#now as me: WHAT IF I WALKED INTO THE FOG

[gibles-lovely-selfships]

Sterling!

Now now, I know what you're going to say to me. Wouldn't it be better to tell you this in person? Well that would be true, but there's something about writing letters to someone that you love that really catches their heart. Just like you have caught mine. Also you have your ways of somehow leaving just when I come in. So there's that.

I can hear you sigh from that just right now and hey! Let me get to the main point of this letter first! What I wanted to as you is to go on a date. Just you and me flying on Claudia. I heard there was going to be a meteor shower tonight. With stars all flying across the night sky. Now despite how the stars sparkle brightly, none shine as bright as you. What? It's true you know!

If you do want to accept this, you'll know where I'll be. And this time I promise that drinks and dinner will be on me. Or even better! I'll whip us something nice. If Willy doesn't distract me that is.

Yours truly,

Gilder.

Gilder,

I see you haven't changed a bit.

About your offer… work has been slow lately, and you're correct about there being a meteor shower. …I admit enjoying them with a companion does sound better than enjoying them alone.

I'm hoping that you intend to hold up that promise of paying/preparing, but just in case, I'll bring whatever's necessary.

Sterling

[peaches2217]

Y’ever have really strong feelings about something and wanna write it all out but nothing’s coming to you? Just strong but unspecific emotions?

Mareach… good fluffies… happy feelings… wanna write… but write WHAT???

[innalheid]

Feeling very Ascension by Gorillaz ft Vince Staples at 2:18

[demonsfate]

i either gave myself a concussion or i developed a sinus infection from the cold or both but it's been driving me wild for the past few days.

[rosicheeks]

🙃

[rowanhoney]

okay SO I don’t remember what meds I was given (and only 2 doses of it </3) and it hasn’t helped in the ways I’d hoped but god I’m experiencing some reeeeal clarity today and I think some healing to follow

[xcziel]

Hey saw your tags about anemia and still being anemic after taking supplements. And you may have tried this, but I got this tip from another tumblr user so I'm passing it on. Have you tried Iron Bisglyconate supplements? It's a different form of iron than typical supplements or RX supplements and it's much better on your stomach and more easily absorbed. And in my experience it worked when normal Ferrous Sulfate didn't.

I consulted my doctor and she went off and told me the correct dosage for me when I was severely anemic was 100mg/day but normally I take about 50mg now.

Just worth trying. For the record they don't know the cause of my anemia either but my mom has had the same problem her entire life. They just don't like when I tell them it has to be genetic.

I haven't tried bisglycinate - i've now got some tabs open for reasearch, thank you!

my Dr put me on 28mg heme polypeptide + polysaccharide iron complex every other day, which does seem to help a bit but not get me out of the zone?

after the one session of iron infusion last november, we seem to be just watching the hemoglobin go slowly back down. he seems to feel like if it gets too low again then the answer is just another infusion and has stopped really looking at causes/other options

i'm a bad case i guess because i'm also taking omeprazole and that inhibits absorption.

my new idea recently was to try a methylfolate supplement, even though my folate numbers are good, in case it was a lack of the right kind of folate that was inhibiting iron uptake (i don't get a lot of plant-derived vitamins) but it was *really* affecting my mood for the worse, so i had to stop. next appointment is soon, so we'll see in the bloodwork if it had any affect.

i'll ask him if trying another form of iron supplement might be worth looking at - maybe in addition?, because he didn't really offer a choice - just said "take this, it's easier on your stomach" (probably because the metformin is rough enough on my digestion)

[floral-hex]

real sad boy hours

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[technicolorxsn]

thinking abt that day again....

[theostrophywife]

shut up kiss me.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

song inspiration: shut up kiss me by angel olsen.

author's note: everyone say thank you to my love @writingsbychlo for fueling my delusions. constantly spamming her with my ideas because i have no self control when it comes to this man. there’s just something about theo fighting that makes me absolutely feral but i’ll hush now before i spoil it 🤭

Theodore. Fucking. Nott. 

Those three words fueled your rampage as you marched across the quidditch pitch. The audacity of that cocky, arrogant, silver tongued Slytherin knew no bounds. For years, you tolerated the pompous prick and the rivalry between you, but today he had finally gone too far. 

You cleared the field in less than a minute, passing by confused players as you angrily seethed. You spotted a shock of familiar platinum blonde hair and walked right up to Draco Malfoy. 

“Where the hell is he?”

He chuckled, perfectly aware of your longstanding enmity with his closest friend. “What’s he done this time?”

“Where. Is. He?” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me ask again, Malfoy.” 

The blonde paled several shades when he saw the fire burning in your gaze. “Locker rooms. I wouldn’t go in there, Y/N. They’re still shower—“ Draco sighed as you brushed past him. “Whatever, it’s your funeral.”

The locker rooms were steamy, the heat and humidity clinging to your school uniform as you stalked through the aisles. The Slytherin players startled when they spotted you amongst their midst. 

“Well, well, well,” Mattheo drawled as he leaned against the wall. A towel hung dangerously low on his hips and he smirked when your eyes flickered over his body. “What do we have here? A sweet little Hufflepuff marching straight into the viper’s den.”

“Where the fuck is he, Riddle?”

Mattheo grinned lazily. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.” 

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your arrogant prick of a friend who sent my fucking date to the hospital wing!” 

Before you went to sleep last night, you had done so with a grin on your face after a wonderful date with Alec Stone at the Three Broomsticks, but then you arrived at breakfast this morning with no Alec in sight and the rumor mill rampant with talks of Theo pummeling some poor Ravenclaw in the courtyard. 

You were going to kill him. 

“Sorry, love. Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

You frowned, purposely bumping against Mattheo as you walked further down the dimly lit aisle. In your trail for vengeance, you ran into a very flustered looking Enzo who yelped as he sought to cover his very naked torso. 

“Y/N,” Enzo said, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What are you doing in the locker rooms?”

Behind him, the sound of the shower running echoed against the marble tiles. “Is he in there?”

Berkshire’s face fell. “You heard about the fight?” 

“It wasn’t a fight,” you said angrily. “He pummeled Alec so badly that he’s currently in the hospital wing with a concussion and several broken bones.”

“Just hear him out, okay?” 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Hear him out? Your precious Theodore beat the absolute shit out of my date and you want me to hear him out? For what? What reason could Theo possibly have for doing what he did to Alec? He couldn’t stand to see me have fun for two fucking seconds? This is low even for him and you know it, Enzo.”

“You don’t know the whole story, Y/N.” 

“Well then please point me in the right direction so I can hear from the arsehole himself.” 

“He’s in there,” Enzo said, pointing to the shower stalls. “But I’m warning you, Y/N. He’s in a proper foul mood.” 

You huffed. “That makes two of us.” 

The steam from the showers rose up like a malevolent fog, curling around your feet as you stormed through the stalls. You found him in the farthest corner, water trickling down his back as he faced the tiled wall. His body language was tense, like a serpent preparing to strike. A crimson trail swirled against the marble as blood dripped from Theo’s bruised knuckles. The sight of it incensed you. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Theo whipped his head towards your direction, his dark curls plastered against his cheek. Those watercolor eyes were stormy, the blues and greens flickering with anger as he met your gaze. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said dismissively. 

“Bullshit!” You countered, stepping further into the stall. The steam barely covered Theo’s naked form, but you weren’t about to let that deter you from demanding answers. “You owe me a fucking explanation.”

“For what?” 

“For what?” you repeated incredulously. “You beat Alec within an inch of his life and that’s all you have to say for yourself? Honestly Theodore, have you gone absolutely mental?” 

“He deserved it.” 

“Why? Because he took me out on a date? Because you couldn’t stand to let me have this one thing? You absolutely loathe the idea of me being even remotely happy, don’t you?” 

Theo clenched his fists as his jaw twitched in anger. “No. I loathe the idea of that miserable excuse of a human being breathing the same air as you.” 

“So you beat him to a bloody pulp?” 

His voice was cold and icy, cutting through you like glass. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.”

“What do you have against Alec?” You moved closer to Theo, closing the gap as you poked his chest. The shower streamed over the both of you, blurring your vision. The water was hot against your skin, but it paled against the heat of your own anger. “What did he ever do to you, Theo?” 

Theo gripped your wrist. You were vaguely aware of his nakedness, but he made no move to hide it and you were too furious to even care. “Don’t say his name. I can’t bear to hear you say it after what he said about you this morning.” 

You stepped backward, flinching. “What—what are you talking about?” 

When you met his gaze, you startled. You’d never seen Theo this angry before. His eyes, which were usually dead and expressionless, burned with a cold sort of fury. 

“I heard him in the courtyard, bragging to his stupid friends. I thought he was just chatting shit, so I kept back. I only came down for a smoke, but then he said your name.” 

The pit in your stomach grew. “What did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not if he was this angry over it.

“The stupid fucking prick was talking about your date. The dress you wore. The smiles you gave him. The hand holding through Hogsmeade. Then one of his gormless mates asked if he got lucky.” 

You froze at his words as a horrible feeling washed over you. Theo loosened his grip on your wrist, but didn’t let go. 

“Do you know what that sodding idiot said? I will, soon enough. I can tell she’s raring to go.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes. You felt like you were going to be violently sick. 

“And his friends—those miserable fucking wankers started betting on how long it would take. Two dates. Three. A month.” Theo’s hands were shaking, violence spilling over into his veins. “That smug tosser smirked and said he could’ve had you out in the hallway. That’s how eager you were.”

“I barely even touched him!” you said angrily. “I kissed his cheek good night and that was it.” 

