Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

main -> @gibsluv

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.”

𐙚 ˙ ⋆.˚ BOYS OF TOMMEN MASTERLIST

➳ navigation. main masterlist.

➳ GERARD GIBSON;

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➳ PATRICK FEELY;

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➳ JOHNNY KAVANAGH;

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➳ JOEY LYNCH;

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© gibsluv 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢

i could say i’m surprised, but at this point i’m really not because you’re so damn good at everything you write, and i stand by that. i mean, all your works are amazing, but this one is definitely in my top 3, no doubt. maybe i’m a little biased because i fucking love enzo, but either way, the talent is all there (your brain duh)🧏🏻‍♀️

He couldn't decide if he loved you or hated you in moments like this. Maybe both.

boy is sweating, i just know it (AS HE SHOULD)

To everyone else, you looked effortlessly put together-an angel in your festive sweater and jeans, so soft, so sweet. But Lorenzo knew better.

this little smug bastard knowing his girl like the back of his hand, it’s canon, everyone knows it hehe, and i love that you included it here 🌝

you chimed in, your voice light and teasing. "Oh, don't blame the wine. Lorenzo's just got a lot on his mind tonight."

i looooove the reader’s personality, she knows how to handle Lorenzo and i’m all for it. she’s so sassy lmao, it’s hilarious 😭 she needs to slap him

You tilted your head, a slow smile curving your lips. "Dessert already? But the night's just getting started, isn't it?" "Don't worry, love," you said softly, just loud enough for him to hear. "I'll make sure you get exactly what you want... eventually." subtle graze of your fingers against his arm or leg, pushing his limits without saying a word.

hi soooo, i need a reader x reader story like RIGHT NOW, she’s so fucking hot helleoooolosisjshstfvhaysgsg (lorenzo is 💦💦 in his pants)

You shrugged, feigning innocence. "Everyone had a good time. What's there to complain about?" Lorenzo took a slow step forward, his gaze fixed on yours. "You know exactly what."

he’s so done but as i said ‘prove do seu veneno’ ✋🏻✊🏻

He gestured toward the sweater with a flick of his fingers. "Go on, then. Show me." Without giving you a chance to say another word, he dropped you onto the bed with a force that made the mattress bounce.

nothing—JUST THIS LEONA MARIA WHEN I CAT H YOUEJAYWYWHHEHWGWHWB

Without warning, he yanked at the straps of your lingerie, pulling them down just enough to expose your breasts. His hands immediately moved to cup them, squeezing and kneading them with rough insistence.

the way i imagine this in my head… i’m so 🫠🫠🫠🫠 because he’s the type of guy who does stuff like this without any warning

"You think you can tease me like this and get away with it?"

i would tease him on purpose after this

"Begging already?" "Patience, darling," "I wonder if you've been like this all night, haven't you? Wet and needy, waiting for me to touch you."

cocky smug bastard fuck me and yes you’re right enzo 🤭🤭🤭

"You like that, don't you?" he purred, slapping your tits again, harder this time. "Like it when I treat you like a little slut."

PUT THIS ON MY GRAVE, LEONA THIS IS MAKING ME FEEL THINGS

He buried himself deep inside you, his fingers still squeezing your tits, almost as if to ground himself. You both stayed there for a moment, still tangled together, breathless and satiated. Lorenzo leaned down, kissing your neck softly, his voice low and teasing.

i love that he’s treating us like a princess after ruining us, that’s so sweet of him. i want to slap him so bad

LEONA, this was incredible. the dialogues, the tension, the group moments—everything was spot on and made me feel so involved in the narrative. 😣😣😣😣 your works always make me feel like i’m actually in it with them, and i love that because you’re so fucking talented, omfg, don’t even get me started. and the smut?! GIRL, IT WAS SO HOT. i’m obsessed with it, with everything you do, actually!!!!! 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

FICMAS #9— WRAPPED IN RED / lorenzo berkshire

december 27th

lorenzo berkshire x fem reader

summary: surprising your beloved boyfriend in your favorite festive colors…

warnings: smut mdni, unprotected piv, degradation/praise, lingerie, nipple sucking, titty slapping (?), creampie, established relationship

words: 3.8k

a/n: sorry i’ve been kind of MIA the past two days bbs, i will get to my inbox soon <3 (forgot to do the taglist when i first posted this so i added it now!)

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Lorenzo was always calm, always collected. He moved through life with the kind of ease that made everyone else envy him—a permanent smirk tugging at his lips, a lazy confidence in every stride. But tonight? Tonight, that composure was cracked, splintering with every passing second.

And it was your fault.

Because even while his friends laughed, argued, and passed bottles of Firewhisky around the table, Lorenzo didn’t see them. He didn’t hear the clink of glasses or the familiar banter filling the room. No, the only thing he saw was an X-ray version of you, his mind peeling back the thick-knit sweater and denim jeans you wore to reveal the little red-laced secret you’d shown him before everyone arrived.

 He couldn’t decide if he loved you or hated you in moments like this. Maybe both.

You sat beside him, close enough that your knee occasionally bumped his under the table. To everyone else, you looked effortlessly put together—an angel in your festive sweater and jeans, so soft, so sweet. But Lorenzo knew better. 

