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slytherinslut0 · 13 days ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 28th. theodore nott. lorenzo berkshire — humiliation / degradation

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: never let enzo berkshire find out about one of your kinks. unless….

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, halloween ghostface costumes, threesome, fwb!theo, bestfriend!enzo, reader is involved in a bet unbeknownst to her, mask kink, humiliation on high, degradation, fingering, denied orgasm, oral m!rec, PIV, dirty talk, manipulation.

"Black cat mask?"

You shake your head, barely sparing the thing a glance.

"Mm, no. Too unoriginal."

"Right," Enzo sucks his teeth, tossing the mask back into the bin you're both half-heartedly rifling through. "Orange cat, then? That's far more fitting for you anyways."

"Enzo—no cats, please," you mutter, running a hand through your hair, staring down at the disheveled heap of plastic. None of it catches your eye, none of it sparks anything. "It's Halloween. I want something...scarier."

"Of course. Only day of the year you get to pretend you're as terrifying as me." He croons—half-laughing through the words. The tease itches in your mind, and you're halfway to some retort when he's already holding up another mask. "How about this one?"

You glance up, ready to dismiss whatever nonsense he's holding this time, but the sight of it stills the air in your lungs. A Ghostface mask. Stark white, hollow eyes staring back at you—it's grimace cast in a faded glow under tired shop lights. It's nothing—just a mask, just a piece of cheap plastic in Enzo’s hand—but your heart skips, stumbles, clutches at your ribs, and you can't look away.

And there's no goddamn reason for it, no logic—but you're already seeing it, aren't you? Your current fwb—Theo, standing over you; his face hidden, mask in place of those half-lidded eyes that you’ve learned to read so well. And you know—you know the thought is fucking absurd—yet, it knots something in your stomach, spreading heat like a fuse just lit.

"You alright there?" Enzo's teasing pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize he'd been staring at you that entire time. "You're looking a little...hot."

Hot. Right. Of course he'd notice—of course your best friend would notice the way you went still, frozen in place as if someone struck you with Glacius. You're no good at lying to him, not even on a good day—and right now, your mind is in shambles, already too far gone into the fantasy and—

No. No more of this.

You tear away, fumbling for the edge of a cloak that suddenly seems like the most fascinating thing you've ever seen, your fingers tracing the fabric as if it can save you.

"It's...fine—it's nice," you blurt out, too quickly, too forced, the words tumbling over themselves. "Just—no, not really my thing."

But Enzo knows better. He can spot your lies from miles away. You hear him shift, the quiet rustle of the mask in his hands—and then, he's pulling it over his face, tilting his head just to spite you.

You don't have to look to know he's smirking behind it.

"Bullshit." He steps closer, casually closing the distance, but you know it's deliberate. "You're into this, aren't you?"

The warmth on your face feels like fire now, prickling heat across your skin. He shifts closer again, and for a moment you consider jinxing him—mind scattering into dark, unbidden places—filthy, wild things, flashing behind your eyes, too real. Enzo tilts his head the other way now, letting the mask catch the light, letting it grin.

"Should I get it?" He asks, as innocent as a serial killer. "For Nott, of course."

"No."

It scrapes out of your throat, barely audible, far too small to hold truth. You’re sure he can read you right now—all your depraved thoughts in the rasp of your voice, painfully transparent.

There’s a huff, a snort of sorts. "Are you sure? I think he'd love it."

Despite his insufferableness, he’s probably right. Theo has never shied away from indulging your kinks before. That’s what no strings is about. Maybe he would love it, you know you certainly would—gods how you’d love it—even if you’d rather die before admitting it.

The cloak—you focus on the deep purple velvet, the dark lace edging. "I'm sure. Put it back."

"You don't sound so sure." Gods, he's such an asshole—point only proved further as he takes another step closer. "Does this...does this turn you on?"

"Enzo—For Godric's sake, stop." The humiliation is suffocating. This is just a glimpse at your future should you ever decide to disclose this information to him. Relentless and bloody insufferable. "Let's just—pick something and go. Please?"

A pause, then, and you don't dare look up. The mask slips from his face with another soft, satisfied hum—you don't need to see him to feel the damage done. He knows.

"Sure, angel," he says, trailing as he turns. "Whatever you want."

————

"Matt—have you seen Theo?"

"Uh—not since earlier." Mattheo replies without even looking up, his focus on pouring another dangerous looking drink rather than on you. "He's probably just out for a smoke."

Yeah. Right. Forsure—because his smoke breaks last all bloody day. Doubt twists your stomach, but you nod anyway, grabbing your own drink—something bubbling, far too bright a green to be safe, but it burns down easy all the same. The room spins in a foggy haze, lights bleeding together over costumes, wizard and Muggle and something in between—and you struggle to tell who's who.

Theo had refused to tell you what he was dressing up as—claimed he wanted it to be a surprise. Now, that surprise is nowhere to be found.

"What are you supposed to be?" You raise a brow at Mattheo's striped inmate costume. “Your future?"

Riddle's eye flash as he pretends to be offended for about two seconds until his gaze drops to your own costume and his tongue darts over his lips, taking it in. Beer-maid, tight bodice, shorter than preferred. It's not what you were going for, not in the slightest, but it's all Pansy had in her closet to save you after you and Enzo failed to find anything interesting at the shop the other day.

"Maybe. But you definitely aren't dressed as yours." His attention shifts back to the crowd, a failed attempt at hiding his grin. "Way too much fabric."

You scoff, but that's just how Mattheo is—always a sly comment, always pushing. You roll your eyes and swat at him, but he sticks his tongue out at you and steps back, slipping off into the crowd with a final goodbye wink—and just as you lose track of him, Draco saddles up next to you, prattling on about something you don't care to listen to.

Great, that’s two annoying Slytherins accounted for. Where the fuck is Theo?

Five seconds into pretending to be interested in whatever Malfoy is babbling on about, you give up, turning back to the drink table and skimming over the options when someone new brushes up behind you—

"Enzo told me," the words barely register before you feel it—a hand settling low at your hip. "About your kink."

With lightening speed you twist your neck, glancing over your shoulder—only to fucking gasp at what you find there. That mask. The mask. The Ghostface one from the shop; the one Enzo hasn't let you forget, hasn't stopped teasing you about—you blink, your heart barrelling out of the room, fingers tightening around your cup until it hurts—

The mask tilts, just slightly. "Looks like he was right."

"Theo—"

"Go." His voice is muffled, but sweet Merlin—the sound of it makes your knees threaten to buckle right then and there. His hand slips lower, teasing against the ruffles of your dress. "Run, Bella. Let's play."

Your body locks up, muscles tense and poised on the edge of something feral. You can't look away. Can't think. Can't breathe. His fingers slip lower, lower, until you feel it—cold leather against the heat of your skin and your throat tightens, words dying dead on your tongue.

Run.

A slight lean, and the mask brushes your neck. "Now."

He steps back, a slow retreat, but it feels like he's tugging you with him. You spin to face him, smirking, your voice barely above a whisper—

"And when you catch me?"

"Find out." His head tilts toward the door. It's your cue.

Your feet move before your mind even catches up, slipping through the rowdy crowd, darting through the half-drunk revelers in their costumes—everything blurring into an afterthought as you push past the cobwebs, pumpkins, fake spiders, all the other Halloween decor filling the fogged ballroom. Your fingertips buzz from the adrenaline—pulse echoing in your ears as you dart down one hall after another, not quite sure where you're going, but knowing you need to keep moving.

Theo told you to run—so you run.

You sprint through the castle, the corridors empty save for your hurried footsteps and the scattered Halloween decorations lunging at you from the shadows. You round a corner, making for the dungeons. It's as good a place as any, right? Dark, quiet, somewhere to hide.

Few more minutes and you make it, lungs burning as you stumble into the dreary main hall. You realize the detention room is empty—and it's perfect. You take two steps inside, already thinking you'll be able to catch your breath when—

You slam headlong into something solid.

Head swirling, your vision barely refocuses before you feel a grip on your wrists, pulling you forward with enough force to make you gasp. Everything happens so fast you don't have enough time to process what's occurring before you're forced to focus on the thing you're seeing—ghostface. Staring down at you with those empty, gaping eyes. Unreadable.

It's then that you realize you're caught.

Something shifts behind the mask, an almost imperceptible movement of his head. You'd almost think you imagined it but given that there's nothing else to look at you know it's impossible. The silence is ballooning and you wonder if this is part of the game, if Theo is just savouring the moment, relishing in your reaction. The way you're trembling, your breath stuttering, the way you've gone still—waiting.

You swallow, throat drier than the Sahara, but something about this has you emboldened, the fact he's playing into your fantasy like this—so you decide to tease him, breaking the silence with a soft, breathless laugh as you pull one of your hands free from his grip.

He wanted to play. It's your turn to act the part.

"Looks like you caught me...Mr. Ghostface..." you purr—the silence sticks heavy, making the space between you feel thick, electric. All you can feel are his eyes devouring you. "And now...now that you've caught me...what are you gonna' do with me...hm?"

Gods—the thrill of this is so real, one your certain is more addictive than any drug. An adrenaline rush—not knowing what he's thinking, what he's about to do. Not being able to read him like you normally could. It makes your thighs quake—and there’s half a second where you wonder how much Enzo would pay to see this, how much he’d fucking taunt you for it.

But just as quickly as it came, you shake that thought—focused on Theo, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and sink to your knees, fingertips teasing from his chest to his abdomen, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

"...please don't punish me." You giggle—and the debauched absurdity of it all makes you nearly choke. "I'll be so good—I'll do anything, Theo—"

You feel him huff, tense, and when your fingers graze the front of his pants—just barely touching his crotch— his hand snaps down like a vice, gripping your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks.

And then, you hear it. "Salazar sakes—shit—"

Your heart plummets. That voice—it's like being thrown into ice-cold water. No, that's not—it can't be—

"Enzo?"

Your voice cracks as you all but screech, your head whipping up so fast you feel dizzy. No, no, no—

Enzo, who you previously thought was Theo, pulls the mask off and all but verbally confirms it. Your nightmare born to life. Spooling to fruition right in front of you. He smiles, lips curled into something thoroughly entertained, and gods, how his eyes glint with pure assholery—you could fucking kill him.

"Enzo—" you stammer, horror flushing through you, burning through the mortification lodged in your throat. "Gods—what the fuck—"

"Surprise," he breathes, like this is the most casual thing in the world to him.

You scramble back, knees scraping against cold stone—mind spiralling in every direction at once—shame collides with shock and it all burns under your skin, the kind of heat that never settles. You know Theo's voice. You could never mistake it. You know for a fact that was him back at the party— but this, this makes no sense.

"What...what the hell-" your voice stumbles like you're trying to outrun the words. "Why would you—what were you—"

"Relax," he is all too fucking calm. "It was a prank."

"A prank?" You're still on the floor, and for some reason that makes everything worse. "You call that a prank? A—a funny little joke?"

"That's usually the definition—"

"No." You hiss between clenched teeth, anger strangling any hope for composure. "What were you doing in here? This— this isn't—you were trying to-"

"Trying to what?" He sounds so goddamn innocent but you know better. He's toying with you, making sure you know it. He's been your best friend since you were kids but you never said it was by choice. He steps closer. "I was trying to what, angel?"

Your blood boils, the heat spreading fast—pooling low in your core against all specks of your sanity. He's relishing this, drinking in your mortification like it's fine wine—and for some reason, it makes you weak.

"You—" words die with another one of his steps, the toes of his shoes brushing against your skin as he crouches down in front of you, elbows resting casually on his knees. You sit back, ass meeting cold stone. "Enzo—"

"Yeah?" He cocks an eyebrow. "You just gonna' parrot my name all night? Maybe you're too embarrassed to speak?"

The constant mocking feels like ice and you want to slap that smug look right off his face but instead your fucking thighs tense. You have nothing to say—can only stare at him, lungs seizing further as you notice the smirk fading from his lips, something darker replacing it—

"You didn't even know who was under that mask, and you were ready to suck me off," he's whispering, but he may as well be screaming. "You'd do anything for anyone with a mask, huh? I wish I knew about this kink of yours sooner."

He leans in closer, his knees pushing yours apart—you and Enzo had never been strangers to toying the line of friendship one too many times while drunk, but this—

You blink. Staring at him. "You...you're enjoying this way too much."

"Guilty as charged." His smile spreads wider, cockier, his eyes dipping to your lips, then lower. You shiver involuntarily. "I know I should have stopped you sooner, but seeing you on your knees...in front of me...I just..."