“I know,” Theo said, his voice low and rough. “I know you. I knew he was lying, so I fucking lost it. I walked over there and just punched and punched until my knuckles were bloody and bruised and all I could see was red. I wanted to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his mouth.” 

You could picture Theo putting out his cigarette ever so calmly before walking over to throw the first punch. You’d seen him fight before. He was relentless. Where Mattheo was pure fire and rage, Theo was as cold as ice. There was nothing but lethal calm in those dead eyes as he delivered blow after blow in absolute silence. 

“Eventually, Blaise and Enzo pulled me off of that prick.” He averted his gaze as if remembering the moment. “When his idiot friends finally peeled him off the floor, I spit on the fucker. I told him to consider it a warning. That I’d do a lot worse if I ever heard your name come out of his mouth again. I promised him that a concussion would be the least of his worries if he didn’t stay the fuck away from you.”

The tears fell down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them in. The anger all but faded from Theo’s eyes as soon as he realized that you were crying. You were so, so stupid. For thinking Alec was a nice guy. For being so giddy after your date only for him to turn around and spit vile lies about you. 

For crying in front of your worst enemy.

The color drained from Theo’s face as you cried into your hands. You felt him shift beside you, debating whether or not to come closer. 

“Don’t,” you said through a broken sob. “Don’t come near me.” 

Theo flinched at your words, looking visibly pained. His voice was soft and soothing when he spoke again. “Tell me how to fix it. Do you want to yell at me? Punch me? Go ahead, love. I can take it.” He sounded desperate. “Just please, please don’t cry.” 

You hugged your arms around your waist and glared at him. “Why do you even care?” 

He paused, fingers flexing at his side as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you. 

“Because I care about you!” The exasperation in his voice made your chest tighten. “I care that you let that stupid idiot take you on a date to the Three Broomsticks. I care that you fucking smiled at him when he gave you roses even though I know you prefer sunflowers. I care that you kissed him on the cheek when he dropped you off at your dorm.”

You sniffled, utterly perplexed at his words. “I don’t understand. We hate each other!” 

Theo visibly softened, the tension leaving his body. “I could never hate you, Y/N.” He reached for your hand. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you let him trace soothing circles on your skin. “I may tease you. Prank you. Annoy you. But I’ve never hated you.” 

Theo wiped the dried up tears from your cheeks. No fresh tears, which he took as a good sign. “I don’t even think you remember this, but I tried asking you to the Yule Ball in fourth year.” 

The memory surfaced. You were reading by the Black Lake and Theo had asked if you had a date. You said no, to which he promptly asked if he could take you. You left in a huff, thinking that it was just another way to rile you up. 

“I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me. If I would’ve known…” 

Theo paused. “How could you not know? How could you not see?” 

The rage crashed against you like an errant wave. You didn’t know if you were angry at Theo or yourself, but you exploded either way, unable to keep your emotions under control. 

“Because you never told me, you idiot!”

“I never told you, but I showed you.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm not good with words, obviously. Every time I open my mouth it’s like I say the perfect combination of words to piss you off. So I learned to tell you how I felt through my actions.” 

“Haven’t you ever wondered why your favorite study spot in the library is always free? That’s because I threatened anyone who came near it. Or how you never seem to run out of quills despite the fact that you manage to break one every day from how hard you write? I always replaced them when you weren’t looking.” Your heart clenched at his words. “I even bribed first years to bring you hot chocolate when I knew you were pulling all nighters.” 

You stood there, staring at him. This wasn’t the cocky, arrogant Theo that you knew. He was looking at you so earnestly that it physically hurt how endearing it all was. 

“Why would you let me think that you were an inconsiderate jerk this whole time?” 

Those hypnotizing eyes pierced right through you, filled with a sadness so heavy that you felt it weighing on your chest. 

“Because at least you were thinking of me.”

You swayed gently. The water had long seeped into your bones, making you shiver as all of your clothes stuck to your skin like paper. You were convinced that your body had gone into shock. The range of emotions you were currently experiencing was turbulent to say the least. You stood in stunned silence, just taking it all in. Then the impact of his words hit you all at once. 

Theo watched as your bottom lip trembled. Panic seized him as you began crying again, this time not bothering to hide it from him. “Fuck I’m sorry, Y/N. Please don’t cry.” 

He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort you? Should he keep his distance? Theo felt like he was doing a rather exceptional job of mucking things up. 

“Why are you saying sorry?” You said between hiccups. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Theo caressed your cheek. So gently. Like he half-expected you to recoil. That only set a fresh wave of tears to spill onto your cheeks. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, love.” 

“Of course I do!” you nearly wailed. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve thought the worst of you, but all this time you were doing all these sweet, considerate things and I never even noticed. You should’ve told me, Theo.” 

“I—I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way,” Theo said softly. “It was better to have you hate me and still be part of my life than risking not having you in it at all.” 

Because at least you were thinking of me. 

It was the saddest thing that you’ve ever heard. For years, Theo settled for being your enemy because he’d rather have your hatred and loathing than indifference. He sustained himself on the bare minimum because he thought that was all he deserved. 

“I’m sorry, Theo. I’m so so fucking sorry.” 

Theo was absolutely distressed. “Fuck, look Y/N. Let me just finish up here and get my towel and when I’m dry and slightly less naked then we can talk, okay?” 

You sniffled, wiping your tears away. There was no way you could wait. Not after everything Theo had just told you. Not after everything that he’s been telling you all these years. Theo had literally and figuratively laid himself bare before you. The least you could do was to even the playing field. 

So you unlaced the gold and black tie around your neck. Unbuttoned your blouse and threw it somewhere behind you. Stepped out of your skirt and stared at Theo head on. 

“Oh—Merlin’s beard, what in the hell are you doing, Y/N? Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?” 

You shook your head, smiling slightly. Theo was determined to look everywhere but at your very exposed body. You were still in your bra and panties, but the black lace really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Especially when the water clung to every inch of your skin. 

“You were vulnerable with me,” you said simply. “So I’m returning the favor.” 

Theo felt like he was definitely headed for an early grave. He tried to think of something—anything—other than the girl he’s been head over heels for since third year standing naked in front of him.

“Theo,” you said softly. His name had never sounded half as good coming out of anyone else’s mouth. He wanted to bottle the sound. “Can I—can I hug you?” 

He could’ve sworn that his heart had stopped beating. The air had all but left his lungs, deflating his entire body as though he’d fallen off his broom and plummeted through the sky at breakneck speed. 

Theo didn’t recognize his own voice as he said, “Of course you can, Y/N.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you dashed into his arms, nearly toppling him over from the force of it. You were a tiny little thing, but you were stronger than you looked. He smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you hugged him. For a minute you and Theo just stood there under the trickling water, holding each other as though you were the only two people alive. 

If this was all the affection you were willing to give him, Theo would’ve been content to hold onto you until you grew tired of him. His slender fingers traced down your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as you were with him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this. There was just this spark between you. Perhaps that was part of the reason why you had been so angry this morning. 

It hadn’t just been because Theo sent Alec to the hospital wing, which you were now thankful for after hearing all the disgusting things he said about you. It was also because you thought that he had ruined your chance of feeling that rush with someone else. The same rush you got when the two of you were arguing. The same rush that was noticeably missing when you kissed Alec last night. 

Things with Theo had always been electric. You attributed it to mutual loathing, but that wasn’t the full story. Sure he made your blood boil sometimes, but he also made you feel alive. You were terrified to admit it to yourself, which is probably why you said yes to Alec in the first place. 

You sighed as Theo’s fingers tangled through your hair. He gently pulled your head back and looked at you in the most heartbreaking way. 

“Y/N,” he said hoarsely. Theo’s gaze dipped to your mouth as his arm snaked around your waist. “I think I might die if I go one more second without kissing you. Will you please put me out of my misery, love?” 

You couldn’t help but smile. “Gladly.”

Theo held his breath as you pulled him down to you, lips brushing shyly at first. Then you leaned in and kissed him. And he truly and honestly thought that he had died. 

Your lips were soft against his, tasting of strawberries and mint toothpaste. He cupped the back of your head and tilted your chin to deepen the kiss. Before, Theo thought he could’ve sustained himself from a simple hug, but right now, he couldn’t even control himself as he gorged himself on your taste. 

He chuckled when you tried and failed to get on your tiptoes to offset the height difference between you. Theo caressed your cheek and smiled against your mouth. 

“Need some help, love?” 

You nodded before pulling him back down again. This time, the tender kisses turned more heated as he locked your legs around his waist and pressed your back against the wall. You gasped as the cold tile made contact with your bare skin and Theo took the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. 

Merlin’s beard. Theo kissed with his entire body. There wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t touching him and the skin to skin contact set your body on fire. You’d kissed other boys before, but they paled in comparison. You couldn’t get enough of Theo. You ran your fingers through his hair. Wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist. Trailed kisses along his jaw and neck and throat. 

Then he fucking moaned. 

It was a low, rumbling sound that sent tremors over your body and shook every fiber of your being like a devastating earthquake. You wanted to hear him make that sound over and over again. 

“Y/N,” Theo said, his forehead dropping to yours. “Before I lose all sense of self, I want to—no—I need to tell you—”

“What is it, Theo?”

“If we do this, then you have to understand what it means to me,” Theo whispered. “I may be terrible with words, but it’s important for me that you hear me when I say this. I want you. Not just physically, but in every sense of the word. I wanted you in third year when you first told me off for being a dick to the first years and I want you now even though you came in here to defend a prick that definitely doesn’t deserve it.” 

“What are you saying, Theo?” 

“I want you to be mine, Y/N.” 

You beamed. “Like, your girlfriend?”

