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#i WILL force all of u to look at this sorry
luveline · 2 days
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Hi Jade!!! I love, love, love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something for Tsam Peter x reader where reader has a concussion and Peter is just generally super sweet about taking care of them? I have a concussion right now and I feel like he would be so sweet about it. If not feel free to ignore this, love you!!! <3
i love u!! fem!reader, 1k
You’re shivering again. Peter looks up from his book suspiciously, squinting at the curve of your where you’re laying on his couch. He should let you rest —you’re allowed to sleep with a concussion, despite what some might think— but he doesn’t like the shivering. It’s weird. 
“I'm coming, baby,” he says, standing up from the armchair to situate himself by your hips. 
Peter pulls the blankets more firmly to your chin. “Are you cold, bub?” he asks. It might appear that he’s talking to you while you’re still sleeping, but the smile you give when he talks proves otherwise. 
“No,” you force out in a mumble. 
“Are you sure?” 
It takes you some time to think about it. Your body’s been thrown for a loop since you hurt yourself, but you’re healing nicely, and your mental stamina is yards better than it had been. Peter asked you yesterday if you wanted a kiss and you couldn’t answer him for a full minute, and when you did it was an uncoordinated lift of your chin. You’re still in there, still his girl, just mildly incapacitated for the time being. 
“I might be,” you decide. 
Peter grabs a throw from under the coffee table and shakes it out over your arms and shoulders. “There. Need a drink?” 
“Do you?” you ask. 
“What?” 
“You’re asking me lots of questions,” you say, slowly, quietly, but not without character. “I thought I’d ask one back.” 
“I don’t need anything.” He tilts his head to align your faces, leaning in, not quite close enough to kiss you. 
“You look very serious right now, Spider-Man.” 
He glares for show. “So serious.” 
“Sorry I can’t really make you a drink.” 
Peter wipes the glare. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I don’t care that you can’t be my serf right now. When you’re better I’m gonna work you twice as hard, that’s all.” 
You raise a tired hand to his jaw. You’re extra careful to offset your wonky hand, stroking a clumsy but tender line from his ear to his chin. “Can you help me up?” 
Peter doesn’t question you. You’ve been recovering for a few days (he hasn’t realised before your injury that some people can take months to get better after a head injury, even without blood clots or fractures) and he’s not felt the urge to baby you beyond waiting on your every whim and want. If you’d like to sit up, that’s okay. The only thing he’d insist on is getting enough sleep at night, and thats something you’ll do happily. 
“Can I give you a hug?” he asks, his eyebrows pinching up at their starts. “I hate seeing you shiver, it makes me sad.” 
“Makes you sad?”
He squeezes your elbow where the blankets have fallen down. “Is that surprising?” 
You want to trade jokes with him but you can’t summon a retort, and your smile quickly fades. It can’t be nice, feeling a shade of yourself. Peter’s heart aches for you twice. 
“C’mere, pretty girl,” he says, slipping his arms under yours, encouraging you to wrap your own behind his head or let them rest behind his shoulders. He loves hugging you like this, almost lifting you, spider strength begging to be used as you sigh and settle into place against him. You feel a little like a shell of yourself, not quite quick with touches, fingertips twitching against his shoulder blade as he nuzzles his face against yours unabashed. “There you are. Where’d you go, huh? I was about to send out the search party.” 
“I’m right here.” 
“Yeah you are. Lucky me, right? Luckiest guy in the world.” 
You sigh happily beside his ear, your face pitching slowly downward until it’s pressing against the curve of his neck, your arms slipping down his front as you run out of energy. He doesn’t mind, bundling you up with no intention of letting you go. 
“How do you feel?” he asks. 
“Still fuzzy, like… it’s like we’re talking to each other through a screen door.” 
“Do you need something? Or want something? I’ll get you anything.” 
“I’m fine.” 
He lets out a sorry sigh. He wishes you’d want something, god knows he’d love to put a smile on your face. If you were feeling better you might ask him to go and get you something for dinner from across the city, or beg him to find you a bunch of flowers (which he’s always willing to buy). But sick, you ask for nothing. You just lay on the couch and wait to get better. Peter doesn’t think it’s super fair. 
“I’m sorry you’re not better yet,” he murmurs, his lips drifting down to your temple, which he kisses weakly, the barest brush of his lips. “Wish I could take it from you.” 
“I’ll be okay soon.” 
“I know you will, but I still wish I could take it. It’s shitty.” 
You think about this for a while. “It’s not shitty,” you work out finally, hand curling against his waist in a tired display of affection. “I have the… best boyfriend ever looking after me.” 
“I’ll be here until you’re better, you know that.” 
“I know.” 
Peter ushers you back and lifts your blankets, slotting himself next to you with a careful arm held behind your back. You show some surprising excitement at the offering of a cuddle and work under his arm, shuffling down the couch to leave you both laying on the same cushion, blankets uneven but warm over your chests. “You should probably go back to sleep,” he says. 
“Nap with me?” you ask, endearingly hopeful. 
He turns his face, intending on drawing lines into your cheek with the tip of his nose until you either fall asleep or can’t take it anymore. “Sure, baby. I bet you’re exhausted, huh? Let’s sleep.” 
