warning: minors dni! tattoo kink, hair pulling, degradation, dirty talk, dom!Theo, mean!Theo, spit kink, finger fucking, reader is a female.
Summary: You just wanna lick Theo’s tattoos, is that such a bad thing?
You weren’t doing it on purpose.
…Okay, maybe just a little.
It was a stupidly hot day at Hogwarts, and you’d taken full advantage of the uniform loopholes. Your tie was undone and loose around your neck, blouse clinging to your skin, one too many buttons undone. The little green-and-black tartan skirt you wore barely covered your ass, swaying a little more with every step you took past where Theo’s table was in the Great Hall.
And Theo was watching. He always watched.
Leaning back lazily in his seat, arms crossed over his tattooed chest, a half-lidded smirk tugging at his lips as he chewed on a toothpick. He didn’t say anything, not with his mouth—but his eyes said it all. Dark. Sharp. Like he already had you pinned to a wall in his head.
“You trying to die wearing that around him?” Daphne muttered under his breath beside you, raising an eyebrow.
“Hmm?” you hummed innocently, sipping your pumpkin juice with a little grin. “I’m just hot.”
“Yeah, well. So is Theo. And you’re playing with fire.”
You were. But that’s what made it fun.
Later that evening, you wandered into the Slytherin common room, legs bare and curled up on the green velvet couch, flipping lazily through a Quidditch magazine. Theodore was sitting in the armchair across from you, pretending to read—though his gaze was fixated on the inked letters that curled around his forearm. He flexed lazily, rolling the sleeve of his black Henley up just a little further, exposing more of the intricate tattoo sleeve you’d secretly been dying to get your hands on.
Your voice came out light, almost teasing. “Do those tattoos mean anything? Or are you just desperate for attention?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you. His eyes dropped to your thighs—the way the skirt had ridden up from where you sat cross-legged. You suddenly sat up, making your way towards him. He looked at you as your body anchored over him, eyes dark.
“You ever let someone trace them with their tongue?” you added, eyes dancing as you tilted your head at him.
Something in the room changed. It got quiet. Too quiet.
Theo closed his book slowly. Deliberately. And stood.
The smirk was gone.
You took a step back. He took another closer to you. His fingers slid under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.
“You think that mouth of yours is cute, huh?”
You swallowed. Hard.
Now your cheek is pressed against his pillow, breathless, spine arched as Theo kneels behind you, one hand fisted tightly in your hair and the other dragging down your back, nails scraping lightly over your bare skin like he’s marking territory.
And he is.
“Sai cosa stai facendo, tesoro.” he growls against your ear, yanking your hair back just enough to make your throat stretch.
“Thought you were clever? Hm?” His voice drops, teasing, mocking. “Walking in wearing that little skirt—batting your lashes at me like a dumb little slut.”
A harsh slap lands across your ass, sharp and stinging, and you yelp—body jerking, pussy clenching involuntarily around nothing.
“I bet you were dripping all fucking day just thinking about me bending you over,” he spits, hand sliding down to spread you apart, watching how wet you already are. “Fuck—look at you. So needy, it’s pathetic.”
You whimper. You hate how much his words make you ache.
“No, no,” he tuts, leaning in, tattooed chest pressed to your back. “Say it. Say you like being my pathetic little toy.”
“I—fuck, I do,” you gasp. “I like it.”
He chuckles, low and rough, lips dragging down your neck, biting hard enough to bruise. “Louder, bambina.”
“I like being your pathetic little toy,” you moan, back arching for more. “I fucking love it..”
“That’s what I thought.”
You feel him reach between your thighs, fingers sliding through your slick folds—teasing, never giving you enough. When he finally thrusts two fingers inside you, it’s hard and fast, making you cry out. You grip the sheets, drool staining the pillow under your cheek.
“Merde, you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, curling his fingers. “This pussy belongs to me, you understand?”
You nod desperately, but he yanks your hair again. “Use your fucking words.”
“It’s yours—Theo, it’s yours,” you moan, thighs trembling.
He pulls his fingers out and spits on your clit, letting it drip between your folds before plunging his fingers back in, the stretch taking your breath away again.
“Such a good little whore,” he groans, his free hand gripping your tits so tightly you’ll bruise. “Taking my fingers so fucking well.”
The sound of his fingers plunging in and out of your cunt was obscene- and so delicious. You threw your head back and moaned at the sound, toes curling in pleasure from just his fingers. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer and a curse.
“You want to trace my tattoos with your tongue?” he snarls, curling his fingers inside you, keeping up his brutal pace. “Then beg for it. Beg like the needy slut you are.”
You’re a mess, body shaking, tears at the corners of your eyes. “Please, Theo—please let me. I’ll do anything.”
“Tell me who owns you.”
“You do,” you whisper. “Only you.”
He grins, dark and feral. “Good girl.”
Your body trembles against his, used and wrung out, but still needy—still aching for him. And he knows it. He watches you with that maddening, hooded gaze like you’re prey he’s not quite finished with yet.
He lets go of your hair and eases his digits our of you slowly, savoring the way you whimper at the emptiness. A smug sound leaves his throat as he brushes a hand down your spine, fingers dragging over your skin, then tapping your chin.
“Turn around.”
You obey immediately, flipping over and sitting up on trembling knees, thighs sticky, cheeks flushed and marked with the heat of everything he’s done to you. He sits back on the edge of the bed now, shirt long gone, chest bare and glistening with sweat—those intricate tattoos on full display across his arms, chest, and neck.
You lick your lips. Your eyes are glued to the black ink wrapping around his biceps and up his throat like fire licking at his skin.
“Go on, bambina,” he purrs, voice low and rough. “You wanted to taste them, didn’t you?”
Your breath hitches as you crawl forward, slow and reverent now, like you’re worshipping him. Your hands settle on his thighs, nails digging in just a little as you lean forward and drag your tongue along the ink winding down his forearm. His breath stutters.
“You’re fucking mine,” he murmurs, hand sliding up into your hair again, gripping tight. Not pulling— just claiming. “Every inch of you. Mine..”
Your lips follow the swirling patterns of black ink over his wrist, up his inner arm. You press kisses against the designs, then trace your tongue slowly along the line curling toward his bicep. Every time your mouth touches him, you hear him breathe harder, feel his grip tighten.
“Filthy little thing,” he mutters, watching you with barely-contained hunger. “So desperate to worship me. Look at you—on your knees, licking my skin like a good girl.”
You let out a soft whimper, tongue sliding across the sharp black design over his shoulder. He tastes like sweat and sex and smoke—him. Your thighs press together again, unsatisfied.
He notices. Of course he does.