“I don’t think girlfriend is a strong enough word to express how I feel for you, but it’s a start.” He moved the hair out of your face and cradled your cheek. “So yes, I suppose I do want you to be my girlfriend. I want to hold hands with you in the hallways. I want to look up at the stands during my games and see you cheering me on. I want to take you up to the Astronomy Tower and kiss you under the stars.” 

“And you say you’re bad with words,” you teased. “I want to do all those things and more with you, Theodore Nott. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“Good, cause you’re mine.” Theo said matter-of-factly, those adorable dimples making an appearance on each cheek. “You were mine even before you knew it.” 

He kissed you again, but this time it was soft and sweet and it filled your stomach with butterflies. Theo no longer felt the need to hoard as much of your affection as he could because you had just given him the ultimate reassurance that he would have plenty of you in the future. 

You sighed contently against him, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. He shifted, pressing kisses against your neck. Your fingers froze when you felt him stir underneath you. 

“Theo,” you said slowly, biting back a smirk. “Is that what I think it is pressing against my leg?” 

He groaned. “We’re half naked, in the shower, heavily making out, and you just agreed to be my girlfriend. Of course I’m hard.” 

You stifled a laugh. “Theodore Nott, is emotional intimacy turning you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on.” 

“That’s helpful to know,” you said with a little smirk. “Especially when we're dueling and I’m losing.” 

“Merlin’s beard. My girlfriend’s downright evil.” 

You grinned so hard that your cheeks ached. Theo peppered kisses all over your face before setting you down. 

“I suppose we should head to dinner soon. My teammates watched you march in here in a fit of rage. They might think you’ve murdered me.” 

“There’s only one problem,” you said as you finally turned off the shower. “I’m soaking wet.” 

“I bet you are, darling.” 

You rolled your eyes. “From the shower, you wanker.” 

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. “It’s alright. I’ve got some extra clothes in my locker.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you walked out in the quidditch pitch hand in hand. Theo’s sweater completely enveloped you and he smiled a little at the sight. You received a few interesting stares as you made your way through the castle halls, but one look from Theo and they all quickly found something else to gawk at. Having a scary boyfriend was already paying off. 

On the way to dinner, you ran into Enzo. The git had the biggest smile on his face when he saw that you and Theo were holding hands. “So you heard him out after all, huh?” 

“Yeah, we sorted out our differences,” you said with a smile. “Coincidentally, I gained a boyfriend out of the whole ordeal. Happy now, Berkshire?” 

“Absolutely chuffed,” Enzo said with a grin. “See you lovebirds at dinner.” 

Theo rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared into the Great Hall. He turned, squeezing your fingers. “I should warn you. My friends can be a bit…much.” 

“Don’t worry, I think we all got fairly acquainted in the locker rooms. If they tease us, well I’ve got a perfectly scary boyfriend to fend them off.” 

He chuckled. “A scary boyfriend with an even more terrifying girlfriend.” 

You winked, kissing his bruised knuckles. “This school won’t know what hit them.” 

“Neither did Alec,” he said with a satisfied smirk. You gave him a reprimanding glare, but it was half-hearted. You didn’t actually feel sorry for the prick. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“You know you can’t punch everyone that says anything bad about me, right?”

“Of course not. I’m perfectly capable of kicking them too.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Shut up and kiss me, Theo.” 

“Yes ma'am.” 

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

please let me know if you'd like to be added.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

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

PART TWO | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You took a step toward him, silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stared up at him, mind empty, until—

Smack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—he was in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. That was what he meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your head fell back. “Oh—Oh gods—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

[ja3yun]

Sweat for Me | P.JS

stranger! jay x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, alcohol consuption, tipsy ynjay (all consensual), strangers to lovers, creepy men in clubs, but jay saves the day, not proofread anything else lmk! w.c: 7.8k synopisis: after a stressful week you go to the club to let loose and forget your problems, and jay is there to lend the perfect helping hand

a/n: hi! this is pure self indulgence because i saw jay at the prada event and went feral so, this is for my jay girlies! also, please do not have sex w strangers in clubs !! take it to a hotel and save yourself the embarrassment of getting caught. as always, comments, reblogs, and feedback is all appreciated! i love you guys, and see you at halloween for serial killer!jake <33

Walking into the club, the heat envelopes you first, thick and heavy, clinging to your skin like a warm, damp cloak. Fog from a nearby smoke machine waves across the air, softening the strobe neon lights above, and the bass from the DJ pulses right through the building, shaking the floor under you and setting your heartbeat to a new rhythm.

Every breath you take is a cocktail of scents - alcohol, sweet perfumes, musky cologne, with faint notes of sweat and cigarettes threading through. Ahead, bodies sway and stumble, arms flung over each other’s shoulders, laughter and shouts lost and misinterpreted in the pounding music. Faces are flushed, eyes are glassy, and heads are thrown back in abandon. 

And you need to catch up.

For a lot of people, this is their place of hell and you completely understand why; it stinks, people are rude, and alcohol turns people into caricatures of themselves that are less than flattering. But for you, this is the perfect way to unwind after a stressful week. 

You feel at home here, because it’s the one place where everyone is allowed to embarrass themselves and no one will bat an eye. You can let loose and just forget who you are, even for a minute. Sure, you need to avoid the creeps who think they’re entitled to touch you just because you exist and it’s a dark club, but just escaping reality for a night? It’s worth it in your opinion.

You weave through the crowd, brushing past clusters of people lost in their own worlds, and head straight for the bar with your two best friends, Yuki and Dosie. You’re already rehearsing the orders in your head, knowing exactly what they'll go for. Tonight’s plan is simple: drink hard and fast, percentage over pallet, because if there was ever a week that called for it, it’s this one. 

Dosie’s been grinding through double shifts as a nurse, Yuki’s buried under her endless university schedule, and you…well, work’s a whole mess you’re not about to think about right now. All you need to think about is forgetting every bollocking from your boss and get fucked up.

Reaching the bar, you lean against it, the girls just behind you as you order three double vodkas and cranberry - a dash of lemonade for Yuki since she hates the tang of the cranberry. You always ask her why she orders it if she hates it, but she insists that she needs to get more fruit in her diet, that and the other reason every woman drinks cranberry.

When they arrive, you dunk the black paper straws into each glass and pass them back, clinging to yours for dear life. It takes you all your strength not to down it right there and there, but you’ll be civilised since it’s your first one. You’ll leave the chugging for your third or fourth drink.

As you weave through the crowd, following your friends to the dance floor, someone brushes against you. It’s not a hard bump - thankfully not enough to spill your drink - but it’s just enough to bring you to a halt. Your pet peeve is people who push past without so much as an “excuse me,” and you’re definitely not about to be that person. So, you look up to apologise…

And that’s when the world around you slips away.

The man is beautiful, stunning, shaggable, and every other adjective for hot that your brain can muster, which right now is not a lot because you’re stuck in a trance.  The dim light catches on his features, casting soft shadows on his face. His black hair is parted and finger-brushed out of his face in a way that seems effortless but perfect, framing his sharp jaw that you’re sure is only obtainable through the hands of Michelangelo himself. His lips, pink and oh-so-soft looking, curve into a smile, showing deep lines and crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He must smile a lot, you think, suddenly taken by this unexpected warmth, by the friendliness in his expression. If you were to bump into anyone else in this club, you’d be hit with nothing but arrogance and pissy attitude.

The flush on your cheeks deepens from mild embarrassment to a warm, undeniable craving of lust. You’re stuck, words caught in your throat as you realise you’ve been staring a bit too long. His expression shifts, his friendly smile turning slightly puzzled, as though he’s caught you mid-thought.

“Uh - sorry,” you finally manage, forcing out a small, sheepish laugh. 

“For staring or for bumping into me?” He says it so casually, his eyebrows raised and lips smirking.

You swallow hard and laugh again, shaking your head to set yourself straight and form a coherent sentence, ridding your mind of the Boggle-like state it’s in. “For both, sorry.”

His eyes flick down and then back up, trailing over you with a calm, easy confidence. It’s the same gesture you’ve seen from at least five other men in the past 10 minutes you’ve been in this club, but somehow with him, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. There’s something about his gaze that makes your pulse quicken instead of setting off your usual alarms. 

You pray to the heavens that he isn’t a creep.

But before you have the chance to find out, you’re yanked by your arm, stumbling as Yuki pulls you toward the centre of the dance floor. Her smile is innocent, and to be fair, she’s just here to have a good time with her girls, she doesn’t know that she’s just ripped you away from the possible man of your dreams.

Yuki drags you deeper into the crowd and you look back over your shoulder, your eyes finding his one last time. He’s watching you, hands casually in his pockets, a small smile playing on his lips. With a faint nod, he raises a hand in a playful salute, a silent goodbye as he lets you slip out of sight as if you were just a passing thought to him. But that look - the way his eyes linger for an extra second - stays with you as you’re swallowed up by the pulsing lights and music, unable to shake the feeling that this won’t be the last time you see him.

_____

As the hours fly by, you lose yourself exactly the way you’d hoped. Your arms sway above your head, a massive grin stretching across your face, every bit of stress and worry vanishing with each beat of the music. Adele’s beautiful and should-not-be-remixed-voice pulses around you in an EDM beat, but honestly? You’re having the best time, the way you intended to.

Tipping your glass back, you drain the last drop of your fourth drink tonight. You’re careful with your limits, always pacing yourself just enough to feel the buzz without going overboard and even though you wanna get plastered to the point you can’t see straight, you’re lacking right now.

“I’m gonna head to the bar,” you announce, raising your voice far too loudly over the music, alcohol dulling your sense of volume along with everything else. “You guys want the same?”