He shakes his head before he slowly stands back up—and his eyes flicker to your chest, lingering on your fucking tits and not even trying to be subtle about it.

Then, there’s a sound—the sound of the door creaking open.

You barely hear it, the faint shuffle of footsteps, but it's enough to pull the grin from Enzo's face as he looks up. You're not sure your heart can handle anymore of this—plummeting to the stone beneath you as Theo steps into the room, dressed just like Enzo—black robes, black gloves, Ghostface mask.

"Nott." Enzo's voice is too casual, too easy. "Great timing, mate."

Theo’s silent as he takes in the scene. You—still on the floor, dress hitched up, legs spread. Enzo standing over you, smug, unbothered. Theo's presence fills the room as he shuts the door behind him and locks it, stoking your humiliation into something even hotter, something impossible to escape.

Theo's voice is flat, his tone too even. "Looks like you got caught."

Wait—

"You—" your gaze jumps between them, a wild panic bubbling up inside you. You're so fucking confused. "What is this? You two—"

"Like I said, a prank." Enzo says as he steps toward Theo, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "A bet, really.”

Theo doesn't respond. He doesn't move. He doesn't look away from you.

"A bet?" You choke out, trying to piece everything together. "What bet?"

"Well, you see, angel," Enzo pushes away from Theo and slumps down into a chair just off to the side of you. You feel the dread rolling in like a storm. "I bet big Theo here you'd get so weak in the knees over the mask, you wouldn't even notice the switch. As usual, I was right."

Andddd, there’s the dread. Yup. As expected whenever Enzo is fucking involved in anything.

"Oh, wow—" you'd laugh if you weren't this utterly mortified by the entire situation. "You guys are—gods. You’re going after a whole new high score in the prick olympics, aren't you—"

"Oh, I don't know if you believe that, topolina...I think you're just being shy." Theo cuts through your rambling and you flinch at the sound of his voice. "It's clear this is a fantasy of yours."

Your head tilts up, eyes widening as they meet the empty, hollow eyes of the mask drawing closer.

"I bet you're just embarrassed," Theo's pressing—he's fucking pressing and you don’t think you’ve breathed since he walked in. "Embarrassed that you got on your knees for your best friend...or maybe you're afraid I'd be mad." He pauses, and his gaze sweeps down over you. "Which, to that I'd have to say, I'm far from."

You swallow hard, your mouth dry. "You're...you're not mad?"

Perhaps you were afraid of that—even if you and Theo are unofficial in every aspect.

His answer is instant. "No."

He crouches in front of you, gloved fingers finding your chin, tipping your head up so he can look at you— really look at you.

"In fact...I think you should let him watch..." his thumb ghosts over your lower lip, so soft, so slow—without thinking, your tongue flicks out, barely grazing the leather covered tip, and you hear the soft exhale he releases in response. "After all, this was his idea. He deserves some fun too, don't you think?"

Heat floods your cunt, your stomach tightening at the suggestion. You glance at Enzo, sitting back now with his mask on—legs spread wide, leather hands clasped, calm—you wanted to kill him five minutes ago, but now—

Oh gods—you're really losing it.

"Yeah," you whisper, barely managing the word. "He probably does."

Theo's hand slides down to your thigh, leather fingers curling into the soft skin, pulling your legs open further.

"Mhm." He mutters. "You like being watched, don't you?"

Your breath catches, your pulse thundering in your ears as you nod, your eyes glued to Enzo. "Yes..."

"Say it." His fingers trail higher, teasing the soft skin beneath your dress, fingertips grazing closer—too close—just below the lace hem of your panties.

Salazar save you.

You bite your lip, and the air between you feels like it's thickening, growing too dense to breathe in. That fucking mask. You've fantasized over it. And now, there's two of them. Two sets of eyes—faceless, emotionless, and watching you. It's like something out of your fucking dreams.

"I—I like being watched," you manage to whisper, voice breaking between building lust.

"Louder," Theo growls this time like he's pulling it from somewhere deep in his chest—it sends liquid heat spilling through you. "Louder, topolina. He can't hear you if you're whispering."

Your heart stutters in your chest, and Enzo—gods, Enzo is still watching—stays silent, the mask concealing whatever reaction he might have, but his posture speaks volumes. Stillness, dark fabric of his trousers tight across his thighs, a coiled tension that radiates off him, permeates the space between you.

"I—fuck—" a breathless moan cracks through your words as Theo's leather-clad fingers slip under your panties, grazing your slick slit. "—love it. I love being watched."

Theo hums, the sound vibrating low in his throat, and rewards you by pushing two fingers into your dripping heat. So slow, the pace of his strokes torturous—slick sounds of leather working you open filling the room, mingling with your quiet, shuddering breaths. His thumb brushes your clit, teasing over it until you moan—hard and shameless—

"So loud," Theo mocks, your spine arching into him as his fingers curl inside you. "Eager, filthy little thing. You love being on display, don't you?"

A whimper catches in your throat, your gaze still locked on Enzo, watching him watch you.

You're shaking. You're close. Too close.

Your voice cracks again, nothing more than a whisper caught in a moan. "Theo...fuck—"

"You're so wet, bellissima," Theo breathes behind the mask. You're burning, every nerve sizzling. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You can't speak. Words don't exist anymore, only the pressure—only the way Theo's fingers curl inside you, the way your thighs tremble and ache from holding yourself open, from being watched, from being this goddamn humiliated.

"Y-yes," you choke out, desperate. "Yes, please, I—"

"Ask him." Theo's cuts you off. "Ask Enzo to let you cum."

The room spins. The air thickens into something cloying.

Ask him. Ask Enzo—

You swallow hard, your eyes darting between the two masks. Enzo is silent, still motionless, but he tilts his head slightly, the only indication that he's heard. That he's waiting.

"Please, Enzo—" the humiliation is sickening but you force past it. It’s a broken prayer, vulnerability in verbal form. "Please...let me cum—please—"

Time stretches. It feels like hours, an eternity where nothing exists but the weight of their hidden eyes on you, the way Enzo's fingers twitch, curl over the thick ridge at his crotch, leather knuckles tensing as if he's restraining himself from something primal. You're being devoured whole by this moment—by the unbearable tension, by Theo's fingers inside you, relentless in their assault, and gods—you're going to die if they don't let you—

"Yeah," Enzo finally murmurs, breaking the silence. Theo's gaze flickers to him, waiting. "Yeah, you can cum, angel…”

But as he says it, he shakes his head, and Theo—the absolute bastard—pulls his fingers out without a word.

"…just not yet." Enzo finishes.

The sound that leaves your throat isn't even human, some guttural, helpless whine torn straight from your throbbing, empty cunt. Theo shushes you.

"You'll get to cum, Bella," he coos, standing up slowly. "It'll be soon."

They're toying with you, playing you like a goddamn puppet on strings and it's infuriating in its deliciousness. You've known these men for years, yet it's almost laughable—the way they feel so foreign, so terrifyingly new.

"Oh, Enzo," you sigh, feeling your arousal cool, your body suddenly aware of the icy stone beneath you, of the wet heat slicking down your thighs. "I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

Enzo snorts. "You're welcome to try."

Theo exhales a half-chuckle, helping you off the floor and onto a desk, his hands firm on your thighs as he spreads you open like he's done a hundred times within the last few months.

A moment passes before he moves to loosen his belt and you realize just how close Enzo is now—his chair right beside the desk, his hand palming the bulge in his pants, shameless in his observation. The sight makes you fucking dizzy with filth. Surely, you've lost your mind. This is madness. Every line between friendship and lust—between restraint and indulgence—has blurred and bled into something you can't define, and the thrill of it is intoxicating.

"This is insane," you hiss, breathless, feeling the way Theo's gloves scrape over your skin, two thick digits dragging in your slick. "You're both fucking insane."

"Too much talking," Theo mutters, so infuriatingly calm, even as he drags the head of his dick over your folds, teasing your clit. "So much attitude for someone dripping down their thighs. You want to stop?" The silence stretches, your eyes locked on his, and you can feel the smirk behind the mask. He nods. "That's what I thought. Now shut up and let me fuck this wet cunt."

His hands grip either side of the desk, his body looming over you—the scene from your fantasy you've envisioned a million times. Ghostface—dominant and rough—gods, you want it. So bad it fucking hurts.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes immediately finding Enzo's again—forgetting for half a second that he was even there. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his hand moving rhythmically beneath the denim, mask locked onto you with a single-minded focus that makes your breath stutter.

"Enz-ohhh—" you go to say something to him, but then Theo pushes into you—no warning, no slow build—just a deep, unforgiving thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs, and your voice cracks on his name, the syllables lost in the moan that spills out of you.

"Shit." Enzo groans in response. "Did you just—"

"She did," Theo snarls, his grip on your hips punishing as he slams into you again, harder this time. "The little slut just moaned your name."

There's cursing, from both of them, but it's all a blur in your ears, drowned out by the sound of Theo's hips slamming into yours, the fevered slap of skin on skin, the obscene sounds you can't help but make—

"Yeah, I noticed," Enzo mutters, and fuck, he sounds ruined, completely lost in the sight of you—his best friend, getting fucked by his other best friend. "Fuck."

Theo's hand finds your jaw, forcing your head back to face him, Ghostface mask looming above you like a delicious nightmare.

"Who's fucking you?" His voice is caught somewhere between a snarl and a purr. "Is it Enzo?"

"N-no—" you manage, trembling with every thrust.

"Of course it's not," Theo hisses, driving into you with punctual thrusts to make you feel him, making you cry out when he slams your cervix. "So why'd you moan his name? When it's—fuck—my cock inside you?"

"I—I didn't mean—" you whimper, eyes squeezed shut, but there's no escape. Not from the relentless pace of Theo's dick, not from the way Enzo's eyes never leave you, burning into you like fire. You can't form words.

"Mm—don't be shy now, topolina," Theo purrs, his voice thick with effort. His hips snap forward, and your back arches, a broken sound escaping you. "I think you just love having him in your mouth—his name, his—"

"Fuck, Nott, shut up," Enzo cuts in, his head thrown back, chest tense. "I don't want to hear your voice—"

You can hear the strain, the way he's barely holding it together—

"Look at him," Theo ignores Enzo's words. He lets go of your jaw. "He wants you. He's always wanted you."

Your eyes dart between them, head spinning, unable to form a coherent thought—Theo's fucking relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—and every time you glance at Enzo, you see the way he's breaking, hand moving faster, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths—

"I never knew you were such a voyeur, Nott," Enzo spits, trying to sound casual. "Never took you for being such a filthy bastard."

"What can I say?" Theo groans in response, propping your legs up over his shoulders to drive into you deeper. "Just discovered a new interest, you should try it sometime."

They're still bantering, like this is some kind of fucked-up competition, like you're not about to shatter into a million fucking pieces while your best friend watches—after he got you here and humiliated you with a fucking bet—gods, you'd laugh if you weren't so utterly lost to the pleasure ripping through you.

"And watch you get off on it?" Enzo spits back, voice rough. "I'll—"

Theo snorts, cutting him off. "I think there's more than one person getting off on—"

"Shut the-fffuck up—please-" you manage to moan, the words barely intelligible. You look to Enzo, eyes wide and pleading. "Enz...come here."

"Yeah...?" Enzo breathes out, his voice catching, tipping his head back forward to look at you. “What?”

"Come here," you moan again, trembling, fraying under the pleasure that's building inside you from Theo’s insistent dick. "Let me help you."

For a moment, he hesitates, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking because the goddamn mask hides everything. He's always been the calm one between you—always stopping your drunk kisses, always refraining from taking things too far. But tonight, there’s no more of that calm left in him—

He stands.

Each step he takes feels like a lifetime, but when he's standing next to your head on the desk, towering above where you're laid out like a feast, you don't know whether it's the mask or the situation itself that has your pulse racing. Erotic and terrifying, the not-knowing—a power exchange in its purest form. Theo growls infront of you, his thrusts growing harder, more vicious, as you reach out to pull Enzo's hips closer.

You're already eyeing the throbbing bulge in his jeans, your mouth practically watering as you stare.

"Go on," you rasp, lips parting as you look up through your lashes. "Take it out."

The breath Enzo sucks in is sharp, a hitch in the darkness. His fingers tremble, just barely, as he pushes his pants down his thighs, and the noise that escapes him when his cock slips out and smacks his stomach—low, strangled—makes you moan and clench in response—he's huge.

Your breath catches, a soft exhale of, "oh, fuck."