He falls asleep before you, breathing snores into your cheek. You have enough wits about you to laugh, and then you fall asleep, too. 
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slytherinslut0 · 13 hours
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mattheo riddle | focus.
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PAIRING: Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: you thought you were just going to have a peaceful night with your boyfriend, cuddling while watching the newest episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. you thought.
WORD COUNT: 4.1k. (i’m sorry?)
TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, praise kink, some teasing, matty being an absolute dawg per usual, unable to keep those delicious hands to himself, maybe like the tiniest bit of degradation, fingering, multiple orgasm, PIV, doggy/prone-bone, um yeah the usual filth i provide.
DEDICATION: this was a little bday gift for my lovely friend @pizzaapeteer🤍 hope u had the best day bbygirl ilysm!
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"Matt," you exhaled your boyfriends name, leisurely rubbing your tired eyes. "...any minute now, please."
A muffled yawn from inside the bathroom was the only outward sign of his acknowledgment before he appeared in the doorframe--like a vision materializing from a dream. Your groggy eyes clung to his shadow, watching as he lazily sauntered toward you--looking cozy, yet as exhausted as ever.
It’d been a busy day for you both, between his quidditch tournament finally drawing to a close and your ruthless potions exam--you’d found yourselves lacking routine, your schedules treacherously out of sync--because not only had you not seen each other since this morning, the way the day had started was frantic enough to send your mood into sours so intense it’d make a fucking lemon grimace.
There was no cuddles, no intimate shower time, and certainly no morning sex. The only bout of intimacy Mattheo was able to steal from you was a quick peck on the cheek before you scurried out the door, desperate to cram in as much studying as you could.
It was safe to say that by this point, the two of you were fucking spent, slightly annoyed, and most certainly, drained. And all you’d been thinking about--for the entirety of your day, was getting to snuggle, catch the latest episode of your favourite muggle/guilty-pleasure show, preceded by dozing off embraced within your boyfriend’s loving arms.
"Look, I love you and all, but can't we watch something else?" He was so utterly unenthused you'd think you were forcing him to watch paint dry, his expressions a mirror to his tone as he combed a hand through his hair. "Something that maybe won't give me a bloody headache."
Messy chocolate curls framing brooding brown eyes, grey sweatpants and a black hoodie was all that it took to make you rethink your plans for the evening. It was clear to you, almost immediately, that Mattheo wasn’t as deterred by the craziness of the day as you were. You could see that twinkle in his eye, that hunger barred behind cheeky grins and teasing words.
You rolled your eyes, biting your lip in attempt to quell your smirk. "Oh, come on, Mattheo," you teased, shifting on the comforter to make space for him beside you. "You know deep down you love the drama. That's practically your middle name."
"If I'm being completely honest," your boyfriend scoffed, settling into bed beside you. "I'd probably enjoy it more if we turned the volume off."
Your face flushed with warmth as Mattheo immediately drew you into him, one arm slipping under your head while the other coasted a light path up your thigh. A pair of lips pressed to your neck, wet and soft against your aching skin, igniting bliss to burn a scorching heat in your belly. Against your better judgement and instigated by a force well beyond your control, you sighed--exhausted lids fluttering shut as you revelled in the warmth his presence evoked within you.
It right was then, that you knew--as instinctual as breathing--that simply watching your show and going to bed wasn’t going to be enough for your boyfriend. Of course you wanted him--wanted him just as bad as he wanted you--but your exhaustion was prevailing, and therefore, so was your brattiness.
He was going to have to be patient. He was going to have to work for it.
So with a sharp inhale, and in an honest attempt to avoid the volcano of desire before it erupted irrevocably, you turned your back to him--seeking refuge from the imminent intoxication that came along with your boyfriend's perfect lips.
"Wow, Matty," you teased, "and here I was actually considering letting you be the little spoon for once..." you fixed your sight on the TV, fighting to ignore his touch on your hip. "Guess you'll just have to be the big spoon all night."
Mattheo's chuckle rumbled against your back as he tightened his embrace, his warmth enveloping you completely. His lips brushed against your ear, and you could practically hear the exhaustion in his tone, his voice as rough as gravel.
"That's not the punishment you thought it'd be, princess," he murmured, the cheeky grin on his lips practically audible, each syllable tickling the back of your neck as he spoke. "This just gives me something far more interesting to focus on than that dumb show of yours."
You couldn't stop yourself from tsking him, a giggle escaping your lips as you gently pulled his wandering fingers away from your backside, intertwining them with your own. This was one of the many things you adored about him—the way he couldn't seem to keep his hands off you whenever you were together.
"Nuh-uh, Mattheo Riddle--your focus is on the show," your attempt to scold him was warring with the need to keep your voice steady, playfully tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze. "I know you're just dying to find out who said what behind whose back, aren't you?”
Mattheo huffed, an exhale of pure amusement. A certain intoxicating devilism that you knew all-too-damn-well twinkled in his honeyed irises as he caught your gaze, scorching heat over your skin.