Yuki and Dosie nod eagerly, eyes gleaming with the effects of the night. They’re much faster than you with their drinks, and you can tell by their happy, slightly unsteady grins that every percent is hitting them. While this will be drink number five for you, they’re well into their eighth rounds, but you all seem to be on the same page, perfectly balanced in your shared state of i don’t give a fuck vibes.

Making you’re way to the bar, you slide into an open spot, nudging your way in beside a guy to your left and a girl to your right. You’re barely settled when you feel someone lean closer, just a little too close. You glance to your left, and sure enough, the guy next to you has turned his full attention on you.

“You good?” he drawls, his voice low and dripping with a forced charm. He’s got a smirk on his face and it’s obvious he’s had one too many. “Haven’t seen you around here before. You here alone?”

You try for a polite smile, keeping things neutral as you shake your head. You hate that you developed the habit of being nice even when uncomfortable just to avoid conflict. “No, I’m here with friends.” 

“Oh, that’s too bad.” He’s unfazed, his eyes roaming over you, lingering a little too long. “You know, a girl like you shouldn’t have to stand here waiting for a drink. I could get the bartender’s attention for you,” he offers, leaning even closer. His breath smells faintly of ciggies and rum, and you have to fight the urge to lean away.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” you say, keeping your tone light but firm.

He doesn’t seem to take the hint. “Come on, don’t be shy. A girl as gorgeous as you? You must get free drinks all the time.” His hand drifts to rest on the bar near yours, his fingers brushing too close for comfort.

The interaction is setting off all kinds of alarms, but you keep your cool, just begging the bartender to come over. “I appreciate it, but I can handle it.”

Still, he persists, his eyes flicking up and down like he’s sizing you up. “You know, you should really give a nice guy a chance. Not everyone out there’s gonna treat you as well as I would.”

It takes every bit of patience to keep from rolling your eyes. Luckily, just as he opens his mouth to say something else, a man stands impossibly close behind you, dragging you away from the burden to your left.

“Why are you talking to my girl?” the boy behind you says, voice low and dangerous, clearly warning the man away. His hips are placed respectfully on your waist and you can feel him hover just slightly, a little sign to show you that he’s just trying to help you and not add another dick to your problem.

Scoffing, the man eyes your saviour up. “Yeah, like I’d believe that. You’re punching, mate.” 

Honestly, you feel a flicker of offence on behalf of your unexpected saviour, but he doesn’t flinch, no reaction whatsoever; his entire stance relaxed as he stares the other man down. “I think you’re the one out of your depth, mate,” he replies mockingly. “You look like a fucking rodent that’s been flushed down the toilet.”

You bite down on your lips, fighting to hold back a laugh. The last thing you want to do is rile this man up, but the person grabbing your waist seems to be doing a good job of that already. 

The creep’s face flushes in anger, stepping an inch closer and you instantly take one back, your backside colliding with the boy behind you. Only then do his fingers dig into your hips, that protective instinct coming in full throttle. Considering he’s someone you’ve never met before, you’re surprised at his actions; no, you don’t expect every man to turn a blind eye when a woman is uncomfortable, but you don’t expect a stranger to step in as hard as this.

“Look, mate,” the creep sneers, trying to regain some of his earlier bravado. “You think you can just play hero and get laid? That doesn’t work, ain’t that right, kitten?”

He’s directly talking to you and your skin crawls with dread. First of all, the kitten has thrown you off and made you gag internally - if you had maybe one more drink and two shots down it would have been actual vomit. Part of you wishes you did so it would get this creep away.

“Um-”

“You’re arguing with me, not my girl. Don’t speak to her.”

The creep’s eyes darken as he takes another step forward, puffing his chest out to look bigger. “You want to go, then? You think you can take me?”

“Is that what you want?” your saviour replies, not backing down an inch, his stance firm and unwavering. “Because I’d be happy to show you just how far out of your depth you really are. You clearly can’t handle rejection, buddy.”

“I’ll fight you right now.”

“Try. Me.”

The next thing you know, the boy’s arm is instinctively shielding you, pushing you back and stepping in your place. His height finally comes into focus…in fact, you recognise him. It’s the guy you bumped into earlier, the one with the stunning smile and eyes that seemed to sparkle even in the dim light of the club. The heat of the moment makes your heart race, but not from fear. It’s a mix of adrenaline and something more exciting.

The invasive man glares, but you can see uncertainty creeping into his expression as he comes to terms with the fact that he’s not dealing with an easy target. He only signed up for a little back and fourth with you, seeing you as lesser than him. “You think you can just walk around like some tough guy? You’re nothing,” he spits, his bravado faltering slightly.

The boy in front of you rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “And you’re just a pathetic loser trying to hit on girls - my girl - if I need to repeat that. Seriously, just walk away before you embarrass yourself any further.”

The creep’s fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to throw down. But as he glances between the two of you, you can see the gears turning in his head, weighing out his options. Finally, he huffs out a frustrated breath, taking a step back. “Whatever, man. She’s not even that fucking pretty.”

With that, he turns and pushes his way through the crowd, leaving you and your unexpected knight standing there. You’re still processing what just happened when he turns to you, his expression shifting from fierce protector to something softer.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and genuine, the protective intensity still lingering in his gaze. 

Again, just like earlier, you’re stuck for words, that pretty face sucking out any form of capacity you have. You open your mouth, but the response you intend to deliver is swallowed by the rush of heat that floods your cheeks.

You manage to nod, your voice barely above a whisper, your answer probably being swallowed by the music. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks to you.” The words feel inadequate, a mere echo of the gratitude swelling inside you. God knows how long you would have had to endure that man’s presence if it wasn’t for… “What’s your name?”

“Jay. You?”

“Y/N.”

He nods, humming and trailing those beautiful eyes across your features. “Suits you.”

You laugh, not fully understanding what he means by that but thankful as you accept it as a compliment. 

He flashes a grin, a bit of mischief sparking in his gaze. "Do you get that often?" he asks, leaning in slightly to be heard over the pulsing music.

You shake your head, still feeling a touch flustered. "No, actually…"

"Good," he says, his smile softening. "Then I’m glad to be the first."

He is so good at catching you off guard, leaving you with a warm glow that tingles down to your fingertips and toes. For a moment, there’s only the two of you, his steady gaze holding yours as if trying to memorise every detail.

Finally, you find your voice again. “So, do you always swoop in to save strangers?” you ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

He chuckles, shrugging a little. “Only when they look like they’re in need of a rescue.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And I looked like I needed rescuing?”

“Not exactly.” His eyes flicker over you again, a hint of admiration there that he doesn’t bother hiding. “You look like you could’ve handled him just fine. But, you know...couldn’t hurt to step in.”

Something about the way he’s looking at you makes your heart beat a little faster. Before you can stop yourself, you reply, “Well, let me buy you a drink as a thank you, yeah?” you ask but you’re already back to facing the bar, waving down the bartender. “What’s your poison?”

Jay chuckles and puts his hands back in his pockets. While you find the action hot, he actually does it so he doesn’t place his hand on the small of your back and make you feel uncomfortable. Last thing he wants is you comparing him to that fucking weirdo who can’t read a room. 

“How about you dance with me instead?” he suggests, tilting his chin up to the bartender as he grabs his attention and speaks to him. “Aperol spritz and a vodka cran, please.”  

The order surprises you, causing you to tilt your head in wonder. “You know my drink?”

Shrugging casually, Jay picks the wallet from the back of his pocket and fishes out his bank card. “Not many red drinks out there,” he leans down to your ear, eyes still focused forward and not on you, “plus you smell sweet, just like it.”

Your pussy might as well be a mouth with the way it’s drooling all over your panties. It’s not what he said, but how he said it. So much control, his words barely above a murmur, each one landing with a precision that sends a shiver down your spine. He’s so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath near your ear, but he maintains just enough distance to keep things respectful. His subtle confidence makes the whole interaction feel like a slow burn, igniting something electric between you two without crossing any lines.

As he straightens up, the bartender holds out the card machine and he doesn’t even glance at it before tapping his card, his gaze finally meeting yours not caring about anything or anyone else but you. The hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips shows he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you, yet he doesn’t exude any arrogance at all. 

"So," he says, handing you the drink once it arrives, "is this good enough for a dance? Saving you and buying you a round?"

You raise the straw to your lips, letting the drink cool you as you take a sip, hoping it’ll calm the heat simmering inside you. "I’d say it’s a solid start," you reply, managing to hold his gaze even as your heart thumps in your chest.

Placing his hand out in front of you, Jay waits for you to accept his offering and guides you to the dance floor. You completely forget that you’re supposed to get your friends drinks and leave every thought of them behind, your sole focus now on the man who has your fingers locked in his. 

The music comes back into focus as he twirls you around to place you in front of him, a grin reaching from ear to ear as he watches you get into the beat of Levitating by Dua Lipa. 

Jay’s eyes glimmer with excitement as he matches your rhythm, moving in sync with you as if this moment was something you’d both been waiting for all night. He keeps his touch light but undeniably close as his free hand finds its place on your waist as the beat pulses around you. You sway together, laughter bubbling between you both as he smoothly guides you through each beat, his own moves filled with the same easy confidence that’s had you hooked from the start.

You learn one thing about each other in this moment is that while Jay can dance and hold a beat, you absolutely cannot. Whatever you want to call the poor attempt of a hip sway, causes Jay to chuckle.

With his smile stretching wide as he watches your attempt at swaying, it’s obvious he’s clearly amused, but there’s nothing mocking in it; instead, he seems genuinely charmed. Shaking his head with a playful grin, he downs the last of his drink, tipping it back in one smooth motion, his eyes rolling back and making you think the worst thoughts before he reaches for your empty glass. With a quick, appreciative nod, he hands them both off to a passing floor staff member, barely glancing away from you.