And the words are barely out of your mouth before both Theo and Enzo respond—low growls and breathless groans that echo in the shadowed room, vibrating through you like electricity.

"Open your pretty mouth," Enzo whispers and you obey without hesitation, tongue slipping out, wanting, eager. His breath shudders, and you wish you could see his eyes. "Good girl."

And then he's pushing into you, sliding hot and thick over your tongue, and at that exact moment, Theo thrusts harder, deeper, and suddenly you're overwhelmed—both of them inside you, filling you, consuming every breath. Moans ripple through the dungeon air, a chorus of sin, and you shake with the sheer intensity of it all.

Theo's thumb finds your clit, starts swirling over it, and you keen—eyes rolling back in your head, Enzo’s leather hands in your hair to hold you still. Tears stream down your face as you gag, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but neither of them stop—if anything, they're both lost in it, in the wrecked, messy beauty of it all. Your hands claw at the desk, desperate for something to hold on to as the pleasure builds, tightens, spirals out of control.

Time collapses. It's been moments—it's been hours.

And then it happens—all three of you tipping over the edge at once, crashing into a release so fierce it shatters you. Your climax rips through you, violent, leaving you shaking, milking Theo until he's spent—until he's pouring his cum deep inside your cunt at the same time Enzo groans deep and spills his own over your tongue. A moment passes, and then Theo is the first to pull away, panting, tearing off his mask and dropping into the chair beside the desk, and Enzo follows, tugging his jeans back up before slumping into another chair, mask still on—

Both of them are sprawled there, utterly spent, just as wrecked as you.

And then, after a few long, tense moments, you hear it—the clink of Galleons exchanged. You don't even need to look up for it to register. Theo tosses the coins into Enzo’s greedy palm because he was the true fucking winner here. The sound cuts through the stillness, and with it, that smug, unmistakable sneer in Enzo's voice.

"Told you she'd love it."

Asshole.

You roll your eyes. Your limbs feel like they're moving through molasses as you stand, your hands mechanically fixing your costume, adjusting the fabric against your thighs.

"You know, Enzo, if you wanted to watch Theo fuck me that bad, all you had to do was ask."

"What can I say," he shrugs, lazy, like he's discussing the weather. "I enjoy a bit of gambling."

Theo snorts, adjusting his collar, as if none of this fazes him. His eyes flick from you to Enzo. "Next time you'll be paying me."

"Next time?" You cock an eyebrow. "How generous of you."

"There will be a next time," Enzo says, flipping one of the Galleons between his fingers, that same smirk playing on his lips. "And I'll get my turn."

Your pulse quickens at the sheer arrogance of it, the way he says it like it's not even up for debate. You hate how much you like this side of him.

"Maybe next time you should."

They nod, both of them wearing their smirks like crowns. "Until next time, then."

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hoshifighting · 24 days ago

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NERD!WOOZI WITH SLUTTY FINGERING

a/n: i KNOW ive talked about woozi hands, woozi fingering, too much already in this blog, so, nerd!woozi its just another excuse for me to write about it again. sorry not sorry. a/n pt.2: yes, this is woozi's hand on minghao's neck that's why im screaming in the title. WARNINGS: smut, small angst, fingering, body fluids (cum spit), clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, intense orgasm, teasing, quick learner!jihoon

nerd!jihoon who’s all serene and timid, always too focused on his notes, pretending he doesn’t notice your little games, but deep down, he’s fully aware. you catch him sometimes, the way his pencil pauses mid-scribble when you lean a little too close, asking for the same damn pencil again. he knows you have like five pencils in that full-of-charms bag of yours, regardless here you are.

“you sure you don’t just wanna keep it?” he mumbles, barely looking up as he hands you the pencil.

you lean forward, letting your hair fall in front of your face like a curtain, just to see if he’d peek. and, of course, he does. a quick flick of his eyes, then back down to his notebook, scribbling some bullshit about physics or whatever. boring. you wonder what’d happen if you just grabbed his hand for real this time, full contact, no pencil-between-you nonsense. would he pull away? would he get all flustered, or would he grab you back, finally drop that innocent act?

“you ever gonna look at me when i ask you for something, or you too shy for that?” you tease, leaning on his desk now, your fingers inching closer to his ruler. he finally looks up at you, a little more serious than usual, and it catches you off guard.

“you keep asking for things you don’t need,” he says quietly, “why?” he scoffs, pushing his glasses up his nose like that’s gonna hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. “you can keep the damn pencil,” he mutters, eyes glued to the textbook in front of him.

and nerd!jihoon who gets so in his head about it that he doesn’t realize the moment he fucked up. ‘cause when you stand up from your chair, reaching down to grab something you “accidentally” dropped, you do it slow. bending over right in front of him, just enough that your skirt rides up a little too high, giving him a full view.

he stares for just a second too long, eyes glued to the hem of your skirt, swallowing hard like he’s trying not to make a sound. but it’s obvious, way too obvious, and when he realizes he’s been caught, his face turns red so fast you almost laugh out loud.

nerd!jihoon who's fidgeting now, trying to pretend he didn’t just eye-fuck you in the middle of the classroom.

but nerd!jihoon’s only got so much self-control, and you’re testing every bit of it.

nerd!jihoon who, for some reason, snaps at you that morning when you meet at the stairs outside the university building. it’s out of nowhere too—like, one second, you’re just giving him that casual little smile, ready to toss some flirty comment about the weather being as cold as his attitude, and the next, he’s all huffy, eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual.

“why do you keep doing that?” his voice comes out sharp, way too sharp for someone like him, the type who rarely even speaks above a whisper in class. you blink, taken aback, half-wondering if he’s joking, but when you see his jaw tighten, you realize he’s serious. dead serious. “is it that hard to leave me alone?”

ouch. you don’t even know how to react at first, like his words take a second to settle in, but when they do, it feels like someone knocked the air out of you. your eyes harden on him, and for once, you don’t have some quick retort. you just… stare. really?—he’s just gonna blow up like that?

“fine,” you mutter, voice cold as ice. and with that, you turn on your heel and walk off without another word, you don’t even look back as you head straight to the classroom, your heart pounding in your chest. you’ve never felt this weird compound of pissed and hurt before. it’s like something just snapped inside you too.

for the rest of the day, you don’t bother glancing in his direction. you gather your stuff at the end of class, all in silence, and when you make your way past his desk, you stop for just a second, pulling out all those borrowed pencils from your bag. without a word, you set them on his desk, one by one. they clatter onto his notes, each one feeling like a small “fuck you” in its own way.

jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at the pencils like they’re mocking him. he opens his mouth for a split second, like maybe he’s gonna explain, but nothing comes out. you don’t give him the chance either; you walk away, not bothering to look back. it’s like every interaction you’ve ever had just gets replayed in your mind, and now it’s all soured.

the next few days are weird. hell, you stop talking to him altogether. instead, you sit at your desk, quietly pulling out your own damn pencils from your pencil case, you don’t need his anymore, not when he’s gonna act like a complete ass about it. he watches you though—you can feel his stare on you, burning into the side of your head. but every time you glance in his direction, he looks away like he can’t deal with the awkwardness he’s caused.

it’s like he wants to apologize but has no idea how to start. typical jihoon—all brain and no clue when it comes to real people.

but one evening, there’s a knock on your dorm door. you open it, and there he is, standing there with a six-pack of those canned drinks you always get from the campus canteen, the same ones you always grab right after class. his face is red, cheeks flushed in a way that’s almost… cute? but you’re still mad, still remembering how he snapped at you like that.

“hey,” he says, and his voice is softer this time, merely audible. you just stand there, arms crossed, waiting for him to explain himself.

“i, uh… i brought these,” he mutters, holding the cans out like some awkward peace offering. “i noticed you… always get these. thought maybe…” his voice trails off, and he rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “i’m sorry. for what i said.”

you raise an eyebrow, still not convinced. “really? you were a complete jerk, jihoon.”

he shrinks at your words, nodding. “i know. i just… i didn’t know how to deal with it, okay? it… messed with me.”

you uncross your arms, softening just a bit. “and snapping at me was your way of handling it?”

he sighs, looking down at his shoes. “i didn’t mean it. i was just frustrated. not at you—just… at myself.”

you take a deep breath, glancing at the cans in his hands, the little effort he’s put into making amends. he’s trying. “fine,” you say finally, stepping aside to let him in. “you owe me more than just drinks, though.”

jihoon’s eyes widen a bit, his lips twitching into that familiar nervous smile. “what do you want, then?”

you scoff.

nerd!jihoon who feels the faint taste of the drink lingers on your tongue, and he groans into your mouth, probably addicted to it more than he’ll admit. he’s kissing you back—messy, needy, and a little clumsy, but you can tell he’s losing himself in it.

you shift on his lap, straddling him properly, and when you press into him, his breath hitches. it’s like he can’t keep himself together, every kiss pulling out little sounds, his hands hover awkwardly for a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with them, until you grab them and guide them up your body, pushing them to your chest, making him squeeze your tits through your shirt.

nerd!jihoon who gasps when he feels the nipples on his palms through your shirt, his lips pulling away from yours for just a second as he looks at where his hands are, eyes wide like he can’t believe it. his fingers flex against you, tentatively at first, but then you press your hand over his, forcing him to squeeze harder, and you let out a shaky breath.

then? oh, he gets it.

nerd!jihoon, who finally acts, squeezing your tits by himself like he’s been waiting for this chance his whole damn life. his fingers dig in just enough to pull a moan from your throat.

nerd!jihoon’s catching on fast now, realizing where you want to be touched, where your breath catches, where your body melts into him.

his hands roam up your sides, slipping under your oversized shirt, and when his fingers brush your bare skin, he freezes for a second. he realizes you’re not wearing anything underneath, no panties, no bra, just naked under the thin fabric. “shit,” he breathes, almost like a curse, his eyes darting up to meet yours, like he’s checking to see if this is real, if you actually want him to keep going.

you smirk, biting your lip, and press your hips down into him harder, a wordless yes, keep going.

his hand cups your pussy, and the way you immediately arch into him, gasping out his name—he’s gone. brain short-circuiting, but his body’s on autopilot now. “dont do this to me…” he mewls, too focused on the way you’re grinding into his hand, wet and ready for him.

nerd!jihoon who, once he realizes how horny you are, loses any hesitation he had before. his fingers, slender and surprisingly strong, waste no time. he’s focused—so damn focused—like he’s solving a problem in his mind, but this time, the problem is you. and he knows exactly how to handle it.

nerd!jihoon who pauses for just a second, like he’s still processing how turned on you are—how his touch alone got you dripping like this. his middle finger presses right against your clit, and he flicks it side to side—fast as hell, like too fast—and your hips jerk up into him, a soft whimper slipping out. his middle finger dips into your pussy first, just enough to feel the wetness gather on his fingertip, the way you swallow around him makes his breath hitch.

it’s like he’s testing what gets you going, what makes your thighs tremble, and god, does he know how to read your body. every gasp, every time your breath hitches, he switches it up—keeps you on edge.

he presses his middle finger deep suddenly, really deep, until you’re arching into him, your body reacting instantly to the way he knows how to hit that spot. his finger curls inside you, pushing hard, making you gasp like he’s punching the air from your lungs. he’s watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips move, like he’s trying to memorize how to make you react like this again.

"hold still," he mutters, and when you don’t, when you try to squirm because it’s too much too fast, he forces your legs open with his, his thighs pressing yours apart. “don’t... close them. i need to—” his breath catches when he adds a second finger, stretching you just enough to make your pussy clench tight around him, making your thighs shake. he presses them deep, so deep you feel the pressure low in your belly, but it’s when he starts to pull them out, flicking them up against your clit as he does it, that you lose it.

“oh fuck,” you gasp, back arching, and jihoon’s watching you so damn closely, taking mental notes on every single reaction you give him.

“so... wet. why? hm?” he whispers, like he can’t believe it, his voice shy but breathy, like he’s talking more to himself than you. his fingers slide out, slick with your cum, and without even thinking, he spits right on them—mixing the spit with the dripping wetness already covering his fingers. the sound is obscene, the slick noise of him fingering you only getting louder, wetter, messier.

and then, he adjusts.

