FIVE. Scissoring — Pansy Parkinson

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN LEO

venus in leo is proud and boastful, enjoying all the attention they easily attract. they feed on validation and adoration, and won’t hesitate to make it known. this placement will find a way to make themselves the center of your universe, and you will definitely feel it, in more ways than one.

brother’s bsf!lorenzo berkshire x nott!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, voyeurism, masturbation (m), the tiniest bit of degradation, cursing

nav // event / more

you had no idea what prompted you to go to your brother’s dorm this late at night. it’s not like you really needed anything, you didn’t have any nightmares, plus, you knew he’d very likely spend the night at some girl’s room. still, something was calling for you, and you found yourself at his door at the ass crack of night. surprisingly, it was cracked open, which was quite a surprise – everyone should’ve already been asleep, no? curiosity won over everything, and you peeped inside, trying your best not to make any sound just in case.

what you saw made your heart leap straight into your throat, and you barely held back from choking on nothing but air.

lorenzo was laid out on his bed, legs slightly spread, completely naked in the dim light of a lamp on his bedside table. one of his hands was moving over his hard, dripping cock colored deep pink, and the other one was massaging his balls. his cheeks were flushed, that much you could see in the dusk, his hair stuck to his damp forehead, and you swore you could distinguish freshly wet streaks of white on his stomach. so it wasn’t the first–

you shook your head, trying to will away the image, but it was damn near impossible when the object of said image was right in front of you, deeply indulged in the very thing you were imagining. your eyes were glued to lorenzo’s hand tightly wrapped around his cock, moving up and down with wet, squelching sounds. just how often had you dreamt of seeing exactly this, of hearing his small sighs and quiet moans as he pleasured himself… you lost count a long long time ago.

heat quickly burned low in your stomach, and you silently cursed at yourself for ending up in such an awkward position – you were still behind the door, in the corridor, and literally anyone could walk by. the last thing you needed was a random slytherin sleaze seeing you touch yourself out in the open. of course, he’d get his jaw broken by theo afterwards, but still, it was an embarrassing thought. nevertheless, your panties were rapidly getting soaked, and you had to squeeze your thighs to try and hold back waves of intense arousal.

unbeknownst to you, enzo was fully aware of your presence. he caught the sight of you peering through the crack in the door a while ago, but didn’t say anything yet. something about the fact that you were watching him while he jerked off – to the thought of you, of course – made the whole experience even more intense, more thrilling. his hand picked up the pace on his cock as he imagined you biting your lip, your pretty eyes fixed on him, your pussy starting to leak into your tiny pajama shorts that he always ogled whenever he was lucky enough to see…

"fuck," he groaned, arching off the bed and squeezing his balls in an attempt to stop the orgasm that threatened to crash into him sooner than he’d like. that single hoarse word from him was entirely too sexy, and you found yourself imagining how his voice would sound with your name on his lips… your cheeks were aflame, but you were too mesmerized by the sight of lorenzo to care.

he was getting close, he knew it, but he didn’t want to cum like that. not when an opportunity to have you presented itself on a silver platter – you were already undoubtedly turned on, he just had a very reliable hunch, and theo was nowhere in sight. he stopped suddenly, and your eyes widened, not really getting why he did that. but when his head turned, and his gaze landed on your face, illuminated by a faint stream of light coming through the crack, your heart dropped to your stomach. but the heat you felt burning down there only grew, spreading all over your body at the realization of being caught red-handed. even though technically, you were the one who caught him first.

"sweetie," lorenzo murmured, a smirk spreading on his face as his thumb lazily moved over the swollen tip of his cock, spreading shiny precum all over. "i can see your pretty face there, you little slut. come inside."

you swallowed thickly, the ‘slut’ going straight into the gutter, making your pussy clench desperately around nothing. you hesitantly opened the door and stepped inside, now getting a full view of lorenzo’s body. it was unfair how handsome he was, slick with sweat and streaks of cum drying on his stomach from the apparent previous orgasm you weren’t a witness off… he chuckled, watching your flustered but curious expression with a smirk firmly planted on his lips.

"come on, babe, don’t be shy. we just have to have some fun now, no? i won’t tell nott, i promise… if you’ll be a good girl, of course."

♡ Assassin!Mattheo - First meeting

Summary: Mattheo got assigned the mission to end you, and he would find you at every price. But what he didn’t know was that you already knew about him.

Warnings: mentions of violence, dark themes, blood, stalking

Mattheo held the photo of you in his hand, studying your features thoroughly. Your coffee-colored locks falling down your shoulders, crystal clear eyes that could make any man drown. Sharp jaw, plump lips, and a small button nose. A beautiful creature, but he had been taught they were the most dangerous. Charming with their looks, devil in their soul.

For weeks he had been studying you, tracing your every step during the day. Keeping himself in the shadows to not be seen, keeping a distance between the two of you. He made sure to know your exact locations during the day, tracking down where you lived, where you worked, what gym you went to. Keeping the time of when you woke up in the morning, when you went to work, when you had lunch, when you got off work. He followed you to the gym, kept tracking what you trained. He had it all written down and made sure he wouldn’t miss a single damn detail.

Tonight was the night. The night where he was supposed to take your life, the night where he would see your blood pool around your feet, the night when he was going to witness life leaving your eyes. 

Mattheo pulled on his black cargo pants, together with his black leather holster. A pitch-black, tight t-shirt clothing his tense torso. He pulled on a black zip hoodie, pulling up the hood to cover his head. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, running his hand through his locks. Adjusting his holster, he placed a gun with a silencer  together with five throwing knives. His eyes still locked with his reflection, he picked up a throwing knife and spun it around his finger before putting it back in the holster together with the other four. 

Somehow, a strange feeling pooled in Mattheo’s stomach this night. Usually, he was never nervous going on his missions. But this time, it felt different. It was something with you, something with the picture of you, something with the way you were. Somehow, it didn’t feel right. He shook the feeling quickly and went out the front door. 

Walking down the pavement, Mattheo kept his mind on the one thing he had to do tonight, and then he saw you. And you saw him. Eyes locking for the shortest of seconds before you disappeared into the shadows. Mattheo followed shortly after, trying to comprehend the small and first interaction the two of you had ever had. You couldn’t know about him, could you?

Mattheo found himself in a dark, old, abandoned warehouse. He looked around but couldn’t see you. Only your footsteps echoing in the dirt of the empty warehouse walls. Mattheo looked around but couldn’t see even a glimpse of you in the shadows. 

“Mattheo… Riddle? Correct?” 

Mattheo’s eyes widened, twisting and turning his head. He could still hear your footsteps on the dirty floor, circling around him in the shadows. 

“You didn’t think I knew, did you? To be fair, you’re not so subtle when you stalk people. I’ve known your presence for the last few weeks.” 

Exasperation grew like a knot in Mattheo’s stomach. The thought of you knowing he had kept track of you all this time was damn near bewildering. It felt almost like a bad joke, and he couldn’t understand how he could’ve missed something like this.

“And if you have known all this time, why haven’t you done anything to prevent it?” Mattheo’s voice was firm. He felt calm, though the uncomfortable feeling of you knowing about him still lingered.

“Because… Where would the fun in that be?” Your voice was still echoing between the walls. You stood in the shadows, having Mattheo right where you wanted him. You aimed your gun towards him; the bullet would hit right in the middle of his forehead. But then he spoke again, and you lowered your gun.

“Yeah, you’re right. Where would the fun in that be? Bet you love the thrill, don’t you?” Mattheo’s voice took on a taunting tone. “Like you wanted to be followed.”

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. Not in his wildest dreams could he believe in his own words. But right then and there, a throwing knife flew right beside your head, cutting your cheek, if only so slightly. With the tips of your fingers, you wiped away the blood. But when you looked up again, Mattheo was gone. Your blood ran cold in your veins because now you knew he had turned the tables, and with a sudden pull, he dragged you out of the shadows and into the middle of the room. 

“If we’re going to play this kind of game, we’ll play it fair.” Mattheo’s eyes bore into yours. You had only seen him from a distance before, except for the photos you had of him. But his features? Oh, he was handsome; his chestnut hair, his deep dark eyes, sharp jawline. You two weren’t so different from each other––both had experience in the same field, assassins. But it didn’t seem like Mattheo knew about that. 

You stood in the middle, and Mattheo circled around you like a wolf ready to eat its prey. His eyes roamed up and down your body, but his eyes were glued to the cut on your cheek. He reached his fingers to the cut, tracing it with his fingertips. “Such a shame…” he said with a low and husky voice, though a smirk tugged on his lips. “What is?”

Mattheo leaned into your ear, moving a strand of hair before whispering, “That I have to kill you.”

© cvrcingjonnie 2025. Please do not copy, translate or repost any of my works. Reblogs, likes and comments are welcomed though ♡ you are accountable for your own media consumption.

SHE DID IT SHE JUST DID IT, hope y’all have therapy bc i’m sure we will need it

— moondust ; series

there’s nothing that i can do…

summary: mattheo has always had only one person in the world to care for – himself. when he suddenly realizes that it’s not the case anymore, and his fucked up life can actually fuck up someone else, he doesn’t have a choice but to bury his feelings as deeply as humanly and inhumanly possible.

pairing: mattheo riddle x ravenclaw!reader

cw: 18+ mdni, angst, war, death, violence, torture, physical injuries, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, extreme slowburn, very heavy pining, cursing, drinking, smoking, smut (read warnings for each part)

a/n: this series is going to be a tough pill to swallow emotionally, so read responsibly. no heavy topics mentioned are romanticized. the entire thing is inspired by moondust by jaymes young, the most mattheo song in existence.

…except bury my love for you

PART I

coming soon…

PART II

PART III

PART IV

PART V

PART VI

PART VII

PART VIII

PART IX

PART X

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; mattheo m.list

ʀᴇꜱᴛʟᴇꜱꜱ.

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, p-in-v penetration, swearing, dirty talk, sofa sex, quickie that became a longie, making-out, dry humping, Jace is desperate and he needs to take his frustrations out somehow, theres a brief pussy slap bc it felt right, cream-pie at the end, fully clothed raw dogging; They’re betrothed and this takes place at the start of the DoD, I didn’t make any other specifications cause they were too busy fucking. This is very heavily inspired by his scene in the season finale :3

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

He’d been pacing in his chambers for the better part of an hour with only his thoughts as company. Jacaerys felt useless, to say the least. Useless, needlessly coddled, suffocating between the walls of Dragonstone. He wanted to be of help to his Queen, to fight for the realm on dragonback against the Greens as was his destiny. His calling. Instead, he was made to spectate at council meetings and wait endlessly for a moment that would never come, it seemed. The ‘what ifs’ kept him spiraling, uncomfortable in his own mind, and he found his feet moving before he could consider a destination. He knew where to go. It was too easy not to. And she wouldn’t mind. His hesitance sent a bit of doubt down to his stomach on whether or not he really wanted to bother her, but she would’ve figured out his sour mood anyway. It was better to face up to himself than keep it locked away inside. The hastening of his footsteps echoed off the spacious corridors, and as if she had sensed he was on his way to her, the doors to her chambers were left ajar—just enough for him to see her peaceful face trained down on her book.