And he was trying to behave—Merlin, he was trying. But every subtle movement of yours, every time you reached for your glass of wine or leaned forward to laugh at one of Theo’s jokes, he felt the blood rush to his head and lower. You were a menace.

“You good, mate?” Blaise’s voice jolted him back to the moment. 

Lorenzo blinked, quickly plastering on a grin that he hoped didn’t look too strained. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Blaise shrugged, tipping his glass toward Lorenzo. “You just seem a little... distracted. Too much wine already?”

Before Lorenzo could answer, you chimed in, your voice light and teasing. “Oh, don’t blame the wine. Lorenzo’s just got a lot on his mind tonight.”

He glanced at you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. You gave him an innocent smile, one that made his chest tighten and his fists clench under the table. 

Draco leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Bet it’s work. You always get that look when you’re thinking about work.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo muttered, forcing himself to look away from you. “Work.”

“Lighten up, Berkshire.” Pansy reached for the bottle to refill her glass. “It’s Christmas. No one wants to hear about whatever boring Ministry nonsense you’ve got going on.”

“It’s not boring,” Theo cut in, gesturing with his fork. “Enzo probably has a very important case. You know, like illegal broomstick modifications or... I don’t know, someone stealing cauldrons.”

The table burst into laughter, and even Lorenzo managed a weak chuckle. But his thoughts weren’t on the conversation. They were on you—on the way you crossed your legs, the way you kept tugging at your sweater like you were hiding something beneath. 

He barely registered when Mattheo passed him the tray of roast potatoes, only grabbing it when Theo nudged his shoulder. “You’re really out of it, mate.”

“I’m fine,” Lorenzo said quickly, setting the tray down with a bit more force than necessary. He glanced at the clock, then at the empty plates around the table. “Should we bring out dessert?”

You tilted your head, a slow smile curving your lips. “Dessert already? But the night’s just getting started, isn’t it?” 

If you weren’t sitting in a room full of people, Lorenzo would’ve kissed that smirk off your face—or done something else entirely. Instead, he swallowed hard, leaning back in his chair and gripping his glass like it might anchor him.  

“Don’t worry, love,” you said softly, just loud enough for him to hear. “I’ll make sure you get exactly what you want... eventually.” 

Lorenzo groaned under his breath, earning a curious glance from Draco. This was going to be a long night.

The evening dragged on in fits and starts, each laugh and clink of glasses feeling like a small eternity. Lorenzo kept himself occupied pouring drinks, clearing plates, and chiming in on conversations when necessary, but his attention was always split. The rest of the group was far too absorbed in their own stories to notice the tension simmering beneath the surface—except for you. 

You leaned into every teasing word, every subtle graze of your fingers against his arm or leg, pushing his limits without saying a word. By the time Theo and Blaise started debating the best Quidditch team of the decade, Lorenzo was practically vibrating with the effort it took to keep his composure.

“Alright,” Pansy announced at last, standing and stretching her arms overhead. “I think that’s my cue to head out before Blaise starts drafting us for his imaginary team.”

“Imaginary?” Blaise shot back. “I could make the Cannons win if I had half a chance.”

Draco rolled his eyes, standing to help Pansy with her coat. “If Blaise keeps this up, we’ll all be here until morning.”

A flurry of goodbyes followed, with everyone exchanging hugs and well-wishes. You played the perfect hostess, ushering them out with a warm smile while Lorenzo stood stiffly at the door, offering little more than clipped nods. He was polite enough to keep up appearances, but you could see the strain in the set of his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders.

Finally, the door clicked shut, and the silence that followed felt deafening.

You turned, leaning casually against the door as you looked at him. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Lorenzo said nothing at first, his eyes scanning your face before dropping lower—to the hem of your sweater, which you had just barely started to tug up before letting it fall again. The corner of his mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. It was something darker, more dangerous.

“Not bad?” His voice was low, quiet in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You think that was not bad?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Everyone had a good time. What’s there to complain about?”

Lorenzo took a slow step forward, his gaze fixed on yours. “You know exactly what.”

You laughed softly, pushing off the door and sauntering past him toward the living room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t, huh?” He was behind you in an instant, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist. The heat of his touch sent a jolt through you, and you turned to face him, your heart pounding. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You’ve been driving me mad all night, love. And now you want to play coy?”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a sly smile. “I don’t know... maybe I just wanted to see if you could handle it.”

Lorenzo’s grip tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know you were treading on thin ice. “Handle it? Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’ve just started.”

Before you could respond, he released your wrist and stepped back, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin flush. He gestured toward the sweater with a flick of his fingers. “Go on, then. Show me.”

You hesitated for a moment, letting the tension stretch just long enough to tease him. The air between you felt thick, thick with something that wasn’t just anticipation, but need. Lorenzo was standing so still, his jaw clenched tight, his gaze trained on you like you were the only thing in the world. 

And you, of course, were taking your sweet time. You took a step forward, brushing your fingertips across the collar of his shirt. “What’s the matter, Enzo? You look a little... tense.”

He didn’t respond at first. His hands flexed at his sides, a muscle in his neck tensing as he tried—unsuccessfully—to hold onto whatever sliver of control he had left. But you could feel it, the way the air between you had shifted, crackling with something dangerous. 