“c’mere,” he says, voice a little rougher now, guiding you to sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. you can feel how hard his cock is, twitching against your ass as you settle between his thighs. his legs spread yours open, holding you wide as he slides his hand back down to your dripping pussy, his fingers diving back in like they belong there.

he uses his middle finger again—always that one—sliding it in deep, he’s too focused on you, too addicted to the way you moan when he pushes his fingers deeper. his legs wrap around yours, holding them wide open, ‘cause you’re so damn close to squeezing them shut. his voice comes out soft, right in your ear. “you’re so—fuck, so into this. just my fingers?”

he can’t believe it, can’t wrap his head around how crazy you’re going just from this—even though he’s making you drip all over his hand. but it only impulses him on. his fingers flick against your clit again, fast, precise, like he’s playing an instrument he’s mastered. your body jerks, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, cum practically coating his fingers now. he slides them deep again, harder this time, pushing you into the bed so hard your hips are practically pinned down.

“you like that?” he asks, voice shaky, but he’s so into it. holding you open like he’s afraid you’ll try to close your legs.

his fingers are everywhere—inside you, rubbing, pressing, flicking.

“fuck—jihoon,” you moan, words tumbling out of you like you can’t control them, and his breath catches again. his fingers move faster, slick sounds filling the room as he alternates between pressing deep inside you and flicking your clit, over and over again, until you’re a complete mess in his arms.

“you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me say something stupid,” you gasp out, barely holding onto any coherent thought, and he lets out a soft, shy laugh, like he knows exactly what you mean.

nerd!jihoon who's lost in the rhythm he’s created, only pushes harder, fingers still dancing between your thighs as he chases that sound—that sweet, desperate gasp that makes his heart race. “i think i can handle it,” he teases, but he’s definitely not prepared for the way you arch your back, pushing harder against him as your breath gets quicker, sharper.

“jihoon, please,” you whimper, the words spilling out like they’re a prayer. your body is begging for something—anything—more, but he’s holding you right at the edge, fingers moving so fast you’re pretty sure your brain is short-circuiting.

he seems to realize just how close you are. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, “can you—can you come for me? just from this?” there’s a softness in his voice, but the way he asks it is so demanding, and you can’t help but nod.

“yes—yes!” you manage to breathe out, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

“just let go. i got you.” it’s like the words unlock something inside you, and before you even realize it, that sweet ache intensifying.

nerd!jihoon who lets out a soft chuckle, shaky as hell, but damn if he doesn’t sound proud. his fingers don’t slow down though. his middle finger presses even deeper, practically curling up into the g'spot inside you that makes you pass out for a second, and you gasp so loud you’re sure anyone passing by your dorm would hear it.

“jihoon—fuck, right there!” you groan, and he hones in on that spot like he’s taking thoughtful reminders.

he bites his lip, watching the way your hips roll into his hand, how wet you are, cum dripping down his fingers like he’s proud of the mess you’re making. “i didn’t know you’d be… this into it,” he whispers, and that just makes your head spin more.

this guy. so shy but so fucking good at what he’s doing to you.

“jihoon, i’m gonna—oh my god!” you try to warn him, but he cuts you off.

“i know, just let go,” he encourages, voice softer now, almost reverent, as if he’s treating this moment like something sacred. his fingers slide back up to your clit

this is it. his eyes widen a little, and you can feel the way his heart races against your back. every flick against your clit sends a convulsion through your body.

you dissolve into a broken gasp, your hips moving against his hand instinctively as he works you toward that peak. please, please, just let me come.

and when he adds just a little more pressure, it’s like your whole body torches. you cum and cum, your body arching against him. “jihoon, fuck!” you cry out, a high-pitched gasp that fills the air as you feel everything shatter, your body clenching tightly around his fingers that they almost slip out.

nerd!jihoon who watches you, completely captivated, the way your body reacts, the way you’re lost in it. he doesn’t stop, though; no, he keeps moving, fingers working through your orgasm, gentle however persistent, making sure you feel every bit of that pleasure. he’s fascinated, eyes wide as he takes in the globs of cum covering his fingers, the slickness that only grows thicker the more he works you.

“jihoon, wait…” you manage to murmur, half-laughing, half-breathless. “s-sensitive.”

you melt on his chest, catching your breath, as his hand cups your pussy again, letting 'you' rest.

“that was—how do you even know how to do that?” it’s a genuine question, and you can’t help but admire him, the way he’s panting lightly, his cheeks flushed.

he chuckles nervously, looking away for a moment, then back at you shyly. “i mean… i just pay attention? it’s like… figuring out the math of it all, but way more fun.” his eyes sparkle, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at how nerdy he is, even in these moments.

“well, you know what they say about nerds,” you wink, reaching out to play with the ends of his shirt. “they can be really good at—”

“okay, stop,” he laughs, cutting you off.

“so, um… can i, like, do that again sometime?” he asks, his tone shifting to something softer, almost hopeful, and the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter.

“absolutely,” you say with a grin, leaning in to give him a quick peck, your bodies still tangled together.

“how about we switch positions next time? i think i could make you scream even louder.” he teases, but his red cheeks don't lie.

you freeze at his words, heart racing as you process what he just said. he’s learned way too quickly, “which one are you talking about?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, even though your cheeks are flushed too.

“any one you want,” he replies, a in a shyly-confident smirk on his face. “i’m a quick study when it comes to this kind of stuff.” he smiles wider. “just tell me what you like, and i’ll make sure i learn it.”

you can’t help but laugh. “oh, is that so? you think you can handle it?”

“absolutely,” he says, hugging your body to him. “just say the word, and i’ll show you just how good i can get.”

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youronlydarlin · 10 months ago

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warning: Sex pollen :), noncon/dubcon, some of them are mean on this one, horny desperate men going insane for your hole, not proofread 😭

Jus' over here havin thoughts about sex pollen infecting your favorite boy man

Finding yourself in the middle of a botched mission, you desperately try to open the door that separates you from your lover. You can hear him hacking, n coughing on the other side. N'd your sweet soul's nearly crying at the thought of what's happening to him. Is he dying !? Pink gas escapes from under the door and you don't even have the time to react before it suddenly opens.

Captain John Price who tries keep some of his composure. You must commend him for it, really. But you turn around to see if the coast's still clear and that's all it takes for his composure to break. Before you knew it you're being lifted into the air. Back pressed tightly against your Captain's chest while he holds you up with the back if your knees. He's got you in a full nelson :( And all of a sudden there's a knife in his hands. You cry out at the thought of what he could do to you but you're silenced the moment he uses it to rip an opening through your trousers, all the while he's rutting against your ass, cause he's just so pent up. Oh, you have to understand!

His dick is inside of you the moment it's freed. Tries to be considerate about it, gives you a few seconds to adjust before he's drilling into you with wild abandon. Fucks you so deep, there's a bulge in your tummy and spots in your vision. Sinks to the floor with you the moment he cums, holding you close to his chest and trying to come up with a decent enough explanation.

Simon "Ghost" Riley who let's out a loud grunt before falling on top of you. The impact makes your head spin, and it momentarily knocks the wind out of your lungs. His body crushes yours beneath the concrete floor and you don't have time to recover before the feeling of phantom hands start to roam your body. And you can no longer blame it on your fall, because your trousers are being ripped away by rough gloved hands.

Poor, little, you can't even object when he wrestles you into a mating press :( Shoving two of his thick digits inside of you with no warning. He's moving them in a scissoring motion, and you cant help but cry at the dry, and painful insertion. He's so mean!

"Shhh, puppy... 'I need this..." Doesn't even say please! Doesn't even give you a warning before the mushroom tip of his cock is breaching past your entrance. It's definitely way thicker than his fingers, and a lot more harder to get used to. He uses your bunched up knees as leverage to fuck you deeper, n deeper till your pretty eyes roll to the back of your skull.

He sounds like an animal when he cums. Growling pure filth to your ear while he grinds his dick inside you. Ready for a round 2?

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish who doesn't even wait. He was already hard as a fucking rock, hearing your cute voice cry out for him on the other side of the door. But now that it's opened, the only thing in his mind is dicking you down till your addicted to his cock.

Very impatient. You're literally like a ragdoll to him and he jus' manhandles you so you're face down, ass up :(

Shoves his fingers in your mouth while pulling your trousers down. He eats you out like a man starved. Like this was going to be his first, and last meal. Not a moment later and he's bullying your hole with his fat cock. Babbling nonsense about how fucking tight you are and how he's "waited to do this for so long". But he cums, and he cums deep.

The definition of painting your insides white.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick who looks like he's in so much pain. Unlike the other boys he tells you not to get close. He's not right in the head, can't you see that?? But you're sweet. Too sweet, and he wonders if you taste just the same. He's wetting his lips before knows it. He feels terrible. Eye fucking you while you're just trying to get him to talk about what's happening. Is he ok? He's not dying, is he? Tell me where it hurts, please.

You fret over him, and he's never felt such embarrassment in his life before. He feels bad, looking down at the massive tent in his pants. But he feels worse when he's pushing you against the wall. He's tried to hold back. Really, he did. But there's just so much a man like him can take in a situation like this. And he's trying to whisper apologies to you while he hasn't fully lost himself.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, just please....Fffuck–let me fuck you. Please..."

He's so desperate n'd whiney. As if he's not making your thighs shake and your brain into goo. He's fucking your mouth with his tongue, sturdy hands grabbing hold of your legs and wrapping them around his firm waist.

It's all too much. You're brain moving slower than your mouth can say "slow down". In a second he's got your trousers to the side, and his pants bunched up on his knees. He's shaking so much you're worried he might topple over. But he doesn't. Instead he slams his hips directly into yours. Your mouth opening in a silent scream.

He cums the moment he gets his dick in you. He's just so sensitive, ok :( And he doesn't stop at just one round, not even two. Three and his cum's leaking out of you, staining the floor and both of your thighs. Still moving his hips like a man possessed. Four, you're nearly passed out. And there's a slight bump in your stomach from where you're sure his cock, and cum is.

Head lying limp on your shoulder, you wonder how many times you've cummed already, or if this was even going to end. He smiles at you, so brightly he looks like your Kyle again. But he's kissing the side of your mouth before biting at your lips.

"Jus one more. Jus' one more, I promise..."

a/n: I literally don't know what bought this on. Are the parts where I lost motivation obvious? Yes? Ok. Fuck Some characters parts are longer than others I'm so sorry 😭 This has been rotting in my drafts for about 2 days. Hope you enjoy this more than I do 😞. Eat up, my loves!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

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puari-vol · 2 months ago

Text

Peer Pressure

CW: Hypnosis

I stood quietly and unobtrusively off in a corner of the ‘slumber party’ trying my best not to bother anyone. Occasionally I glanced over at my friend Kelsey who was talking animatedly with some girls and wondered why she had insisted I come along. Of course I had agreed at the time, it seemed like a good way to make friends. But now that I was here…I couldn’t bring myself to try talking to anyone. I fixed my eyes on the cup of water in my hand. This was all… fine, I was just being Kelsey's designated driver. I was being helpful, like a good friend should be. It didn’t matter if I had fun or not.

I zoned out enough that when Kelsey tapped me on the shoulder I jumped

“Did you really just stand in the corner this whole time? Geez come on you goof its time for the movie!”

She took my arm and dragged me toward the TV. Both couches were full so I ended up sitting cross legged on the ground in front of them. Kelsey was about to sit next to me before she was suddenly pulled away to sit with some other girls, so now I was just sitting next to two strangers. They didn't seem to mind me, but they didn't introduce themselves either.

The lights go off and the movie starts, the chatter dies down as everybody watches. It seemed like there was something wrong with the audio, there was an odd droning sound playing under the movie. But it wasn’t loud enough to be annoying and nobody else seemed to notice so I kept quiet. The movie was honestly kinda boring, I glanced around and accidentally made eye contact with someone doing the same thing. I felt myself blush and turned back to pay attention. The movie kept going and after a while I started to space out. I was so out of it that when something changed it took me a while to notice. The movie wasn’t playing anymore, or maybe…this was part of the movie? The screen just showed a pink and purple spiral spinning around and around. The droning had gotten louder. How long had the spiral been on the screen? I couldn’t remember. I looked to the girl on my right, about to ask if something was wrong with the movie. But she was just staring at the screen, focused. I noticed everyone else was doing much the same. I quickly turned back to the screen, not wanting to embarrass myself. As I watched I tried to remember what had been happening in the movie for this to make sense, the spiral and been going for at least a few minutes now, but the more I tried the more the details of the movie seemed fuzzy and distant. I stared intently at the screen, trying to find out what everyone else was looking at…

I blinked when there was suddenly someone sitting in front of me. I only noticed because she waved her hand in front of my face after she sat down. She was backlit by the spiral on the screen and she smiled at me.