Now with all his focus back on you, he gently takes your hands in his, guiding them around his neck. “Here,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing softly over yours as he brings you closer, “maybe this will make it easier.” He settles his hands on your waist again, the warmth of his touch grounding you as he guides your movements with steady confidence.

Your arms are now wrapped around his neck and the space between you all but disappears. He’s close enough that you can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong against yours, and his gaze holds yours, unwavering. “Better?” he asks, his voice low, just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

A little breathless, you nod. “Definitely.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes flickering down to your lips for just a split second before meeting your gaze again. “Let me lead you, yeah?” he murmurs, swaying gently to the beat, guiding you with such ease that you can’t help but fall into the rhythm with him. The room around you fades once more, and all that exists is Jay’s closeness.

Jay is so fucking good looking you could almost pass out in his grip. There are so many beautiful men out there, yet you can’t rhyme off a single name that compares to him. Granted, you cannot trust club lighting with anyone - even you look like Bella Hadid in dim light - but there’s no denying that if the lights came up and blinded you from your alcohol-induced haze, you would still be awe-struck by him.

But you’ve been so busy with his face that you’ve failed to notice his outfit, the softness of his cardigan tickles your fingertips and it makes you want to explore further.

Your fingers graze over the fabric of his Prada cardigan, marvelling at its dip against his firm chest beneath. The subtle luxury of his outfit stands out even here; the cardigan, perfectly fitted, highlights the breadth of his shoulders and the line of his torso, while his straight-cut jeans hint at his natural, laid-back confidence. And then there are his shoes - a little too fancy for the club you would say, but somehow just right on him, adding a touch of elegance to his casual charm. 

Maybe that sums him up as a person. You don’t know for sure, but you suddenly want to. 

"Aren't you warm?" you ask, your hands sliding down from his neck, fingers trailing over his chest as if drawn by some magnetic pull. The cardigan might be fine for any other occasion, but under the club lights, it seems almost criminally hot. Both figuratively and literally.

Jay shakes his head, his gaze darkening just a little as he leans in, his voice dropping to a low murmur, the musk of his perfume making you dizzy. “It’s okay,” he says, his eyes holding yours with a spark of mischief. “I’ve got nothing on underneath.”

The words, paired with his subtle smirk, hit you just as Sweat by Zayn begins to blare through the speakers, almost as if the song has been queued up for this exact moment. The sultry beat wraps around you both, amplifying the tension in the air, the lyrics speaking directly to the spark between you. You let your fingers trail along the fabric at the collar, testing his words, the barest hint of skin underneath sending a thrill through you.

It’s either the alcohol or the need that pulses through you that drives you to do what you do next, but your hands slip underneath his cardigan, palms splayed over his chest as you feel around his electrifyingly warm chest.

Jay’s breath catches just slightly, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of your hands exploring his chest. The smirk from earlier is gone, replaced by something deeper, more intense and daring, as he watches you with hooded eyes. He doesn’t say a word, but the way he leans into your touch, his body instinctively pressing closer, speaks volumes. 

His hands grip your waist tight, taking your exploration as mutual consent to feel one another. Even if he asked, you would have given him it in a heart beat. You need this man in more ways than you care to admit right now. Call it the vodka talking or your heart, you need this man.

The intensity between you builds, the space between you shrinking until there's nothing left but expectation. You’re close enough to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker between your lips and your gaze, as though he’s searching for confirmation.

His hand moves from your waist to cradle your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin, sending a shiver through you. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady, and before you realise it, you’re both leaning in, meeting in the softest, most tentative kiss - like a promise whispered against your lips. It’s gentle, exploring, with the hint of a smile on his lips as he pulls back just a fraction, eyes meeting yours as if to say, Is this okay?

You answer by closing the gap again, lips pressing against his, melting into the warmth of him. The kiss deepens, but neither of you rush; it's a slow, consuming pull that leaves you both breathless, savouring every second. His fingers slide into your hair, your hands still resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch as your nails dig in just enough to pinch him. Every shift between you is perfectly attuned to the other, until the world beyond the two of you fades completely, leaving only the feeling of being right here, lost in him.

The rhythm builds gradually, his lips parting slightly to fit with yours in a way that feels like a perfect match, every movement is crafted to fit yours. Your fingers curl against his chest, caught between pulling him closer and steadying yourself, and he responds by shifting his hand out of your hair and to the small of your back, tugging you flush against him. Each tilt of his head, every brush of his lips against yours, feels effortless but charged, growing warmer, more assured.

Eventually, you break away, both of you a little breathless, foreheads nearly touching as you stay close, neither willing to fully pull back. You look up into his eyes, dark and filled with a quiet intensity that mirrors the rush in your chest. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you murmur, “Do you want to go somewhere…quiet?”

Dosie and Yuki would hate you for this recklessness. But then they would also hate you for not at least trying to bag a man as fine as him so, you can’t really win, and no winner means endless roads to take -  so you’re choosing the one that gets you laid.

Jay’s lips tug into a small, understanding smirk, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, dragging it down as you see him contemplate whether to kiss you or give you a verbal answer. But obviously, he’s a gentleman - at least for now - and just simply nods.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he breathes out, letting you pull him from the middle of the dance floor.

You have no idea where ‘somewhere quiet’ could possibly be in a club in the middle of the night on a Friday, but you’re determined to find it. All these passing moments without him on your lips are torture; now that you’ve had a taste, you don’t ever want to stop.

You spot a secluded nook tucked away from the pulsating lights and eyes of the clubgoers. The dim, almost non-existent lighting creates a sense of intimacy and secretiveness that beckons you both. As you manoeuvre through the throngs of bodies, your heart races with anticipation, each beat echoing the exhilarating moment.

Once you reach the corner, you take a moment to catch your breath, your back pressed against the cool wall, a slight rush of adrenaline coursing through you. Jay stands close, his presence magnetic, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him as he leans in, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“This works,” he murmurs, a playful smile playing on his lips. His gaze flickers down to your mouth, and you can’t help but feel a rush of heat as you lean into him, closing the gap that feels impossibly charged. His lips are more of an addiction than the sweet treats you help yourself to after every lunch break.

You reach up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, relishing the feel of his soft skin against your fingertips. His breath hitches slightly at the contact, and you can sense the tension building, a heady mix of desire and uncertainty hanging in the air. As he tilts his head, giving you an inviting look, the moment feels suspended, filled with unspoken possibilities.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low and husky, laced with a hint of mischief. You nod, emboldened by the intoxication running through your veins and the undeniable chemistry crackling between you.

With a swift motion, he closes the distance, capturing your lips with his. The kiss ignites like a spark in the dark, deepening as he pulls you closer, the rest of the world slipping away. You lose yourself in the sensation, the taste of him simmering, sending electric thrills through your body. 

The kiss intensifies, his breath hitching as your hands grip his neck, thumbs brushing softly over his adam’s apple. The sensation of your touch there sends chills all through his body, and he lets out a deep, throaty groan that vibrates against your lips, raw and hungry, almost desperate for all of you. It spurs something inside, making your pulse race as his hands slide down, settling firmly on your hips before curving around to your lower back, guiding you even closer.

He presses his hips against yours, his mouth on yours fierce and wanting, as if he can't get close enough, as if this kiss is just the beginning. 

“Is it fucking awful for me to want to fuck you right now?” he laughs out into your mouth, the scent of his multiple Aperols brushing over your vodka-induced state. Is the question warranted? Yes, because it is silly to try and fuck a stranger in the back of a club. Will you tell him that? Of course not.

“It’s not,” you begin, pecking his lips multiple times just to keep his taste on your lips, “I think it’s actually perfectly acceptable.”

He genuinely laughs as he presses his forehead to yours. His hands wander, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, lingering at the line where your top meets your skirt. Each peck you steal from him seems to make his restraint fray, and you feel the muscles in his arms tense as he holds back, as if he's balancing on the edge of control.

"Perfectly acceptable, yeah?" he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, inching towards the hollow below your ear. He nips gently, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver, and then he kisses the spot softly, relishing in every second. The hand at your hip shifts, sliding over the curve of your backside, fingers splaying possessively, pulling you firmly against him. You can feel his heartbeat racing under your fingertips where they still rest at his neck, matching your own, quick and hungry.

"Good," he breathes out, his voice husky, a little breathless, "because I don’t think I could stop myself if I tried." His other hand threads into your hair, tilting your head back just enough to capture your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more insistent. You lose yourself in it, the world spinning around you, each kiss adding fuel to the fire between you, every touch making it harder to remember that you’re standing in a club with the thrill of anyone discovering you at any moment.

Jay’s hands seem to trace their own path, gliding from your hips to your lower back, settling briefly before sliding even lower, each touch sending a thrill through you. His fingers drift to the hem of your skirt, teasing along the edge as if testing your boundaries, watching for your reaction. It’s important to him that you don’t just get caught up in the moment, each of his movements are deliberate in asking for consent.

When you don’t pull back, his fingers dip down, skimming along your bare thigh, igniting your skin. He’s barely holding back, you can tell, and it makes your pulse quicken, knowing that a man so beautiful could want you so badly. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, eyes heavy-lidded, his pupils dark with intent. He lets out a small groan, mouth parting as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, slow and tantalising, as though savouring each second he’s got his hands on you.

“You really wanna let me fuck you in this place?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours with each word, his fingers inching a fraction higher. The grip he has on you is firm, almost possessive, and you feel him hold his breath, reining himself in, barely keeping his restraint intact until you tell him yes.