His knuckles gently tapped against the threshold, announcing his presence as he entered. His betrothed glances up, looking twice as she realizes who her visitor is. “Good morrow.” She hummed, legs tucked up and under her comfortably on the divan. His pretty brown eyes took in her room, a place he found himself in considerably often. Depending on the circumstances, obviously. And the hour. Everything was kept neat and tidied, but he could still see the traces of her, where she’d made a sort of home for herself. Books and tomes stacked three or four each on various surfaces, the tea she’d left nearly untouched on the nightstand. He loved it. “Good morrow.” Jace responded, gently shutting the door behind him, head tilted back against it for a moment, unable to hide the frustration that had grown in his own chambers. He said nothing. Unsurprisingly, the words caught in his throat on the way out.

She pats the spot beside her on the divan, the book not yet closed, but her attention had shifted from the pages to his furrowed brows. He obeys, crossing the room to sit by her without second thought. His mind had quieted, at least. Their shoulders brush together lightly as he finally manages to say something else. “What are you reading?” She could tell already that something was off with him, but still indulges in his question, turning it over to show him the cover. Something vaguely historic, he catches, but he was too distracted by her soft hands clutching the book to see much else. “I figured I’d better read a bit more to catch up with the talk of war. This one isn’t entirely as dull as I thought it was going to be, thankfully.” With that, she closes it shut, putting it down on the stand beside the divan, shifting her body just enough to face him. “How are you faring, Jace?”

“I’m well enough.” He muttered, leaning back slightly. It was a lie and she saw right through him without much else. “I just…my mother is worried. She’s trying to hide it behind orders but it's catching up to us now. All this.” He was gesturing to the war, of course, fingers tapping in his lap anxiously. “And I can’t help her. She won’t let me help. I don’t know what to do. I’d much rather be out there, making a real difference to tip the scales, and instead I’m stuck here at Dragonstone doing nothing but waiting.” His betrothed nodded along as she listened, digesting his admittance before considering her own words. “You’re restless, dragon.” There was a truth to it, despite the statement mostly being a gentle tease. The corners of his lips lift just a little at the nickname. “I can’t help it. I feel antsy knowing I have the capabilities to do something, and I’m not allowed to.”

“We’re still in the beginning of this war—and you’re the heir, Jace. Even if there was a battle taking place just outside of Dragonstone, you and the Queen must stay here.” He’d heard that a thousand times before from his mother and the members of her small council, and a thousand times he felt undignified—but hearing it from the lips of his bride-to-be, there was no malice or taunt or scold behind her tone. She was reminding him of a painful candor. His safety mattered. “I feel powerless.” He admits, frustration accompanying the embarrassment that came with the insecurity. “I feel like a little boy begging to add his opinion during council meetings. They respect me because I’m the Prince of Dragonstone, her son, not because I’m good at my responsibilities. What good am I in this war if I can’t help my mother get her throne back?” The last few words exited his mouth with bite, self-loathing and irritation cutting him like a double-edge sword.

“You’re wrong about that.” She reaches out to take his arm, her hand wrapping around his bicep as she intertwines their fingers with the other. “Your living and breathing is the strongest power of all. You’re strengthening your mother’s claim by doing just that. I know you want to fight, to do something that matters. But true power is not just grandiose displays of strength or victories in battle, it's also purpose. The meanings behind our choices. People are raising the Queen’s banners—and those are your banners too. They want to fight for you as much as they do for her, because the two of you are the rightful heirs to the throne. The Greens can try as they wish to Usurp what belongs to the Queen, but their actions are unjustified. King Viserys made his choice and he stuck to it until his passing. That is power.”

“All this book reading is making you wiser than me.” He grumbled, although there wasn’t any malice behind it. “I’d still rather be swinging a sword at some idiot knight instead of sitting within these walls looking pretty—but I understand that you’re right.” He concedes, a small smile gracing his handsome face. She chuckles at that. “I’m sure you’d be pretty no matter what, even muddied and bloodied on the battlefield.” She sighs though, glancing out at the daylight swarming into the room through the window, hand still nestled in his. The gentle touch sent goosebumps up his neck, tightening his trousers with every second her warmth continued to seep into his leather doublet. “The meeting is likely starting soon.” Her voice interrupts his thoughts of nipping at the supple flesh at her neck.

Jace groaned aloud, head dropping back against the divan in pure annoyance, good mood spoiled at the reminder. “I’d honestly rather get swallowed by dragonfire than sit in that room for the next three hours, listening to those old fools drabble on about who knows what.” He turns his body—not unlike a roll—to shield his face on her shoulder, unwilling to part from her. “I want to stay here with you, alone and in peace as we were.” She snorts lightly as he inhales deeply, arm snaking around her waist in want. “The Queen will be expecting us, my prince.” She looks down at his dark curls, twirling one around her finger. His breeches certainly tighten now. “...My interests are elsewhere.” He murmurs, annoyed at the thought of being pulled away, face inching closer to her neck until his lips press against her smooth skin. “Jace.” She warned, although there wasn’t as much resistance in her tone as he’d expected, and a quiet sigh flows past her lips. “We can’t be late. That’s disrespectful to the council members.”

“The denial of devouring you because of those ancient rats only serves to make me want to go even less.” He shifts in place, head still dipped by her jugular, hands bracing the back of the divan with newfound purpose, trapping her between the corner of it and his own scalding body. She gasps as his teeth sink into her skin, earning a low sound of pleasure from his throat. “We can be quick if the meeting matters to you that much.” He mutters against her, a slight tease as he nips at her harder this time, his nose nudged into her jaw. “I don’t need to wait until nightfall to make you see the stars, my Lady.” Her remaining restraint crumbles at that, hands coming to undo the lacings of his breeches. “..Fine. But you can’t touch my hair.” He seemed like he wanted to protest at the idea of limited touching, but that gleam in her eye meant she was serious, and it was likely they’d miss the meeting as a whole trying to figure out how to braid her hair that way again. “Okay. Deal.”

His mouth returns to her throat, biting and sucking greedily with reverence, his hands finding purchase at her hips to start bunching her skirts up. “Jace..” She exhales, shuddering at the way he was marking her skin—he wasn’t leaving any stones unturned, and they were going to show. Her fingers plucked at the lacings with success, tugging him closer to her now by the waistline of his breeches. His fists clench around the fabric of her gown, a deep grunt echoing from his chest as his clothed cock pressed into her plush inner thigh. “Gods—I need more.” Jace retracts himself from her neck, pulling her body down the divan, just enough to lay her flat on her back. She wraps her thighs around his hips, a strangled moan failing to come out as he kisses her, pushing himself against her core. He rolled his hips down with a fury, nothing deliberate about it—just to feel something, to get out the pent up desperation he’d felt for weeks since his return.

His tongue explores her mouth with an eagerness that made them both flush, using her skirts as purchase to buck himself harder into her cunt. “You make me this way.” He grunts against her lips. His stomach was already tightening with every bit of friction they could get. “Do you understand? You’re just so pretty and you smell divine—fuck.” Jace grits his teeth, biting at her lower lip. She was a panting mess beneath him, unable to do anything other than take it, digging her nails into his shoulders to cope with how good it felt. His weight pinned her down deliciously, hips still incessant and rubbing against her with enough force to make the divan squeak. It was like music to his ears. “I’m already close just feeling your sweet cunt, my love.” Jace pulls up her gown a bit more, almost up to her ribs, to watch the tent in his pants glide up her glistening folds like a man bewitched. “You need to see it–” He grunts, bracing himself on the armrest behind her head, lifting himself just enough to make a space between their bodies. The sight was a wicked one.

“Look at the way you take me.” He urges, voice hoarse this time, eyes meeting hers from above. “Soaked enough to wet my breeches—and I’m not even inside of you yet.” Her nails dig harder into him, a breathless whine at the disbelief of it all. “Please Jace!” She mewls, shivering, and he grins, snapping his hips against hers with reverence. “Please what, my love? Use your words.” His tone was mocking, teasing, and eager to make her squirm. The quiet shuffling of their clothes was driving her to insanity—and she wanted more than anything to pull it all off, but they had places to be very soon. “I need—Gods! I need you, Jace!” He was more than pleased by that, and he somehow carries enough restraint to stop himself from finishing right there. Jacaerys pulls himself back to tug down his breeches down just enough, his cock momentarily springing back to hit his stomach.

She melts at the sight of his tip—red and leaking shiny precum back toward his shaft. He was the perfect size for her; not too big or too small, and pretty just like the rest of him. Jace hisses quietly as the sensitivity hits him, dipping himself between her folds just to savor the moment. “Mmm look at your pretty cunt, my love. So beautiful.” He murmurs, his own thighs trembling as he slides his shaft through your slick. “Thighs up, sweet girl.” Her eyes roll back as his tip presses into her little bud, the motion agonizingly slow, and she nearly hadn't heard him. She braces her thighs to her chest as much as her bunched up gown would allow, gaze locked on Jace's angled face that was furrowed in concentration. She watches, face reddened, as he spits down onto himself, lubricating the way even though it probably wasn't needed with how soaked she was. Suddenly, his palm comes down on her clit, surprising her with equal amounts of pain and pleasure—she nearly came with a meek gasp of his name, inadvertently yanking his hair. “Jace!”

“Sorry. Couldn't help myself.” He grins, lips meeting hers in a sweet peck. “I want you to look at me when I slip it, love—look nowhere else but right here.” As he guides his tip inside, her breath hitches, captivated by the stretch of him and the glossy brown eyes staring down at her, hazed with lust. A growl erupts from his throat, feeling suffocated now by her walls, and he couldn't get enough. Jace wasn't one to swear often in front of his wife-to-be, but the obscenities flew from his mouth like she was his prayer, sinking himself slowly inch-by-inch. Not that his betrothed was in any better condition. She was clawing at him now, whining and squirming uncontrollably at the delectable sting that came with taking Jace. It hurt so good, and she was sure she'd throw a fit if he dared to pull out for whatever reason. Meeting be damned. Seated fully in her hot cunt, Jacaerys grips the back of her right thigh, pacing himself to allow her to adjust first.

They wait in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, no noise in the room other than their soft pants, and a few breathless giggles as Jace shields her eyes from the attacking sunlight. Silently, she cues him to continue. “Good girl.” He murmurs, starting slowly with gentle strokes that make her stomach warm. “Taking me so well, my love.” He hovered over her still, his other hand braced against the armrest as he watched himself disappear inside of her, a shiver rolling down his spine. “So good.” She mewls, leaking around his cock. Jace leans his head down to connect their lips again, tongue darting into her mouth like he owned her, his free hand taking a greedy handful of her breast through the gown. Moans swallowed down between kissing and breathing, the only sounds that could be heard were the chirping birds and the vulgar slapping of skin as the pace quickened. She could only hope no one would come looking for them—or walk down the corridor even. She couldn't recall Jace locking the door behind him. “I'm close—” He grunts, pulling back from her lips to rock his hips with fervor. “I'm so fucking close, love.”

The divan beneath them was far more noisy now than it had been when they were grinding. Jace had half a mind to let the damned thing break, especially with how tight she squeezed around him, sucking up every inch he provided. Outside, the bells of Dragonstone rang, signaling high noon was upon them—Gods, the meeting. “We need to hurry up!” She pants, thigh hooking around him, just as eager to come. “You promised this would be quick!” Irritation bubbles up in his stomach, and Jace gathers her in his arms, fed up with the thought of having to sit through yet another council meeting. “You want me to hurry up?” He grunts, although it came out as a hiss more than anything, his left foot planting firmly on the floor beside the divan. “Fine.” She couldn't make herself regret her demand even if she tried. Jace stood up straight as a board, his sweet girl being gripped by her gown as he fucked up into her with reckless abandon. She couldn't even remember what it felt like to breathe when her release came, senses flooding with pleasure like she'd been numb her entire life. His cock was hitting that spot like a bullseye, not stopping even after she started yanking on his hair from the overstimulation.