“Hey there” she said softly “First time here?”

I just nodded feeling strangely dizzy.

“Kelsy said she was bringing someone knew, is that you?”

I nodded again, she was gazing intently at me and I started to feel self conscious, I averted my eyes and saw that everyone else was still just staring at the spiral

“Well Kelsy has good taste, you’ll be lovely”

I blush, not expecting the compliment

“Um thanks” I mumble no longer able to meet her eyes. She was grinning at me now

“Are you ready?”

“Uh…for what?”

“To learn about the button that turns off your brain”

I blinked as I tried to sort through the nonsense statement

“The what?”

She giggled and pointed off to my left

“Just watch, you’ll get the idea”

I looked and saw she was pointing at the girls sitting on one of the couches, all of their eyes were glued to the spiral. As I watched, another girl came up behind them. Starting with the girl on the far left, she leaned down and whispered something into her ear. Then reached over and tapped her on the forehead. At once, she went limp. Head lolling forward, eyes closed. She slumped into the girl sitting next to her, who jolted as if suddenly startled awake, eyes blinking rapidly. But the girl behind the couch simply reached over and tapped her on the forehead as well. And suddenly both girls seemed to be fast asleep leaning into each other. The girl behind the couch smiled and gave them both a pat on the head before moving on to the rest of the couch

“You see? All good girls like you have a button that turns off their brain”

I was staring open mouthed at the girls now asleep on the couch

“But…but I’m not-”

“Shhhhh”

I felt a hand on my cheek, and my head was turned to face the girl in front of me again. I was blushing like crazy now and I stammered something incoherent. The girl just smiled kindly

“Don’t worry, you won't be bothered by that kind of stuff soon”

Hand still on my cheek, she turned my head to the right, where I watched the girl sitting right next to me get tapped on the forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped back, mouth open and drooling.

“Isn’t she pretty?”

She put her hand below my chin and made me nod, I hardly noticed I was just staring at the girl

“Doesn’t she look beautiful, all sleepy like that?”

She made me nod again

“Don’t you want to look like that?”

I nodded, I wasn’t sure if she made me or not

She turned my head to face her again. Her other hand was held up in front of me, her index finger pointed at me. My eyes focused on the tip of her finger

“W-wait”

“Nighty night”

She tapped me on the forehead

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #mind control #brainwashing #hypnotized #shortstory #hypnostory #let me know if you like it #I might do a sequel

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sadnymi · 3 months ago

Text

Mastermind

[Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Lady Whistledown and Gossip Girl [ Hogwarts Version] had taken the school by storm. Every week, spoken letters delivered the latest rumors, and things were getting out of control. Y/N had finally had enough, especially when the latest gossip claimed she was dating Mattheo Riddle. Frustrated and determined to put an end to it, she went to Mattheo, asking for his help in uncovering the person behind the relentless rumors and stopping them once and for all.

Words: 15k

Warnings : fluff, smut smut smut don’t read in public you have been warning , biker boy mattheo [yes a warning] , a little angst, fluff .

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**The Daily Whisperer: Hogwarts Edition**

_Issue #47: The Gossip of the Week_

Hogwarts is buzzing with the latest speculation surrounding two of our most enigmatic students. You guessed it—Y/N Y/L/N and Mattheo Riddle.

Rumor has it that sparks are flying between these two, and if they aren't already an item, then Merlin’s beard, they definitely should be! A sighting in the library, some lingering glances in Potions class, and let’s not forget that mysterious detention they both just _happened_ to land in last week. Could this be the beginning of a legendary Hogwarts love story? But that's not all! This week’s flying letters brought us another sizzling scoop: Y/N was seen practicing dueling spells with Mattheo, and let's just say, the sparks were flying—literally. Could this be a sign of something more than just friendly competition? Stay tuned, dear readers. We’re on the case!

In other news, Y/N has been making waves not just in the rumor mill but in the academic arena as well. This ( whatever house you’re in, darling Y/N!) has been impressing professors and students alike with her spellwork and potions prowess. Is there anything she can't do? We'll keep you posted on her latest achievements and, of course, any further developments in her relationship status with a certain handsome Slytherin.

Until next time, keep your wands at the ready and your ears to the ground!

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I could feel the heat of a hundred eyes on me as I stormed through the hallways, clutching the latest edition of "Hogwarts Whispers" in my hand. My anger was palpable, a tangible force pushing people aside as they gawked at me. As I turned a corner, a group of Hufflepuffs quickly scattered, clearly not wanting to be on the receiving end of my wrath. My anger flared hotter. Who had the nerve to spread such nonsense? And why did it have to be always about _me_?

Finally, I spotted him. Mattheo Riddle stood by the entrance to the Great Hall, casually leaning against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, his dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he exchanged easy banter with his friends. Typical.

I marched up to him, my footsteps echoing off the stone walls. His friends wisely took a step back as I approached, but he merely glanced over at me with that infuriating smirk of his, clearly amused by my arrival.

“Riddle,” I said, my voice clipped.

“Y/L/N,” he replied, raising an eyebrow in a way that made it impossible to tell if he was mocking me or just genuinely interested.

“We need to talk.”

His smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “We need to talk?”

I huffed in frustration. “You didn’t read what that freak wrote today?”

“No,” he said slowly, his eyes scanning my face for any clue. “But does that have anything to do with why people are looking at us like we are about to say our vows?”

Resisted the urge to roll my eyes, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway. “Come on.”

He chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the situation more than he should. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to have this conversation in front of the entire school. The last thing I needed was to give those gossipy little owls more fuel for their fire.

I could feel his gaze on me as we walked, his hand warm in mine, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I wondered if there was any truth to what they’d written.

But I shoved that thought aside as we reached a secluded corner. I had a bone to pick with him, and I wasn’t about to let a few stray butterflies distract me.

“What are we going to do about this?” I demanded as soon as we were out of earshot of anyone else.

He just grinned, clearly unfazed. “What do you mean, Y/N? Sounds like we’re the hottest topic in school.”

My glare deepened. “This isn’t funny, Mattheo.”

“Maybe not.”

“This is absolute bullshit!” I fumed, waving the gossip letter around like it was cursed. “Why would anyone write this? Why is it always about me? Every. Single. Week!”

Mattheo leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed, watching me with that maddening smile on his face. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned, which only fueled my irritation further.

“And then they say I’m dating you?” I threw the letter on a desk, feeling my pulse racing. “Are they insane? Where do they even get this stuff?”

He chuckled, that deep, velvety sound that always seemed to get under my skin. “I’m trying so hard not to take that personally, princess.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up, Riddle.”

But he didn’t stop smiling, just kept leaning against the wall, looking at me like he was thoroughly enjoying the show. My frustration bubbled over. “Why are you so calm about this? This is serious! People are staring at us in the hallways! It’s like they’ve all got nothing better to do than imagine some ridiculous romance between us.”

“Well,” he drawled, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps toward me, “can you blame them? You’re not exactly easy to ignore, Y/N.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “This isn’t funny. We need to find out who’s behind this, and you’re going to help me.”

Mattheo pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer to me. "You want me to help you track down the identity of…" he paused, a playful glint in his eyes, "Madam Matchmaker?"

"Yes," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Would you do that?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I would never say no to my girlfriend."

"Shut up, Riddle." I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat despite the anger still boiling inside me. "I’m not your girlfriend," I insisted, my voice lacking the conviction I’d hoped for.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression smug. "That’s not what the whole school is saying."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t ignore the way his words sent a shiver down my spine. "Shut up, Riddle."

"Don't you see how ridiculous this is?" I asked, exasperated.

He tilted his head, still not breaking eye contact. "Oh, I see it, alright. But I've got to admit, I don't mind being linked to you, Y/N. It gives me an excuse to spend more time with you."

"Shut up, Riddle."

He laughed, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You know, if you keep telling me to shut up, I might just have to find another way to occupy my mouth."

"You… you’re —-!"

"And yet, here you are, asking me for help. You must like something about me, Y/N."

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I like the idea of you doing something useful for once. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

He straightened up, still smiling but with a more serious glint in his eyes. "Of course I’ll help you. But you owe me one."

"Fine," I grumbled, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

The next day, I stormed into the Great Hall, clutching a rolled-up piece of parchment in my hand. I barely noticed the whispers that trailed behind me as I made a beeline for the Slytherin table, my eyes locking onto Mattheo, who was lounging back in his seat, looking completely unbothered by the chaos swirling around us.

I slammed the parchment down in front of him, making a few Slytherins glance over in curiosity.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a list,” I said, taking a seat across from him and ignoring the way his friends were watching us with interest. “A list of suspects. I’ve narrowed it down to a few possibilities, and we need to figure out who’s responsible.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to the parchment, then back to me, clearly intrigued. “Go on.”

I pointed to the first name on the list. “First, there’s Carla knight. She’s always had it out for me ever since that incident in Potions last year. You know, she’s been looking for a way to get back at me ever since, she’s petty enough to spread rumors, and she’s got the connections to get them published.”

“True,” Mattheo mused, leaning back in his chair. “But Carla’s too obvious, don’t you think? She’s not exactly subtle.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, moving on to the next name. “Then there’s John Gary. He’s always been the quiet type, but that just makes him more dangerous. He’s close to the source, and he’s smart enough to cover his tracks.”

Mattheo nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Interesting."

"What about Lavender Brown? She’s always gossiping, and she’s got this diary she carries around everywhere. What if she’s the one writing this stuff down and sending it off to ‘Hogwarts Whispers’?"

"Lavender’s a possibility," Mattheo admitted, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine. "But she’s more into writing about her own love life than anyone else’s. I doubt she’d be focused enough to keep tabs on us."

I grumbled under my breath and tapped my quill against the parchment, staring at the remaining names. "Then who could it be? I’ve gone through almost everyone who’s likely to be involved in this kind of thing, and none of them make sense!"

Mattheo didn’t respond immediately, and I looked up to find him just staring at me, a small, almost secretive smile on his lips.

"What the hell are you doing? Were you even listening?" I demanded, feeling my frustration rise again.

His eyes flicked over my face, lingering on my lips for a moment before he finally spoke. "Oh, I was listening, princess. It’s just hard to focus when you’re looking so damn determined. It’s… distracting."

My heart did a little flip, but I shoved that feeling down and crossed my arms. "This is serious, Riddle. Someone is spreading lies about us, and you’re just sitting here, smirking like it’s all a joke."

He chuckled softly, his eyes still locked on mine. "I’m not laughing at you. I’m just appreciating how hard you’re trying to solve this little mystery. It’s kind of… sexy."

I felt my face heat up, but I wasn’t about to let him derail me. "Stop with the compliments, Mattheo. This is important."

"Sure."

"Shut up, Riddle. I’m serious."

"So am I," he said smoothly, leaning back in his seat, his gaze still locked on mine. "But if you want to focus on this little mystery instead of the much more interesting topic of us, then go ahead."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice sent a shiver down my spine. "Fine. If you’re not going to help, then at least don’t make this harder than it already is."

Mattheo’s smirk grew as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know, Y/N, there are easier ways to spend time with me than concocting elaborate schemes to solve a mystery that might not even have a culprit."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged casually, his eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe someone’s just trying to push us together, and it’s working. Ever thought about that?"

"Shut up, Riddle," I snapped, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

He chuckled, his gaze never leaving mine. "Only if you make me."

I reached out to smack his arm. "Stop acting like that. This is serious!"

In a flash, Mattheo’s hand shot out, catching my wrist with a firm but gentle grip. His smile was both mischievous and reassuring as he looked at me. "Alright, but only because you’re so charming when you’re worked up."

I pulled my wrist free, trying to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks. "Just—stop distracting me. I need to figure out who’s behind this before it gets any worse."

Mattheo leaned back, still watching me with that unnerving mixture of amusement and interest. "Indeed, lead the way. I’m all ears."

For the rest of the week, I was on a mission. Every day, I dragged Mattheo around the school, from the library to the common rooms, and even to the less frequented corners of the castle. Despite his usual nonchalance, Mattheo followed along without question, his only response being that knowing smile he always seemed to have when he was around me.

We spent hours poring over potential suspects, analyzing their motives, and investigating their whereabouts. Each time I got frustrated or hit a dead end, Mattheo would patiently listen, never interrupting, and only offering occasional comments that were either strangely insightful or just plain distracting.

As we walked through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, I finally vented my frustrations. "This is ridiculous. I’ve talked to nearly everyone I can think of, and no one seems to know anything. It’s like we’re running in circles."