Then, before you could blink, he was there—his large hands gripping your waist with bruising force, lifting you off the ground and throwing you over his shoulder without a word.

You gasped, more out of surprise than anything, but the playful smirk you wore didn’t falter. “Enzo! What—”

But he didn’t care to hear it. His steps were long and measured as he marched toward your bedroom, every move deliberate, as if he was on a mission. The door slammed behind him with a finality that made your stomach flutter with nervous excitement. 

Without giving you a chance to say another word, he dropped you onto the bed with a force that made the mattress bounce. The sound of your heart thudded in your chest, and for a split second, everything was quiet. 

Lorenzo stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at you like you were a puzzle he had to figure out. He dragged his gaze up and down your body, lingering on the way your sweater stretched across your chest, the hint of red lace peeking out from beneath it. His eyes darkened, almost black with hunger.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me tonight?” His voice was rough, ragged, and you could feel it, feel the restraint slipping away with every passing second.

You grinned, leaning back against the pillows like you didn’t have a care in the world. “I think I have a pretty good idea,” you teased, running your hand down your side, accentuating the way the fabric of your jeans hugged your hips. 

Lorenzo’s breath hitched. “You think it’s funny?” he growled. He didn’t wait for your response. He was done with your teasing, done with pretending to be patient. He reached down, yanking your sweater off over your head in one swift motion, the sound of fabric ripping filling the air. His hands were all over you now, rough and demanding, tracing the delicate lines of your body like he couldn’t get enough.

There, beneath it all, was the lingerie. Red lace that hugged your curves, teasing him even more than you had with your coy little glances and touches all night. The delicate lace barely covered your chest, and he could see it—see the way your nipples peeked through, hard and waiting for him. His eyes flicked up to yours, and for the briefest moment, he saw that glint of mischief in them.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he muttered, running his hand up your thigh, feeling the soft fabric of your jeans under his fingertips. “You think you can just walk around in front of me like this and not expect me to lose my mind?”

You tilted your head, your voice sweet yet laced with defiance. “Maybe you shouldn’t have invited everyone over then.” 

Lorenzo growled, shaking his head before he leaned over you, his lips trailing along your neck, tasting your skin with each breath. 

“You’re lucky I don’t tear this off right now,” he muttered against your skin. “But I’m going to enjoy this, I’m going to take my time, because you deserve every second of this.”

He traced the edge of your lingerie with his fingers, his touch so slow and deliberate it made your breath catch in your throat. You squirmed beneath him, desperate for more, but he wouldn’t give it to you—not yet. His lips moved lower, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down to the delicate swell of your chest where the lace barely contained your breasts.

You moaned softly, and it was enough. Lorenzo could feel the restraint inside of him snap.

Without warning, he yanked at the straps of your lingerie, pulling them down just enough to expose your breasts. His hands immediately moved to cup them, squeezing and kneading them with rough insistence. You gasped, arching into his touch as he leaned down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The heat of his tongue and the way he sucked and nipped at you made your body tremble, your hands gripping his hair as you urged him on. 

He pulled away, his eyes flashing with something dark, something primal. “You wanted to tease me? Now you get to feel what it’s like when I can’t keep my hands off you.”

The next moments were a blur of frantic movement, his hands and lips devouring you, tearing at your clothes with such urgency you could barely keep up. But you didn’t mind. You wanted this, needed it, wanted to feel him lose himself in you. 

And soon, it wasn’t just about the teasing anymore. It was about claiming, about showing just how badly you had driven him to the edge.

He tugged your jeans down your legs with little care for the slow buildup he’d promised—he was done with that. You weren’t in the mood for waiting either. The moment your legs were bare, his hands were back, grazing over your skin like he couldn’t get enough. 

You let out a soft whimper when he knelt between your legs, eyes dark and focused on the lingerie that had driven him mad all night. The red lace, so simple, so soft, now felt like a taunt—a promise of what he hadn’t had, what he’d been denied for too long. He ran his hands along the edges of the fabric, just skimming the sides, before tugging it down slowly, exposing you to him fully.

Your breath hitched when the cool air hit your skin, and Lorenzo wasted no time, pressing his lips to your inner thighs, his breath warm and heavy against you. His hands were still on your tits, gripping and squeezing as he kissed and nipped his way closer, the anticipation making your body tremble beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, before he finally pulled back to look at you fully. His eyes flickered between the lace remnants at your waist and your flushed face, a smile tugging at his lips, though it was filled with nothing but hunger. “You think you can tease me like this and get away with it?”

You couldn’t help the teasing grin that crossed your face. “Maybe I can.”

His gaze turned intense. "We'll see about that." He stood up quickly, pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his chest to you. The movement was fluid, almost predatory, and the way he reached for his trousers sent a thrill straight through you. The urgency in his actions was both exciting and nerve-wracking—he wasn’t just acting on desire, he was acting on something else too. Something deeper, something urgent.

Before you could even react, Lorenzo was back over you, pressing you into the bed with his body, pinning your arms above your head. His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, hot and demanding. You gasped into his mouth when you felt the pressure of him, hard and insistent, against your stomach. His body was tense, his every movement purposeful as he ground against you, unable to hold back.

You moaned against his lips, desperate for more, for something, anything. "Enzo..." you whispered, pulling your hands free to thread them through his hair, tugging him closer. "Please."