Your lips curl into a faint smile as you nip at his bottom lip, voice barely more than a murmur against his mouth. “I would let you do it in the middle of the floor if it meant I got to feel you.”

The last of his restraint crumbles. His fingers dip further beneath the hem, his hand sliding along the curve of your thigh, gripping you with enough urgency to leave no doubt about what he wants. The air between you thickens, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, everything around you melting away as you sink deeper into this reckless, exhilarating moment.

Finally, his fingers brush against the fabric of your underwear, and the sensation is electrifying, a mixture of thrill and pleasure that has you pressing your hips instinctively into his hand. His lips curve into a smile against your neck, feeling your reaction, enjoying every moment of it as he nudges the fabric aside. His fingertips glide over your skin, exploring, teasing, before slipping between your folds, finding you already warm and wanting.

God, you are so glad you didn’t wear your M&S granny panties tonight.

A low groan escapes him, and he shifts his body closer, pressing you against the wall to shield you from the view of others, his free hand bracing beside your head so you don’t wack it against the wall behind you. He’s right there yet the careful control of his movements leaves you on the edge, craving more. His fingers trace a slow, deliberate path, flicking over your clit before moving lower, entering you with a gentle push that has you gasping. He’s watching you closely, captivated by the way your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting in a soft moan as he begins to move.

He works his fingers in slow, rhythmic circles, each stroke drawing a new wave of pleasure through you, His other hand slips from the wall, finding your waist again, pulling you closer, urging your body to mould to his as he holds you in place. The rest of the club feels a world away - there’s nothing but his touch, the tension coiling tighter with each movement of his hand, the low hum of his breathing mixed with your own.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear, voice roughened with desire. The sound sends a pulse of heat through you, your heart quickly matching the lust, and you can’t help but roll your hips in response, pushing yourself against his fingers, craving more of that delicious friction. He shifts slightly, angling his hand, and his thumb brushes over your clit in a gentle, teasing caress that has your knees buckling.

Jay senses it, his hand tightening on your waist, supporting you as he picks up the pace, his fingers moving with more purpose now, deeper, each thrust building you closer to that edge. The rhythm he sets is perfect, each stroke drawing a new sound from your lips, each touch sparking with pure desire. His name slips from you in a breathless whisper, more like a spiritual chant, and he lets out a soft, satisfied chuckle, clearly revelling in the effect he’s having on you.

“Just like that?” he murmurs, his voice a warm rumble that makes you tremble. His thumb moves again, circling over your clit with just the right pressure, and the sensation is overwhelming, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within you. You don’t know if it’s possible, but if some thumbs on earth are soulmates to a specific clit, but you’re pretty sure you just found yours.  

Your hands grip his shoulders, fingers digging in, clinging to him as he brings you closer to the peak, his fingers curling inside you, finding that spot that makes you gasp, your entire body tensing as waves of pleasure wash over you. You’ve had boyfriends that took years to find your perfect spot, yet this man found it in 0.02 seconds.

With your climax coming in a desperate rush, every nerve tingles and every breath is shallow as he drives you higher. But before you can hear that orchestra in your ears and feel that flutter in your chest, he withdraws his fingers.

The look in his eyes is unmistakable, dark with intent lust, and he swallows hard, his gaze flicking down to his fingers, seeing your essence covering them like a delicious glaze. “I can’t…” he starts, his voice rough, thick with desire. “I need you. Right now.”

Before you can register the rush of frustration and want building up inside, he’s lifting you, pressing your back against the wall, his hands as his hand roam every inch of you, obviously desperate. You taste his need, his hunger, in the way his lips move over yours, the way he presses into you as though he can’t get close enough.

Your heart races in excitement as you wrap your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your hips, positioning you exactly where he needs you. You have never fucked in a club before and you would scold any of your friends who did, but right now, all you care about is Jay. 

And the feeling is mutual on your tango partner’s shoulders. Every ounce of restraint he had is gone now; nothing is holding him back as he lowers his mouth to your neck, murmuring words between breaths that are nearly incoherent but fill you with a thrill.

He shifts, undoing his belt and pushing down his jeans and boxers just enough that he can still pretend he’s clothed and not raise suspicion, his hips press into yours, and the anticipation is electric, his cock throbbing. “Ready?” he breathes, his eyes locking onto yours, waiting for the slightest nod that will shatter the last of the resistance between you, bringing you both into the heat of what’s been simmering throughout the night.

Your heart thuds wildly in your chest as you nod, feeling every nerve in your body poised, waiting and he holds you steady against the wall. He adjusts his grip, his hands sliding under your thighs, lifting you a little higher, and the way his body aligns with yours makes you feel like you’re floating - that could also be the alcohol but quite honestly, you might just be drunk on the idea of his cock right now rather than the vodka. 

Then, in one fluid motion, he pushes forward, filling you completely, and a gasp slips from your lips, the sudden pleasure stealing the breath from your lungs. His jaw clenches as he feels you tighten around him, his grip on your hips firm as he holds you steady. He doesn’t move at first, just stays there, feeling every inch of you wrapped around him, as though grounding himself in the sensation. You’re easily the most perfect pussy he has ever had, he’s tempted to say that you’re made for him, and while his heart might feel that way, it’s far too soon to think it. 

A shiver runs through you, the stretch of him catching you off guard, and you can see it in his eyes too - the struggle to keep himself in check, the restraint that’s quickly slipping away. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he lets out a low, guttural groan. “You feel…incredible,” he breathes, his voice cloaked in nothing but pure lust, with the potential for something else hidden in there. But your mind is lost in a forest of thick and long cocks, wishing you could have had a glimpse of it before he stuck it inside of you.

The first pull back and thrust is slow as he takes his time, savouring every second, while also trying not to get caught. But as he moves, each stroke becomes more intense and that careful control unravels quickly. His rhythm fastens, his body pressing into yours with a growing urgency that matches your own. You’re completely at his mercy, and he at yours, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you, building until you’re lost in it, your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close, pulling him deeper.

He kisses you hard, a collision of lips and teeth, both of you too consumed to slow down and make sure no one is watching. His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your skin with a possessive edge as he moves faster, quick to claim you. It might not be the best spot to prove it, but he wants you to think about him for the rest of your life, each time you have someone else’s cock inside of you, you should just think about how his tip kisses your cervix and bumps against your pretty walls in the most delectable way. Although, with how he’s feeling right now, he will try and make sure that you never have another person inside you again, this spot reserved for him only now.

He breaks away from the kiss, his mouth moving down your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin, and you can feel him fighting to hold back, to make it last. The sounds between you - his heavy breathing, the low groans slipping from his lips, the soft moans you can’t hold back - create their own rhythm, blending with the thump of the club’s bass in the background. 

He shifts slightly, angling his hips, and suddenly, he hits that spot deep within you, sending a shockwave of pleasure that makes you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He tightens his hold, pressing you harder against the wall, his rhythm relentless as he focuses on that spot, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Your body feels electrified, every nerve on fire as he pushes you closer and closer to release.

“Jay…fuck, right there,” you moan into his ear, tongue swiping over the shell of his ear.

“You’re driving me mad,” he mutters, his voice strained, breath coming in short gasps. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” But he doesn’t slow down; if anything, his movements become even faster, his need matching yours, both of you racing toward that peak, that release that feels so close, just out of reach.

And then, finally, you can’t hold back anymore. The pleasure curves in a wave that crashes through you, leaving you gasping, clinging to him as your body shudders with the intensity of it. Your core tightens and body stills, a contrast to the people around you who are mindlessly and drunkenly swaying to the beats. You have never been more thankful for people being blottered with booze. 

Jay groans, feeling you tighten around him, and with a final thrust, he follows, his body tensing as he spills into you, his face buried in the curve of your neck, lost in his own release. The spurts of his seed fill you and it’s only then do you realise that no condom was involved. Normally, you would curse yourself out, the stupidity of the act more reckless than driving a gold buggy on the M8, yet, the hot glisten of his cum filling you up feels so right.

For a long moment, you both stay like that, pressed together, breathing hard, the world gradually coming back into focus. His grip loosens, and he leans back slightly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he meets your gaze, a mix of satisfaction and warmth in his eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, gentler this time, a quiet contrast to the urgency that had consumed you both moments ago.

With each of you staring at one another in wonder, the dawning of realisation that you just had sex in a grotty, overpacked club finally hits you both, you just laugh, and Jay follows, placing his head on your shoulder as his move up and down in amusement.

Gently, Jay helps you steady yourself as you find your feet, his arm around you as he watches you carefully, making sure you’re all right. As you both adjust, smoothing clothes and buckling belts, you scan the room to see across the dance floor, Dosie and Yuki are still dancing, blissfully unaware of your absence for what’s been at least two hours now. You snicker, nodding in their direction, and Jay follows your gaze, his smile widening as he takes in your friends, clearly oblivious to your escapades.

“Hey,” he says, pulling your attention back to him, his eyes bright with a glint of hope. “Do you, uh…wanna grab something to eat?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused, feeling that flutter in your chest at his sudden shift from club fling to something more. “Eat?”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “I mean, might as well get to know each other considering I owe you a Plan B, and then maybe a coffee?” He trails off, eyes dropping with a hint of boyish embarrassment and hopefulness.

A laugh bubbles up, and you give him a playful nudge. “Alright, let’s grab a bite…maybe some condoms.”

Jay’s eyes light up at the prospect of more with you, not just physically, but getting to know you, to learn everything about you, to just be with you.

“Sure, let’s go.”