“Do you like it when I hurry, love?” He rasped breathlessly by her ear, one arm around her middle now while his right hand cradled the back of her neck. “You certainly like when I take out all my frustrations on your pretty cunt—Gods, I'm coming. I'm fucking coming sweet girl.” Jace chokes, exhaling sharply through his nose as his hips began to stutter, losing his brutal pace. “Can I come inside of you? Please?!” The beg falling from his plush lips sent a thrill down her spine, and she moaned out her agreement even after he asked twice for confirmation. That's all it takes for Jace to press her into the divan again, fucking her hard, fast, and sloppy, his body laying over hers in the desperation of chasing his release. He buries himself against her chest, coming deep within her as a long, drawn out groan escapes him. The relief was instantaneous; anxiety gone, frustration fucked out of him, and only bliss was left behind. Balls deep, he couldn't tell where she began and he ended. Silence. Rapid breaths. Stilled hips, other than an occasional twitch as they reeled from their orgasms. He lifts his face from her chest weakly, a lazy, sated smile gracing his handsome features. “Sweet girl..” He starts. Her eyes flick up to look at him, equally as spent and satisfied. “Mmhm?”

“I think we're late for the council meeting.”

still feel it, i might die

something is off i just feel it

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in wich your boyfriend thinks the best way to spice up the relationship is by playing hide and seek. WORDS. 4.7K+. english is not my first language. N/A. literally have no fucking idea, i was having a mental breakdown and this came out. (hated it)

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, knife play, kinda mean!mattheo, porn w//plot, aged up characters, rough sex, established relationship, unprotected pnv, hard chocking, swearing, ass slapping, licking, making out, blood kink.

masterlist -> navigation -> mattheo masterlist

Being satisfied.

Mattheo was sure that he was not asking for too much. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself over and over again for the last few weeks, but lately, satisfaction seemed out of reach—almost like an impossibility—and no matter how hard he tried, a fucked up emptiness was still there, tattooed on his very being as the control flipped down his fingers.

It was maddening. Absolutely maddening. He was certain he was losing control of his own body, of his mind, and just that thought alone made him feel nauseous; he felt like someone was twisting his stomach, slowly and painfully; and that wasn’t him. Being fucking miserable like this? That had never been him.

He was Mattheo Riddle, for fuck’s sake.

He never lost control; he thrived on it—he was the fucking embodiment of control. He controlled himself, his actions, and, most importantly, everything around him: Quidditch strategies, his routines, his grades, but above all, his relationships and everyone around him. But lately, everything felt off...vague, as if everything he had carefully built was slipping away, leaving him exposed and raw.

He felt like a wreck, in every sense of the word.

And the worst part? It wasn’t just affecting him anymore; the worst part was that it had started to affect his relationship with you. You, the only person he genuinely gave a shit about, the only person who mattered to him, the only person he couldn’t let slip away. That was the fucking problem.

In the beginning, everything was perfect, so goddamn perfect that sometimes he was fucking terrified to wake up and find out it had all been a dream, a goddamn illusion that his own mind created to punish him. The truth was that being with you was like a goddamn drug—in the best, most fucked-up way. It was addictive, intoxicating, and never lost its thrill. 

The way your bodies fit together, how you let yourself get lost in the things he did to you, how he knew your body by the tip of his tongue—it was all fucking exciting. And you? You never dared to say no to anything he asked, no matter how sick it sounded; that was what made him want to keep you locked up, all to himself.

And for a while it was all he needed.

But Mattheo wasn’t the type of man who loved gently or held himself back when it came to relationships. He never knew how to give just a piece of himself, and in return, he took everything from you, consuming you in ways that were almost humanly impossible. He always wanted to possess, to have power, and with you, it was no exception. 

No matter how much he tried to suppress it, the need to control you, to use you, was becoming unbearable, and Mattheo was sure that it was turning into physical pain; he could feel it in his ribs.

And besides all that bullshit, lately, the little control he had over you felt more fragile than ever, as if something had shifted in a weird way, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it was fucking there, eating him alive, almost destroying his mind and opening his ribs; there was a part of you he could no longer reach, no matter how hard he tried, and it was driving him insane—he was furious with himself, and a twisted part of him was even furious with you.

He knew it didn’t make any sense, at least not to him. After all, he still fucked you in every way he could—rough, slow, and sometimes, when he was feeling nice enough, even with a strange kind of tenderness, Mattheo fucked you until you were both so drenched in sweat that your bodies stuck together like glue. But even that wasn’t enough.

He was not satisfied. 

It wasn't that being with you was horrible... fuck no! He would never say that, because he knew that if he did, it would only be a lie to hide the sexual frustration that was haunting him like a ghost. And if there was one thing he definitely wasn't, it was a liar. Besides, you were the only girl he dared to touch more than once, the only one he didn't toss aside like the others, the only one he fucking surrendered himself to—not just to blow off steam.

He knew he couldn’t be with anyone else but you. But lately, something was missing, something different, something more obscene, something more…him.

Mattheo couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to spice up the things in your relationship; he was done with the same shitty routine over and over again—he needed to push the limits of what he had with you, to push you further, to fuck you even better than he ever did.

He needed to fight for the relationship, fight for you.

It was then that an idea popped into his mind. A game. Something as twisted as it was intimate, something that would push the two of you into new territory that would push him toward the satisfaction he so desperately sought.

Hide and seek.

He knew it was probably a sick idea, a really sick one, but the way the thought consumed him, how it gripped his mind, and how the mere idea of hunting you down in a dark room with nothing but his filthy thoughts and a knife made his cock throb was impossible to ignore, especially after weeks feeling like shit, like a failure as a partner.

The truth was, Mattheo couldn’t stop himself—not when every nerve in his body burned with the desperate need for the satisfaction he craved and not when he finally found a way to solve his problems. He couldn't let you slip away, not when you were the only one who ever mattered to him.

He’d spent way too much time drowning in frustration, feeling his satisfied façade crumble, feeling the control he valued so much slip through his fingers like fucking sand.

But this—this fucked-up, twisted game—was how he’d take it all back. How he’d finally feel in control again, finallyfeel like he had all of you exactly where, to him, you truly belonged. To remind himself that you were still his—to wreck, to ruin, and to use however he wanted.

And that thought alone sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins.

So Mattheo approached you with caution, whispering sweet but fake words to tempt you, tracing his thumb along your thigh, offering you a false sense of security that he was waiting to take away. Looking into your eyes, almost pleading, begging for the uncertainty to finally leave them.

He offered you space to process what he wanted, making you think you had a choice, even though he knew he had already pushed you toward a thing you couldn’t refuse. And when you finally said yes, satisfaction washed over him, and he wasted no time pushing you into the game.

The small room was dim, with the only light coming through the large crystal windows. The setting afternoon sun streamed through the colored glass, casting soft, vibrant hues over the dusty old furniture and the cold stone walls. Strangely, it brought an odd sense of comfort and freedom to a space that otherwise felt heavy and stifling with what was happening inside.

The room was silent except for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his slow, deliberate steps. Somewhere in the darkened corners, Mattheo moved like a shadow, his fingers wrapped around the cool silver of the knife, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light.

He wasn’t rushing—no, he wanted to savor this, to draw it out for as long as possible, and he knew that even if you couldn’t see him, a part of you could feel him and listen to his footsteps.

You were in the other corner of the room, your back pressed against the edge of an old desk, the cool wood biting your skin through the fabric of your shirt, your breath was shallow as you tried to stay as quiet as possible, determined not to catch Mattheo’s attention. The dim light filtering through the colored glass windows barely reached you; keeping you concealed in the shadows was the only advantage in this twisted game.

Every inch of your body felt wired, tense, your pulse quickening with each passing second, yet you could feel your pussy starting to get wet with anticipation of being haunted.

“Sweetheart.” He called in a purr, his voice smooth, slicing through the silence. It was the first word he’d spoken since he’d given you time to hide and entered the room, and you couldn’t help but press your hand to your chest, trying to steady your racing heart. “You’re hiding well... it’s almost cute, really.” Mattheo’s words were filled with mockery as he moved his head around, his eyes scanning the shadows of the room, searching for any sign of you.

He stopped near a bookshelf, casually flipping the knife between his fingers, the blade gliding effortlessly with every lazy movement. His dark brown eyes scanned the room, and he held his breath, savoring the familiar, sweet, and addictive scent of your perfume that filled his nostrils, quickening his pulse and making his heart skip a beat with anticipation. Yet, the scent was still too faint, and he knew you were still far from him.

And that made him even more eager to play, to catch you and use you as he wanted.

He tilted his head slightly, straining to catch any sound, but the room remained silent, save for the faint rustle of old books settling on the shelves and the distant hum of the castle beyond. Mattheo chuckled to himself. You were good—too fucking good for your own good. He couldn’t hear a thing. No sharp inhale, no shift of weight against the wooden floor, nothing to give you away. And he couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation of pride.

A slow, cruel smirk curled at the corners of his lips as he tapped the flat side of the knife against his palm, the sound barely breaking the silence of the stone walls. You were making this interesting—dragging it out, pushing him to the edge, making him hard, testing his patience. But patience? That was never his strong suit, and it never would be.

Mattheo’s footsteps echoed faintly as he began to move again, the knife still shifting between his fingers with that unnerving ease. His eyes scanned the room attentively, every inch of it, studying the shadows, waiting for the slightest slip—a twitch, a breath, the faintest shift in the air that would give you away.

But nothing did.

You held your breath even longer, your hand pressing against your chest as your fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt in a futile attempt to steady yourself against the nervousness that made your heart pound violently against your ribs—and the need now pulsing deep in your now wet cunt.

“Are you trembling right now, aren’t you?” His voice was a quiet hiss, the words almost dripping with a twisted amusement that sent another shiver down your spine. You could hear the satisfaction in his tone, his words dripping with that familiar sense of control. “Holding your breath? Hoping I’ll just walk right past you?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the voice in your head cursed as you felt his footsteps drawing closer, desperately trying to control the frantic pulse of your throbbing cunt.

Despite Mattheo’s footsteps, the room felt too still, too quiet—like you were holding onto every second, every inch of space between you and him. But he still could smell you, your scent growing stronger with every passing moment, enough to make his pants tighten around his cock, and then he finally could hear the faintest breath that made his blood burn with desire through his veins, and he wanted nothing more than to push you, to see you crack, to take this game further until you bleed.

His hand clenched tighter around the knife, the grip intensifying as he took another step, shaking his head violently to refocus on the task… breaking you? Well, that could come later.

He was going to make sure of it.

Your breathing quickened with the adrenaline, your heart pounding violently against your ribs as his footsteps grew louder, the vicious scent of his cologne intensifying with his proximity. You gripped the fabric of your skirt between your trembling fingers in a futile attempt to calm your nerves and to stop the excitement that was now dripping between your legs, hardening your nipples.