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Begging already?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. But there was something in his eyes—something softer that made your chest tighten. His hand moved to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing over your skin in a fleeting moment of tenderness before he returned to his more urgent touch.

You felt the heat between your legs intensify, an ache so deep it threatened to consume you, and you didn’t want to hold back anymore. "I want you, Enzo," you breathed, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them.

Lorenzo’s smirk deepened, but there was a teasing, almost mocking quality to it as he looked down at you, eyes dark with desire. His voice was low, taunting, as he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours softly before pulling away, his breath hot against your cheek. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down your body again, barely skimming over the lace of your lingerie before he slid his hand between your legs. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of your panties, teasing just enough to make your hips buck involuntarily.

You gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through you, but you didn’t get a chance to savor it. He moved faster, tugging at your panties just enough to expose you, fingers now teasing your sensitive skin, circling slowly, deliberately. 

“You’re so wet,” he said softly, almost in awe, as he dragged his fingers lower. The way he spoke sent another rush of heat through you. “I wonder if you’ve been like this all night, haven’t you? Wet and needy, waiting for me to touch you.”

His fingers slid inside you without warning, and you gasped, your back arching against the bed as you dug your fingers into the sheets. Lorenzo’s thumb found your clit, circling it in a rhythm that sent your mind spinning. His pace was slow at first, just enough to drive you wild, but he wasn’t gentle. Not tonight.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he muttered, the words laced with both admiration and amusement. “Aw, poor baby. Do you want me to make you cum?”

You could only moan in response, your body reacting to his every touch, every movement. His fingers curved inside you, pressing against that spot that made your vision blur and your chest tighten. He leaned down, kissing the side of your neck as you squirmed beneath him, desperate for more.

“I bet you’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?” he whispered, his voice a low, rough purr against your skin. “Wondering when I’d finally take what’s mine.”

You nodded, barely able to focus, your breath coming in shallow gasps. His fingers increased their pace, the pressure in your core building higher, tighter, until you were on the edge of losing yourself.

But just as you felt yourself teetering, Lorenzo pulled his fingers away, leaving you breathless and aching. He lifted his head, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched your body writhe beneath him, desperately trying to find some relief.

“You’re not getting off that easy,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Not tonight.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you up, your legs wrapping around him as he kissed you again, deep and forceful. You didn’t get a chance to catch your breath before his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You gasped as he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours, the heat between you both palpable.

“Now,” he growled, “I’m going to make you feel it.”

With one swift movement, he thrust into you, and the world around you seemed to fade into nothing. The pleasure hit you instantly, a deep, overwhelming pressure that had you gasping for air. He didn’t hold back. His pace was brutal from the start, each thrust driving deeper, filling you completely. The way he moved, so forceful, so confident—it made everything inside you tighten.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning, your hands scrambling to grab at his back, pulling him closer. “Enzo… Please…”

“Please what?” he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I want to hear you beg for it.”

You swallowed hard, the words feeling like they were caught in your throat, but he was relentless. His thrusts were deep and unforgiving, each one hitting a new level of pleasure you hadn’t expected. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, slapping at your ass, as if marking you, claiming you. His lips were on your neck, biting, sucking, leaving bruises that only added to the fire burning inside you.

“Enzo…” you gasped again, unable to control the way your body moved against his. “Please, harder…”

He grinned against your skin, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

With a growl, he shifted his angle, pushing into you even deeper, his body slamming against yours with each thrust. You moaned louder, the sound filling the room as you felt the tension in your body intensify, the pressure building in ways you couldn’t control. His hand moved up to your chest, gripping at your breast through the lace, squeezing and pinching as he gave your nipple a sharp twist.

You gasped, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body, making everything inside you tighten even more. He laughed darkly, his breath heavy in your ear as he slapped at your tits, the sting of the contact making you wince, but the pleasure only grew. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he purred, slapping your tits again, harder this time. “Like it when I treat you like a little slut.”

The sting of the slap made you gasp, your body trembling beneath him, but it was all part of the overwhelming pleasure. Your breath came in ragged bursts as he alternated between slapping and groping your tits, squeezing them harshly through the lace, pulling at your nipple again with a cruel twist.

“Enzo, please…” you whimpered, unable to stop yourself from writhing beneath him, your body aching with need. “I can’t… I’m so close…”

“Close?” he repeated, a wicked grin forming on his lips as he slapped your tits again, the sound of his hand meeting your skin ringing in the air. “You want to come, sweetheart? You need to beg me for it.”

His thrusts grew more forceful, more erratic, as he continued to abuse your tits, slapping them with no mercy. The sting mixed with the pleasure, and you could feel yourself tightening again, your body responding to his every movement. You couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Please, Enzo… I need you to let me come,” you gasped, your voice desperate. 

With one final, deep thrust, he gave you what you wanted, and you exploded in waves of pleasure, your body seizing beneath him as you cried out his name. Lorenzo’s thrusts didn’t stop; he followed you, his own release coming in a sharp, breathless groan. He buried himself deep inside you, his fingers still squeezing your tits, almost as if to ground himself.

You both stayed there for a moment, still tangled together, breathless and satiated. Lorenzo leaned down, kissing your neck softly, his voice low and teasing.