Mattheo’s hand brushed against mine as he walked beside me, and I could feel the warmth of his touch even through our robes. "Maybe you’re looking too hard. Sometimes, the answer isn’t in what people say but in what they don’t."

I sighed, feeling the weight of the week’s frustration pressing down on me. "I just don’t get it. Why would someone target me like this?"

He glanced at me, his expression softening. "Maybe they’re trying to get a reaction out of you."

His words, though comforting, did little to ease my worries. I shook my head and kept walking, the silence between us stretching as we turned another corner. "I don’t know how you manage to stay so calm about all this. I’m losing my mind trying to figure this out."

"You’re doing great."

"Thanks, Mattheo."

He flashed me a reassuring smile. "Anytime. Besides, it’s been… interesting, spending all this time with you. I’d say it’s been the highlight of my week."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a wry smile. "Oh, is that so? I’m glad to be your highlight, Riddle."

He grinned, his usual mischievous glint in his eye. "You should be. And if you ever need me to be a distraction! again, just let me know."

" I hope not."

As we turned another corner in the castle, Mattheo suddenly stopped, his expression shifting from his usual playful smirk to something more serious. "Go on a date with me."

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, leaning against the wall with that infuriatingly confident look on his face. "Let’s go on a date."

I blinked, trying to process his words. "Why would I—what are you even talking about? We’re supposed to be figuring out who’s spreading these rumors, not giving them more fuel for the fire!"

"Exactly," he replied smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. "If we go on a date, we can see who’s watching us, who’s interested in what we’re doing. It’ll flush out the culprit. And with the weekend coming up, whoever’s behind this will be desperate for more gossip to spread. We’ll be able to figure it out, Y/N."

I shook my head, utterly incredulous. "Absolutely not. I’m not going on a date with you."

"Why not?" he asked, his smirk returning as he stepped closer, his presence as magnetic as ever. "It’s the perfect plan. We’ll be able to spot who’s paying too much attention to us."

"Because," I stammered, feeling my heart race as he closed the distance between us, "it’s ridiculous! You’re just trying to mess with me. I know you, Mattheo. You don’t actually care about solving this, you just want to—"

"Want to what?" he interrupted, his voice low and teasing. "Think about it, Y/N. We go out, see who’s watching, think of it as an experiment. A way to gather evidences. You like evidence, don’t you?"

"I’m not going on a date with you. I refuse to give these gossips exactly what they want. I’m not some pawn in their game, and I’m certainly not going to parade around with you just to see who’s got their eyes on us."

He just kept smiling, his eyes locked onto mine with that infuriatingly calm, knowing look. "You keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know it’s the best way to figure this out."

"No," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "There’s no way I’m doing it. This is absurd, and I’m not falling for it. You’re just trying to—"

"Trying to what?" he echoed, taking another step closer until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened. "Shut up, Riddle."

He didn’t move, his smirk widening as his gaze held mine. "You tell me to shut up again, and I will kiss the fuck out of you, princess."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "That’s the deal. You say it again, and I won’t hold back."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I could barely form a coherent thought as his words sank in. "You—you’re insane."

"Maybe," he replied, his voice low and full of intent. "But I always get what I want. And right now, what I want is to figure this out—with you."

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I tried to gather my thoughts. "This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his gaze still locked onto mine. "Or is it just that you’re afraid you might actually enjoy it?"

I stared at him, my mind spinning as I tried to come up with a response. But the truth was, I was too flustered to think straight. His confidence, his intensity—it was overwhelming.

"This is stupid," I muttered, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance.

"That’s not a ‘no’."

I glared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "But this is strictly for the sake of finding out who’s behind the rumors."

Mattheo’s grin widened. "Of course, princess. Strictly business."

I crossed my arms, trying to keep a lid on the flurry of emotions swirling inside me. "You have to behave, Riddle. No funny business, no flirting. Just… business."

"I’ll be on my best behavior."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge if he was being sincere or just playing me. "Somehow, I doubt that."

He chuckled, leaning in slightly saying in a mocking tone. "Your doubt wounds me, Y/N. My favorite thing to do is to be a good boy for you."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. "Sure, whatever you say."

"So," he continued, ignoring my skepticism, "tomorrow, then?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, tomorrow."

Mattheo’s gaze softened, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "Don’t be nervous. And try not to think about me too much tonight."

I scoffed, giving him a withering look. "In your dreams, Riddle."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur. "Oh, believe me, darling. You’re in my dreams every night. But we’re not just talking in them."

My face burned as I smacked his arm again, harder this time. "I’m going to just kill you someday and stop the rumors you’re insufferable, you know that?"

He just laughed, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "And yet, you keep coming back for more."

"I don’t have a choice," I shot back, starting to walk toward my dormitory with him following close behind.

"Ah, but you do," he said smoothly, keeping pace with me. "And you’re choosing to be here with me. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?"

I ignored him, focusing on the corridor ahead, even as I felt his gaze lingering on me.

We walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft and teasing. "You know, tomorrow’s going to be fun. You’ll see."

I rolled my eyes, still facing forward. "If by ‘fun’ you mean torturous, then sure."

Mattheo’s laughter echoed through the corridor, warm and rich. "Torturous for you, maybe. But for me? It’ll be heaven."

I stopped in front of my dormitory, turning to face him. "This is where we part ways."

He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. "For now. But you know, you can always invite me in if you’re feeling lonely."

Pushing him away lightly I said. "Not a chance, Riddle."

He grinned, completely unfazed. "Worth a shot."

I gave him a look, and for once, he seemed to back down. "Alright, alright. Sleep well, Y/N. And try not to think too much about tomorrow. Or about me."

I slammed the door shut in his face, cutting off his words, but I could still hear his low chuckle from the other side. Then I leaned against the door, trying to steady my racing heart.

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve been on plenty of dates before, so why does this one feel different? I’ve had Quidditch players asking me out, and even the prince of Eldoria once tried his luck, but none of that made me feel as nervous as I am right now. And this isn’t even a real date. It’s just a… mission, right?

I stared at the mess of clothes strewn across my room, feeling utterly lost. Is this too much? Will I be overdressed if I wear it? Or is this too casual? And I can’t stop thinking about him—nope, we won’t do that. We won’t think about him or what he’s going to wear. Or not wear. No, absolutely not. We are not thinking about him without clothes. That can’t happen. I can’t stand Mattheo, right?

But why? Why can’t I stand him? I can’t remember anymore. Maybe it’s because he makes me feel so damn nervous? And I hate that. I hate losing control. I love having control over everything, and Merlin knows he wasn’t helping with that. It’s like every cell in my body is screaming, and I mean every single one.

I finally settled on a small black dress, letting my hair fall naturally around my shoulders. I added a touch of makeup and a simple necklace, convincing myself that I was doing this for me. It’s a good chance to get dressed up and look good—to myself, right? I always do. I’m a fashion icon, and I always dress well. Not for any certain someone with beautiful eyes and hair and a body that—nope, stop it, Y/N. We’re not going there.

I took a deep breath and walked out of my dorm, only to find Mattheo standing just outside my door, hand raised as if he was about to knock. He was dressed all in black, and oh, Merlin, that shirt was doing things to me.

His eyes slowly raking up and down my body. He wasn’t even trying to hide that he was looking, and when his gaze finally reached my face, it lingered on my lips before meeting my eyes.

"Matching," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. "You always wear black or gray, It’s hardly a coincidence Mattheo."

His smirk widened as he took a step closer. "Oh, baby, so you were trying to match with me?"

"What? Of course not!" I shot back, but my voice sounded less convincing than I would’ve liked. He laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I glared at him, crossing my arms. "If you don’t stop, I’m going back inside and forgetting about this so-called date,"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You look stunning, Y/N. Absolutely breathtaking. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to focus on anything but you tonight."

I rolled my eyes again, though I could feel my cheeks heating up. "You’re so insufferable."

"And you’re so beautiful," he replied smoothly, taking my hand in his. "Now come on. Let’s get out of here."

I allowed him to lead me out of the castle, my heart pounding harder with every step. "Where are we going?"

"You’ll see," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I promise it’s something you’ll like."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you’re up to something, Riddle, I swear—"

"Oh, I’m definitely up to something," he replied, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he glanced over at me, his eyes darkening slightly. "But I think you’ll enjoy it. Maybe even more than you expect."

My breath caught in my throat, and I tried to keep my voice steady. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know."

"Who said I was trying to fool you?" he shot back, his grip on my hand tightening slightly.

I tried to ignore the way his words made my pulse quicken. "You’re being annoyingly cryptic, you know that?"

"It’s part of my charm," he replied , his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. "And besides, it’s worth the suspense, don’t you think?"

I looked at him, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I think you’re enjoying this far too much."

He chuckled, his eyes darkening with a mischievous glint. "Oh, I am. But don’t pretend you aren’t, too."

As Mattheo led me down the dimly lit corridor, I couldn't help but notice the way his thumb was now tracing small circles on the back of my hand. The warmth of his touch sent shivers up my spine, and I fought to keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control.

My breath hitched slightly, but I forced myself to stay calm. "You’re really pushing it, Riddle."

"And you love it," he shot back, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I pushed him away pretending to be annoyed it’s actually better to show him that I was so turned on. "Let’s just get this over with."

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to inject some firmness into my voice, though it came out softer than I intended.

Mattheo glanced at me, a slow, almost predatory smile spreading across his lips. “Patience, darling."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words got caught in my throat. The cool night air hit me like a wave, but it did little to quell the heat burning inside me.

“You look like you’re trying really hard not to think about what I’m going to do to you tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. “What… what are you talking about?”

He chuckled softly, pulling me closer until our bodies were nearly touching. “Oh, come on, Y/N. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. About what it would feel like.”

My breath hitched, and I couldn’t stop the rush of heat that flooded my body at his words. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t letting him get to me like this. But when he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on my hip, I could barely think straight.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, though it was clear even to me that I was lying.

“Liar,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve been thinking about it. And the best part? So have I.”

I blinked up at him, trying to form a coherent response when he suddenly smirked and pointed behind me. “Relax, darling. I was talking about the ride I’m going to give you tonight.”

I followed his gaze and saw a sleek black motorcycle parked nearby. “Wait… what?” I breathed out, my heart still racing.

His smirk deepened, and he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What were _you_ thinking about?”

“Nothing!” I shot back, far too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not buying it. He started walking toward the bike, and I followed, my steps hesitant.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the motorcycle as if it had personally offended me.

He looked at me with exaggerated innocence. “This? It’s a bike. You know, that thing with two wheels that goes vroom?”

I glared at him, my patience wearing thin. “I know exactly what it is. I’m asking why you’re near it.”

He leaned against the bike, looking far too smug for his own good."Because we’re taking it for a ride, obviously."

“Mattheo, you didn’t… Where did you even get this from?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He grinned mischievously. “Stole it.”

My eyes widened, and I took a step back, ready to bolt. But then he laughed, shaking his head. “Kidding, darling. Just get on.”

I stared at him for a moment, debating whether I should turn around and walk back inside. But something about the way he was looking at me—challenging, teasing—made me pause. I cursed under my breath and reluctantly walked over to the bike.

As I approached, I couldn’t help but curse myself for wearing a dress. Of all nights, why did I choose tonight to be impractical? I awkwardly tried to swing my leg over the bike, careful not to flash him.

“Need some help there?”

“I’ve got it,” I snapped, finally managing to get on the bike without embarrassing myself too much.

He turned to face me, and suddenly, he was so close I could feel his breath on my face. His hands reached up, and he gently placed a helmet on my head, securing the strap under my chin. The simple act was far more intimate than it had any right to be, and I found myself holding my breath.

“You might want to hold on to me,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with suggestion.

I hesitated for a second, then wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath my hands. “If you crash this thing, I’m killing you,” I muttered against his back.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got you.”

he started the bike, the engine roaring to life beneath us. I tightened my grip on him as we took off, the wind whipping through my hair. The cool night air rushed past us, but all I could focus on was the heat radiating from Mattheo’s body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he maneuvered the bike through the darkened streets.

“Enjoying yourself back there?” he called over the sound of the wind.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just keep your eyes on the road, Riddle.”

He laughed again, but there was a dark edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I am. But I can’t help but think about how good you feel pressed up against me.”

My cheeks burned, and I was grateful he couldn’t see my face. “Shut up, Mattheo.”

" careful baby remember our deal?"

“Mattheo—”

“ Yes,princess?"

" don’t open your mouth please."