“Come on, sweetheart, I know you’re close; I can feel it.” Mattheo’s voice came out sweet, and you knew that was the exact opposite of the intentions that had him searching for you so eagerly. “You’re really making me work for it, huh?” He asked, gently squeezing the knife in his palm, the weak lights of the room casting the shadow of the metal on the wall in front of you. “Cute.”

You cringed at the falsely sweet tone his voice carried as you tried to hold your breath even tighter, bringing your trembling knees to your chest in a nearly stupid effort to stop your pussy from growing even wetter at the sound of his manipulative words.

Mattheo stopped suddenly, his brown eyes flicking across the big dark room, narrowing slightly as they scanning every corner for any sign of you. His fingers toyed with the knife, the blade catching the light as he stood still, trying to hear even the smallest sound.

He could feel the impatience growing, clawing at him, but it didn’t dull the ache in his cock—in fact, it only made him harder. The thrill of catching you, of fucking you into the oblivion, made the excitement burn even more.

“Don’t make me wait any longer, love,” he said again, his voice rougher than before, almost like a threat. “The longer you make me wait, the worse it’s going to be for you.” He chuckled low, sending a shiver down your spine, and your heart raced even faster than it already was.

You glanced up at the ceiling, noticing how his shadow was growing bigger and bigger by the second. He was getting closer to your hiding spot, making you instinctively rub your legs together in a desperate attempt to ease the heat growing between them.

Mattheo cursed under his breath, his impatience growing as he scanned the room once more, searching for any shadow that might betray your position.

When no sign appeared, he sighed again, this time with a touch of irritation; the silence was starting to get to him, but it didn’t last long, because a wicked idea flashed in his mind, and a cruel smirk curled on his lips, and in an instant, he slammed his foot against the wooden floor with all his strength.

The loud sound of his foot hitting the floor echoed through the empty room, so sharp against the silence that without thinking, without noticing, you jumped back, slamming into the table behind you. The movement was small but enough to knock over a stack of books, which crashed to the floor, the noise even louder than his footsteps.

You couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath, realizing the mistake you’d made, your heart nearly leaping out of your throat.

Mattheo stopped instantly, a low chuckle slipping from his lips as he tightened his grip on the knife in his hand. His eyes locked onto the spot where the books had fallen, and a slow, malicious smirk spread across his face. He tilted his head mockingly, his gaze glinting with amusement when he caught a small glimpse of your head peeking out from behind the desk where you were hiding from him.

Without giving you a chance to run, he moved toward you swiftly, his heavy footsteps echoing off the walls, blending with your shallow, frantic breathing, and before you could even blink, Mattheo was right there, standing over you like you were nothing but his goddamn prey.

“Finally found you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery, the way he said “sweetheart” making it clear he was loving every second of your discomfort. His eyes never left yours, and he could feel his pants tightening around his hard cock as the panic in your eyes grew.

Oh, there it was—the excitement he had been craving for so long.

You swallowed hard, your hand gripping the edge of the table you were leaning on for support, trying to ignore the dampness already soaking through your panties and the way his eyes were still locked onto your body, his fingers casually playing with the small knife in his hand as you stood in front of him.

“Yeah, i guess you found me” you said, your voice shaky as you tried to steady your shaky legs. “Satisfied now?” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, though all it did was make his twisted smirk grow even wider.

Mattheo took a final step, standing right in front of you. His free hand landed on your hip, his grip so tight it would surely leave a bruise. The coldness of his palm against your warm skin made you shiver involuntarily, and he couldn’t help but let out a low, knowing laugh at the way your body reacted to him, your pussy tightening at the rough, throaty noise.

It was always like this, always—you trying to hold your ground while your trembling legs threatened to give out, even if you tried to resist the urge to drop to your knees right in front of him, you trying to challenge him, when in reality, all you wanted was to have your wet pussy filled with his big cock and feel him pump you full of his cum.

The same thing happened each and every time, regardless of how you two fucked, and he felt dumb for ever thinking that this time would be different.

Still, he wasn't complaining, since it made the game much more entertaining.

“No, not yet,” he whispered, leaning forward, your faces so close that his warm breath brushed against your skin. His free hand massaged your hip gently, his thumb stroking your skin in a way that was both mocking and soft, and you pressed your thighs together, trying to control the throbbing between your legs.

Mattheo’s hand left your hip, his fingers tangling in your hair with a strength that had you gasping in surprise as he yanked your face closer to his.

His breath mingled with yours—hot—and you could feel the press of his hard cock against you; still, he kept his lips just out of reach, teasing you. “Be a good girl,” he whispered, the words almost a command. “Show me your tongue, love.”

“And why?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your composure, but it was impossible. The air between you thickened as he pushed his hips forward, his clothed cock pressing against the top of your panties, making you whimper.

“Show. Me. Your. Fucking. Tongue.” He repeated like a command, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pulled you even closer. The grip on your scalp made a sudden soft escape your lips—somewhere between a moan and a whimper. “Now.” He ordered, and you quickly opened your mouth, your wet muscle sliding out to meet him, and you felt his cock throbbing harder against you.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised you almost softly, and before you could react, he stuck his own tongue out of his mouth and gave yours a slow, tentative lick, making you shiver and whine with the contact, and then before you could even open your eyes again, he crashed his lips against yours in a heated kiss, full of teeth and tongue.

You moan into the kiss, feeling your tongues roughly clash against each other, teeth hitting with an brutal force as you taste each other’s lips, almost as if you were claiming again a territory that had belonged to both of you for a long time.

Your lips moved against each other in a frantic and aggressive rhythm, your tongues so intertwined that neither of you could tell where one ended and the other began. Mattheo let out a low groan, his cock growing even harder as the kiss deepened, and his grip on your hair loosened just enough for his hand to slide under your skirt.

He grabbed the flesh of your ass tightly, squeezing it tightly with a strength that would surely leave a mark before yanking you forward, grinding your hips against his, forcing you to feel the full weight of his hard cock pressing against you.

“Such a good fucking ass,” Mattheo growled against your mouth, fingers digging harshly into your ass as he thrust his hips into you, the rough friction making you whimper against his lips, your cunt dripping from the pressure alone.

He could already feel his damn frustration fading away, little by little.

His hand tightened on your ass, pulling you closer, making you gasp at the sudden pressure. Before you could react with another whine, you felt his teeth bite your bottom lip, breaking the skin enough to make the taste of your blood linger in both of your tongues. He grunted in satisfaction, savoring the familiar taste, and you felt how hard he was pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

Without warning, he slapped your ass sharply, the impact leaving you surprised, a mark of his fingers on your sensitive skin. Almost immediately, he gave another slap, this one softer but still enough for the sting to make you shudder, biting down on your already bloodied lip.

Mattheo moved away from your body a little bit, a wicked smile twisting his lips as he kept just enough distance to leave you yearning for more, wanting him to finally fuck you the way he intended there and then. His pupils were dilated as he looked at you, and you met his gaze, agitated and breathless.

"Mattheo, please!" you pleaded, trying to ignore the pain on your lip, your brow wrinkled slightly due to the lack of friction you were experiencing. Yet, he only laughed, mocking you, finding it amusing that you were nearly as frustrated as he had been previously.

“Oww, are you anxious, sweetheart?” He blinked, pretending innocence, the hand that had been gripping your skin now tucking a stray lock of your messy hair behind your ear in a mockingly sweet gesture. “Poor, poor girl…” he taunted you, his eyes drifting to the small blade in his free hand, anxiously waiting to mark your skin.

He already had the prey; he only needed to cut it.

Mattheo pressed the flat edge of the knife against his palm, his grip tightening as he slowly dragged it down your skin. A shiver raced through you, and you held your breath as the cold, sharp blade grazed your sensitive flesh.

“What you’re trying to do?” you asked, your voice shaky as you watched the knife press harder against your skin.

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed you by the waist and slammed your back against his chest, your feet stumbling to catch up as he dragged you with him. His arm locked around your stomach, keeping you pressed to him, making your head spin, and a soft gasp escaped your bruised lips when you felt his hard cock pressed against your ass.

Mattheo’s grip tightened around your waist, his chest resting against your back as he roughly pushed you into that position, giving him a better view of your ass. Another gasp escaped your lips when you felt his hand slide up to your throat, his fingers tightening around your skin, almost like a reminder of who was in control. Who the fucking prey was.

“Stay fucking still,” he breathed against your ear, his breath hot as he continued to press his clothed hard cock against you, and you obey, trying to ignore the pain of his grip tightening around your neck.

Your pulse hammered under his strong grip, your throat tightening as you swallowed, yet Mattheo only tightened his hold in response, his satisfaction growing with every painful whimper that escaped your lips and every shudder that ran through your already weak legs.

His other hand—the one holding the sharp knife—moved slowly down your stomach, the handle brushing against your skin as he slid the blade lower and lower. Mattheo couldn’t help but smirk even more as he felt your body tremble again and again, his cock pulsing, sensing the way you seemed to shrink back against him.

Mattheo was savoring every second of it, watching you squirm, watching the nerves take over, watching you hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable pain. That was what he wanted, what he needed—to regain control, to own you. You, the one who held his heart in your hands like it was nothing. If he controlled you, you could never hurt him, never break his heart, never crush it with your touch. So, he was just taking the safe option.

Control you before you even realize you were controlling him.

In a swift move, he yanked your skirt and panties down, exposing the soft flesh of your ass even more and your wet folds to the cold air. The sudden vulnerability made your stomach twist in a mix of nervousness and anticipation, but you barely had time to process it before Mattheo thrust one of his knees between your legs, forcing your thighs to open wider, giving him a clear view of your cunt.

“Such a perfect little pussy…” He whispered against your ear, his breath sending goosebumps down your body. “Hands on the table. Now,” he ordered. His hand remained firm on your neck, choking you, his voice dripping with dark mockery, as if he knew exactly what you were feeling. And he did. He knew, and he planned to use it all to his own advantage.

His fingers clenched around your neck more tightly when you hesitated, pressing with such force that you choked slightly—the gesture almost like a silent warning.

"You really think you can disobey me, slut?" He whispered, letting out a dark, dry laugh as he rubbed his covered length on your bare cunt, causing you to whine. “You know better than to piss me the fuck off. Especially when I have a knife in my hand. Don’t fucking test me.”

You followed the command, stifling a moan as his hands tightened around your neck, your shaking hands resting on the wooden surface, your fingers turning white from the pressure.

Mattheo hummed in approval, rocking his hips harder against you, and you instinctively rolled your ass against him, eager for more contact, his grip on your neck loosened just enough for his thumb to caress your jaw—mocking, almost caring.

Then, he finally pressed the cold blade into your ass, and you held your breath, feeling your heart slamming against your ribs.

He muttered, "Stay still," and bit down on your ear. You leaned into him—into the pain—knowing that this would be the closest thing to comfort he’d ever offer you in that moment.

And just when you let yourself relax a little on his grip, the first cut came.

Your eyes snapped shut with the new contact, and you trembled as the pain of your skin being sliced open hit you. Mattheo let out a chuckle, his cock throbbing harder at the sound of your whimpers and the sight of your eager, exposed pussy.

He pressed the blade harder, dragging it slowly and painfully across your skin, cutting through the soft flesh of your ass, still marked by his slaps.

Another shock of pain coursed through your whole body, and you let out a soft whimper, trying to move instinctively. But Mattheo’s grip on your neck only tightened, keeping you locked in place.

He wasn’t going to let you escape, not now that he was so close to getting what he wanted, to the satisfaction he was craving.