“I love you,” he whispered, his hands softening their grip on your chest. “But don’t think for a second I’ll let you off that easy again.”

You smiled, the aftershocks of your orgasm still trembling through you. “Maybe next time I’ll make you wait longer.”

Lorenzo chuckled darkly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I’ll make sure you regret that.”

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴏꜱɪᴇʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I Appreciate You.

Short summary: After some persuasion, Tom joins you for Christmas dinner. Only then he finds out your parents haven’t exactly treated you well and seizes the opportunity to show you what it means to be truly appreciated.

Warnings: nothing, just fluff (for now…)

A/N: I have entered a bad case of writing block halfway through this, so I cut it short. I AM SORRY. I’ll take a day or two off and write a pt 2☹️

wordcount: 1,6k

Tom and you have been friends for a while – or rather study accomplices, as he would call it. Though lately, you have grown closer. Oddly close, at least if you knew Riddle, who wasn’t one to interact with others unless it served a purpose. You have known that from the beginning, so it never really appeared to you why he would be different towards you exactly – but you weren’t going to complain about someone tutoring you after all – someone who was equally as smart as pretty.

“You forgot pearl dust.” he sighs in disappointment, not looking up as he fidgets with his quill. “Tom it’s been two hours, my head is a mess. Let’s take a break?”

His gaze flicks from his quill to your eyes and stares at you briefly before speaking up. “I don’t take breaks. If you want me to keep being generous enough to help you, you do it my way.”

That’s how it goes every single time. You don’t argue against it – you just do what he says. The desperation to become better at Potions is greater than your ego after all and you have also come to notice it is better not to talk back to him. The last time you did, he wouldn’t even speak to you for two weeks after.

Tom clears his throat and you return your focus to the present. “It’s been an unnecessarily long time since you have started staring at me. Focus on your textbook.”

“Right, right! Sorry.” Your cheeks heat up and you repeat the brewing process from the beginning.

After what feels like an eternity, he is satisfied – as much as he could be. Tom obviously is never fully satisfied, always has something to criticize that you didn’t do right, something he says you would need to work on the next time you two meet to study.

There was always going to be a next time.

As you two pack up, you see house elves working on the Christmas decorations just outside the library, putting up a pine tree and some red and golden ornaments. It’s the Thursday before winter break, and you would soon go home to spend the time with your family. They have told you to bring a friend, though all of them have declined so far. You would just go alone. Until – well, you think about Tom.

“Uh, I actually have one more question.” You start, turning to face him. He raises his eyebrows expectantly signalling you to continue. “Soooo, I have been wanting to ask you whether you wanted to join me for Christmas dinner at home. My parents have asked me to bring someone along.”

“We aren’t friends. Besides that, I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

That’s exactly the answer you assumed he’d give, but you weren’t going to give up that easily. Your family has been talking about him often lately, about the Gaunt family, purebloods just like you. All the things they say you don’t understand anyway. It’s been like that since you were born, they always favoured your older brother over you. You have stopped arguing against it.

“Come on, Tom! It’s just a dinner, one evening. I know you don’t usually leave Hogwarts for Christmas break, I just wanted to give you the opportunity to meet my parents. They have been talking about you.”

He contemplates for a moment then. He is aware that his family, at least his mother’s side, has caught people’s attention. Apparently also the Rosiers’. Rosier family, part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It would only be to his benefit to get to know them personally. And he hated admitting it, but lately - he has found himself strangely intrigued by you. A smart girl, who wouldn’t normally need his tutoring, not if he didn’t tell you to come back every week for another lesson.

“I suppose I will think about it. If I decide for it, I will join you at the train station.”

Your lips curl into a bright smile. “Thank you, Tommy! You are the best.”

He sighs. “How often have I told you to stop calling me that?”

“Sorry, sorry! I am just super excited to introduce you. They have been pestering me with questions about your mother’s family.”

You swear you see a slight spark in his eyes at the mention of his mother, though his usual stern expression returns just a second later. “Have a good evening.” he replies and leaves you behind at the library without saying another word.

-

There has not been a single sign of Tom when you board the train. Secretly you have hoped he would come and join you, though as soon as you leave the station you find yourself at peace with the fact you’d be going home alone for the break. The scenery shifts as you look out of the window, a thick layer of snow covering the otherwise green Scottish Highlands. You see deer scavenging for any grass they can find, scraping at the frozen ground with their hooves, the nearby hares’ white winter fur blending in perfectly with the scenery.

There aren’t too many students in your wagon, meaning you get to have a compartment all for yourself. Just like normally, your eyes grow tired, voices around you turning into a blur, and you fall asleep.

It wasn’t long until someone clearing their throat, taking a seat next to you woke you again. “So, what’s for dinner?” he asks, and you turn to face him.

Your face lights up at the sight of the person in front of you. “Tom! I am so happy you decided to come along!”

“I suppose it’s a welcome opportunity to connect with another renowned family.” he replies, and you nod, though slightly disappointed. “Of course.”

The rest of the journey, both of you don’t speak much. It’s a weird energy between you, something you don’t quite recognize. You are glad – as glad as you could be, knowing your family awaits you just outside – when the train arrives at your station. Both of you get off, and your mother’s and father’s faces light up at the sight of, not you, but Tom. They greet him first, ask him how the journey has been.