"I'm dying for something, undoubtedly," his arm beneath your head curled inward, large palm finding a handful of your breast and kneading it. Before you could react, his lips graced your earlobe, and he drew it into his mouth, nibbling it, forcing an eminent whimper to flee your throat. "And it's not that."
Involuntarily, you groaned--a noise of pure restraint--your other hand moving up to tug his fervent fingers away from your chest. It took every ounce of your willpower to hold back a sigh of desperation as you mentally reminded yourself of your prior mantra.
Make him be patient. Make him work for it.
"Matty, quit being a brat," you muttered, playful scolding tracing your tone. You honestly couldn't believe you'd just said that. "We’ve both had such a long day…let’s just watch this and goto sleep, yeah?"
His response was a low, rumbling murmur, his voice thick with desire as he turned his head toward the television, his fingers still for the moment.
"You're so right, baby," he conceded, his breath warm against your neck. "I'm just watching the show. I don't even know what you're--"
"Mattheo," you interjected, a hint of warning in your tone, and he let out an exaggerated huff, falling silent. After a moment, you giggled at him. "Salazar help you."
Even without seeing his face, you could practically hear the cheeky grin on his perfect lips spreading from ear to goddamn ear. You were certain he was seeing right through you.
"Alright, alright, I'll behave," he said, though his voice betrayed him. There wasn't one ounce of sincerity in those devastatingly deep cords. "Would you just like, stop squirming, though? It's distracting."
You rolled your eyes. Gods, how you wanted to smack him while simultaneously kissing his perfect, annoying face. "Matt, I literally haven't moved."
Mattheo shrugged, his breathy chuckle washing over your neck, his eyes now fixed on the TV. As the two of you settled into stillness, you exhaled--his playful antics never failed to humour you, a reminder of the delightful chaos that came with dating this messy, yet undeniably wonderful boy. Sometimes, it truly felt like living in your own reality TV show, though you wouldn't have it any other way.
Nestled in his embrace, a sense of tranquility washed over you as you immersed yourself in the drama that this weeks episode had to offer. However, as the clock ticked on and the show progressed, you could feel Mattheo's restlessness grow stronger behind you.
His movements were subtle at first--a shift here, a slight adjustment there, but soon enough, his hands began to wander after breaking free from your hold, tracing delicate patterns along your skin. Despite your efforts to remain focused on the show, the sensation of his touch was relentless, subtle ministrations laced with clear intent that had you distracted from the TV without much effort.
"Mattheo," you whispered, trying to sound stern but failing as a soft sigh escaped your lips.
"Shh, princess," he cooed, voice so sweet it was sugar incarnate. "We're watching the show, aren't we?"
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his teasing, but before you could protest further, his hand moved to roam along the curve of your waist, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your breath caught in your throat, his touch igniting a familiar spark between you, threatening to engulf you both in a different kind of drama altogether--one that had absolutely nothing to do with the show on the television.
And you longed to utter something, anything--longed to form some semblance of coherent speech--but words would simply elude you as Mattheo's hand continued its eager exploration, mapping every inch of your curves as it started trailing its way from your hip down your thigh and back up, softly rolling his hips against your backside.
Somehow, throughout all this, you kept your eyes focused on the screen in front of you--hardly even daring to blink--though your mind was monopolized by the feeling of his calloused palm catching on the fabric of your leggings, the way his fingernails dug into your flesh as he gripped your hip, gripped your thigh, gripped your waist--anywhere his hungry hand could find purchase.
"I want you," his voice was a breath on your neck, his grip bruising your hip as he bucked into you. "So fucking bad."
You whined from lust, your vision fogged by need. His words sent heat straight to your cunt. "Matt..."
"I know, baby," his tongue drew a wet line up the side of your neck toward your ear, and he whispered into it. "Watch the show. Just let me take care of you.”
A lump formed in your throat, your mind so clouded with desire that forming a coherent response seemed impossible, your teeth clawing at your bottom lip to prevent any sounds from slipping out as his other hand moved to grope your chest, kneading your breast within his palm.
Your entire body was in flame, and the truth hung heavy in the air--of course, you wanted him just as desperately as he wanted you, and were more than willing to abandon the show and lose yourself in his touch--but it was frustrating, maddening even, how effortlessly he could disarm you, even while exhausted.
A mere whisper, a few tender touches, and you were putty in his hands, melting under his gaze. So much for making him work for it.
Mattheo hummed and bit the tender flesh between your neck and shoulder, sucking an angry, puckering red mark into it while he continued to grind against your ass, his throbbing desire jabbing you, seeking friction.
"Keep those eyes on the screen, baby." Gods, that bastard. That beautiful fucking bastard. Impossible to resist, completely useless to attempt to ignore. "Forget that I'm even here, yeah?"
A whimper escaped your lips, a tacit admission of how adeptly Mattheo had unraveled you, his touch igniting a starving fervour that coiled tight within you. He possessed an uncanny ability to unravel your defenses, leaving you malleable and pliant under his fingertips, consumed by an overwhelming need that pulsed with every beat of your heart.
"That's..." the words died on your tongue as he kissed your neck again--one hand moving to slip underneath your shirt and the other bruising your hip with his grip, pulling you closer against him. "...impossible."