“Shhh, it’s just a game. Stay still, or you’ll make it worse.” His fingers tightened around your throat, cutting off your breath enough to make you struggle against his hold. Your head spun, your body fighting for breath, but strangely the adrenaline only turned you on more.

Reluctantly, you gave in, your fingers loosening their grip on the table as you allowed yourself to sink into his hold.

“Just like that, let me take care of you.” His voice dripped with false sweetness, but you let yourself fall for it, ignoring the burning pain in your marked ass as you tried to convince yourself it was worth it.

Mattheo dragged the knife further down, the cold blade scraping roughly over your skin, cutting into you and leaving a trail of blood behind before it finally tore through your flesh. You bit your lip hard, fighting back the scream clawing at your sore throat, your legs instinctively parting, offering him a clearer view of your dripping folds.

This time, it wasn’t just a cut—it was a permanent mark.

“Mine.”

The final stroke completed the “e,” and with each precise cut, you felt the heat of your own blood dripping down the curve of your ass, making your legs tremble more and more. The pain was sharp, but it made your heart race violently against your ribcage in a way you couldn’t explain; and yet his heartbeat mirrored yours, as if, after everything, he had finally regained control over you again.

Mattheo step back slightly, his hand loosening around your neck as he looked at the mess he’d made. He watched as your blood poured down your ass, staining your skin, tracing the deep cuts in thick, red lines. His eyes then moved lower, taking in the sight of your pussy pulsing with need, as if it were calling for him.

Fuck, he wanted to fuck your pussy so bad.

He placed the knife down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, as he felt his cock straining against the zipper of his pants, watching your chest rise and fall, and your nipples pressed against the fabric of your shirt. His hand slid down to your ass, his fingers tracing the bloodstained marks, feeling the warm liquid collect beneath his nails.

Mattheo licked his lips before bringing his fingers to his mouth eagerly, sucking them clean, licking with the taste, savoring the metallic taste, as if, absorbing it as if by magic, your blood would mix with his.

“Your blood tastes so fucking good,” he muttered, sucking harder on his fingers. You blinked slowly, trying to keep the tears from spilling down your cheeks.

After one last slow lick of his fingers, Mattheo holds you again, a groan escaping his throat as he looks at your dripping cunt, and without wasting another second, he freed his hard cock from his pants, and with a single thrust, he slid himself inside your pussy.

“Ah, fuck!” You cried out in surprise as Mattheo's rigid cock entered you without warning, the force of his penetration making you almost sob. Yet instead of pulling back, he drove himself deeper, relishing the way your tight pussy clamped down on his throbbing cock. A low moan rumbled in his chest as he felt the familiar sensation of your inner walls around him.

“Even after all these months, you're still so fucking tight.” Mattheo groaned against your ear, his hips slamming against yours, the brutal force causing the blood pooling in your ass to trickle down and coat his skin. Each thrust pushing him deeper into your cunt, until the head of his cock was almost kissing your cervix, making your tender folds throb with the strange pleasure.

Fuck, he has been begging for this for months. Months begging for control, for satisfaction, and it was finally there; it was finally in his hands.

His hand tightened around your neck, making it hard to breathe, but he didn’t care. He only drove his cock deeper into you, forcing a loud moan from your lips as the pain from the fresh cuts burned through your skin, leaving you no chance to speak, no chance to even gasp his name.

You were almost certain that if he choked you just a little longer, or five more times, maybe even less, you’d be completely out of air—left to die right there with his cock still buried inside you.

But even though you couldn’t say his name or form a single coherent word, that didn’t stop the loud, desperate moans from spilling out of your bruised lips, your cries turning into broken, incoherent pleas as his grip on your throat tightened, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Yeah, just like that—moan like a fucking slut for me,” he breathed against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His large palm slid over your stomach, pressing you even harder against his muscular chest, forcing your fresh cuts to rub painfully against his bare pelvis. The sharp sting made you bite your lip to stifle a cry, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table as another type of pain spread through you.

The pain only pushed you closer to your orgasm.

Mattheo’s grip on your neck tightened, making it almost impossible for you to breathe, let alone moan. His hot breath ghosted over your ear as he fucked your pussy with deep, brutal thrusts, each one so relentless that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow. Yet you didn’t say anything letting him chase what he needed.

“Only letting go of your throat when you fucking come like a bitch, sweetheart.” Mattheo moaned in your ear, his hips fucking you faster, burying himself to the hilt as he felt your walls clenching around his dick, signaling your climax. He knew that his own release was close, but he refused to acknowledge it, determined to push you over the edge first like a sick competition he was playing alone.

With three more thrusts, both you and Mattheo felt your pussy clamp down around his rigid length, your whimpering cries echoing through the room as you came, making him grunt in satisfaction. He finally loosened his grip on your throat, allowing you to gasp in relief, but he didn’t stop. He slammed into you one final time before his release hit him like a wave, his cock pulsing violently, spilling his hot cum deep inside your cunt.

After a moment of silence, Mattheo carefully pulled his cock out of your pussy, his breath still ragged as he watched his cum spill out of your hole, then he gently traced his fingers over the “mine” carved into your skin, brushing the marks softly, almost reverently, as if he was looking at a piece of art. The satisfaction he craved now has a permanent mark on you.

“Are you good now?” you asked softly, feeling the exhaustion take over your features as you tried to steady yourself and keep your eyes open despite the pleasant pain.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on your bruised neck before whispering, “You can say that, sweetheart.”

© mattnott 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

hate this shit, the smut sucks but the idea is good, bye bye.

thank you to my girl @bucksplum for helping with the last paragraphs, i love you a lot <3

it’s 4 am so if you want to be rude, i will visit you in your nightmares or worse… (tomorrow i might edit better…or not

ly y’all stay safe and use condom

need this, need him, need your writing

being with you doesn't feel like drowning,

from vi

ᰔ pairing . . . m. townsend !

ᰔ with . . . a f!reader

ᰔ category . . . angst. hurt with comfort. one - shot. requested.

ᰔ in which . . . when you saw michael's injuries, everything falls apart. trust is broken, & the connection you two had is tested. michael attempts to keep the truth from you, but it's too late▰the damage is done. now, both of you have to deal with the repercussions of your actions.

ᰔ tags . . . 5.4k. major spoilers. reader is not a natural but not invisible. raised in the house, still feels like a guest. trust issues ft. too many secrets. blue-purple bruises. “i never asked you to love me” <— okay jane austen boy, ouch. the slow burn of breaking down walls. everyone knows but no one says it. fbi = feelings buried indefinitely. friends who read you like crime scenes. windowsill confessions. love, interrupted. trust issues but make it cozy. held together by forehead kisses. he reads you better than his files. love in lowercase. statistics say he shouldn't love this hard (he does). he’d classify you as essential personnel. ooc. grammatical errors.

ᰔ look around . . . m. list , m. townsend & the naturals m. list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. AAAAA, nonnie,,, this was supposed to be 7k but it DIDN'T save💔 im sorryyyyy😭😭

002. you sent this around three am ish & i was LOCKED in❕❕

003. idk if i did you justice, nonnie 💔💔

004. horrible writing because i started writing this at,,,, 3 am

005. also... i couldn't keep this spoiler free😭😭 my head was blank because WHAT WOULD THE TOPIC OF THEIR ARGUMENT BE????? so i js... tweaks & tweaks..

006. as i said in note four,, this is badly written so don't expect much 😭 I CAN'T WRITE ANGST

you weren't supposed to be here.

judd had instructed you to remain where you were, michael would return tomorrow.

& sure, perhaps you were snooping, perhaps you shouldn't have gone into his room without knocking, but you were missing him, and the jacket he'd left behind still smelled of him.

besides, you've done the groceries.(that usually takes you all day because the group chat keeps adding more things to the list.)

so you'd gone in.

& hell broke loose.

because the moment you laid eyes on the bruises, the cut on his jaw, the way he winced when he reached too far▰your breath caught in your throat.

you weren't a profiler, hell, you're not even a natural but you weren't stupid either.

you knew what a beating looked like. & michael could lie with a smile, but his body was always honest. especially to you.

he turned just as you walked in.

froze.

like a deer in headlights.

like he hadn't meant for anyone to see him this way.

you didn't speak.

he didn't either.

just stood there, half-shirted, ribs smeared with ugly blue-purple marks.

& god, it was like someone injected ice water into your veins.

because he told you it was a family business.

he told you he was fine.

& you believed him.

"what the hell," you said, hushed. too hushed.

he hauled down the hem of his shirt. "it's nothing."

"don't," you said, & your voice broke in a way you despised.

"don't do that."

he sat on the edge of the bed like this was normal. like you didn't just interrupt something that made your chest too tight to breathe.

"you're back early," he said, staring at the floor.

"& you're bruised," you snapped. "so maybe we both have bad timing."

he sighed. "it's not a big deal."

"not a big deal?" you had said, voice rising before you pushed it back down. "michael, what the hell are you even saying right now?"

he didn't glance your way.

didn't blink.

just kept his eyes fixed on the floor as if he remained silent long enough, all of this would disappear.

"you went back there," you told him. "to your dad."

"i told you i was visiting family."

"you lied."

he glanced up then, and sure, maybe you did wait for that. maybe you needed to see his face.

because he didn't look angry.

he looked exhausted.

so exhausted it curled your stomach.

"what do you want me to say?" he asked.

you blinked. "i want you to say something."

he got up, & you resented how slow & deliberate his movements were.

you resented that he was accustomed to pain like this.

like it was normal.

like it was a habit.

"i'm fine."

"you're not fine."

"this happens," he said. "it's not new."

you stepped forward, fists curled at your sides. "you've been my boyfriend for months. & i never knew."

"because i didn't want you to know."

that line hurt more than it should have.

"why?"

"because it's my problem," he stated, finally, like something in him cracked open.

"it's not yours. it's not anyone's. i've been dealing with this my whole life▰"

"that's the problem," you cut in, voice low. "you deal with it like it's your fault."

he paced slightly, running a hand through his hair. "don't psychoanalyze me."

"i'm not," you said. "i'm begging you to talk to me."

he fell silent again.

& you hated that.

because he was so good at this▰retreating into silence, allowing you to talk until you quit.

but you weren't quitting. not today.

"do you even trust me?" you asked.

his jaw clenched. "don't do that."

"don't do what?" you snapped. "don't ask if my boyfriend▰who's keeping this from me▰trusts me?"

he remained silent.

"you didn't tell me," you breathed. "you didn't tell anyone, but▰"

"lia knows," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

you stiffened.

you glared at him like he slapped you.

"what?"

he gazed away once more. "she figured it out. it's not like i told her."

"but she knew," you replied. "and she didn't say anything."

"that's not her job."

"it's not yours either, apparently," you snarled.

the silence that hung between you afterwards was colder than anything else.

you didn't weep. you wouldn't.

but god, you wished to scream.

"do you have any idea how dumb this makes me feel?" you asked, voice trembling though you resented that it was. "do you have any idea how it feels to be excluded from everything because i'm not one of you?"

his eyes grew cold. "this has nothing to do with you not being a natural."

"doesn't it?" you asked. "because you tell them things. they know things. & i'm just the girl who was raised in the house & still gets treated like a guest."

he opened his mouth. closed it.

& that was the worst part▰he didn't argue.

he didn't fight back.

because maybe he knew you were right.