“Pathetic,” he chuckles, eyes gleaming. “You’re still fucking needy?”
You nod against his skin, mouth moving across his collarbone, lips brushing over the tattoo that snakes around his throat.
“You’re disgusting,” he growls, grabbing your jaw suddenly and yanking your head back to face him. “And you’re perfect.”
Then he pulls you into his lap, dragging your slick cunt right over his thigh, hands gripping your hips.
“Ride it. While you keep tasting me.”
Your eyes blow wide, yet you obey. You want to be a good girl for him, don’t you? Your mouth returning to the ink sprawled across his chest as you grind against the thick muscle of his leg, whimpering, rutting, all while your tongue keeps tracing the lines of ink like a girl possessed.
He watches you with blown pupils, head tilted back slightly as he groans.
“Trace every inch of me, la mia bellissima ragazza,” he hisses. My beautiful slut. “And maybe—maybe—I’ll let you cum.”
You're an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt's best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can't ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don't understand the fire you're playing with- but Matt does. And he's burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.
story warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap) p in v, virginity loss, squirting, creampie, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, getting caught, pet names (sweetheart, angel, my love), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!
word count: 6k
ib: @ariestrxsh’s young god
“You’ve earned it now for sure, sweetheart. You ready?”
His words send a sharp thrill down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach at the sheer possession in his tone. His fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up further, forcing you to hold his gaze. His blue eyes are still dark, still hazy, but there’s something new simmering beneath the surface now- something wicked, something insatiable.
“Did you like that, angel?” His voice is rough, still laced with the remnants of his pleasure, but now there’s an edge to it- low and dangerous, laced with the promise of something more.
You don’t answer, but the way your breath hitches, the way your thighs press together instinctively, tells him everything he needs to know.
A slow smirk tugs at his lips as his grip shifts, fingers ghosting along your jaw before trailing lower, his knuckles grazing the rapid pulse at your throat. His touch is featherlight, teasing, as if testing just how much you can take.
“You’ve were so good for me,” he murmurs, his thumb swiping across your lower lip, pressing just enough to part your lips slightly. “I think it’s time I take care of you again, yeah?”
The anticipation coils tight in your stomach as he leans forward, his breath hot against your skin. His free hand slides down, fingertips skimming your arm before tracing over your waist, your hips, until he’s gripping you firmly, pulling you closer.
“You want that, don’t you, sweetheart?” he purrs, his lips brushing just below your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.
Your body betrays you before you can even answer- your fingers gripping onto his thighs, your breath coming out in a shaky exhale.
Matt chuckles, low and knowing, the sound vibrating against your skin.
“That’s what I thought.”
His hands tighten, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands landing against his chest. His skin is still warm, his dick hard beneath your slick heat.
The way his gaze drags over you- slow, possessive, like he’s already imagining all the ways he’s about to ruin you makes your stomach flip.
His hands slide down, gripping your hips, holding you there like he’s savoring the moment, like he’s memorizing the way you feel against him.
“You’re shaking,” he notes, voice dark with amusement. “What’s the matter, angel? Too much?”
You shake your head, but he tuts, tilting his head.
“No? Then why don’t you show me just how much you can take?”
The challenge hangs between you, thick with heat, and before you can second-guess yourself, your fingers dig into his shoulders, and you move- shifting against him, running your slick folds him. You don’t know why you’re doing it, but for whatever reason you had the painful urge to create friction between you and him.
Matt’s breath hisses through his teeth, his grip on your hips tightening like a warning.
“Careful, sweetheart, ” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, rough with restraint. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
You don’t understand what he’s saying and your mind is too polluted with the feeling of him hard and warm against you so you shift again, just slightly, and that’s all it takes. Matt’s patience snaps.
A low growl rumbles from his chest, and before you can react, his hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he moves.
Your gasp barely has time to escape before you’re in the air, weightless for a moment as he lifts you with ease. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, legs dangling around his waist as he carries you, his grip firm and unyielding, his movements purposeful.
Your heart pounds, breath catching in your throat as he strides across your room.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Matt murmurs against your ear, his voice deep and wrecked, laced with something raw, something possessive.
Your body shivers in response, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him, your nerves warring with your excitement.
You feel your cool silk sheets against your back as he lays you down, his weight following immediately after, pressing you into the mattress.
His hands roam, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of you beneath him. His blue eyes are dark, hooded, filled with something almost reverent as he takes you in- every curve, every inch of skin exposed to him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing a slow, teasing path down your side, his touch featherlight, making you shiver.
His lips find yours- soft at first, coaxing, but quickly turning hungry, desperate. He kisses you like he’s been starving, like he can’t get enough, his hands never still, never stopping.
“You sure about this?” he rasps against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot, uneven.
The concern in his voice tugs at something deep in your chest, and it only makes you fall harder.
You nod, biting your lip, eyes wide and full of trust as you whisper, “I want this. I want you.”
Matt groans, his hand slipping beneath your thigh, dragging it higher around his waist as his lips move to your neck, leaving a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint, his self-control hanging by a thread.
But he won’t rush. Not with you. Not when he finally has you where he’s always wanted you- completely his.
And tonight that’s exactly what you’ll be.
Matt exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours for just a second as he gathers himself, as if grounding himself in this moment. His fingers trail lightly along your side, tracing the delicate curve of your waist, his touch so careful- like he’s handling something precious.
Because to him, you are.
“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, lower, laced with something almost tender. His fingertips ghost over your arm, your shoulder, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to pretend you’re not.”
Your breath hitches, and you nod, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you try to steady yourself. He’s right- you are nervous. Your heart is racing, your stomach tight with anticipation, with the weight of everything this moment means. But you trust him.
“I just… I don’t know what to do,” you whisper softly, your voice a squeak. Your cheeks heat at the confession even though he already knows. It’s still embarrassing to you how inexperienced you sound, how vulnerable.
Matt groans, his hands flexing against your hips. “Fuck,” he breathes, shaking his head slightly, like he’s trying to rein himself in. “You have no idea how much that turns me on, do you?”
Your lips part, confused, and his gaze darkens, his fingers tilting your chin up.
“You’re so innocent,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he can’t believe it, like it’s something he’s savoring. “So sweet. So fucking pure.”
His thumb brushes against your lower lip, dragging it down slightly, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. “And you’re giving yourself to me,” he says, voice thick, reverent. “Letting me be your first.”
A shiver runs down your spine at the weight of his words, at the intensity in his gaze, like he’s memorizing every second of this, like this means just as much to him as it does to you.
“I want it to be you,” you whisper, your fingers curling around his wrist, holding onto him, grounding yourself in him. “I trust you, Matt.”