"Oh, is it?" a pleased huff escaped him, his curls tickling the sensitive skin below your ear as he buried his face against it, teeth grazing your pulse. "Are you saying you can't multitask, baby? You want me to stop-"
"No," you cried out without hesitation as he finally glided up your stomach and slipped under your bra, thumb brushing against your nipple. "I...I can do both."
"Mhm, yeah you can," he purred, five slender digits slipping down to caress between your thighs, grazing over your mound and resting there for a moment, feeling your heat through your leggings. "You can do both because you're my good fucking girl, aren't you?"
His tone was intoxicating, the teasing and gentle praise melding together, creating a concoction brewed with the sole purpose of making your fucking head spin. Each word he uttered seemed to fan the flames of desire within you. Your teeth dug into your lower lip, wanting to plug as many noises as possible, his mouth moving from below your ear and slithering up to the line of your jaw.
Gathering yourself with a sharp inhale, you nodded. "Yes, Matty, I am..."
One hand shifted to your other breast and he groaned against your cheek, flooding your flesh with warmth as his fingers kneaded it, thumb twirling over the sensitive bud, erection grinding against you with another harsh snap of his hips.
"You are what, baby..." he muttered, burying his face back into the crook of your neck, his thick hair soft on your skin. "Wanna' hear you say it."
Another whimper escaped you, loud and shameless as his hand between your thighs shifted slightly, pressing against your clit for a moment before releasing pressure. You knew what he was after. You knew he wasn't going to give you what you wanted until he got it.
"I'm..." you choked on your breath, forcing the rest of the words past your teeth. "I'm your good girl, Matty."
Your arousal surged to dizzying heights, eclipsing any awareness of the television's presence in the room. Your focus had been hijacked, seized by the insatiable force of the hungry heathen at your back.
"Yeah, that's right, baby," Mattheos fingers sprung to action again, dragging the pads of his pointer and middle tantalizingly slow along your slit, teasing you through your leggings, your back arching instinctively as you fought the urge to grind against his touch. "Say it again for me."
You growled in frustration, feeling the heat blaze over your skin as his breath ghosted over your neck. Inhaling sharply, you fought to gather whatever shreds of sanity remained within you.
"Your good fucking girl, Matty," you declared, the words dripping with equal parts hunger and desperation. "All yours. Only yours."
Mattheo's response was a low, guttural growl of approval, his grip tightening possessively as he pulled you closer against him. His teeth dug into your shoulder as he finally sprung into action, hand on a hunt, tracking up to find the band of your leggings and slipping beneath it.
"That's fucking right," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "All mine.”
Without wasting another second he slid two digits along your slit, pulling apart your slick folds and dragging the rough pads of his fingers over your clit--maddeningly slow. His grip on your breast tightened, breath leaving his lungs in shallow grunts as fervour engulfed him--engulfed you, engulfed the room and set it in flame.
"All yours." you whimpered, nodding.
"My good fucking girl, always so wet for me--so eager, hm?" Your moans filled the room as he took those two thick fingers and slid them into your cunt, the feel of your walls stretching around him igniting a quiet groan from his throat. "All day without this pussy and you really expect me to be able to keep my fucking hands off you? You're all I've been thinking about..."
Then, his thumb was on your clit while he curled his digits inside of you, stroking that sweet spot of raised flesh, your trembling hands flailing to find his arms, fingers digging into his skin, grounding you as though he was your lifeline, your anchor in the rough sea of pleasure he was providing.
"Gods, Matty." Your lids were squeezed tight, lips pinched together, rubbing your head against his as the heat from his mouth grew sweat on your neck. "You're all I--ah--all I think about too..."
Mattheo groaned again, working fast, building the pressure inside of you in record speed, warm heat rushing out over your skin. Your walls throbbed around him, heart a rabid animal barred beneath your sternum, and he added a third digit, pinching your nipple with his other hand--sending stars shooting behind your lids.
"My good girl isn't focusing on the show, is she?" His voice was the tantalizing depth of a black hole, sucking you into his orbit. You forced your eyes open. "You wanna' cum you better start focusing, princess."
Your brain was short circuiting--your mind fogged by a desire so intense it eclipsed any awareness of the television before you. Though your eyes registered its presence in the room, its glow seemed distant and hazy, as if it existed in separate realm from the searing heat encompassing you. You glimpsed it, focused on it, but your brain couldn't quite grasp its purpose as the only thing that held any significance in your consciousness was the sensation of your boyfriend's fingers, relentlessly driving you closer and closer to the edge of euphoria.
"That's better." He hummed, lips pecking at your cheek. "So good for me," his fingers scissored inside you, thumb increasing its pace on your clit. "So, so good."
Your ears rang, your sight blurring. You were so fucking close. "Matty, fuck—I'm gonna-"
Your boyfriend groaned. "Cum for me, baby."
Without needing any further instruction, the coil of pressure inside of you burst, exploding through your skin and enveloping you in a hot, convulsing warmth--you were crying out, cumming hard around him, your walls clamping down on his fingers, pulling him into your body as you pulsed and throbbed with pleasure. You thought you'd kept your eyes open, though you couldn't entirely be sure as your sight blanked, your consciousness consumed by a days worth of pent up sexual energy.