_____

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@ikeuverse

[mystellenia]

ellie's breeding strap

summary: ellie tries out the cum filled strap with you for the first time.

content: dommy mommy!ellie, sub!reader, breeding kink, cum filled strap, mention of reader ovulating, begging, praise, one (1) pussy slap, oral (r receiving), strap on sex (r receiving), horndog!ellie, desperate!reader

notes: giggling at how when i started writing this i was like ‘gonna keep this under 1k words!!’

(wc 2.0k)

"baby!" you hear ellie yell out, hearing her tone turn whiny. "are you almost done? come back, please." 

"yeah, i'm getting out now!" you pull the shower curtain open as your pruned fingers wrap around the faucet handle, the pitter-patter of the shower water slowing down to a stop. wet feet sinking into the shag rug just outside the tub, you wrap yourself in your towel and dab your skin dry, securing it under your arms. 

"there you are," ellie says, moving her gaze up from her phone to follow your covered figure as you make your way across the bedroom. her eyes briefly drop to the hem of your towel at your mid-thigh before moving back up to your head. she watches you rummage through the dresser and pull out a pair of clean underwear and one of her folded oversized t-shirts. 

"ugh, i hate showering but i love feeling clean." you place the underwear on the top of the dresser and unfold ellie's shirt to look at the design. without folding it up again, you drop it in the drawer and pull out another one of her shirts, again unfolding it and holding it up to examine it. "my phone says i’m ovulating today. wanna get me pregnant?" you joke, throwing a smile over your shoulder at her to see her head perched up against the headboard and her eyes zeroed in on you. 

"whoa," you shudder while turning your head back to face the shirt again. her gaze was almost predatory, and it made a warm feeling swirl in your stomach. "don't look at me like that." 

"like what?" she mutters, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up. 

you settle on this shirt and shut the drawer, pivoting to face her. "like that," you say, "like i'm a turkey leg. like you wanna eat me." you say the last part a bit quieter, intimidated by her stalking closer to you. you then become hyperaware of the single layer between your body and her, one that could very easily be discarded. 

ellie finally approaches you, her eyes flicking down to your exposed shoulders and then back up to your eyes. she raises her hand to grab a strand of hair, thumbing the wet lock and twirling it around her finger. 

"you're ovulating today," she echoes lowly, to herself more than to you. pulling her fingers back, she lets the hair fall to your shoulder and watches a drop of water trickle down from it. 

you try to appear unaffected, but your breath can't help but hitch at the cold drop of water falling down, eventually getting soaked up by your towel. 

ellie pushes your hair over your shoulder and wraps her hand around the back of your neck. she draws in and just lets her lips brush over yours, laughing at how you try to chase them as she pulls away a little. 

"oh, no, baby." she pulls your towel out from under where it was secured under your arm and lets it fall to your feet. your nipples immediately tighten at the wave of air and at her presence. you almost whine at how she hasn't looked down at your body yet, her gaze still fixed on your face. 

"get on the bed," she orders. 

your brain was fogged by lust, and you ask her to repeat herself. 

"get" —she steps aside to clear a path for you to lay on the middle of the mattress— "on the bed." 

you slowly walk towards the bed, one shy foot in front of the other, and ellie pushes on your shoulder when you stand about two steps from the bed, making you fold over onto the mattress. your knees slightly touched the floor, but your damp torso was spread across the cold sheets, your body wrapped around the edge of the bed in an "L" shape. 

you feel ellie's warm palms on your shoulders, tracing down your spine and down to your ass where she begins to roughly knead the fat. 

"mmmm," she groans, soaking up the way you squirm under her touch. she kneels down and spreads your ass cheeks to get a clear view of your cunt, puffy and crying for her. 

she presses a firm kiss to your neglected clit, and you jump, surprised by the sudden touch. sticking her tongue out, she licks a long, flat strip up from your clit to your pulsing hole. you push your hips back into her face and whine, chasing the pleasure from her mouth. 

ellie stands back up and harshly slaps your pussy, making you yelp out and close your thighs around her hand. her hand wraps around your left knee and quickly flips you over onto your back, now grabbing both knees and pushing you higher onto the bed by thrusting her hips into yours. 

"ellie," you breathlessly plead, needing more than what she was giving you. 

she climbs onto the bed to kneel in between your spread legs, your bare pussy so close to her clothed one. "yeah, baby?" 

simply whining, you lock your feet around her hips and pull her closer to you, the brief friction of her jeans on your clit making your eyes close. 

ellie drops a hand by your head and leans down to kiss your neck, sucking her way up to your lips into a messy kiss. she moans into it, her other hand trailing down to rub your thigh that was hugging her hips. she moves it down to your weeping cunt, just sliding three fingers up and down to gather your slick. your hips buck at the teasing, and you break the kiss in frustration, throwing your head back onto the sheets. 

"ask me to put my fingers in," ellie says, her eyes locked on yours. 

you lift your head back up to look at her. "i..." you try, but trail off into an embarrassed whine. 

she clicks her tongue. "come on, baby, use your words. i'm not doing it until you ask me." 

"please give me your fingers... inside, please," you murmur lowly and close your eyes, your face warming. ellie lets it slide because she needs this just as much as you, if not more. 

she dips her fingers into you and stops at her last knuckle, letting you adjust to it while her thumb rubs your clit. once you start getting restless, she pulls her fingers out and thrusts them back in, finding the rhythm that makes your moans the loudest. 

your eyes crack open to look at her, her eyes already on your face. "you look prettiest when i have you like this," she says, her eyes dropping down to watch how your pussy swallows her fingers in. 

keeping her fingers pumping inside you, she lowers her face down to your core and latches her lips onto your clit. your hips fly off the bed and you shriek, your hand flying up to your mouth to cover it. the duet of ellie's fingers rubbing your g-spot and her mouth violently sucking on your clit brings you to your climax embarrassingly fast. your hands shoot to her hair, pulling her head into you as you ride out your orgasm.  

ellie pulls her fingers out but continues to lap at you until you grow overstimulated and push her away. she kisses your stomach, then moves up to your lips to kiss them. you moan at how you can taste yourself on her lips, your cunt clenching at the thought. 

"i have something to try, i'll be back. don't let your hands trail down, yeah?" she drops one last kiss on your cheek, standing and making her way to the bathroom. you think about touching yourself while she's gone, but you quickly remember what she said and settle for just rubbing your nipples.  

after about two minutes, the bathroom door opens and out walks ellie with a new strap secured to her hips. she's ditched her shirt and sports bra, but her jeans and boxers are pushed down to her mid-thigh, seemingly just low enough for her to buckle the harness on without getting fully naked. as she walks closer, you examine it more. it's black, a little skinnier than the ones ellie normally uses, but this one is much longer. you notice a small hole at the very tip. 

"it's a breeding strap. remember how we were talking about it?" ellie says, closely watching your face to gauge your reaction. 

your pupils swell with lust, and you forget to verbally respond, instead dumbly nodding while still looking at the strap. 

she chuckles at your response, at your eagerness. "yeah?" 

"yeah," you breathe, opening your legs just slightly to not look so desperate, even though you were. 

ellie settles on the bed on her knees, lifting your legs and placing them on her thighs. she spits down onto the strap, pumping it with her hand to lube it up for you, and the sight makes your stomach tighten. 

rubbing the tip through your folds, she squeezes your thigh in confirmation. "you ready?" 

"yes," you respond breathlessly, your clit throbbing in anticipation. 

she grunts in response, pushing the tip inside. with the strap being skinnier, the stretch isn't too bad. by the time she normally bottoms out with other straps, though, she continues, and you look down in surprise, still seeing a good inch and a half left. the further she pushes in, the lower your jaw drops, a loud moan escaping your mouth once you finally feel her hair tickling your clit. 

"how you doing?" ellie asks, checking in on you. 

"yes, again. do it again." you move your body up so she can pull out faster and thrust in again. 

she smiles at how clearly you're enjoying this, and obeys. this time, she thrusts in quicker, forcing a gurgled whimper out of you. 

"fuck," she exhales. pulling out again, she settles at a faster pace, the tip deliciously prodding your cervix. 

it was clearly one of your more vocal days, your moans and whimpers bouncing off of every surface in the room, the wet slapping of your ass meeting ellie's thighs still audible. ellie only rarely got you so broken down like this so quickly, and she felt that dangerous swirling heat deep in her stomach, the base of the strap pushing on her clit at the perfect angle. 

"so deep," you manage to eke out. 

"i know, baby. so deep. gonna give you my kids, yeah?" her legs began to shake and she was starting to sound strained, telltale signs that she was getting close. she brought her hand in between the two of you to quickly rub your clit, and your moans somehow grow even louder. 

"i'm gonna cum," you basically whisper, unable to form a thought longer than five words. 

"you gonna cum?" ellie echoes and you rapidly nod. "say my name when you do." 

your moans become weak whimpers as you cum. "el- ell- fuck," you try twice and fail to say her name. her orgasm slams into her at how pathetic you sound, and her hand scrambles to squeeze the base of the strap, shooting warm cum deep into your cunt. the tightness in her stomach doubles at the sight of cum leaking out the sides of your pussy, the thought of her seed inside of you enough to make her moan. 

ellie collapses onto you, a twitching and panting mess. you lay lifeless underneath her, trying to regulate everything after a mind-numbing orgasm.  

"jesus fucking christ," she breathes out. 

you loosely throw your arms around ellie's back. "that was so good," you pant. "wanna order in?" 

"in, like, ten minutes. can't pull out yet, i gotta give it time to hold." 

i havent posted in like 2 months i think sorry my kittens. i like never post 2k words tho so stay well fed. also go drink some water bc i always forget

reblogs appreciated :')

@abbysbug @starlight-savegery @saturnsdrafts @yalaysbee @ieatpancreas

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@visupremacysstuff @pieceofabby @distantsapphicdream @faithlehaneirl @n0t-elliewilliams

[entitled-fangirl]

Moonblood in the middle of the night.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan wakes the reader up in the middle of the night. She's groggy and unsure why.