It’s only when you arrive at home that they ask you to help prepare dinner while Tom’s being shown around the manor. Even at dinner they won’t let him be and you wonder whether it was a good decision to bring him home with you.

In a moment of silence, your mother first looks at you, then at him. A smile forms on her face, something you only rarely get to see and you wonder what may be behind it.

“We are so glad you have decided to join us. Our daughter really couldn’t have chosen a better boyfriend.”

Oh.

You feel your heart drop in your chest at her words. They must have misunderstood the situation. Your cheeks heat up and you see Tom’s face changing into one of confusion.

Trying to save the evening, you quickly try to explain. “No it’s- we are not-“

“I am pleased to hear I am meeting your expectations.”

Tom’s words cut you off, and for a moment you aren’t sure whether you have heard him correctly. You blink a few times and shoot him a confused look, and he smiles at you.

Smiles.

You nod quickly, lowering your gaze onto the plate in front of you as you feel your cheeks heat up. For the rest of the evening, you don’t say much, even when you all gather around the Christmas tree. They ask questions about your relationship, which only Tom answers. He sits next to you and as the night progresses, his hand wanders up your lower back, snaking around your waist. You visibly shiver at his touch but decide to play along.

As soon as everyone has excused themselves to bed, you move away a little, escaping his grip. “Tom, I am sorry, they must have completely misunderstood.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“No really I-“

“Sshhh.” he whispers, his face inching closer to yours then, capturing you in a tender kiss. His hand rests on the back of your head, softly pressing you against him. You inhale deeply as you break apart, your eyes trailing up from his lips to his eyes. It’s only the candles on the Christmas tree that shine a dim light on both of your forms, yet you are able to make out the changed look on his face.

“We shouldn’t.” you murmur, shaking your head.

“I see the way you look at me in the library. And you perfectly know why I want to keep meeting you. Yet both of us are too stubborn to admit it.”

Though you hate to admit it, he’s right.

“I just didn’t think you would like someone like me.”

Tom huffs. “You never acknowledge your worth, and I suspect that is what your parents have taught you. They don’t see your potential. They diminish your achievements. Why do you let them?” he asks, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I have stopped caring a long while ago. You know how it is.”

Tom doesn’t reply after that, though his hand continues running up and down your back soothingly. You stay like this for a while, until he slowly turns his head, facing you.

“I will show them what it means to appreciate you.”

His voice is low and controlled as his face is a mere inch away from yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I will show you what it means to be appreciated.”

theo with a breeding kink who just wants to get y/n pregnant, he will literally do them for hours just to make sure the chances of them getting pregnant are high. this w maybe some spanking and mommy/daddy kink

Anon holy fuckkkkkk the fact this is one of my biggest kinks LMAO, alright let’s get into itttttt

Breed Me

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is so determined to breed you that he goes all night long

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, modern au, chars 18+, bf!theo, boyfriend!theo, PIV, rough sex, doggy, creampie(s), breeding kink, impregnation, spanking, rough sex, dirty talk, degrading, daddy kink, dom&sub, Theo filling us the fuck up

Two hours, two fucking hours later and so many creampies you had both lost count, your body and mind were in a haze. —Swat swat swat!— Theo’s heavy hand landed across your already welted ass cheek.

“Fuck! Yes, daddy—“ Crying out in sheer pleasure, your body was a mess. A mess made by Theodore Nott. And fuck— Did he absolutely adore the mess of you. “That’s right, does my little cumslut wanna be filled up again, hm?”

Pounding into you at great force, you perked your ass higher for your boyfriend. Your knees shaky against the dampened bedsheets. “Y-yes, p-please give me that cum, daddy!”

Little did you know, besides the crazy breeding kink you both had, Theo was hoping for one thing tonight. Getting you pregnant. It wasn’t that you were against it either. “Cazzo- I bet you feel so full, don't you? So full of my cock and cum?”

Through your whimpers, you could feel him drilling into your cum soaked pussy even harder than before. His previous seed spilling out from each thrust, His cock twitching between your stretched-out walls. “Mmhmmmm- Gods— I love it! I love it- fuck!- so…so much!”

Your whimpers, moans, everything was almost too much for your boyfriend. Ramming into you even harder, He smacked across your ass once again. “Gonna fill you the fuck up- Breed you, Cara— Fuck!-“ His toned body jerked, feeling the warmness of his hot sticky cum shoot along your cervix.

But Theo didn’t stop- Oh no. You both were riding out the high of unprotected messy sex together. The entire night he fucked you, destroyed you, filled you the fuck up. Switching you in every position known to man. Breeding you until the chances of pregnancy were so high, it had to happen.

AHHHHH I had sm fun writing this Drabble! I’m a slut for breeding hehehe

Divider linked in my masterlist🌙

Love all my smut sluts soooo much💋

NINETEEN. phone sex — ghostface!theo

warnings — smut 18+. dubcon. phone sex. coercion. manipulation. guided masturbation. threats of violence. voyeurism.

kinkmas mlist. more.

“so, what’s your favourite scary movie, pretty girl?” the voice echoes through the phone as you swing your legs in the air before resting them on the coffee table. reaching into the bowl of popcorn beside you, you grab a handful and mindlessly stuff it into your mouth.