He groans again, low and wrecked, his restraint visibly unraveling at the edges. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
His lips trail lower, slow and deliberate, down your throat, to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. He takes his time, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every inch of exposed skin, his hands never rushing, never demanding.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he reassures you, his voice gentle but firm. “Just let me take care of you. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”
His fingers slide down your sides, mapping out your body with reverence, learning you, memorizing you. He’s slow, patient, making sure you feel everything, making sure you have time to adjust, to breathe.
“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “So perfect.”
Matt hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers, his touch impossibly gentle. His blue eyes search yours, dark but soft, so full of something deep and unspoken.
“You’re absolutely sure?” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper, but beneath it is a layer of concern, of restraint.
You nod, swallowing hard, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “I want you.”
Matt exhales slowly, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “Okay, angel,” he murmurs, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”
His hand traces down your sides again, warm and steady, grounding you as he uses his other hand to position himself, swiping the head of his cock through your slick folds a few times, collecting your arousal that’s dripping onto your thighs.
You both moan at the contact, your eyes glued to his cock, his eyes glued to you. Every movement is unhurried and deliberate- like he’s savoring every second, like he’s making sure you’re ready.
But when he finally starts to push in, your breath catches- your entire body tensing at the unfamiliar stretch, the slow, burning pressure.
Matt freezes immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as his forehead drops against yours. “Shit,” he breathes, voice tight. “You’re so -fuck- so tight, angel.”
A small whimper escapes you, your nails digging into his shoulders. It’s more than you expected- it aches, a deep, overwhelming pressure that steals the breath from your lungs.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Matt-” Your voice wobbles and comes out small and uncertain. You knew he looked big, but you didn’t know it would feel this big.
His head snaps up, and the second he sees your expression, his entire demeanor shifts. His hands cup your face instantly, his thumbs wiping at the wetness gathering beneath your lashes.
“Hey, hey- sweetheart, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, soothing. “I’ve got you. We don’t have to do this, okay? Just say the word, and we stop.”
You shake your head quickly, your fingers tightening around his biceps. “No- I want to,” you insist, though your voice is barely a whisper. “It just… it just hurts a little.”
Matt swallows hard, his restraint written all over his face, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t push any further. Instead, he leans down, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your lips.
“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he breathes against your mouth. “So good for me.”
His hands stroke your sides, slow and reassuring, easing the tension in your body. He kisses you again. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck- each one gentle, patient, as he gives you time to adjust.
“Just breathe for me,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Relax, my love. Let me in.”
You take a shaky breath, trying to will your body to unclench, and slowly, bit by bit, the burn starts to fade. It’s still overwhelming, still a stretch, but the pain begins to dull, replaced by something warmer, something deeper.
Matt watches your face carefully, his fingers brushing soothing circles into your skin. “Better?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
You nod hesitantly. “Yeah… better.”
He exhales in relief, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before he moves, just a little, just enough to make you gasp.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re taking me so well.”
You feel so impossibly full- stretched beyond anything you ever thought possible. It’s overwhelming, an ache that borders on too much, like your body is being split apart, struggling to take all of him.
A fresh wave of tears prick at your eyes, your breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps as you shift slightly, trying to adjust.
“Are you… are you all the way in?” you whisper, your voice small.
You prop yourself up on trembling elbows, forcing yourself to look down and the second your gaze lands between your bodies, your stomach drops.
He’s not even halfway there.
Your eyes widen, lips parting in silent disbelief, and when you snap your head up to meet his gaze, Matt is already watching you.
His blue eyes are dark, searching, laced with nothing but pure lust, his jaw tight as he takes in your expression.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low, strained, like he’s barely holding on.
You swallow thickly, your fingers clutching onto his arms, your entire body trembling beneath him.
“I…” You trail off, unable to form words, the realization hitting you like a freight train as you lay back down.
Matt exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot and uneven.
“We’ll go slow,” he murmurs. His hands stroke over your thighs, your waist, smoothing over your skin in silent reassurance. “I’ve got you. I promise.”
His lips brush against yours, soft and patient, as he whispers against your mouth. “Just breathe for me.”
And as he finally, finally sinks in all the way, filling you completely, his hands never stop touching you, never stop soothing you.
Matt stills the moment he’s fully inside you, his breath ragged, his arms nearly trembling as he holds himself still. His forehead presses against yours, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room is the shared rhythm of your breathing, the quiet hum of your bodies pressed so intimately together.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so good, angel- so warm, so tight.”
You whimper softly, still adjusting to the overwhelming fullness, the deep stretch that leaves you breathless. Your body is still tense, still unsure, but Matt doesn’t move, doesn’t rush, doesn’t do anything except hold you close, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw, the tip of your nose.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing slow, comforting circles against your hip.
You nod hesitantly, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath your touch. “It’s… a lot,” you admit, your voice small, shaky.
Matt exhales sharply, his grip tightening like he’s barely holding himself together. “I know, my love,” he soothes, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “I know. Just breathe for me, yeah? Let your body relax.”
His hands continue moving- gliding up and down your sides, ghosting over your stomach, slipping beneath your thighs to pull you just a little closer. He kisses you again, deep and slow, his tongue tracing along your lower lip, distracting you, coaxing you into letting go of the last bit of tension.
And when you finally, finally exhale, your muscles softening beneath him, Matt groans, his jaw clenching.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “That’s my good girl.”
He pulls out just an inch before easing back in, slow and careful, watching your face the entire time. You gasp, nails digging into his back, overwhelmed by the sensation, the way he fills you so completely, like he was made to fit against you, inside you.
Matt’s breathing is ragged now, his control visibly fraying, but he keeps his pace slow, keeps his movements gentle as he only pushes about and inch out and back into you. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw. “Taking me so well- being so good for me.”
Your body starts to adjust, the discomfort slowly fading, replaced by something warmer, something that makes your toes curl and your breath stutter. A soft moan escapes you, and Matt groans in response, his fingers tightening against your hips.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice rough, strained. “Feels better, doesn’t it?”
You nod breathlessly, your hands sliding up his arms, over his shoulders, clinging to him as the warmth between your legs grows, the pleasure building in slow, tantalizing waves.
“Please,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re begging for, only knowing that you don’t want him to stop, don’t want this moment to end.
Matt groans like the sound of your voice is his undoing. “Fuck,” he breathes, his movements still slow but deeper now, more deliberate. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”
He presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his body moving against yours in a rhythm that feels like a confession, like worship. Every roll of his hips is measured, controlled, like he’s savoring you, like he wants this to last forever.
“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with possession. “You know that, right?”
You shiver beneath him, nodding without hesitation. “Yes,” you whisper.