A/n: based on an ask!!!

Masterlist

..............................................................

She woke up to the soft coo of Cregan's voice as his hands pulled her to sit, "C'mon, love. Wake up for me."

She lets out a groan, rubbing her eyes. The sun had yet to rise, and candles lit their room still. 

He smiled at the sight of her open eyes finally. He ran a hand through her hair, "Doing good for me. Up now."

Her entire body ached as he pulled her up to stand. Her eyes were still half closed with sleep, a blurriness cast over her vision as her brain filled with fog.

Only when Cregan's hands came up to untie her robe, did she reached out to grip his waist. "What-"

"-C'mon. I'm just getting you into the bath."

As the robe fell, a chill moved up her spine. Cregan helped her into the water, smiling when she let out a sigh at the warmth it brought back to her.

Cregan pulled her hair back and quickly tied it up to keep it from the water before moving over to the bed, yanking at the sheets in a hurry.

She didn't notice, leaning her head against the copper rim on the tub as her eyes closed and sleep began to invite itself back.

Cregan gathered the bundle of sheets and threw them outside the door to their chambers. He dug through the cabinet, pulling new sheets out and redoing the bed. 

At the sound of shuffling, she peeked open her eyes to look at him, "What are you doing?" He looked at her with a smile. "What? Do you believe a lord does to know how to change bedding?"

She let out a playful scoff, leaning back and closing her eyes again, "You know that's not what I meant."

After changing the bedding, he moved to the tub, kneeling down beside it and taking a rag into the water. He rubbed it gently up and down her arms. 

She hummed in contentment as he did so. 

He took his time washing her body, the gruff man being gentle. 

Cregan moved the cloth between her legs, and she let out a small gasp, her eyes opening in question. 

"Easy, girl," he muttered lightly. "Your moonblood has come early. Rest your head again, and let me finish."

She let out a small whine, trailing her hand down to try to take the rag from him. "No, don't."

But he didn't budge. "Why? I've seen you at your worst moments, dear wife. Why is this where the line is drawn?"

"It's improper for you to see, Cregan."

He paused, studying her face closely. "Do you wish me gone?"

She quickly shook her head, "Never. It is just imp-"

"-Improper my arse," he said as he finished cleaning her.

…

"I am sorry," she said as he helped walk to back to the bed. 

"For what, dear wife?"

"Bleeding. On the bedding. I shouldn't sleep with y-"

His large hands cupped her cheeks as he forced her to look at him, "You're properly clothed for it now, aren't you?"

She nodded, "But-"

"-Did you believe I'd shun you for this?"

Only then did she really see the desperate look in his eyes. He was insistent on making her see that it truly did not bother him. 

"No. No, I don't."

He let out a breath, "Good." His hands wandered down to her hips, lifting her and setting her on the bed, pulling the furs over her. 

He rounded the bed, getting in on the other side. 

She turned her back to him, assuming that that was it.

But she heard a scoff and soon, his hands wrapped around her waist. He flipped her around and pulled her to his side. "Don't push me away."

She nestled into his chest, getting comfortable, "Thank you, Cregan."

He smiled down at her, "I've done nothing but my duty to you." His hand traced down her back, "Are you in any pain?"

She nodded, "Dully."

He shifted, moving himself onto his side, pushing her onto her back. One of his hands moved to her lower stomach, lightly massaging the sore area.

She let out a sinful groan at the relief.

Cregan continued his movements until he was sure she was asleep before pulling her more into his side and falling asleep himself.

………………………………………..

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[obsessivevoidkitten]

How The Elf Saved Christmas

Yandere Rudolph The Red-Nosed Deertaur x Gender Neutral Elf Reader CW: Painful Noncon, nonhuman genitalia, size difference, possessive behavior, possessive sex, jealous behavior, general yandere behavior, rut cycle, reader fucked big stupid, overstimulation, cum as lube, mention of musk Word Count: 1.3k (This is your Christmas gift from me, I hope you enjoy it <3)

It was one of the earliest years since the start of the Christmas holiday. Rudolph had just recently joined the other deertaurs that drew Santa's sleigh. Not only did he have the magic ability to fly like the others, but he also could produce a fog and snow dispelling light from his nose. He was perfect to lead the sleigh.

Well... almost perfect.

A week into December, he started acting out. Behaving aggressively towards the other deertaurs, secluding himself, and acting unusually possessive over the elf who had been assigned as his servant.

That was you. You brought him his meals and made sure he was comfortable. Normally Rudolph was very low maintenance and your job was exceedingly easy. He was always considerate of you and treated you very kindly.

But lately, Rudolph wouldn't let you out of his sight. And snapped at anyone who got near you, especially if you happened to walk by another deertaur. One time, he even looked as if he was about to stab at Blitzen with his antlers.

The reindeer even looked different. His normally kind brown eyes were more frenzied and dilated. The normally straight, soft, brown hair of his human half was unkempt. And his muscular human body was always tense.

The other deer-men knew what was going on. But it wasn't like they could get near you to tell you.

Rudolph was in rut.

And he had determined, subconsciously, that you were going to be his mate.

The other deer hybrids had gone to Santa and apprised him of the situation, but he chose to do nothing about it. Forcefully taking away a rutting deer's love interest could get very dangerous.

Besides, Christmas was fast approaching, and the fastest way out of rut was for Rudolph to satisfy his urges. And really, what was the comfort of one elf compared to the enormity of the holiday? Christmas was at stake.

In your employee contract, you had agreed to uphold the sanctity of the holiday and do everything in your power to keep Christmas safe and running smoothly. If that meant you had to be a cocksleeve for a deertaur to keep his head clear so he could guide the sleigh, then so be it.

But even Rudolph didn't know why he was so irritable or why he was so odd in his behavior towards you. Why the thought of you being near someone else or out of his side filled him with rage and anxiety.

You were completely distressed. Your boss was acting so differently towards you. You couldn't even return to your little hut. Normally, you would be dismissed at nights but Rudolph wouldn't let you leave.

Instead, you were made to sleep in his house and on his soft, low to the ground bedding.

One morning, about a week away from Christmas, you both learned why he was behaving in such an egregious manner.

Rudolph woke up before you did and something about the way you lay sprawled out with your butt up in the air and your pants slightly falling off. You woke something up in him.

All his instincts shouted at him to breed this elf that was presenting themself to him. To claim you as his mate officially.

Careful not to wake you, because he didn't want you to struggle until it was too late, he pulled your red and green pants and candy cane striped underwear down to your knees. Then he proceeded to lower himself over you until he was in position.

You were ripped violently from your dreams as extreme pain rammed through you. Rudolph, now at the height of his rut, had jammed in all in one go and with no prep.

Your tiny elf body squirmed and writhed in confusion and pain, the frantic struggles sending waves of pleasure through his cock which was embedded so well within you.

"Wha-what are you d-doing?" You squeaked out through the pain.

He didn't bother replying.

Rudolph's body was all you could see above you as his strong thrusts moved you back and forth below him.

The act was raw, instinctive, and possessive. Like your personhood was being fucked away by this being much larger than you until you were reduced to his property.

Screams for help barely escaped your body. They went unanswered. Even if someone had heard you Santa would have told them to steer clear.

You cried and sobbed, powerless to remove the brute who was raping you. Though it seemed he finally had noticed the cries of his partner through his rut.

He slowed down his pace, just a bit.

Snow elves were small but extremely resilient and adaptable. That fact, combined with a slightly slower rhythm allowed you to feel a bit of pleasure as your body adjusted.

"Fuck! You feel so tight! You're just so small~ Gotta fill you with cum. Gotta breed. Gotta breed. Gotta breed..."

You whimpered as the deer man lost himself in his carnal desire to fuck you silly.

He slowed down as he came in you, and you thought you could relax. You went limp, but before you could catch your breath he started pounding into you with renewed vigor, roughly pounding you into the bedding.

Cum leaked down your thighs as his heavy balls smacked you. The smell of his musk filled the air and made you a slight bit dizzy.

The seed from the first round of breeding had lubricated you nicely, and he slid in and out of you in a much more pleasurable manner.

"You take me so fucking well!"

Your crying and sobbing gradually turned into gasps and shudders of pleasure as over the course of the next several hours you came over and over until you couldn't react anymore.

You just lay there and take, completely senseless and overstimulated. Weeping not from pain but from the sensations of seemingly endless mating.

Finally he came in you hard and left himself in a while before pulling out completely. His dick left you with a lewd squelch as at least a gallon of semen dripped from your well worn hole.

For the first time in weeks he finally felt somewhat clear headed.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry."

Rudolph picked you up, cleaned you, and fed you. You were too tired to protest.

The deertaur was remarkably tender for someone who had just taken you against your will, treating you like a snowflake that would vanish under the slightest mistreatment.

It was odd being served by him for a change. But you were too out of it to really give it much thought.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more gentle. But I'm not sorry that you're my mate now."

He was still in rut, and every single day leading up to Christmas Eve, he made you endure an hours long breeding session. You smelled just like him. As if his scent was ingrained in you at a cellular level.

Luckily, his rut ended just in time for him to be able to complete his job, guiding the sleigh without a hitch.

You tried to escape while he was out with Santa, but the higher up elves informed you that you had a new assignment.

You had to live with Rudolph permanently to make sure he never got wild again. His partner had to live with him. If they took you from him now, even outside of rut, he'd go insane. And he performed a very important task by leading the sleigh.

You should have felt honored. Not many elves got to personally save Christmas.