As Mattheo slowly withdrew his hand from beneath your leggings and distanced himself slightly, his voice carried a palpable strain. "Turn over, facing the TV."
Confusion flickered across your features as you blinked, glancing over your shoulder at him. "What?"
"Face the TV, on your stomach," he repeated, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of desperation. "Please."
You watched as he palmed his throbbing, angry erection through the fabric of his grey sweats, and every single nerve ending in your body roared to life again. Still buzzing with the remnants of your climax, you quickly moved, shifting onto your stomach and facing the TV like he asked, unable to shake the boiling anticipation churning within your core.
You could feel Mattheo's dark eyes boring holes into your flesh, searing the seams of your skin as he shifted up onto his knees and moved between your legs behind you. Two strong hands gripped your thighs, and you tried to peer at him over your shoulder before he tsked you playfully.
"Focus on the screen, baby." There’s that sweet voice again. Sweet like honey oozing off his lips. “Be good.”
Your boyfriend was methodical, moving without urgency even though you knew that he was more than vibrating with it. Leaning down, he pressed soft kisses along the back of your thighs, slowly journeying upward, tracing a path to the curve of your ass cheek where he playfully sank his teeth into the plump flesh, eliciting a shudder that rippled through your body.
You suppressed a moan, the sound caught in your throat as his hands found purchase, kneading and groping the sensitive flesh between his digits.
“Matty..."
A low hum of satisfaction reverberated against your skin as he continued his exploration, his fingers deftly hooking around the band of your leggings and underwear. With a teasing tug, he began to pull them down your thighs, revealing the fresh expanse of your skin inch by tantalizing inch.
"Shh," he cooed. “Beautiful girl.”
The breath in your chest was a rapid circle, your entire body trembling with desperation. The moment your pants were off, you felt Mattheo's hands shifting to his own, a soft groan escaping him as he freed himself from the confining material. Without hesitation, he loomed over you, his presence dominating as he leaned forward to snake a hand around your throat, forcing your head in place, facing the TV as he aligned himself with your centre.
"Since you're having trouble focusing, I'll help you," his fingers wrapped around your jaw, his breath hot on your ear. "My good fuckin' girl."
A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. You felt him glide the head of his cock between your thighs, slicking himself in the wetness he'd caused, teasing you with false thrusts before he finally pushed in, spearing you open with one long, deep, slow thrust.
"Fuck." His breath was a hidden hiss through his teeth as you groaned, walls clenching around his cock. "Been waiting all day for this, baby. Fuckin’ tight little pussy."
His grip intensified on your jaw, his breath washing warm over your ear as he pulled out slowly and slammed back in. You couldn't think, couldn't speak--brain already cock-drunk, inebriated by lust.
"Matty," you gasped, gripping the wrist to the hand holding your head in place. "Fuck."
"Mhm, that's right," his voice was shattered, his tone strained against his throat. Each thrust was deeper, harder, faster than the last one, his curls tickling your cheek as he nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck--warm, wet lips pressing against your pulse. "So fucking tight. Fuck, I missed this--fuckin’ missed you."
You whimpered, struggling with every ounce of your existence to keep your eyes open, to remain focused on the glowing box infront of you--but you weren't even sure if Mattheo cared much about that anymore. Even without seeing his face you knew he was above you, looking down--teeth barred, jaw tensed and pupils blown wide with lust.
You knew he was just as gone as you were.
"Fuck," Mattheo snarled, fucking deeper, his hips smacking against your ass with every angry thrust, drowning out the sounds of the show. His hand moved under your belly, reaching for your clit and quickly connecting with it, causing you to writhe and spasm against his hold. "How's that feel, princess."
Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you bordered on the very edge of exploding.
"Fuck," you replied, as though it was the only word that you seemed capable of reliably saying. "Fuck—good, Matty...so good..."
"That's right," he muttered. "You're so beautiful like this, so fucking perfect." He held you fast, pounding your cunt, catching groans in his throat. "You have no idea what you do to me."
You groaned. His words alone were enough to make your head spin. "Fuck—"
Delirium ascended into ecstasy, pleasure amplified by the stretch of his dick fucking you deep. His weight pinned you to the mattress, his hand holding your head firm as he growled in your ear with each harsh thrust, pent up sexual tension pouring off of him and threatening to drown you beneath it.
"Mhm. Little slut. Dumbed out on my cock." A low moan left you, the heat and friction and feverish thrusts sending your sanity to space. His fingers circled your clit faster, and you tweaked, eyes rolling. "Poor thing couldn't even focus on the screen if she tried, could she?"
"No—fuck, I can't." Bliss burned to burst, stars swarmed your sight entirely, and you knew it, knew it was happening, knew that you were about to break. "I—I wanna' cum for you, Matty...please..."
"Go ahead, princess." He cooed. "Cum for me."
You clamped down on his swollen length, your orgasm cleaving you in half as you shook with euphoria, heat and pleasure tearing all the way to your fingertips and toes. Mattheo keened, grip on your jaw turning almost painfully tight as he groaned and drove into you with a final thrust, cum spilling into you, hips snapping while he convulsed with the tremors of his falling climax.