“uhm…” you think, slowly chewing on the popcorn as you stare into the distance, unsure why you’re still calling with this stranger. you don’t even know what he wants from you— he jumped straight to asking all sorts of random questions, intriguing you with his italian accent before you even had the chance to end the call.

you part your lips to speak, but before any words can come out, his low, ominous voice cuts through the phone again, making you nearly choke on your popcorn at his next words.

“do you always eat your popcorn burned?” your heart drops. a wave of dizziness washes over you as you stare down at the burned popcorn in your hand. panic grips you, your breath hitching as your eyes dart around the room, scanning every window, every shadow.

“listen to me very carefully, princess. if you want to live, you better do exactly what i say, capito?” the unknown man growls through the phone, low and commanding. your trembling body tenses, instinctively curling in on itself to make it smaller, the feeling of being watched sending a shiver down your spine.

“uhm, y—yes…” you stammer, still frantically glancing around, trying to figure out how he’s watching you— but through the reflective windows, all you can see is complete and utter darkness.

“good girl. now… stick your hand in your panties and make yourself feel good, a’ight? start slow.” he orders, causing your eyes to widen instantly, your mind racing, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“i— what!?” you gasp, nearly choking on your own saliva, your grip tightening on the phone until your knuckles turn white from how hard you’re squeezing it.

“oh, you heard me. now do it, before i decide to come inside.” his voice turns more stern now, an edge of menace to it that causes you to instantly obey, reluctantly slipping your hand into your stretchy pyjama shorts and lace panties.

“just like that. look at you… so fuckin’ beautiful.” the deep voice grunts into your ear as you slowly close your eyes, trying to focus despite the unusual situation. to your surprise, your cotton panties are completely soaked, making you feel ashamed and causing your cheeks to flush with embarrassment.

“that feels good, huh?” he growls, observing your facial expression as your slick fingers gently rub over your sensitive clit. you bite your lip in concentration, pleasure slowly clouding your scrambled mind.

“mhm… it— uhm, it does.” you shyly admit, feeling even more embarrassed now as you say the words aloud, before hearing a low, condescending chuckle echoing from the phone.

“obeying a stranger just like that, tsk… never heard of stranger danger, hm? whatever… you’re my good girl now, got it?”

“b—but…” “no buts. you hear the phone ringing, you pick up, capito? it’s not that fuckin’ hard… unless you want me to turn your house into a bloodbath. your choice.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

UNDERGROUND FIGHTER AU

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻; 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘆 — 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘄, 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

fighter mattheo riddle x fem reader

— Mattheo didn’t need violence to lose himself; maybe because violence was where he found himself, the only place he knew he was good, the only place where people feared and respected him. In the ring, in the underground, he had control—he was control. It was between the punches and the blood that he felt alive, that he could be the monster he wanted to be, with no one to challenge him.

But with you, the story was different. Your touch broke him faster than any punch he’d ever taken, made him bleed in ways he never had before; you took away his control, made his breath falter, and his thoughts turn to chaos; he hated how you made him feel small and vulnerable, but at the same time, he couldn’t resist any part of you. Violence made him feel found, but you, you made him feel lost, and so it was only fair that he'd do the same to you, right?

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

masterlist.

♡ 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.

UXORIOUS — someone who’s totally submissive to their significant other

— michael townsend x fem reader

➳ warnings: major fluff, whipped boyfriend, kissing, soft behavior, bad writing (english is not my first language and i didn’t edit…ups).

The moment he laid eyes on you, Michael Townsend fell in love with you.

He knew it was strange; after all, he was one of the people who screamed at the top of his lungs that love at first sight was pure nonsense and only existed in clichés and fairy tales, which, in his opinion, only little children and naive people believed in.

But for some reason, you changed that, which practically left everyone open-mouthed.

The truth is, Michael, even though having a photographic memory wasn’t his ability, he remembered every little detail of the day he met you and every word you said, not to mention how those little things made him feel.

He remembered the hot sun at 3:07 PM on July 19th, which had made his neck sweat and had also made some of his hair stick to his forehead. He remembered Agent Tanner’s voice when he announced a new member to the natural’s theme, and he certainly remembered how his throat had tightened and his heart had started to pound the moment you walked through the door.

Fuck, you were so beautiful; you are so beautiful.

He still remembered the white dress that had hugged your delicate curves, leaving his mouth dry, the way the summer sun had made your skin glow, making him feel stupid in front of everyone, how your slightly messy hair had made him bite his lip to hide a smile, and how his body had frozen when your hands touched, and when you had finally said your name.

From that day on, Michael knew he was completely whipped, and honestly, it was one of the first times he had expressed excitement about feeling emotions so openly.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Sitting in one of the chairs in the small office of the FBI’s naturals’ room, you let your tired eyes wander across the screen of the small laptop in front of you, which displayed some notes on the case you were trying to solve, while you fought against the drowsiness that seemed to be pushing you to close your eyes and fall asleep.

11:42 p.m.

Michael was leaning against the doorframe, his muscular arms crossed, and his messy brown hair swaying slightly as he watched you in silence, what felt like the thousandth time that night.