His lips curl into a smirk against your skin, and his fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands above your head.
“Good girl.”
And then he moves, slow and deep and perfect, and you finally, finally surrender completely.
Matt’s slow, controlled thrusts start to falter, his breathing growing heavier, more uneven. He’s been holding back, reining himself in, treating you like something fragile, something delicate. But the second you moan his name, the second your nails scrape down his back, something snaps inside him.
“Fuck-” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. So perfect for me. I can’t hold back anymore. Tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?”
His pace picks up immediately, his movements more desperate, more intense. The deep, steady thrusts give way to something rougher, something needier, like he can’t get enough of you, like he needs to feel every inch of you wrapped around him.
“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he growls against your ear, his voice dark, strained with pleasure. “Wanted me to ruin you?”
You whimper beneath him, barely able to form words, your body overwhelmed by the way he’s taking you now, by the way he’s making you feel.
He smirks against your neck, biting down just enough to make you gasp. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his lips tracing down your jaw. “Taking me so fucking well. Such a good girl for me.”
His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body arching against him, craving more. He notices, of course he notices, and groans, one hand slipping between your bodies, fingers finding the most sensitive part of you.
“Fuck- listen to you,” he breathes, his fingers working you in slow, devastating circles. “So fucking needy for me. You like this, don’t you? Like being my good girl?”
You nod frantically, barely able to think straight, the pleasure building so fast it leaves you dizzy.
Matt chuckles, dark and satisfied, his other hand gripping your thigh, pulling your leg over his shoulder to take him even deeper.
“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his pace relentless now, his hips slamming into yours with every thrust. “God, you feel so fucking good. So perfect. All mine.”
You’re close- you can feel it, the pleasure coiling tight, ready to snap. Your hands grip his shoulders, your body trembling beneath him, and he notices that too.
“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart on me?”
You nod, whimpering his name, and that’s all he needs.
His fingers move faster, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, hitting that spot that makes you cry out, your entire body tightening around him.
“Come on,” he groans, his voice wrecked. “Be the good girl you know you are and cum for me.”
Everything shatters.
Pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming, your entire body trembling as you fall apart beneath him.
Matt groans, feeling your body tense and shudder around him as your climax washes over you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, and he watches you unravel beneath him with a look of pure possession.
“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, his fingers still working you through your high, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure. “So fucking beautiful when you cum around me.”
But he isn’t done. Not even close.
His hips never stop moving, never stop thrusting deep into you, and the overstimulation has you whimpering, your body twitching as he keeps pushing you past your limit.
“Too much?” he teases, smirking against your neck as he rolls his hips just right, making your back arch off the bed. “You can take it, sweetheart. Just let me make you feel good.”
You whimper, overwhelmed, but the heat in your stomach is already building again, the sensitivity morphing into another wave of unbearable pleasure.
“You wanted me to make you feel good, didn’t you?” Matt growls, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider as he pounds into you with deep, bruising thrusts. “Wanted me to use this perfect untouched little body until you crumble?”
You can’t even answer, your words turning into breathless moans, and Matt groans, his pace rough and unrelenting.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, his head falling against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. “So tight, so fucking perfect- God, I’m not gonna stop. Not until I’ve had my fill of you.”
He moves your other leg over his shoulder, sinking even deeper, and you cry out, your whole body jolting from the intensity of it.
“That’s it,” he praises, his hands roaming over your body, gripping your waist, your thighs, your breasts. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
You’re already close again- your body hasn’t had time to recover, the pleasure slamming into you with relentless force.
“You gonna cum for me again?” Matt grits out, his voice wrecked, strained. “Come on, baby, give me another- wanna feel you squeeze me again.”
His fingers press harder, rubbing tight, devastating circles against your swollen clit, matching the deep, punishing rhythm of his hips. The pressure is unbearable, the heat coiling so tightly in your stomach that you can barely breathe.
“Matt-” you gasp, your entire body locking up, your back arching as white-hot pleasure rips through you.
But this time it’s different.
Your orgasm hits you like a fucking tidal wave, crashing into you with so much force that your vision blurs, your breath catches, your legs shake uncontrollably over his shoulders. A sharp, helpless cry rips from your throat as your body clenches so hard around him that he groans, his rhythm faltering.
A sudden rush of liquid spills between you, soaking the sheets, drenching his stomach, your thighs, everything.
For a split second, your mind goes blank.
Your body shudders violently, your chest heaving, your limbs weak, your head spinning.
Matt stills.
You’re panting, shaking, blinking up at him in shock, completely dazed, barely able to comprehend what just happened.
Matt exhales sharply, his jaw tightening, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls back slightly, looking down at the mess between you.
His lips part, his eyes darkening, and then he lets out a low, guttural groan.
“Holy fuck.”
Your face burns, your stomach twisting in embarrassment. You have no idea what just happened.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, mortified, trying to close your legs, trying to hide, but Matt’s hands clamp down on your thighs, spreading you open again.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls, his voice low, feral, dripping with pure, unfiltered desire. His thumb swipes through the wetness, his breath shaky, his body tense.
“You just fucking squirted all over me,” he mutters, almost like he can’t believe it, like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
You let out a small, humiliated whimper, covering your face with your hands, but Matt just chuckles darkly, shaking his head.
“Sweetheart,” he purrs, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, caging you in. “You think I’d be anything other than completely fucking obsessed with this?”
Your eyes widen as he grinds against you again, still hard, still throbbing inside you.
“You’re gonna do that again,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against your pulse, his hips pulling back only to slam into you again.
“And this time, I want you to scream my name when you do it.”
Matt doesn’t give you a second to recover- doesn’t give you time to process what just happened.
Before you can catch your breath, before you can even close your legs, he’s already moving again, thrusting deep into you, stretching you all over again, his hands gripping your hips like he never wants to let go.
“Oh my god- Matt-” you gasp, your voice wrecked, shaking, your entire body still tingling from the last orgasm.
But Matt- Matt is relentless.
“That’s right, sweetheart, say my fuckin name,” he growls, snapping his hips forward, his pace turning brutal, needy, unforgiving. “You’re gonna give me another one. I know you can.”
His fingers slip between your bodies, rubbing tight, torturous circles over your clit again, zeroing in on your most sensitive spot.
You whimper, thrash, tremble, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming, too intense.
“Matt- I-” you choke out, your legs twitching, your thighs trying to squeeze together, but he doesn’t let you.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough, desperate, obsessed. “Let it happen. Let me see you cum all over me like that again.”
His pace grows punishing, his fingers unrelenting, and you can feel it building again.
The heat, the pressure, the sharp coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach so fast it nearly blinds you.