The room was spinning, your bodies stuck with sweat, every breath of air too hot, too thick with sex. Your boyfriend's face was still nestled into your neck, and, exhausted too, you let your head be entirely supported by his hand, exhaling a long, trembling breath.
After a moment, Mattheo rolled off and slumped down onto the mattress beside you, grinning. “Good thing we can just rewind, hm?”
You grinned, letting out a breathy laugh as he pulled you into his chest. “You’re something else, Mr. Riddle.”
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eggsdrawings · 3 months
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total dramas your klance
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spacedlexi · 5 months
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when u want to like a character so so bad but theyre a cop so its impossible
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knifebaby3000 · 4 months
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the wind has carried us too far, it's blown the moon down
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ventiswampwater · 8 months
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Griffin Dunne as Jack Goodman
AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981) dir. John Landis
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oceanwithouthermoon · 4 months
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https://x.com/d3kutism/status/1741579841764475157?s=46
it should be illegal to be this fucking stupid so loudly and confidently omg..
mfs on the internet preach about "media literacy" yet they completely gloss over the fact that the only damn things that kusuo "canonically" is are a tsundere, an unreliable narrator, and a fucking liar LMFAOOO.. babe thats like basic reading comprehension, im sorry..
EDIT: it should go without saying not to send a person hate just because of a silly post like this one(+i dont have any reach anyway so im sure it wouldnt happen, but i wanna say this nonetheless lol) but i would just like to say that i just checked and realized that this person is 15 years old, so like... yeah, too young to be arguing with grown people on the internet. dont take this too serious or send this person hate pls lol..
#nobody who isnt aroace is allowed to tell ME what character has to be aroace#yall forget that we aroaces (+ESPECIALLY autistic aroaces) dont want or need your ugly white knight savior bs#'oh but im aroace n i also think hes aroace🤓' ok?? should i care about your hcs?#have your projection hcs or your regular random hcs- i literalky DONT care#but it becomes an issue when u try so desperately to defend it like this#like babe u sound so dumb☠️#its so confusing to me how u chronically online weirdos insist on making ur hcs canon#i promise u guys ur hcs dont have to be canon for u to enjoy them#its a VERY popular hc too like tf more do u want#im autistic and aroace and i say kusuo is demi and autistic#i am him and he is me so i know factually/j#so still on the aroace spectrum but either way i dont force my hcs on other people like u selfish weirdos do LOL#also this person and the replies being like 'just cuz not all autistic ppl r aroace doesnt mean none can be' YEA OBVIOUSLY?#UR ARGUING WITH THE WALL AND ITS CRAZY CUZ NOBODY EVER SAID THAT#literally not one fucking person said he cant be aroace- just that it isnt canon#do u even fucking hear urselves.. YOURE the ones saying he cant be anything other than aroace.. so YOURE the one doing the forcing..#u guys love pushing ur stereotypes on others and then defending it to high fucking hell#anyway sorry i dont have a public twitter so im saying my piece here#the link looks suspicious as hell twitter pwease give me a better link#saiki k#tdlosk#the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki kusuo#meows post
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allgremlinart · 2 years
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pinup of 90s mullet Clark Kent in a crop top that says “if she’s YOUR girl why is she playing with MY mullet?” because... because.
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autistic-katara · 1 month
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there r fics that make u insane (so amazingly good it’s removed ur sanity) and then there’s fics that make u insane (you need to fistfight the author for how they did a specific thing that caused u to rant for hours)
#i know i just posted that other thing but ffs that is NOT how u handle someone in that situation everyone involved made everything 10x worse#yet it’s being treated like the right thing to do (which again ofc they’re cops they don’t understand harm reduction but still) like#seriously everything’s so forceful like u seriously think forcing ur friend to talk to u or forcing a patient to talk to a therapist under#the threat of being admitted to a psychiatric hospital is gonna make her feel comfortable talking to u? or anyone? she’s just gonna trust u#less and get better at hiding it and speaking of which the taking away all sharp objects thing makes sense in theory but like think abt it#for a minute she confirmed she isn’t suicidal and this is her only way of coping so do not just forcibly take away all her coping mechanism#like yes she is hurting herself but it’s a COPING MECHANISM. she’s coping with something. help her with that don’t just take away her penci#sharpers or whatever (which btw since she’s an adult she could easily buy more stuff and yk learn to hide it better) which again has to be#voluntary it isn’t gonna work if u force someone to do smthn they don’t want to like as ur friend u could’ve made it clear u care abt her#and wouldn’t judge her for anything and r here if she wants to talk don’t just say “you have to talk to me” and casually threaten#hospitalisation when she isn’t ready in the moment like seriously if this wasn’t a badly written fanfic she would completely stop trusting#bcz given that this wasn’t even done out of panic i would like ffs u are NOT doing any of this right#oops sorry ranted abt the bad fic in my tags-#it’s not where the author’ll see it and know it’s about them i don’t feel bad abt it#this was my first time even looking at stuff for this fandom so#cw self harm in tags#idk if i need to tag anything else for that 😭#fanfic#ao3#ryan shut the fuck up
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rainymoodlet · 1 year
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my piece of shit stoners who had three kids straight outta college and won’t stop abusing my wickedwhims, the founders of the hadley legacy 🪴 rangi kealoha & steven hadley.