"i've been here since i was eight," you said. "i grew up with you people. judd raised me. hell, tanner used to read me silly bedtime stories, i cleaned up after sloane when she spilled powdered sugar all over the place, i held lia's hand when she got stitches, i taught dean how to braid hair because his kept falling in his eyes, i let cassie stay in my room because that stupid locke haunts her every time.”

your voice cracked again.

you're no natural, just someone scarlett hawkins took in before she died. & judd didn't send you to an orphanage because he knows that this is what his daughter wants. you don't know what she sees in you, but there was something. you had skills, enough to be qualified in the fbi. if it weren't for your age.

"but i'm not a natural. so i'm not one of you."

michael didn't look at you.

& that only made it worse.

"you were the only one who made me feel like i belonged," you said softly now. "you were the only one who didn't look at me like i was on the outside. so i don't get why you shut me out too."

he finally looked up.

& he looked destroyed. wrecked.

"because it's not about you," he told me, & his voice wasn't angry. just tired. "it's about me. it's about not wanting to see your face change when you look at me. it's about keeping the only good thing in my life safe."

"safe?" you echoed. "from what? the truth?"

"from me."

you looked at him.

& this time, you said nothing.

he exhaled & sat back down, as if standing was now too much work.

"you weren't supposed to see," he said. "i know how to handle it. i've done it before."

"& how's that working out for you?" you asked, frustration boiling. "you keep going back, michael. you keep getting hurt. what, you think that's brave? you think it's strength?"

"i think it's survival," he said harshly.

"then perhaps you should learn a new means of survival."

he didn't say anything.

you took a trembling breath, pacing now, because if you stood still the room felt like it was closing in on you.

"you should've told me," you said. "even if you didn't want to be helped. even if you didn't want me to make it better. i'm not asking to be your savior. i'm just asking to know."

he nodded once, slowly.

but it did not feel like an honest answer.

it felt like he was folding in again on himself.

closing off.

retreating.

"you don't get to make choices about me," you said, coming closer again. "you don't get to choose what i can or cannot handle. if you didn't want me on board, then maybe you should not have gotten me to fall in love with you."

his head jerked up.

you hadn't intended to say it like that.

but it was out now, & you weren't backing down.

"i never asked you to love me," he said, voice low but cutting.

& wow.

that hurt more than it should've.

you blinked. "no. i guess you didn't."

he shut his eyes. ran his hands through his hair once more. "that's not what i meant."

"but it's what you said."

he glared up at you again. "i didn't mean it like that. i just▰this▰"

he pointed vaguely at his ribs.

"this is ugly. & i didn't want you to see it."

"well, i did," you said. "so now what?"

he didn't speak.

you looked at each other for what felt like an eternity.

neither of you saying a word.

& perhaps that was worse than the words.

because it meant you were both suspended in the in-between.

not broken up.

not fine.

just there.

distant, angry, & unsure what was next.

the ssilence between you & michael was heavy for days.

it wasn't just the fight anymore▰it was the way it landed in the space between you.

you weren't broken up, but the air was thick with things unspoken, with questions still hanging, unasked.

you tried to concentrate on the work.

attempted to bury yourself in homework, in assisting the team, despite your heart feeling as if it were walking around with a pain you could not rid yourself of.

didn't help that everyone else seemed to be able to tell something was wrong.

lia saw someone was off first, naturally.

she always did. she knows you. & that isn't because she's a lie detector or anything of the sort.

she was a lie detector, & even when you tried to smile, she was aware.

the way your shoulders stiffened every time michael entered the room. the manner in which you always averted your gaze before anyone had time to ask. you could sense her gaze upon you, could sense her attempting to read you & send shivers down your spine.

but you never allowed her to ask.

you couldn't.

not yet.

cassie. oh, cassie. she noticed. when she came to your room that night, asking for comfort, your eyes looked puffy. red.

you looked like you didn't want to talk about it. so she didn't. only hoping her embrace will at least make you feel better. hoping that the next time she enters your room, your eyes won't look tired or puffy or red or sad.

& then there was dean.

dean. someone who knew you since you were twelve.

dean. someone whom you thought of as a brother in every sense that counted.

dean, who observed you going in & out of the safe house with michael, who guarded you with a look that made his eyes keen & his fists even keener.

you noticed it in the way he looked at you now.

the way he questioned you with his eyes, with the way he stayed too long when you entered the kitchen for breakfast.

you detested that look.

you hated that he could see through the cracks, but you didn't want to speak up.

so you didn't.

instead, you concentrated on the people who didn't ask the questions▰like sloane.

sloane, who always had a way of seeing things without mentioning them.

she was quiet in her noticing.

but she could sense the tension, & she was there when you needed her most.

you were sitting at the kitchen counter, doing your best to ignore the glaring emptiness in your chest, when sloane came over, sitting beside you, her hand casually brushing yours.

you didn’t flinch.

you didn’t pull away.

but it was comforting.

it was sloane.

“you okay?” she asked quietly.

you swallowed.

“yeah. i’m fine.”

sloane didn’t buy it.

& she didn’t press either.

she simply left her hand hovering close to yours, a gentle pull, a comfort that didn't demand anything back.

it was in these small moments that you felt the cracks in your heart start to mend▰slowly, agonizingly, but they mended.

but even the tiniest crack won't go undetected.

not when lia's around.

the instant you walked into the room, lia raised an eyebrow.

you attempted to escape her stare, but she saw you anyway.

she rose to her feet, approaching you, her expression impossible to read.

"tell me," she told you, voice soft but slicing all at the same time. "what happened?"

you stalled.

you knew she knew.

you just didn't know what to say.

"nothing's wrong," you grumbled, attempting to brush it off, but lia was not accepting anything.

"nothing?" she repeated, folding her arms. "then why do you look like someone stole your soul?"

you bit your lip.

you couldn't lie to her, not like this. "we fought," you said, voice strained. "that's all."

lia's expression softened, but her frown grew deeper.

"about what?" she asked. you shook your head, already knowing what would happen if you told her.

she knows. you were upset at first. but you knew it's not her fault for knowing.

she didn't need to know everything. "it's just. it's complicated." lia looked at you for a long time.

& for a moment, you'd hoped maybe she'd let it drop.

but no.

lia wasn't the kind of girl to let something go.

particularly when it involved you.

"so. he hurt you," she stated, not a question, but fact.

you bristled, heart skipping a beat in your chest.

you couldn't meet her gaze. because pergaps she wasn't wrong.

"no," you asserted hastily, shaking your head. "not like that."

but lia could see right through you.

she always had. she moved a little closer, voice low & guarded.

"i won't help you unless you tell me."

you groaned.

"i'm not hiding anything. i just. i don't know how to put this into words. i just need space."

lia gazed at you for a moment, & you could see her considering her words.

then she just said, "just don't push him away. whatever it is, it's not worth losing him over." you nodded, feeling the heaviness of her words hit you.

you didn't want to lose him. but you didn't want to hurt him either.

you and michael were moving around like strangers.beyes not meeting. words few and far between. but it wasn't easy to forget. not when you shared a house full of people who noticed everything.

at dinner one evening, judd sat beside you, observing you with his characteristic silent watchfulness.

you were fiddling with your food, shoving it round your plate, hardly eating it. he didn't tell you what was the matter, but you could sense him looking at you▰like he was waiting for you to talk. & at last he spoke.

"you have to talk to him," judd said, his tone as quiet as ever. he doesn't know what happened. & he won't ask.

you shook your head hastily.

you're not even surprised that he knows.

"i can't."

"why?" he asked.

you bit your lip, not meeting his eyes.

"because i don't know how. because everything's all screwed up, and i'm. i'm afraid. i'm afraid that whatever this is, it's gonna ruin everything we have." judd sighed, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

"you've been through worse, kid. you know that, right?" you glanced at him.

which is correct. you not being a natural doesn't excuse what you've been through. scarlett hawkins. lacey locke. your past.

when scarlett died, judd knew he wasn't the only one struggling.

yes, he had lost a daughter, & you have lost a sister. not by blood. & blood wasn't a necessity for scarlett when it came to you.

briggs making the program was what saved the both of you. dean saved the both of you. not just dean. he saved veronica sterling.

"yeah, but. this feels different."

"of course it does," he whispered. "but you can't keep running from him. you have to figure this out."

you were quiet for a long time, taking in his words.

he was right.

you couldn't just hide from him forever.

you had to confront him. just… when?

it was late when michael appeared in your room that night.

the door creaked quietly as he pushed it open, & you looked up from where you sat at the window. you didn't say anything at first. didn't know what to say. he didn't wait for an invitation.

just walked in and shut the door behind him, standing beside it for a moment. "can we talk?" he asked, voice low.

you nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek.

michael leaned against the edge of your bed, a couple of feet from you.

you remained by the window, uncertain if you should approach.

the tension between you was thick once more.

both of you being so cautious, as if anything wrong would break it all. "i'm sorry," he broke the silence.

his voice low, too quiet. "i know i messed up. i didn't mean to hurt you. i just. i didn't want you to know. i didn't want you to see me like that." you at last turned to look at him.

"but you lied. you kept things from me, michael." he nodded, downcast eyes.

"i know. & i'm sorry. i just. i didn't think you could handle it."

"you don't get to decide that," you breathed, moving in close to him.

"you can't shut me out like that."

he stared up at you, his face filled with regret.

"i know. i messed up." you sat beside him, the gap between you still too great.

but you couldn't help it. you were afraid.

"i'm just angry," you confessed quietly. "i'm angry that you didn't trust me enough to share. i'm angry that you think i can't handle it. but i don't despise you, michael. i could never despise you."

his hand crawled out, touching your fingers softly.

you did not jerk away. you let him.

"i know i've been stupid," he declared. "but i never had any intention to hurt you. i just. i'm just so used to facing it all alone. i don't even know how to ask for things to be easier."

you took a jerky breath, eyes dropping from yours to fall upon your other hand, still clenching his.

"i'm sorry," you explained, voice shaky.

"i'm probably being selfish. i just. i just need to know you're okay. i don't want to keep pretending like everything's fine when you're falling apart." he shook his head softly.

"you're not being selfish. i'm just stupid for not seeing how much you care." you paused for a moment, gazing at him.

"are you okay?" he closed his eyes, tightening his grip on your hand.

"yeah. i'm getting there."

"it's okay," you whispered softly, reaching up to brush his cheek.

"it's okay to not be okay."byou overanalyzed every little touch, making sure not to hurt him.

but michael drew you in, holding you tight, his head against yours. "stop overthinking it," he whispered. "you're not hurting me. you never will."

& for the first time in days, you felt the tension finally release.the evening following your conversation with michael, things were quieter, more gentle. the air between you two wasn't as stifling, but it wasn't completely healed either. nonetheless, there was a shift.

the house was quiet that evening. everyone was in bed or otherwise occupied, leaving you & michael alone in the living room. the gentle hum of the fridge & the muffled sounds of traffic somewhere outside were the only things disrupting the silence.

michael sat on the couch, the same spot where you’d spent so many nights together. this time, though, it was different. there was no tension, no walls between you. just a quiet, comfortable silence.

you sat at the edge of the couch, uncertain at first, not wanting to know what to do after all that happened. you did not want to intrude upon him, did not want to make matters worse by pushing his limits.

but michael, as ever, appeared to be reading you like an open book. without uttering a word, he eased slightly to the side, opening up space for you to sit beside him. his eyes were warm, the slightest suggestion of a smile pulling at his mouth, as if he was promising you something.