You try to fight it- try to pull away, the overstimulation too much, too intense.
But Matt doesn’t let you.
“Don’t you fucking run from it,” he growls, pinning you down, holding you still, his breath hot against your ear. “Be a good girl and fucking take it.”
That’s all it takes.
Your body seizes, your back arching off the bed, and then-
A sharp, helpless scream rips from your throat as another rush of liquid spills from you, gushing between your legs, soaking the sheets, drenching him all over again.
“Holy fuck-” Matt groans, his jaw clenching, his hips faltering as he watches it happen, as he feels it happen.
Your entire body shakes, your vision going white, your mind blanking completely as wave after wave of pleasure crashes into you.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls, his voice strained, wrecked, completely gone as he pounds into you one last time.
“Fuck- Y/N-”
.A deep, wrecked groan tears from his throat as he buries himself inside you, his entire body shuddering as he spills into you, his fingers gripping you like he never wants to let go.
For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, the warm press of your bodies still tangled together as he pulls out.
Matt collapses against you, his lips brushing over your damp skin as he exhales shakily. “Fuck,” he mutters, still catching his breath. “You’re… unreal.”
You hum softly, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. But just when you think you’re done, Matt’s lips curl into a smirk against your skin.
“You didn’t think we were finished, did you?” he murmurs, his hands already sliding down your body, already spreading your legs apart again.
Your breath hitches. “Matt-”
But he’s already kissing down your body, already pressing his fingers against your still-sensitive core.
“You can give me one more,” he coaxes, his voice smooth, confident. “And then another. And then another.”
His blue eyes flicker up to yours, dark and filled with something insatiable.
“You’re mine for the night, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh. “And I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
Within seconds he’s moving again, his hands pulling the teeshirt over his head and throwing it across the room, hands gripping your thighs and spreading you open beneath him. His blue eyes are dark, wild, still hungry as he drags his fingers down your oversensitive core, teasing, testing.
“You can give me more, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, coaxing. “I know you can.”
Your body jolts as his fingers slip between your folds, his touch slow but deliberate, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your already throbbing clit. A cry escapes your lips, your body twitching from the complete and utter overstimulation, but he just smirks, watching you squirm beneath him.
“Too much?” he teases, tilting his head as he leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. “That’s what you said last time, too- and look at you now.”
His fingers push inside you, and you gasp, your nails digging into his arms as he starts pumping them at a devastating pace, curling them just right. His thumb continues rubbing tight circles against your clit, and the pleasure slams into you again, sharp and overwhelming.
“Matt- ” you cry out, but your words dissolve into breathless moans as he keeps working you, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.
“Shh, my love,” he soothes, his other hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open for him. “Just let me make you feel good again.”
His fingers work you faster, deeper, and you’re already spiraling, already teetering on the edge again, your body writhing beneath him. He watches your face, his lips curling into a smirk as he sees the way your eyes squeeze shut, the way your mouth parts in desperate pleasure.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Cum for me again, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart.”
It crashes over you so fast you barely have time to prepare- your 5th orgasm of the night tearing through you, your entire body seizing up as you cry out his name, your hands clutching onto him like he’s the only thing grounding you.
Matt groans, feeling the way you clench around his fingers, the way your body trembles from the sheer force of it. He keeps his movements steady, dragging out your pleasure until you’re twitching from the overstimulation, whimpering against his shoulder.
“God damn,” he breathes, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your jaw. “So fucking good for me. So fucking perfect.”
But he’s not done. Before you can even process what’s happening, he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your hands and knees. Your breath catches, your body still trembling, but Matt’s hands are firm, steady, guiding you exactly where he wants you.
“You can give me one more,” he murmurs, his hands smoothing over your hips before gripping them tight. “Just one more, baby.”
He pushes inside you in one slow, deep thrust, and the stretch makes you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as he fills you up completely.
“Fuck,” Matt groans, his hands tightening on your waist. “You’re still so fucking tight. How are you still this tight?”
He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, and you let out a strangled moan, your back arching as he sets a brutal, relentless pace.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he growls, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you harder and unbelievably faster and deeper, like he’s finally letting himself go. “So fucking perfect for me.”
His hands slide up your back, one gripping the back of your neck, the other slipping between your legs, rubbing rough, desperate circles against your puffy and abused clit. Your body jolts at the contact, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach again, and Matt groans at the way you squeeze around him.
“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate. “One more. Come with me this time.”
You’re so close, the pleasure slamming into you so hard it leaves you breathless. Matt’s grip tightens, his movements growing frantic, and his voice is wrecked as he whispers,
“You’re mine, baby. All fucking mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice, the way he’s taking you, claiming you—it sends lightning through your veins, the coil in your stomach tightening dangerously fast.
“Matty- ” you choke out, your nails digging into his back, your body clenching around him, and he feels it, notices it, because his thrusts somehow become even harder, faster and deeper.
“That’s it, sweetheart, don’t hold back,” he groans, his thumb slipping between you, pressing even rougher circles against your swollen clit. “You’re gonna come for me again. I can feel it.”
His free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, letting him sink in even deeper, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.
It’s too much.
Your whole body locks up, your mouth falling open as a strangled, wrecked cry rips from your throat. Your orgasm slams into you, wave after violent wave, and you can’t stop it-
The release pours out of you, drenching the sheets, soaking him, the mess between you completely obscene.
Matt loses it.
“Holy fucking shit-” he groans loudly, his hips slamming into you one last time, his entire body tensing hard as he buries himself deep inside you.
His release spills into you again, hot and endless, mixing with yours, his grip on you tightening, his body shuddering from the sheer force of it.
Matt finally pulls out, groaning softly as he watches his release spill out of you, dripping onto the already ruined sheets beneath you. He lets out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, looking down at the complete mess you both made. “We absolutely destroyed these sheets.”
You let out a whimper, covering your face with your hands, still dazed, still trembling from everything that just happened.
Matt grins, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against your temple before rolling off the bed.
“Stay there,” he murmurs, pulling the soaking wet sheets off the mattress in one swift motion. The fabric lands on the floor with a heavy thud, and he’s already reaching for fresh ones, moving quickly, effortlessly, like he’s done this before.
Your face burns at the thought.
Matt glances over his shoulder at you, smirking, noticing your expression.
“Don’t go getting all shy on me now, baby,” he teases, snapping the new sheet over the mattress, smoothing it out with practiced ease. “Not after you just squirted all over me, what? Three times?”
You groan, burying your face in a pillow as he lets out a low, satisfied laugh.
“Adorable,” he muses, tossing the ruined sheets into the corner before climbing back into bed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.
“All set, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair, grinning as he wraps himself around you again. “Now get over here and let me hold you.”