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ghosthing · 1 year
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steddie bein casually intimate with one another always touching even when it is not necessary is v important to me
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skywarpshydroflask · 10 days
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rodimus is such a character of all time can u imagine being thrust into a war watching ur uncle die thinking its your fault having to take on the responsibility he didnt even know he was going to have of keeping the universe from being torn apart ALONGSIDE his initial responsibility of keeping both his home planet and adopted home planet and his whole family safe but all u want to do is chill and hang out w ur little brother only HES been forced into this horror show too and and and
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pinkhysteria · 2 years
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‘damon is a vampire, this is a vampire show, how can you criticize him for anything!? 🙄’ and it’s about people uncomfortable with him having multiple instances of going out of his way to excessively punish women for not returning his feelings like a lame regular human 4chanreddit incel 💀
#anti damon salvatore#what does vampirism have to do with one woman not loving damon so he gets drunk and tries to force himself on her look alike 5 minutes later#LMFAOOOO#i just can’t stand the disingenuousness of it all.#like. i actually DO find it annoying when people include killer in with damon’s list of crimes because... hello.#especially since i don’t find the things that supposedly make his murdering ‘worse’ to be... valid whatsoever.#(because after a certain kill count and level of violence 'feeling bad' is meaningless i'm sorry lmfao.)#but y’all want to defend EVERYTHING under ‘vampire!!’ and it’s nuts.#he could eat literal shit and y’all would say ‘stop calling it gross he’s a VAMPIRE!!’#idk how to tell you u can like/love a chr and still not justify/support every little thing they do.#or at least mind ur business when other ppl just don’t like something they have every right not to.#i love him but i don’t think klaus was ‘right’ to choke out hayley for considering an abortion#(especially not when an episode prior he was yapping about ‘kill the baby’ anyway)#‘vampirism’ is not code for#‘my white male fave has a pass to be violently misogynistic in a way that mirrors real life and if anyone feels a way about it ur a PUSSY!!’#and this isn’t even touching on the ridiculousness of constantly ‘VAMPIRE GENRE’ing a show that very much *is* a teen drama#and regularly hails the chrs as ‘heroes’ and good ppl -#so pretending it exists in the same way as something like dracula or carmilla / other adult gothic tales#and people have to engage with it the same way is fucking ridiculous 😭#tvdu text
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cantuscorvi · 1 year
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✨🧡🌙SEND THIS TO TEN OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING ✨
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ah this is very sweet, thank you ! i'm just gonna tag people here because sending these things around isn't really my thing, but i still wanna show some love and ten is surely not enough !
@v-iciious / @nezumivc103221 / @distopea / @tximidity / @mauerfrau / @heincus / @nvrcmplt / @laplacemail / @lunarscaled / @worldly-diversity / @mugunghwc / @magioffire / @moonglittering / @deathleads /@sovereignxfae
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mythvoiced · 3 months
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Aeri can’t decide what she hates more - the way the bejeweled pin in the victor from District 8’s hair is lopsided, or the girl herself. Oh, what Aeri wouldn’t give to wear such an accessory again, or even wear the finery the victor has been gifted to wear to the viewing. That was her once, wasn’t it?
But now? She’s stuck here, watching this spectacle. The brat, who has no idea what privilege she’s been presented with, keeps on creasing the delicate threads of her gown and her stylists also clearly have no idea on how to do the brat’s makeup. And then there’s that damn pin- Aeri’s pin once upon a time- only in place because it’s tangled in there-
And Aeri can’t hold back. When the brat’s stylists are gone, she reaches into the girl’s hair and extracts the pin. Her fingers, callused from years of hard labor that still feels foreign to Aeri, are quick to untangle most of the obvious knots in the brat’s hair before shetwists the locks into a ponytail and then a bun. The pin goes back in.
Aeri glares at the girl through the mirror. Don’t you dare mess up my work.
( congrats lenlen!! you get....aeri, being really resentful, i hope marìa doesn't mind too much ^^' )
@stillresolved | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET HER BE RESENTFUL
---
There's a harshness to being dolled up when you are in no way receptive to it.
María isn't foreign to the roughness of life - she's a fucking Victor, after all, isn't she - she's started working in factories just about around the age even the most moral of District 8 people might turn their back in fear on seeing her walk in, pretending not seeing her would free them of the responsibility of working with a child.
Her hands and nose and palate and lungs had long gotten used and keep getting used to the aftermath of working with chemicals, of being so very intimate with garments and colours, with fumes and heat, with the hard work of surviving, with the hard work of fighting to be allowed a minimal chance at said survival, at figuring that there's little more for people from District 8 to fight for.
Still... it's not the same.
Being pushed around, dressed in things she would have never chosen for herself to serve a people, a man, because she's not stupid enough to not be able to tell what is Capitol and what is Snow and how Capitol is Snow, it's a kind of biting and harsh and rough that doesn't leave behind the usual kind of scars and memories and bruises.