"come here," he breathed softly, his voice gruff but gentle.

you bit your lip, nervousness rising up in your chest. "are you sure?" you asked softly, still not knowing if your touch would hurt him.

he smiled at you, the kind of smile that was only for you, & nodded. "yeah, i'm sure. you're not gonna hurt me, y'know."

you paused for another second, then slowly walked towards him. as you sat beside him, his arm fell naturally across your shoulders, drawing you closer.

but you tensed slightly, still overthinking every little thing, every small touch. you weren't accustomed to feeling so guarded, so attuned to everything.

"i don't want to hurt you," you breathed, voice so soft it was barely audible. "i'm just. i don't know how to do this without hurting you more."

michael smiled gently, the warmth of the sound enveloping you like a blanket. "you're not going to hurt me, angel. you're not.”

he tugged you a little nearer, & this time you let yourself slip into his side. being close to him felt so normal, so comfortable, that you couldn't help relaxing slightly, allowing your head to lean on his shoulder.

"i just▰" you'd begun, but michael interrupted, raising his hand to tilt your chin up carefully so that you were facing him. his eyes were so soft, so knowing. as though he could penetrate right through your fears.

"it's all right," he whispered. "i know that you're being careful. but you're not going to break me, you know that?"

you nodded, but the knot in your chest did not completely dissipate. you still wished to ensure that you were not doing anything wrong, even in a momeent such as this, when all you wished for was to feel close to him.

michael appeared to sense the restlessness still present within you, & his hand softly cupped your cheek. "hey," he whispered, "if you're not comfortable with anything, you can let me know, okay?"

you smiled softly, grateful for his patience. “i’m okay now. just. just scared of hurting you.”

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re not going to. just trust me.”

you blinked your eyes shut for a second, allowing the heat of his hand seep into your skin, & gradually, all your tension dissolved. you felt the calm rhythm of his breathing, the way his pulse beat in sync with yours in perfect harmony.

"i'm sorry i was acting weird earlier," you mumbled, voice hardly above a whisper.

"don't apologize," he told you, his thumb making little circles on the back of your hand. "you've got nothing to be sorry for."

he was right, but the guilt still hung in your chest. you couldn't help it. you cared too much. you just wanted to protect him, even when he wasn't asking for it.

you moved closer, not bothering to be cautious anymore. the way his arms were wrapped around you was stabilizing, like

"thank you for not giving up on me," you whispered, your fingers tracing across his arm. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

michael pulled you nearer, his arms tightening around you in a warm grasp. "don't worry about that. i'm never leaving, angel. you're stuck with me." he doesn't know what he'd do without you either.

you smiled quietly, running your fingers over & over his chest in gentle, soothing patterns. "good," you breathed. "i think i prefer to be stuck with you."

he leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head as he sighed contentedly. “same here.”

you stayed like that for a while, just existing in the quiet, the soft rhythm of each other’s breathing the only sound that mattered. there was no rush. no pressure. just the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence.

soon, michael moved a little, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch & draping it over both of you. his hand migrated to your waist, & he pulled you in closer, as if too close did not exist when it came to the two of you.

"you know," he mused softly, now teasing, "you're the cuddling champ."

you smiled softly, rolling your eyes. "oh, really? is that so?"

"yeah," he said, his fingers running along your side in that special way that always made you shiver. "if i had a dollar for every time i thought about how perfect it feels when you're in my arms, i'd be rich." well, he already is. but you know what he means.

you smiled, your heart filling with love. "you're cheesy, you know that?"

"perhaps," he grinned, "but you adore it."

"perhaps i do," you confessed, the tension in your chest melting away now entirely. "just a little."

he leaned against you, the sly grin on his face as his lips whispered against yours in a soft kiss. "just a little?"

you smiled against his lips, the sense of his warmth spreading through you like the gentlest kind of comfort. "okay, perhaps a great deal."

"that's what i thought," he whispered, kissing you again, this time deeper, slower. like he was tasting the moment, like he was ensuring you both knew this was real, this was something you were going to cling to.

you smiled & leaned back a little, your forehead against his. "you know," you whispered, barely above a sound, "if i could spend every night like this, i'd be happy."

"me too," he said, his fingers running through your hair, drawing you back into his arms. "me too."

the gentle glow of the tv danced around the room, illuminating soft shadows on the couch where you & michael were snuggled together. all was calm, so calm that you nearly forgot the world existed outside of this moment. the soothing sound of his breathing & the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat against your ear made everything seem right.

until, of course, you heard the distant sound of footsteps from the hallway.

you blinked, the serene moment interrupted. michael must've heard it too because his body stiffened slightly, his hand reaching out to lightly rest on your back as he turned his head towards the door.

there was a gentle tap before the door groaned open, & there, in the doorway, was sloane. her dark eyes were opened wide in a mixture of sleep & curiosity, & she rubbed her eyes as if by accident.

you blinked in shock, but a gentle smile curled your mouth. "hey, sloane," you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful moment. "what's going on? why are you up so late?"

sloane shifted her weight, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. "i. um. i couldn't sleep. i was just. thinking about things," she stammered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

you raised an eyebrow, worry flashing in your chest. sloane wasn't typically one to struggle to sleep, & when she did, it was typically because something was wrong. you could tell she was holding something back, not wanting to confess why she was actually awake.

"sloane," you said quietly, your tone full of love, "you know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

she paused for a moment, but then nodded slowly, although she still did not look entirely at ease. "yeah. i just. i don't know. sometimes it's just hard to sleep."

you knew there was something more to it, but you didn't push her. instead, you shifted slightly on the couch & gestured to the space beside you. "come here, lovely. let's talk."

sloane didn't budge immediately, but after a moment, she crept over, crawling onto the couch next to you. you put an arm around her, drawing her into a hug. the hug was nearly motherly, & it came so instinctively to you that it was like second nature.

michael moved a bit, but he didn't look uncomfortable. he knew the relationship you had with sloane, just like he knew the relationship you shared with everyone at the house. you weren't just a friend to them▰you were like their secret garden, the one they could rely on.

"hey," you murmured softly to sloane, "you know you're not pestering me, right? if something's troubling you, tell me. we'll sort this out."

sloane let out a deep sigh & leaned against your shoulder, wrapped in your embrace. "i know. i just. i don't want to intrude on you & michael. you two look like you're snug as a pair of bugs.

you chuckled, gently stroking her hair. “don’t worry about us. you’re never a bother. but you should probably head back to your room, huh?”

sloane looked up at you with a small frown. “i don’t want to sleep alone.”

you smiled softly at that, the protective instinct inside of you flaring. “you’re not alone, sloane. you’ve got cassie, remember? she’s in the room with you.”

“yeah,” sloane muttered, “but she’s already asleep.”

you smiled softly & glanced at michael. he nodded slightly, understandingly, his hand on your back as if he were giving his silent approval to the moment. "how about this," you told sloane, "you go to your room, & i'll escort you there. if you're still upset, we can discuss it tomorrow, okay?"

sloane paused, but then nodded. "okay." she murmured.

you got up, still holding sloane gently by the shoulders, & began to lead her towards the door. when you reached it, you turned back to her. "sloane, it's all right to be vulnerable sometimes. you don't have to keep that from me. okay?"

sloane's face relaxed, & she smiled at you weakly. "yeah. i guess so."

you smiled back, hugging her quickly before she turned to go towards her room. "get some sleep, s," you whispered. "i'll check on you in a bit."

she nodded, a bit more at ease now as she headed toward her room. "goodnight, you two," she said softly, just before heading down the hall.

you faced back toward the couch, your heart feeling a bit lighter now that sloane was at least going back to her room. you headed back to michael, who had waited patiently for you to finish soothing her.

he looked at you as you came back to sit at his side, a warm smile on his face. "everything alright with her?”

"yeah, just. a bit disturbed," you told him, getting back into your seat beside him. "but she's going back to her room now."

michael nodded, his arm instinctively coming around you as you leaned back against him. the heat between the two of you still lingered, constant &,,, unchanging even after all that had occurred.

"you're good at this," he murmured, his lips feathering across the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. "good at taking care of everyone."

you smiled up at him, your heart filling with his words. "well, i am their emergency contact, so,, it's easy." you whispered. "but. it's not always easy, is it?"

he sighed, wrapping you closer so that you were snuggled under his arm. "no. it's not. but i'm glad you're here with me."

you curled into his chest, the beat of his heart calm you like a lullaby. "me too. i don't think i could do it without you."

there was silence for a moment, and then michael kissed your forehead, the touch so soft that you hardly felt it. but you did, and you dissolved into it, sensing the gentleness in the way he wrapped his arms around you.

"you're not doing it for them, though," he whispered, his voice low & seductive. "you're doing it for yourself too. & that's what makes you unique."

you gazed up at him, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "you're cheesy, you know that?"

"you adore it," he smiled, his fingers stroking along your jawline.

you smiled & drew him into a kiss, slow & deep. michael kissed you right back, his lips against yours like he couldn't get enough of you. the kiss was sweet at first, but then it deepened, becoming more desperate, more urgent. your hands wandered to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you drew him in closer, desperate to feel the connection between you two, to drown out everything else in the world.

when you finally broke away, gasping, you gazed up at him, your vision misty with love.

"more?" he whispered, his voice a little hoarse.

you nodded, your forehead pressed against his. "always.

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

you never disappoint, do you? this is actually insane work… hello?!?!

"that's what i thought," he mutters, his lips moving against your skin. "can't get enough of me, huh? sneakin' out to see me, lettin' me fuck you like this with your mama's curtains blowin' in the window right there."

bye i died right here 🧚🏻‍♀️

"you don't get to say my name like that unless you want the whole damn street hearin' you. that what you want, sugar? your daddy stormin' out here with his shotgun 'cause his precious little girl couldn't keep her legs closed?"

he’s so irritating, annoying and full of himself… i need him to fuck me until i lost my breath. thank you.

— cowboy!mattheo fucking you in his truck

cowboy!mattheo riddle x fem reader warnings ; 18+ mdni, unprotected p in v, car sex, degradation (?), swearing cowboy!mattheo moodboard

navigation. au collection. m.list. cowboy!mattheo.

“knew you’d let me ruin you like this,” mattheo mutters, voice low and gravelly, his forehead pressed against yours as the truck rocks under the force of his thrusts. “all summer—teasin’ me with that sweet little mouth of yours, those fuckin’ dresses…” his words trail off into a groan, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.  

you gasp, fingers curling into his shirt, the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke clinging to him like a second skin. “shut up, mattheo,” you hiss, but it’s breathless, your head tilting back against the seat as he hits a spot that makes your vision blur.  

he chuckles, the sound dark and taunting. “oh, i don’t think you want me to do that, sweetheart,” he drawls, one hand sliding down to grab your hip, pulling you harder onto him. “you like hearin’ how good you’re takin’ me, don’t you? like hearin’ how you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ insane.

you moan and your head tips back against the worn leather seat of his truck, the coolness of it a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed against yours. “you’re gonna get us caught, makin’ all that noise. family’s right across the damn street. am i making you feel that good?”

your nails dig into his shoulders, and he groans again, his hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that steals the air from your lungs. “you’re so full of yourself,” you bite out, though the way your voice shakes betrays any attempt at defiance.  