And even as exhaustion starts to take over, his grip never loosens- his body never stops pressing against yours, holding you close like he never wants to let go.
Matt groans softly, still catching his breath, his arms wrapped securely around you. His body is warm, his skin slick with sweat, but neither of you move for a long moment, both too blissed out, too exhausted.
You’re still blushing furiously, the aftermath of everything settling in.
But there’s one thing you can’t quite wrap your head around.
You shift slightly, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes, your fingers playing with the hem of the blanket.
“Matt…” you murmur, your voice small.
He hums in response, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip.
You hesitate before finally asking, genuine confusion in your tone,
“…What happened to me… when I… you know?”
Matt stills.
His lips twitch, and he lifts his head slightly, brows raising as he looks at you, almost like he didn’t hear you right.
“You mean… when you came?” he asks carefully, watching your expression.
You chew on your lip, your cheeks burning, your body curling in on itself slightly.
“I- I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling incredibly shy. “I just… it felt really good but then- then it was like…a lot.”
Matt’s eyes darken, his grip tightening slightly on your hip as he exhales through his nose, clearly holding back a smirk.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, amusement lacing his voice. “You really don’t know?”
You shake your head quickly, suddenly mortified.
Matt grins, propping himself up on his elbow, gazing down at you like he’s completely enamored.
“Baby,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You squirted. Like I said”
You blink.
Your brows furrow, and you shift under the blanket, pulling it closer around you, feeling smaller, embarrassed.
“I- what?”
Matt chuckles, clearly loving this.
“You know…” he smirks, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “When a girl gets so worked up, so completely lost in pleasure that she-”
He gestures vaguely to the soaked sheets on the floor.
You follow his gaze- and suddenly, realization dawns.
Your eyes widen, your face going completely red, and you whip your head back to him, absolutely mortified.
“MATT!” you squeak, hiding your face in your hands.
He laughs, genuinely laughs, shaking his head as he pulls your hands away, his grip gentle but firm.
“Hey, hey,” he soothes, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Don’t get all embarrassed. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
You groan, your cheeks burning, trying to turn away from him, but he won’t let you.
“Sweetheart,” he purrs, tilting your chin up so you have to look at him.
His blue eyes are dark, filled with something warm, something possessive.
“You have no idea how much that turned me on,” he murmurs. “How fucking good you looked when you let go like that.”
Your stomach flutters violently, and you bury your face in his chest, whining softly.
Matt just laughs again, wrapping his arms tighter around you, completely obsessed with your innocence, your sweetness.
Then he shifts.
You blink up at him, bleary-eyed, as he carefully untangles himself from you and swings his legs over the side of the bed.
“Where are you going?” you murmur sleepily, frowning as you reach for him.
Matt chuckles, shaking his head as he stands. “Relax, sweetheart. I just need to clean you up.”
That wakes you up a little more.
You sit up, your brow furrowing in confusion. “You need to… what?”
Matt glances at you over his shoulder, smirking. “Clean you up,” he repeats simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He grabs a clean rag from the dresser and disappears into the bathroom.
You sit there, stunned, your legs still weak and trembling as you try to process the situation. He’s… he’s going to clean you up?
You don’t have time to overthink it before Matt is back, damp rag in hand, his expression calm and casual- like he hasn’t just spent the past however long wrecking you completely.
But then he kneels back onto the bed, his large hands gripping your thighs, and you suddenly feel very small, very exposed.
“Matt-” you start, but he just smirks, shaking his head as he spreads your legs apart again.
“Sweetheart,” he tuts, his voice low, teasing. “I just made you cum like six times. You can’t be all shy and shit now.”
Your entire face burns, your thighs instinctively trying to press back together, but Matt just grips them firmly, keeping you open for him.
“Matthew!” you squeak, but then you see it.
Your gaze drops, and your breath catches as you notice the mess between your legs- his cum, mixed with yours, spilling out of you, slick and warm against your thighs.
“Oh my God,” you gasp, absolutely mortified.
Matt chuckles, his eyes darkening as he watches your reaction. “It’s normal, angel,” he reassures you, his thumb stroking your inner thigh.
You look back up at him, eyes wide. “You’re not… grossed out?”
He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “No, sweetheart. If anything…” He leans in slightly, his gaze flickering downward, his jaw clenching. “I’m almost getting hard again just looking at it.”
Your face somehow turns even redder.
“Oh my gosh,” you whimper, covering your face with your hands as you flop back against the pillows, absolutely overwhelmed.
Matt just chuckles again, his smirk unmistakably smug as he brings the warm rag between your legs and starting to clean you up, his touch gentle, careful.
But even as he moves with patience, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, and the way he looks at you makes you wonder just how much rest you’re actually going to get tonight.
After he finishes cleaning you up, Matt tosses the rag aside and looks down at you, his blue eyes softer now, filled with something warm, something that makes your stomach flutter. He brushes a hand over your thigh, his fingers tracing gentle, soothing circles.
“You sore?” he asks, his voice low, genuinely concerned.
You shift slightly, feeling the lingering ache between your legs, and nod. “Yeah… it hurts down here.”
Matt exhales, running a hand through his hair before he moves, standing just long enough to walk around the bed before slipping under the covers on the other side. He pats the mattress beside him.
“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, inviting.
You hesitate only for a second before scooting over, letting him pull you into his arms. His warmth surrounds you instantly, his body solid and comforting, his scent still intoxicating- like musk and something undeniably him.
His chin rests lightly atop your head, and he sighs, his hands lazily tracing up and down your back, grounding you both in the quiet afterglow.
“How was it?” he asks after a moment, his voice rumbling against your skin. “Your first time?”
You let out a soft giggle, nuzzling closer against his chest. “It was really good,” you admit, your voice muffled against his skin. “But… I don’t really know what it’s supposed to feel like.”
Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you came six times, I’d say it was pretty damn good, sweetheart.”
“Is that normal?” Your cheeks flush, and you bite your lip, hiding your face against him.
He laughs again, clearly amused. “No. Not usually. But that’s a good thing,”
“Matt?” you ask, your voice quieter now.
“Mm?”
You shift, rolling over so you can face him. He tilts his head slightly, his brows raising at your expression.
“How many people have you done it with?” you ask, your gaze flickering downward, suddenly shy.
Matt blinks, visibly caught off guard. His mouth opens, then closes, and for the first time since the night started, he looks almost… awkward.
“Uh…” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why?”
You shrug, still not looking at him, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know,” you mumble, your voice suddenly small. “I was just… wondering.”
Matt watches you for a long moment, and then realization dawns. His lips twitch slightly, and he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze.
“Are you jealous?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.
