flicker between your face and your body as you run his tip through your folds. You sigh softly as his cock brushes your swollen clit, tossing your head back at the tingles that flood through you. But just when you’re about to sink down onto him, Matty grabs your hips hurriedly, stopping you.

“Wait. Please lift your skirt. Wanna see it go inside you,” he mutters, biting his bottom lip.

You just roll your eyes. He’s such a guy. Yet, you still reach to hike up the fabric of your skirt, keeping it lifted up as you start to slowly lower yourself onto his cock. Matty’s lidded eyes are trained on your cunt, fascinated as he watches himself disappear inch by inch. It never gets old for him.

“Ohh, fuck me,” he mumbles euphorically.

A lazy grin spreads across his face as you start to bounce in his lap, his head tilted back against the couch. You feel so full of him. Your stomach swoops with every rise and fall of your hips.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans, grasping handfuls of your ass under your skirt, “You’re a sexy domme, sweetheart. Who knew you had it in you, huh? I thought I would have had to take over by now.”

“You talk too much,” you pant, reaching to tug at his hair, keeping his head back firmly, “Was much nicer when you were being good.”

“Fucking shut me up then,” he rasps, “Make me a good boy again.”

With a frustrated huff, you crush your lips to his, kissing him meanly, like you’re trying to bruise him. Matty groans deeply against your mouth, twitching inside of you as he responds in kind, his tongue shoving past your lips. You make out a muffled murmur of “That’s it, that’s how you fucking do it, baby.” The heat radiating between your bodies only spikes higher as you ride him harder. Your eager mouth swallows his whimpers as you give his curls a pull, his hands pitifully grasping at your hips, your ass, anything he can reach. He pushes at your chest, begging for a moment of mercy so he can speak.

“You’re doing so good, making me feel so—” he breathes, his voice wavering as he inches closer to his edge, “‘M not gonna last.”

“Ask me.”

Matty blinks.

“What?”

“Ask me to cum.”

Matty’s breath shudders, his cock giving a strong twitch inside of you. He looks stunned, maybe a bit impressed too. Typically, he’s the one demanding that you ask for his permission to let go. His mind is so loosened by the slam of your hips that he doesn’t hesitate for another second.

“Let me cum. Please, please, my love. Light of my fucking life, my everything, I need it,” he begs, his hand snaking between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“More,” you gasp, warmth blooming between your thighs.

“More begging? Or more of this?” he smiles, pressing down harder against your cunt, making you moan wantonly.

“Both, both,” you nod eagerly.

“Fuck, alright,” he shudders, continuing to circle your clit with his calloused fingertips, “Anything for you. Anything. Just, please, can I cum? I-I seriously can’t fucking do this much longer. I’m so close, so fucking close, baby, please. I’ll be good, I swear.”

Something about hearing him fucking beg has your cunt fluttering around him, the warmth threatening to crash over you. As fun as it’s been, you don’t want to deny him any longer. You want to watch him fall to pieces below you at your doing and yours alone.

“Cum for me,” you gasp, your hips moving furiously on top of his lap, his fingers still pressing on your clit just right.

Matty tries to thank you; he really does, but the words get caught in his throat as his climax rips through him, his back arching as his hips rock heedlessly, spilling inside of you with a strangled cry. The pure ecstasy on his face has you following after him, your pace faltering as the waves of your orgasm have you clawing at his hair. It’s so. So good. Such a different feeling when you’re on top of him, in control of his pleasure.

Neither of you moves an inch for the next few minutes, staying happily collapsed against each other in your shared haze. He holds you close on his lap, enjoying the warmth of still being inside of you. You feel so lazy, like never want to leave this couch. Who knew being in charge was so tiring?

“I should do that more often if it means you’ll ride me like that,” he murmurs.

Your eyes snap open, landing a slight slap on his chest. You can feel the rumble of his laugh against you as he just chuckles.

“I’m just messing. I’m messing, you know I love you,” Matty grins, placing a kiss on your temple, “Next time, I’ll just ask you to be dominant so I can take the night off from doing all the work.”

“I do plenty of work!” you protest with a scoff.

“Yeah, you do,” he coos, petting your hair, “I know, your poor jaw gets so sore.”

“Don’t say because of your massive dick.”

“Because of my massive— OW! Stop smacking me!”

Matty tackles you to the couch, grinning at the sound of your squeal. He stares down at you with his eyes narrowed playfully, slowly starting to lean down until his lips press to the tip of your nose.

“I’m serious though, you were great. Very sexy,” he smiles, tenderly brushing your hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d let you put me in my place any day. My perfect girl,” Matty murmurs, his eyes almost twinkling as they flicker over your face.

“I’d happily do it again, if you deserve it,” you tease, beaming at him.

“We both know I will,” he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

#apologies if this is not very good!!! I haven’t written in a minute #MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVES #matty healy smut #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fic #matty healy imagine #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 x you #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fic #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic

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