Even surviving the Games had come with a desperately accepted sense of relief, one covered in blood and the humiliation of all she'd done and all she'd thought she'd get to accomplish, only for reality to crash in on her in a victory she hadn't wanted to partake in, hadn't wanted to make possible, when she'd wanted her Games to be victor-less in lieu of ending the Games themselves.
This... this is humiliation in the long run. This has hardly any hope attached to it, waiting for her on the other end of the line. Sometimes, on the worst days, it feels like the true brunt of the battle, walking with blood-stained soles and palms and sparkling as she does, wearing all that might make even the softest source of light appear like flames reflecting off her frame, covering her in fire that had not eaten her alive - much to a few people's disdain.
Picking at things, not holding still, grimacing, shifting her muscles, arms, face to make her stylists' life as difficult as possible, it was all she had to fight back.
The Arena came with death and violence, and living back at home had been physical labour upon physical labour, straining her young body until she could no longer tell if she was broken beyond repair or fitter than children her age should be - had they grown up privileged within the Capitol's safety.
Here she has only threads to tear apart and reflections to glare at.
And a new challenge behind every door.
She feels yanked back, an intensity of motion caused less by the avox suddenly in her hair and more her own stiffness that hadn't prepared her for submission to someone suddenly rearranging her.
After her stylists had left, she'd succumbed to the tension of not wanting to be there, without the added hard work of making sure everybody else does. Lost in her thought, somebody's hands suddenly returning on her had fortified, molten it into a newly forged blade, stiff and ready to strike, tensing everything within her and making a few fingers in her hair turn into a grappling hook tied to a moving mountain.
María is startled enough she can't remember how to glare.
A frown does accompany her widened eyes anyway, making her look... appalled, almost, an addition to her expression so unsuited to typically frightened features, youth tainted by the face of someone used to having to fight to stay alive.
It almost happens in a flash then. The reflection moves and adjusts and fixes and what had started as something that had María's lips split into something acid and trembling, turns into something unpleasant and acrid, but silent, as María sits and lets herself be mandhandled one more time.
That's when she glares. After the avox finishes up, after their eyes meet in the mirror and María sees none of the downturned gazes they're trying to make her accustomed to.
Seeing avoxes pisses her off.
Why take it out on them.
She understands what they are, what they're supposed to represent.
To her, an avox is a statement. No longer a person but rather someone rid of their innate right to be considered one. Even with the determination and life in this avox' eyes, María has come to understand them as tools Snow uses to assert his dominance, people from all circles of life, punished with the robbing of their words... and their detached tongue metaphorically forced to lick away at the tip of the shoes of people like María.
All a scheme.
Infighting.
Use the prey on the prey, make them take each other out.
It'd be easier to feel pity if María could sleep, if the avox hadn't adjusted her appearance, and if the avox wasn't staring her down as if she had any right to do so.
She's oddly beautiful.
She's oddly familiar.
"Why are you helping them?" she hisses, low, whispered, because she might never admit it, but she's... she's a little scared, isn't she? Lately? Devora's face swims before her inner eye, so stern, so wrong.
"I'm on your side more than they are," she adds, pulling a strand of her hair out of the freshly adjusted bun.
#stillresolved#the seeker;maria#the seeker;joan of arc;hunger games verse#CONGRATS INDEED I FEEL LIKE I WON A MAJOR AWARD HERE??? EXCUSE ME???????????????????? MX LISTEN-#EVEN IF MARIA WERE TO MIND I CAN'T FIND IT IN ME TO MIND THAT SHE'D MIND BECAUSE THIS IS MAJORLY EXCITING#NOBODY MOVE NOBODY MOVE NOBODY FRICKING MOVE I NEED TO FOCUS#not gonna lie Aeri's point of view here is so fking good it's so FRESH IT'S SO---#NOT TO BE HYPER-FOCUSED ON MY DESIRES FOR MARIA'S ARC AND HOW IT DEVELOPS BUT#THIS IS VERY GOOD SGKLSDLFJGHGLKHGFKL sorry I just...#if somebody were to force me to figure out ONE thing to like most about this depresso verse#if i was being held at gunpoint about it basically and forced to pick One Thing#it's gotta be how brilliantly different perspectives come together#Aeri Patrick Devora Taiyang Maria Hyuk LISTEN???? LISTEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#getting an ask from Ferre from their new blog~ i'm holding my cheekies and blushing HEHEHEHEHE~#also how do you still always win at urls care u lots MWAH ♥ i need to get this into the queue ASAP#gosh it being Aeri's PIN GOSH CAN YOU TELL I'M ALL OVER THE PLACE ABOUT THIS IN ENTHUSIASM#gosh María will simply truly... do the most to assign everyone sides hm? MARIA WHAT ABOUT THE NUANCES--#i'm not quite sure what you and wonderful Lynnie have established but... if Aeri was well known as Deva's lover#do you think María might have seen her? in pr thingies? that would explain why she's familiar that's why i added that line~#IF NOT then she's familiar because the look in her eyes would remind her of Deva IT'LL STILL WORK >:3 i went witty >:3333#;queue
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appsa · 1 year
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Superhero movies are only good when theyre silly and for kids like thats the only time it feels heartfelt 😔
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