He laughed " Why? You don’t like it when I talk about how your hands feel on me? Or how I can feel every little movement you make?”

“No—”

“Or maybe it’s the way you’re clinging to me right now,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more seductive. “Like you can’t get close enough. Like you don’t want this ride to end.”

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the way his words were making my heart race even faster. He was doing this on purpose, and damn him, it was working.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” I shot back, but my voice lacked the bite I intended.

He slowed the bike down slightly, and I felt him lean back just enough to speak directly into my ear. “Too late for that, darling. You’re driving me crazy.”

My breath caught, and I tightened my grip on him, unsure if it was to steady myself or if it was because part of me wanted him to pull over.

“Mattheo…” I warned, but my voice was weak, trembling.

He chuckled, the sound dark and promising. “Relax."

Every time he took a sharp turn or sped up, my grip on him tightened, and he would laugh softly, his voice full of that infuriating confidence. “You sure you’re not nervous?”

“I’m sure,” I replied, though my heart was racing for more reasons than just the speed of the bike.

“Good.”

As Mattheo slowed the bike to a stop, I looked around and felt a jolt of unease settle in my stomach. The area was dimly lit, with groups of people loitering around, looking like trouble. The girls wore little more than scraps of fabric, their heavy makeup making their eyes look like dark smudges in the faint light. The guys weren’t any better—tough, dangerous, and clearly up to no good.

I turned to Mattheo, my voice tinged with irritation and confusion. “What the hell, Mattheo?”

He smirked, swinging his leg off the bike. “What? I thought you’d appreciate something different from the fancy dates you’re used to. Oh, remind me again, where did Prince Edward take you to?”

“He didn’t,” I snapped back, dismounting the bike as gracefully as possible while trying to keep my dress in place. “Because I turned the date down.”

Mattheo’s grin widened, a mocking edge to it. “How bad for him.”

I rolled my eyes, glancing around nervously. “There’s no one from school here, right? I mean, how is the gossip mill going to work if they don’t notice us?”

He leaned against the bike, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, they won’t.”

“Excuse me?” I shot back, incredulous.

He laughed, shaking his head. “They’ll be more likely to be notice here than some fancy place, don’t you think?”

I frowned but nodded reluctantly. “Probably, yeah. Any normal person would feel so out of place here.”

I was about to step off the bike when I felt his hands suddenly on my hips, his grip firm. “No, not like that, princess.”

“What?” I managed to say, my voice coming out in a breathless whisper as he effortlessly swung off the bike first. Then, without warning, he placed his hands on my waist again and lifted me off the bike as if I weighed nothing.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to get a look at the show I had a minutes ago,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

My face flushed crimson, and I struggled to maintain my composure as his hands stayed on my waist, guiding me toward the entrance. His touch was possessive, almost claiming, and I couldn’t help the thrill that shot through me despite the chaotic surroundings.

“So, do I need to keep my wand close?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious as we neared the group.

Mattheo chuckled, his breath warm against my ear. “You really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

As we walked through the crowd, people began to notice Mattheo, their eyes lighting up with recognition. A couple of guys came over, greeting him with casual nods and low murmurs.

“Riddle! Didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” one of them said, a tall guy with a crooked grin.

Another guy came up, clapping Mattheo on the back. “Good to see you, mate. Thought you’d ditched us for good.”

“Nah,” Mattheo replied casually. “Just been busy.”

“Yeah, thought you were too good for us these days,” another chimed in, smirking.

Mattheo just shrugged, his grip on my waist tightening slightly. “Can’t forget where I came from.”

Before I could process what that meant, a girl suddenly appeared, practically throwing herself at Mattheo. She had wild, dark hair and wore a top that could barely be called clothing. “Matty! I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she purred, her hands already trailing over his chest. Then, she noticed me, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down, clearly sizing me up.

I met her gaze, lifting my chin defiantly as I looked her over. She was all beautiful and confidence, but something about her screamed desperate. I couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that flared in my chest. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I snapped, crossing my arms.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, her lips curling into a sneer. “Who’s this?” she asked Mattheo, her tone dripping with disdain.

Mattheo’s hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “She’s My girl,” he said simply, his voice cool and dismissive.

The girl’s eyes narrowed further as she gave me another once-over. I met her gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “Got a problem with that?” I asked, my tone sweet but laced with a clear challenge.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “No, of course not,” she said, but her eyes were still cold. She turned back to Mattheo, trying to regain his attention. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, now you know,” I said firmly, stepping closer to Mattheo as if staking my claim.

She shot me one last glare before reluctantly backing off, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to win this one. I watched her go, feeling oddly victorious, even as my heart pounded in my chest.

Mattheo’s low chuckle drew my attention back to him, and I looked up to find him watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Jealous, are we?”

“Absolutely not,” I retorted, though my face was still flushed.

“Right,” he drawled, clearly not believing me.

Mattheo guided me through the throngs of people, his hand never leaving my waist as we made our way toward a secluded area. The crowd seemed to part for him, everyone stepping aside as if they knew better than to get in his way. He led me to a corner of the warehouse where a small, dimly lit bar was nestled. The area was quieter, more exclusive, with plush leather couches and a polished wooden bar that gave it an air of importance.

“This is where the VIPs hang out?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as we stepped into the area. It was a stark contrast to the chaos outside—a private sanctuary within the madness.

Mattheo smirked, pulling out a barstool for me before taking a seat himself. “You could say that. Only those who matter get to hang out here.”

I settled onto the stool, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “And I’m guessing you’re one of those people?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “What do you think, Princess?”

“I think you like making a scene wherever you go,” I shot back, trying to keep my tone light despite the way my heart was racing.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

The bartender, a grizzled-looking man with a permanent scowl, approached us, his gaze flickering over me before settling on Mattheo.

“Riddle,” the bartender said in greeting, his voice gruff. “Been a while.”

“Hey, Greg,” Mattheo replied, his voice casual. “How’s business?”

Greg grunted, grabbing a glass and starting to mix a drink. “Same old, same old. You finally got yourself a date, eh?”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand still resting on my thigh. “Something like that.”

Greg's eyes flickered over to me again, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He took in my dress and my slightly flustered demeanor, a wry grin tugging at his mouth. “She's a fancy one, ain't she?” he commented, continuing to mix the drinks.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Mattheo agreed, his hand caressing my thigh. “But she’s all mine.”

I suppressed a shiver at the touch, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as I shot Mattheo a glare. He just smirked in response.

"Noted." Greg set our drinks down in front of us, a shot of dark liquor for Mattheo and something orange and frothy for me. “On the house,” he said gruffly, before moving to serve other customers.

"Can you tell me why those people know you? And how the hell are you so well-known like a famous celebrity here?"

Mattheo takes a sip of his drink, a smirk playing on his lips as he contemplates my question. “I wouldn’t say famous, darling. But I’ve spent a lot of time here... Let’s just say I know my way around.”

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “That’s not a real answer.”

He grins, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Oh, it's a perfectly real answer. You just don't like it.”

"And what about this girl?" I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

“That’s Layla. She’s part of this crowd… a regular here, I guess you could say.”

“And you… know her well?”

He shrugs, his hand going back to rest on my thigh. “We’ve crossed paths a few times, yeah.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me pause, a flicker of jealousy stirring in my chest.

He takes another sip of his drink, avoiding my gaze for a moment. “You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?”

I scowl at his non-answer. “You’re the one who keeps avoiding them.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his hand tracing lazy circles on my thigh. “I just like seeing you get all worked up, princess.”

“So what’s your definition of crossing paths?” I ask, pressing him further.

He pauses, seeming to consider his words carefully. “Layla and I have... hooked up a few times. Nothing serious, just casual stuff.”

My heart sinks, a mix of jealousy and disappointment flickering inside me. I try to mask it, though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothered me.

“And what about now? Is she still in the picture?”

His hand tightens slightly on my thigh, and I feel him tense for a moment. Then he turns his head slightly, his lips almost brushing mine as he answers, “No, she’s not.”

“Good,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, “because this whole act would be a lot less convincing if you were involved with more than one girl.”

Mattheo chuckles, the sound low and rich, as his fingers tighten their grip on my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. “And here I thought you were just in this for the show,” he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement and something darker, more seductive.

“I am,” I say, my voice steady despite the rapid thudding of my heart. “But even in an act, there are rules.”

“Rules, huh?” He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he speaks, his breath warm against my skin. “And what are those rules, princess?”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. I need to stay in control, to remind myself that this is just an act. “Like keeping your hands to yourself,” I whisper, but the words come out more breathless than I intended.

He chuckles again, a dark, knowing sound. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His hand slides further up my thigh, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to maintain my composure.

“We’re supposed to be pretending,” I manage to say, my voice betraying the strain of keeping up the facade.

“Are we?” His lips graze the corner of my mouth, his words a challenge, daring me to keep up the pretense.

I turn my head slightly, our noses nearly touching, my breath mingling with his. “Yes,” I whisper, but it’s clear neither of us believes it anymore.

“So, just an act?” he repeats, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

I nod, barely managing to keep my composure. “Just an act,” I reply, though the words feel like a lie.

He tilts his head, his lips dangerously close to mine. “But we might as well convince them, right?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that says he’s not playing anymore.

I should pull away, tell him no, remind him that this is all part of the charade. But I can’t. My resolve crumbles as I look into his eyes, the intensity there pulling me in, refusing to let go.

“Right,” I whisper, my voice betraying me.

Before I can take another breath, his mouth was on mine, claiming me with a possessiveness that made my breath hitch. His lips moved against mine, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of it. Then, his teeth tugged on my lower lip, and I gasped, giving him the opening he needed.

His tongue slipped inside, tasting and teasing, coaxing mine into a heated dance that left me dizzy. The kiss was all-consuming, each stroke of his tongue demanding a response that I couldn’t help but give. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a declaration, a promise of everything he could make me feel.

Mattheo’s hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until I was practically melting into him. He sucked on my lower lip, pulling it between his teeth before releasing it with a soft, wet pop. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself pressing closer, needing more of him, of this.

“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips, the praise like gasoline to the fire already burning inside me. The words sent a rush of warmth straight to my core, and I couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped my throat.

His hands were everywhere—on my hips, my waist, tracing the curve of my spine—as he guided me to straddle his lap. The shift in position made me acutely aware of the hardness pressing against me, a reminder of just how much he wanted this, wanted me.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking and biting just enough to leave a mark. His words were a drug, intoxicating and impossible to resist. I could feel the heat pooling low in my belly, a need so intense it was almost painful.

“Mattheo,” I breathed, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to take more, to give more.

He groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin as his hands gripped my hips, guiding me to grind against him. The friction was maddening, each roll of my hips sending waves of pleasure through me that made it hard to think, hard to breathe.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough, laced with a hunger that made my heart race.

“Yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as I rocked against him, desperate for more. His hands moved to my ass, squeezing as he guided my movements, his lips capturing mine again in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, primal, a clash of tongues and teeth that left me trembling in his arms.

“Good girl,” he repeated, his voice thick with desire as his hands slid under my dress, tracing the edges of my panties. “Such a good girl for me.” The praise was almost too much, his mouth was on mine, sending a fresh wave of heat through my body as I arched into him, needing him to do something, anything to relieve the ache between my thighs.

Reality crashed down on me like a cold wave, dousing the fire that had been raging between us. I was kissing Mattheo Riddle—not just kissing him, but grinding against him in a dark, dingy bar, losing control in a way that was so unlike me.

Breathless, I shook my head, my hands still resting on his chest, but I pushed him away just enough to create space between us. “We shouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort to regain control.

“Why not?” he murmured.

His hands remained on my hips, firm but not forceful, as if he knew I could—and might—pull away at any moment.

“It’s wrong,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. Wrong didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess of emotions inside me.

“It feels so right to me,” he countered, his voice low.

“That’s the problem,” I whispered, my resolve wavering as I felt the heat of his body so close to mine, the pull of his gaze making it almost impossible to think clearly. I was losing myself, losing the control I prided myself on, every time I was near him.

“Mattheo, I want to go,” I said, my voice firmer this time, though the longing in me betrayed how much I wanted to stay, to give in.

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes as he stood up, his hand falling away from my thigh. He kept close to me as we made our way out of the bar, his presence a constant, protective shield, yet he didn’t touch me. And damn, I hated that—hated how much I wanted him to touch me, to feel his hands on me again, even as I knew I shouldn’t.