You immediately look down, avoiding his eyes entirely, and he exhales sharply, his smirk growing.
“Oh, you are,” he murmurs, his fingers tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes flicker with something playful, something teasing. “That’s adorable.”
You groan, covering your face with your hands, but Matt just chuckles, prying them away and pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, “I don’t care about anyone before you. The only person I’m thinking about right now- the only person I want- is you.”
Your stomach flips at his words, and you finally look up at him, your lips parting slightly. His expression softens, and his thumb strokes over your cheek, his gaze filled with something deeper, something more sincere.
“Okay?” he murmurs.
You nod, swallowing thickly. “Okay.”
Matt grins, clearly satisfied, and pulls you back against his chest, his arms tightening around you.
“Good,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Because I plan on keeping you all to myself.”
Matt tilts your chin up again, his blue eyes flickering between yours, his gaze deep, searching. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his breath warm as he leans in.
And then he kisses you.
It’s not like before- not rushed or desperate. This kiss is slow, deep, intimate. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your stomach flip, makes your body melt into his touch. His hands cradle your face like you’re something precious, his fingers tracing soft patterns along your jaw, down your neck.
You sigh into his mouth, your arms looping around his shoulders, pulling him closer. The heat between you starts to build again, your bodies pressing together under the covers, the slow drag of his lips against yours turning into something more heated, more urgent.
Matt groans softly, tilting your head back further as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss. His hands wander lower, slipping beneath the blanket, gripping your waist as he shifts, rolling you onto your back.
He hovers over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips trailing down your jaw, his breath warm against your skin.
“God,” he murmurs, his voice husky, wrecked, “I can’t get enough of you.”
He starts to crawl over you, his knee parting your thighs, his hands framing your face as his lips find yours again, this time more desperate, more claiming-
BANG.
The bedroom door swings open so suddenly it slams against the wall.
“Hey, Y/N, I was a fucking hour into the drive when I realized I forgot my wallet, do you know where I-”
Silence.
Absolute, deafening silence.
You freeze. Matt freezes.
Your brother stands in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, taking in the scene in front of him:
Matt completely naked and hovering over you, your legs tangled together under the covers, both of you breathless, flushed, naked, and clearly caught in the middle of something.
Your brother’s face twists in absolute horror, his expression shifting from shock to pure rage in a matter of seconds. His jaw clenches, his fists tighten, and then-
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” he bellows, his voice shaking the walls.
The room goes still.
Your stomach drops.
Matt’s chest rises and falls slowly, his body tense, frozen, unreadable.
Your eyes snap to his, wide, panicked, pleading.
Matt just meets your gaze, steady and sure, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable.
Neither of you move.
Neither of you speak.
There’s not much you could say anyways.
What is there to do when you’re caught with one man who was off limits?
EPILOGUE OUT NOW!
MASTERLIST
a/n: and with that, the earned it series has come to an end 🫡 thank you for all the love on this series. YOU ARE ALL INCREDIBLE!! you literally give me motivation to write. so thank you. i know i left on another cliffhanger…. sorry not sorry. the original draft of this chapter was actually like 8k words and included what happened after the brother walked in but i decided that I kinda wanna leave it up to the readers mind. yall get to decide what happens after this! (maybe I’ll put out an epilogue or smth idk) BUT THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH!!! SO MUCH LOVE!!!
-c🧡
for @mattsobvimyfav as always, i love you. thank you for being you. you are my sunshine.
Hii! :3 And happy birthday, I wish you all the best!! ❤️❤️ Your fanfics are great and you seem like a lovely person <3 I've thought about sending my request and congratulating you as soon as I saw the requests are open again, but in my homecountry, they say that congratulating someone's birthday early brings bad luck (so I didn't) LOL 😭
As for my request, I'll just repeat it – office siren reader (female if possible, but whatever you feel comfortable writing, of course!) x Aventurine and Gallagher (separately). Also, as I mentioned before, it'd be great if the lyrics of Busy Woman could somehow be relevant (like, the reader is kind of a tease??), but I understand that I'm probably being too vague here lmao 💔
I had this imagine with Gallagher where the reader is a regular visitor in the bar where he serves, so they banter (and optionally flirt ;3) every time they come for a drink and a bit of relaxation after a long day of work (i'm going crazy over that man fr 😔🙏🏻)
Anyway, that's just my idea and feel free to ignore it, I know you probably get a lot of asks, aren't always in the mood, or just don't have any inspiration :3 Have a great day!
Busy Woman, Open Calendar
Tags: Gallagher x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Flirtation & Banter, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining (?), Emotional Tension, Office Siren!Reader, Flirty!Reader, Female!Reader, Mature Themes, Power Dynamics (Aventurine's part), Underlying Angst, Light Dom/Sub Undertones, Touch-Starved Characters, Implied Smut/Suggestive Content (Nothing Explicit) (?), Bittersweet Undertones, Unspoken Feelings, Duality in Tone (Playful ↔ Vulnerable).
Warnings: Suggestive content, Emotional vulnerability, Trauma references, Heavy themes, Power imbalance, Alcohol consumption (Gallagher's part), Implied past trauma.
A/N: TY!!! <33
The Sweet Dream Special had seen all sorts: drunks, dreamers, dealers, and tired corporate puppets looking to unlace their collars. But only one of them ever got under Gallagher’s skin.
You.
Each evening you strolled in, heels clacking like a metronome announcing trouble, dressed in pinstripes and red lipstick sharp enough to slash through his emotional armor. You slid into your usual spot at the bar like you owned it, elbow perched on the counter, your gaze languid and amused.
“Evening, Officer,” you purred, deliberately using the title to fluster. “Got anything that'll knock the paperwork out of my skull?”
Gallagher glanced up from his polishing ritual, scar catching the warm bar light just so. He gave you that look—tired, unbothered, but just slightly amused.
“You sure you don’t want chamomile tea and a yoga mat instead?” he murmured, setting a dark amber drink in front of you. “You look like a lawsuit in heels.”
You grinned. “You look like trauma with a pour spout. We’re even.”
He huffed through his nose. Not quite a laugh, but close.
This was your dance. Always skirting close to something more dangerous, more intimate. You were flirty—relentlessly so—but not unkind. Just busy. Sharp. Self-possessed. And he’d lie to himself every damn night pretending it didn’t affect him.
You sipped the drink and sighed theatrically. “If you keep making it this good, I might just marry you.”
“Don't threaten me. I’m old, not deaf.”
You leaned closer over the bar, enough for him to catch a whiff of your perfume—rich, spicy, with something floral buried in it. “You keep calling yourself old, Gallagher, but I think you like it when I test your heart rate.”