“full of myself?” mattheo repeats with a smirk, his dark eyes glinting in the faint light spilling through the truck windows. “nah, baby. you’re full of me.” his lips skim the curve of your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he leans in closer. “so long, i’ve been watchin’ you pretend you don’t feel this, like you’re not drippin’ for me every time i’m near you.”  

you clench around him, and the low growl that rumbles from his chest makes your stomach twist. “fuck you,” you whisper, though it’s weak, your hands sliding up to tangle in his messy curls.  

he grins, sharp and cocky, his thumb brushing over your lips before pressing into your mouth. “already are, sweetheart,” he taunts, his free hand gripping the back of your neck to keep you close. “you’re all bark, no bite.”  

his hips roll harder, deeper, and you bite down on his thumb, earning a hiss that quickly turns into a laugh. “feisty little thing,” he mutters, pulling his hand away to cup your jaw instead, forcing you to meet his gaze. “you want me to stop, sugar? tell me, and i will.”  

your fingers tighten around his bicep, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. he’s smirking now; you can feel it, the cocky bastard. you shake your head, swallowing back another sound when he rolls his hips just right, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“thought so,” he murmurs, pressing a rough kiss to your jaw before nipping at the sensitive skin. “you talk a big game, darlin’, but you don’t really want me to leave, do you?”  

you shake your head again, your breath hitching as his free hand slides down, gripping your thigh and hitching it higher around his waist. the angle makes you whimper, and mattheo chuckles low in his throat, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat through you.  

“that’s what i thought,” he mutters, his lips moving against your skin. “can’t get enough of me, huh? sneakin’ out to see me, lettin’ me fuck you like this with your mama’s curtains blowin’ in the window right there.”  

“mattheo—”  

“no, no,” he cuts you off, his tone sharp, but there’s a teasing edge to it, like he’s enjoying your desperation a little too much. “you don’t get to say my name like that unless you want the whole damn street hearin’ you. that what you want, sugar? your daddy stormin’ out here with his shotgun ‘cause his precious little girl couldn’t keep her legs closed?”  

“oh my god, shut up,” you snap, your face burning even hotter than before, but the way you clench around him gives you away.  

“mmm, i don’t think i will,” he drawls, dripping with smug satisfaction. “you love it when i talk dirty to you, don’t you? gets you all worked up, makes you wanna—”  

“mattheo, please,” you interrupt, your voice trembling, and his smirk softens just a little, something like affection flickering in his dark eyes as he leans in to kiss you.  

“please what, baby?” he whispers against your lips, his thrusts slowing just enough to drive you insane. “you gotta tell me what you want. i’m not a mind reader.”  

“don’t stop,” you manage, your voice barely more than a breath. “just— don’t stop.”  

“wasn’t plannin’ on it,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a grin as he picks up the pace again, each movement drawing a strangled gasp from your throat. “not ‘til you’re screamin’ for me, darlin’. let’s see if we can make that happen before the porch lights come on, yeah?”  

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

“i hope you like it”—and oh, i definitely did. teena, this was such a cute one-shot, i’m genuinely blushing so hard right now. i loved everything about it! the way he still had his flirty side, even in a fluffy setting, was truly a 🧑🏻‍🍳💋 masterpiece.

He was really good at that, too good.He gave you a soft smirk and you felt your heart start to beat hard against your chest.

girl that’s so real, bc if he smirked at me, y’all would have to call the doctor or worse.

"Any time, any place, Bambi." He whispered back as he leaned forward a bit more. You could feel your breath shuddering while he grew closer and closer to you.

watch me fall 24/7 until my leg falls out 🤠

THE FINAL LINE, THEY HAD 526362 children after that and pow pow

as an ice skater i was giggling the hold time love this, jsjsjshshsh so good

Crashed | Mattheo Riddle

Summary: While skating with your friends, you meet someone in the most unexpected way. It's a meet that will warm up your cold winter season.

TW: Tension, slight blood mention, chars 18+, mdni

Word count: 1.7k

“Come on! It’s not that difficult. One foot in front of the other.” Your friend said as she skated in front of you. She had a grace about her, something that made it seem as if this was the easiest thing in the world to do.

You, however, did not have grace. You looked like a newborn baby deer trying to walk and that was putting it nicely. Your arms flailed out at your sides as you tried to balance yourself on the slippery ice. 

“It’s not as easy as you make it seem.” You said with your eyes glued to your feet. Your friend had already lapped you once, going around the wink with ease. She stopped beside you and let out a sigh. There were a few other people on the skating rink but not many. It was the perfect time to learn, or so you thought. 

“Seriously? You’re making it harder by being so scared.” Your friend said, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look up at her. She gave you a soft smile as she started to skate backward. You could hardly move and she was going backward. Show off.

“Keep your eyes on me and one foot…in front…of the other.” She said with slow pauses as you pushed one foot then the next. You did this a few times, slowly swaying your body side to side as you pushed against the ice. 

“I-I’m doing it!” You said excitedly with the softest giggle. Your friend let go of your hands and you felt that slight wobble but only for a second. You continued pushing one foot in front of the other and skating around the rink. 

“Look at you, go pro!” Your friend shouted from the other side of the rink as she took off. Was she embarrassing? Sure. But she was your friend. You couldn’t help but laugh as you continued skating around the rink. 

The more you moved, the easier it got. You were learning how to turn corners, moving a bit faster than you could. The soft wind brushed through your hair and, for just a moment, everything felt magical. 

There was a sense of wonder in the air as you skated around the rink. The twinkling lights that strung above you sparkled against the night sky. There was a dusting of snow on the ground outside the rink. Everything felt perfect.

Everything was perfect until you decided to go a tiny bit faster. You pushed your feet some more, trying to balance your body when your skate hit the tiniest bit of ice that had clumped up near the side. 

You started to wobble and reached for the first thing you could feel. You fell to the ground, going backward as you pulled the thing you reached for down with you. Except it wasn’t a thing. Not at all. It was a person. A man, to be exact. 

“Fuck!” He shouted as you fell to the ice. He crashed down with you while your heads bumped together. The pain shot through you instantly. Your hand reached up for the back of your head that had pounded against the ice while your other one held onto the man's arm.

“I am so sorry. Are you okay?” You groaned through the pain before finally opening your eyes. This wasn’t just any man. This man was…fuck. He was something else.

You met his chocolate-brown gaze and felt your heart skip a beat for a moment. You noticed how the corners of his lips seemed to naturally upturn so that even though he was wincing from pain, he still looked as if he was smiling. 

“I’m fine.” He groaned but that’s when you saw it. A trail of blood slowly fell down the side of his head. Your eyes widened and you felt even worse now. Not only had you busted your ass on the ice, you just injured another person. 

Great fucking job.

“Oh God, you’re bleeding.” You said as you pointed towards his head. He reached up, his hand grazing against the scarlet liquid that was near his cheekbones at this point. He pressed his finger into it, pulling it back just a touch to see the bit of blood that rested against his fingerprint. 

“That’s wonderful.” He muttered and you felt terrible for it. He seemed annoyed and you couldn’t exactly blame him. You used him as a human shield except he shielded nothing and only injured himself somehow. 

“I’m so sorry. I can help you clean it up.” You said softly and that’s when he finally looked at you. For the first time, his eyes met yours. He seemed to concentrate a bit more. His face turned from a scour to one of interest. 

“Shit, here. Let me help you up.” He said before finally lifting his body off of you. He reached down and pulled your hand with such strength that it actually shocked you. The sudden force of being pulled up caused your head to spin. You wobbled, feeling yourself start to fall again.

What the fuck?

“Whoa! No need to do that again.” The man said as he carefully caught you in a dipped position. He held you that for a moment and the two of you made eye contact again. He was really good at that, too good. He gave you a soft smirk and you felt your heart start to beat hard against your chest. 

“Thanks. Sorry.” You mumbled as he stood you back up. He took your hand in his and nodded his head to the exit of the rink. 

“Come on, Bambi. Let's get you off this ice before you fall again.” He said through a charming tone. Who the hell was this guy? You had hurt him and he was acting as if the two of you were close personal friends. 

Something about him exuded confidence. Your eyes were glued to his features as he slowly skated the two of you off the rink. You took notice of the way his hair curled perfectly. The chiseled feature of his jaw, the way his brows lifted just a touch when he looked back at you with that smirk again. 

Once you were finally off the rink, you shuffled to the nearest bench where your bag was resting. You opened it up, pulling out some wipes and a bandaid that you always kept in there. 

“You’ve come prepared.” The guy said and you felt a giggle escape your lips. There was a natural charm about him when he wasn’t wincing in pain from smashing his head of course. 

“I had these to use for myself. I wasn’t exactly planning on injuring anyone but me.” You said a bit jokingly as you reached up and started to dab the wipes against his skin. You were so focused on the cut that you didn’t notice the way his eyes were observing you.

You couldn’t have known it, but he was tracing every inch of your body with his eyes. He was making a map of all the places he could mark you up for injuring him. And fuck, he was going to have a great time doing it too. 

“I’m Matt, by the way. Mattheo but you can call me Matt.” He spoke out as you wiped up the blood, cleaning it down to the single source of the crimson liquid. 

You told him your name before taking the bandaid and placing it over the cut. Once you were done, your hands dropped to your lap. It suddenly hit you how close the two of you were sitting. Your breath was visible against the cold air as you stared up at him. 

“Sorry again, for crashing into you.” You spoke out through the softest tone. Matt leaned forward just a touch and gave you that charming smirk you were growing to know all too well with this absolute stranger. 

“It’s alright. Not exactly complaining that a pretty little thing like you took me down.” He spoke out and you could feel your body shivering. He was coming on and strong. It took you by surprise but you liked it. You really liked it. 

“Maybe I’ll crash into you again sometime then.” You whispered back, surprised you could even muster up a line like that. It was a bit awkward but hell, you were trying. And Matt really liked that. He chuckled a bit, letting his eyes wander over your body once more but this time with your knowledge. 

“Any time, any place, Bambi.” He whispered back as he leaned forward a bit more. You could feel your breath shuddering while he grew closer and closer to you. He took one finger and placed it under your chin, tilting your face just a touch. 

“Just give me your number first and we can make it happen.” He spoke out flirtatiously while his warm breath danced across your lips. Oh, he was good. Really fucking good. You simply nodded your head, giving him a little ‘mmhmm’ before closing your eyes.

You were anticipating a kiss. His lips were right there, you could practically feel them. Matt looked at your now-closed eyes before going to your lips and he thought about it. He thought long about kissing you. But then his friends called his name. 

He pulled away and you felt the disappointment as you opened your eyes. Your heart was racing now, the air stuck in your throat as you stared up at him. He dropped his hand and pulled out his phone, handing it to you.

“I’ll text you.” He said as you quickly entered your number. You handed him the phone back and he gave you a wink before standing up. He made it back to the rink, turning to look back at you one more time before skating off. 

As you sat there, you thought about the interaction you just had. What started as bumpy and wincing turned into flirting and an almost kiss. What the hell was that? You sat there for a little while longer until finally heading home with your friend.

Part of you thought perhaps you’d never see him again. Maybe Matt would forget about you, forget he had your number, forget to ever even text you. You were laying in bed, going over these thoughts, when suddenly your phone went off with a text message. 

“Hey, Bambi.”

As always, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank-you for reading!

I FOUND A AETHELSTAN ONE SHOT OMFG, I WANT TO READ IT