He knew you should be asleep. In fact, anyone who’d worked as hard as you did that day would already be out cold by now. But you never knew when was the time to stop, and that left him torn between thinking you were the most determined and intelligent person he knew or the craziest.

The cold light from the laptop screen illuminated your face even more, highlighting the small crease between your eyebrows and the fatigue taking over your already sleepy eyes. He recognized that look; he had seen it too many times, more times than he liked to admit. He knew you were fighting against sleep, insisting on staying awake, even though your body was begging you to do the opposite.

Michael let out a soft sigh, finally pushing himself off the wall and walking over to you, stopping behind your chair, leaning slightly forward to better see the face of the person who made his heart almost leap out of his chest.

Your hair was a bit messier than usual, one of your hands resting on your head while the other lazily slid across the laptop’s touchpad, and you didn’t have the most pleasant expression at that moment. But even so, to him, you were still so beautiful that he could feel his knees starting to weaken.

Fuck, sometimes it was hard to believe that you were his, or rather, that he was yours.

Without saying a word, Michael placed his hands on your tense delicate shoulders and began to massage them slowly, his thumbs pressing into the tight spots on the sides of your neck while he placed soft, gentle kisses on your head. And he couldn’t help but let out a little laugh when he felt your body flinch reflexively before you finally relaxed under his touch, letting out a sigh falling from your lips.

That felt so good.

“It’s almost midnight, baby,” he murmured against the top of your head, leaning down to place another soft kiss there, another smile slipping out of his lips when he heard your giggles. “I think that’s enough for today, or would you rather stay here frying your pretty brain?”

You mumbled something unintelligible—something that, to him, sounded suspiciously like a curse—but you didn’t protest when he calmly reached for your laptop’s mouse and closed the document before you could even complain.

“Michael…” you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep as you turned slightly to look at him, your face flushing when you realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt and how close he was.

Damn these teenage hormones. And damn your insanely handsome, unbelievably hot boyfriend.

He smiled against your head at your reaction, feeling satisfied knowing he had the same effect on you as you had on him. Then, he slid his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his bare chest, hugging you from behind. Making you feel the warmth of his skin against yours and sending a familiar rush of butterflies through both of your stomachs—just like it always did, no matter how many times you’ve done this before.

Your body molded perfectly against his, like it was meant to be there—and honestly, it was. And Michael took his time, appreciating the moment, letting himself hold you just a little longer. His nose brushed gently against your hair, and he inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo, a quiet sigh leaving his lips as he tightened his hold around you.

“No excuses,” he murmured, his voice full of affection but with a firmness you knew all too well. “Come to bed with me. You promised I’d be your personal heater, remember? Or do you want to break the deal and crush my poor heart?”

You chuckled softly at the usual drama, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“And what if I say I need five more minutes?” you teased, fully aware that there was no point in arguing with him when it came to you or your well-being.

You were his top priority since the moment he saw you.

Michael rolled his eyes, pretending to be irritated, though it was clear that wasn’t the case—at least not with you. The truth was, he loved this little game between the two of you.

Well, he loved everything that involved you, especially.

“I’d say you’re the most annoying person I know,” he replied, his lips brushing against your hair as he spoke, as if he couldn’t imagine being apart from you. “And still, I’m completely in love with you, just like a good boyfriend I am.”

You smiled softly, your fingers lazily intertwining with his, as if you were finally ready to surrender to the exhaustion.

“Okay… okay I’m going to bed but just because I’m almost dying.” And because, honestly, you didn’t know how to deny him anything when he said such sweet words.

Michael smiled back, feeling satisfied. But before letting you stand up, he turned his face slightly and pressed a soft yet firm kiss to the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, making you hold your breath.

Your poor heart.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered against your skin before he stood on his feet, gently pulling you up with him, making you grumble at the loss of contact. “Let’s go to my… ups, our bed,” he corrected.

11:59 PM.

But just before you two reached the door, you stopped suddenly, causing his bare chest to bump slightly into you. He looked down at you, curious, and when he saw that little smirk on your pretty tentatively lips, he knew something was about to happen.

Without a word, you gently pulled him by the neck, bringing him closer until your bodies were pressed more tightly together than they had been just moments before, your warm breath grazing his skin. Michael felt his heart race even more—not only because he was so close to you again, but because he genuinely didn’t feel brave enough to ask what you were planning.

You looked into his eyes, smiling softly. And before he could say another word, you pulled him into a kiss, as gentle as it was, making him melt under your touch.

The taste of your lips made him lose himself in the moment, his fingers finding your waist, while the kiss deepened and you both felt your tongues touching again and again…

“Okay, I’m definitely not complaining, but what was that?” he asked when you finally broke the kiss, blinking slightly, his cheeks flushed.

You smiled at him, a mischievous yet genuine grin that thank God he knew well, but that still made him swallow hard.

“Happy birthday, Michael,” you murmured softly, still close enough for him to feel the vibration of your voice in his ears and chest.

He stood there, speechless for a moment, the world around him disappearing as he allowed himself to feel the love of simply being with you, feeling you. But before he could respond, you whispered in that relaxing tone only you had…

“And now, we can go to our bed.”

He smiled, his heart racing 200 beats per second. Yes, he was definitely completely whipped, but in a way he would never trade.

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