His gaze didn’t flicker. But his hand did pause as he reached for a shaker.
“Not the kind of test I’m trained for,” he said quietly. “And not the kind I’d pass.”
There it was. That flicker of melancholy behind the sarcasm. You tilted your head, lips parting. It was the only time you softened.
“Maybe I don’t want you to pass,” you said. “Maybe I just want someone who doesn’t bullshit me.”
That earned you a pause.
“…You come here to tease, or to connect?” he asked, suddenly serious.
You smiled. Not flirtatious this time—gentle. “I’m a busy woman, Gallagher. If I make time for someone… it’s not by accident.”
The silence between you was a thread pulled taut.
Then you broke it with a wink. “Besides, you’re the only man in this city who’s seen me tipsy and still managed to say no.”
A quiet chuckle, low and cracked. He set down the bottle and leaned in close enough that you could see the line where his glove met his wrist.
“You ask one more time,” he murmured, “and I won’t.”
Your pulse jumped. You swirled the drink, watching the amber spin.
"Then I'll have to decide whether I want a sip… or a bite."
You left without answering. But your number, scrawled in lipstick on a napkin, stayed behind.
He pocketed it without a word.
Aventurine first noticed you at a contract renegotiation table.
You were the sharp-dressed chaos in the corner, phone in hand, heels too high for diplomacy, attitude dialed to lethal. You knew what everyone wanted, and weaponized that knowledge in stilettos and smirks.
He liked that. You were like a loaded die—dangerous, but delightful when you landed in his favor.
After that, you saw each other often: at high-stakes parties, late boardroom nights, deals soaked in champagne and subtext.
The first time he flirted with you, you brushed it off with a laugh and a casual, “You couldn’t afford the consultation fee, darling.”
He smiled like a shark.
Game on.
Tonight, it was different. The two of you were alone. The IPC lounge, empty. Your calendars had conveniently aligned.
“You really are a busy woman,” he said, pouring wine with practiced grace. “You cancel more meetings than the Annual Ethics Review Committee.”
You perched on the velvet seat, legs crossed, lips gleaming in the dim light. “I’m efficient. I don't entertain clowns.”
“And yet,” he drawled, “here you are.”
Your smirk deepened. “I have a weakness for dangerous men with pretty jewelry and repressed daddy issues.”
He laughed. Not his usual polished chuckle, but something real and amused. “Careful. Keep peeling the mask and you might see the monster underneath.”
You stood, sauntered over, and plucked the wine glass from his hand. Took a sip. “I’ve dated worse. At least your brand of manipulation comes with wine and clever metaphors.”
His eyes gleamed, magenta catching the lamplight. “And yours comes with lipstick on legal briefs and threats of emotional terrorism.”
You pressed a hand to his chest. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll move into your schedule and never leave.”
He caught your wrist gently, thumb brushing the pulse point. “Promise?”
For a moment, everything froze. Just the hum of your heartbeat and his careful grip.
You were both masks on fire. Two performers dancing on the edge of something neither could name.
“I don’t do love,” you said finally.
“Neither do I.”
“But I do do dangerous games.”
Aventurine smiled. Slow. Wicked.
“Then, my dear busy woman, let’s make this the highest-stakes gamble of our lives.”
A late-night drive with Matt turns into something more than either of you expected. ʚɞ M.S
The night is heavy. Not just in the way the clouds swallow the moon or how the streetlights flicker like they’re struggling to stay awake, but in the way the air feels between you and Matt, charged, tense, and waiting for something to snap.
You’re not sure how long you’ve been driving. Time moves weirdly when it’s just the two of you, slipping through your fingers like smoke. The city is miles behind, replaced by winding backroads and stretches of nothing but darkness.
Matt hasn’t spoken much. He rarely does when he’s like this.. brooding, lost in thoughts he won’t share. His fingers grip the steering wheel tighter than usual, his jaw flexing every so often like he’s holding something back. You don’t push. You never do.
The only sound is the low hum of the engine and the song playing through the speakers, something slow, something aching. It matches the weight in your chest, the unspoken thing that’s been sitting between you for weeks now.
You shift in your seat, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your hands as you glance at him. “You good?”
His lips twitch, like he’s debating whether to lie. But then he exhales, shaking his head slightly. “Just… needed to get away for a bit.”
You nod. “Yeah. Me too.”
That earns you a glance, his blue hues flicking to yours for a second too long before he looks back at the road. There’s something in that look, something you can’t quite name but feel deep in your bones.
A few minutes later, he pulls off onto a gravel road, the tires crunching over loose stones as he parks near an empty clearing. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating nothing but trees and the faint glimmer of mist rolling across the ground. He kills the engine, and suddenly, it’s just silence.
Thick, suffocating silence.
You swallow, fingers twitching against your thigh. “Why here?”
Matt leans back against the headrest, rubbing a hand over his face before turning to you. “I don’t know,” his voice is lower now, rougher. “It just felt right.”
You hold his gaze, your pulse picking up at the way he’s looking at you, like he’s been waiting for something. Like he’s on the edge of saying something he can’t take back.
The air inside the car feels warmer, heavier. You shift again, and the movement draws his eyes downward for just a second before he looks away, jaw clenching.
“Matt,” you start, but he cuts you off.
“Do you ever feel like… I don’t know,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Like something’s about to change, and you don’t know if you’re ready for it or not?”
Your breath catches. “Yeah,” you admit, barely above a whisper. “I do.”
The space between you feels smaller now, like the universe is slowly pulling you toward him whether you’re ready or not. His hand, resting on his knee, flexes like he wants to reach for you but won’t. Like he’s waiting for a sign, for permission.
So you give it to him.
Slowly, deliberately, you reach out and trace your fingers over the back of his hand. His skin is warm, his breath hitching just enough for you to notice.
And then, he moves.
Not just leaning in, not just hesitating at the last second like he always does. He moves, shifting over the center console, one knee pressing into the seat as his body crowds yours. His breath fans over your lips, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at each other, the tension coiled so tight you swear the air could shatter around you.
Matt’s fingers hover near your jaw, hesitant. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than gravel.
You don’t.
Instead, you tilt your chin up just slightly, your silent way of saying don’t you dare.
And then his lips are on yours.
It’s slow at first, testing, like he’s still afraid of ruining something. But then you exhale against his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, and that’s all it takes for him to unravel.
The kiss deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as he presses closer, the weight of him making your head spin. His lips are warm, insistent, and when his fingers tighten just slightly against your skin, you realize.. you were right.
Whatever this is, whatever it’s turning into, neither of you are walking away untouched.
And you’re not sure if that terrifies you or if it’s exactly what you’ve been waiting for.