We reached his bike, and he stood between me and the prying eyes of anyone passing by, shielding me as I climbed on. He still didn’t touch me, and it was driving me insane, the absence of his touch making me crave it even more. I hated myself for it, for wanting him so badly that it was all I could think about.

He climbed on the bike in front of me, starting the engine with a low rumble. My hands automatically went to his waist, and as soon as I made contact, it was like an electric current shot through me. My mind was a mess, a chaotic whirl of thoughts and emotions, and my body—oh, my body—was screaming for more, for him.

I clenched my hands tighter around him, trying to focus, trying to breathe, but the tension inside me was unbearable. The battle raging within me, between what I wanted and what I knew was right, was tearing me apart.

“Stop, Mattheo,” I blurted out, my voice cutting through the night.

He didn’t respond at first, but I felt his body tense under my hands. “What?” he asked, his voice tight, uncertain.

“I said stop,” I repeated, louder this time, and he immediately pulled the bike over to the side of the road, the engine cutting off with a final, ominous growl.

We were on a dark, deserted forest road, the trees casting long, eerie shadows under the moonlight. I got off the bike quickly, putting distance between us, trying to get a grip on the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I walked a few steps away, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the fire burning inside me.

I turned around, my breath catching in my throat as I saw him, standing there, taking off his helmet. His eyes were on me, intense, questioning, filled with something that made my heart race all over again.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was running back to him, my resolve crumbling to dust. I crashed into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I pulled him down to me, my lips finding his with a desperation I couldn’t control.

His response was immediate, his hands flying to my waist, gripping me tightly as he kissed me back with a fierce, raw passion that left me breathless. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that matched my own, devouring, claiming me in a way that made my knees weak.

He lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the bike with my back against the handlebars, my legs on either side of him as he stepped between them, his body pressing into mine. The cold metal of the bike contrasted sharply with the heat of his body, the hard, unyielding surface beneath me a stark reminder of how exposed, how vulnerable I was.

But I didn’t care. I was beyond caring. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me, needing him to take away the ache that was consuming me from the inside out.

His hands roamed over me, possessive, claiming, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made me moan into his mouth. He was everywhere—his touch, his taste, his scent—overwhelming my senses until there was nothing left but him.

“Mattheo,” I breathed against his lips, my hands sliding up to cup his face, holding him to me as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as he pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into mine, dark and wild. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

“Then show me,” I whispered, my voice trembling, both a challenge and a plea.

And he did. His hands moved down to my hips, gripping me firmly as he pulled me closer, his lips descending on mine once more, claiming me, possessing me. The kiss was hard, demanding, every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, sending shockwaves through me that left me breathless, trembling in his arms.

his hand tracing a teasing line down my side. His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “If I were to slip my hand between those pretty thighs right now, would I find you soaking wet, princess?”

A shiver ran through me, his words setting my skin on fire.

“You’d have to do it to find out,” I whispered back, my voice shaky.

His hand slid down to my thigh, gripping it firmly as he pushed the fabric of my dress up, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. The touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core, making me gasp.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, dripping with praise that sent another rush of heat through me. His hand moved higher, inching closer to where I needed him most, but he took his time, teasing me, making me squirm against him.

When his fingers finally reached the edge of my panties, he paused, his eyes locking onto mine, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re already so wet for me,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he slid one finger along the slick fabric, barely touching me but enough to make my breath hitch.

I bit my lip, fighting back a moan as he continued to tease me, his finger tracing lazy circles over my clit through the thin fabric. The sensation was maddening, the light touch just enough to drive me crazy but not nearly enough to satisfy the aching need inside me.

“Let’s see how wet you really are,” he whispered, slipping his hand inside my panties, his fingers brushing against my slick folds. The contact was enough to make me moan, the sound escaping my lips before I could stop it.

His finger slid along my slit, collecting my wetness before he pressed it against my clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had me arching into his touch, desperate for more. “You’re drenched,” he murmured, his voice laced with approval, his breath hot against my neck as he continued to work me over.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders as he curled his finger, finding that perfect spot that made me see stars. He added another finger, the stretch delicious as he pumped them in and out, his thumb brushing against my clit with every movement.

“Look at you princess.” he whispered, his voice a low growl as he continued to finger me, his pace steady and relentless. “You like knowing we’re still in public, don’t you, Y/N? That’s so unlike you….”

His words made my head spin, the combination of his dirty talk and the way his fingers worked me over was too much, too overwhelming. “Nothing I do when I’m with you is like me,” I admitted, my voice breathless as I bucked against his hand, craving more of the pleasure only he could give me. “But nothing has ever felt this good.”

He groaned at my confession, his fingers curling inside me, hitting that perfect spot that had me seeing stars. “Good girl,” he praised again, his voice filled with pride and lust as he kissed me hard, his lips claiming mine with a hunger that left me breathless.

I kissed him back with equal fervor, losing myself in the feel of him, the way his fingers worked me over, driving me closer and closer to the edge. His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his fingers curling inside me in just the right way, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me that made my entire body tremble.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled against my lips, his fingers moving faster, harder, the wet sounds of his fingers working me over filling the dark, empty forest around us. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, princess? Come all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

His words were my undoing, the praise and the dirty talk too much for me to handle. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me breathless, clinging to him for support as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

Mattheo didn’t stop, his fingers working me through my orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until I was nothing but a trembling, panting mess in his arms. He finally slowed his movements, gently pulling his fingers out of me and bringing them to his lips, his eyes locked onto mine as he licked them clean.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction as he pulled me in for another searing kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth, letting me taste myself on him.

I kissed him back, my heart racing, my body still trembling from the intensity of what he’d just done to me. I knew we were still out in the open, knew that anyone could have seen us, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel, the way he could break down every wall I’d ever built around myself with just a touch, a word, a kiss.

breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, “Would you let me tease you, princess? Let me take my time driving you wild until you’re begging for me?”

His voice was dark, dripping with lust and promise, the words alone sending a shiver down my spine. I could only nod, still panting, my body trembling from the aftershocks of my release. The anticipation of what he was about to do had my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat.

He smirked at my response, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to spread my legs wider. I gasped as the cool air brushed against my heated core, my entire body thrumming with a desperate need for more.

Mattheo took his time, starting with a slow, deliberate kiss on the inside of my thigh, just above my knee. His lips were soft, his tongue darting out to taste my skin as he worked his way up, inch by agonizing inch. Each kiss, each lick, sent a fresh wave of arousal through me, making my thighs tremble in anticipation.

He alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing licks, his tongue tracing patterns up my inner thigh. The closer he got to where I wanted him most, the more my hips began to shift, desperate for him to end the torment. But he didn’t rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulled from me.

When he finally reached the apex of my thighs, he paused, his breath warm against my soaked folds. The anticipation was unbearable, every nerve in my body screaming for him to touch me, to give me the release I was so desperately craving.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement as he kissed the sensitive skin right beside where I ached for him most.

And then, without warning, his tongue was on me, the first long, slow lick sending a bolt of pleasure straight through me. I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily as his tongue slid over my folds, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place.

He took his time, alternating between slow, teasing licks and firm, deliberate strokes of his tongue over my clit. Every touch was electric, every swirl of his tongue pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I was already so sensitive, still reeling from my first orgasm, and the sensation was almost too much to bear.

“Mattheo, please,” I gasped, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

He chuckled against me, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through me. “Patience, princess,” he murmured, his voice a dark, sinful promise. “I’m just getting started.”

He wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub. The combination of his mouth and the steady rhythm of his tongue was driving me wild, the pleasure building so quickly that it was almost overwhelming.

He kept at it, his tongue working in tandem with his lips, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My thighs were trembling, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure coiled tight in my belly, ready to snap.

And then he pushed me over the edge, his tongue curling around my clit in a way that made my vision go white. I cried out, my body convulsing as the orgasm tore through me, the pleasure so intense that I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel.

He didn’t stop, didn’t give me a moment to recover as he continued to work me through my release, his tongue lapping up every bit of my arousal. The overstimulation was mind-blowing, each flick of his tongue sending another shockwave through my already oversensitive body.

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my voice raw from the intensity of it all. “I can’t—”

“Oh, but you can,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding as he continued his assault on my clit, his fingers sliding back inside me to curl against that spot that made me see stars. “You’re going to cum again, princess. I want to feel you fall apart for me one more time.”

I could barely form a coherent thought, my mind completely consumed by the pleasure he was giving me. I could only nod, my body already climbing toward that peak again, the intensity of it making my head spin.

He finally pulled away, his hands gently holding my thighs as I came down from the high, my body still trembling with the aftershocks. I was completely spent, my mind foggy with pleasure, but Mattheo just grinned up at me, his lips glistening with my arousal.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he kissed my inner thigh, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my skin. “I could do this all night.”

Tears of pleasure welled in my eyes as I reached for Mattheo, pulling him up to me. I could feel my makeup smeared, my face wet with tears that I knew had streaked down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, about the way his lips met mine in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender.

He kissed me with a hunger that matched my own, his hands cradling my face as if I were something precious, even as I reached down, my fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. I could feel how hard he was, could feel the heat radiating from him, and it only made me more desperate, more eager to feel all of him.

But then, to my surprise, he pulled back slightly, his hand catching mine. “No,” he murmured, his voice firm, but there was something in his tone that made me pause, that made me look up into his eyes, confused.

“What? Why?” I asked, my breath hitching, my heart pounding in my chest. The need in me was so overwhelming that I couldn’t understand why he would stop now, not when we were both so clearly on the edge.

He laughed softly, but it wasn’t mocking. It was low and full of a raw affection that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in and kissed me again, slow and deep, as if he were trying to pour all of his feelings into that one moment. When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes, his thumb brushing gently over my tear-streaked cheek.

“Believe me, there’s nothing I want more in this world than to bend you over this bike and take you right now, right here,” he whispered, and the words alone were enough to make my legs go weak.

“Then do it,” I pleaded, my voice trembling with both need and frustration. I didn’t care about anything else in that moment; I just wanted him.

But he shook his head, his gaze never leaving mine, his thumb still tracing the line of my cheek.

“No,” he repeated, and before I could protest, before I could beg, he continued, his voice soft but filled with a determination that left me breathless. “When I get to have you, Y/N, I want it to be when I can take my time, when I can make you feel everything I’ve been dying to give you. I don’t want to rush this, to take you in some dark forest where anyone could see. You deserve more than that, more than just a quick fuck.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, overwhelming in their sincerity, in the sheer weight of what he was saying. I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world. He wanted more than just my body; he wanted all of me, and he wanted it to be right.

I was speechless, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, and all I could do was stare at him, trying to process everything he had just said. “Mattheo…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he silenced me with another kiss, this one gentle, full of a tenderness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

"Not here, not like this. I want to take my time with you, princess. I want to feel every inch of you, taste every part of you, and make you mine in every possible way.”

I could only nod, tears slipping down my cheeks as I kissed him back, pouring all of my emotions into that kiss. I wanted him so badly it hurt, but I knew he was right. This—whatever it was between us—was more than just a physical need. It was something deeper, something that deserved to be treated with the care and attention he was promising.

We were supposed to be heading to class, but with Mattheo Riddle standing this close, logic and responsibility seemed to melt away. His lips were on mine, hot and insistent, and I could barely think straight. His hand was firmly on my waist, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough, and I had to admit, I didn’t mind in the slightest.

In the back of my mind, I knew we were in a hallway, but everything else was a blur. All I could focus on was the way Mattheo’s lips moved against mine, the way his other hand slid up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. My eyes flew open, and Mattheo reacted instantly, pulling me into a nearby alcove and pressing a hand gently over my mouth. My heart raced, not from fear but from the thrill of almost being caught. I couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crept onto my lips as I peeked up at him.

His eyes were locked onto mine, and he had that signature smirk of his as we both listened to the footsteps drawing nearer. The Ravenclaw group passed by, completely oblivious to our presence. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how close we had come to being caught.

As soon as they were out of sight, I grinned and grabbed his collar, yanking him back to me. “Where were we?” I asked, my voice playful as I pressed my lips to his once more. The taste of him was intoxicating, and I was already forgetting why we needed to stop.

His hands slid down my back, pulling me even closer, his lips moving hungrily against mine. “Right here,” he murmured between kisses. “Not going anywhere, princess.”

I laughed softly, feeling the thrill of the moment surge through me. “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” I teased, even as I kissed him deeper, not caring at all about the consequences.

“Worth it,” he breathed out, his lips trailing down to my collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “You know, you could just skip class… stay here with me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I definitely don’t want to go to class right now.”

“Who says we have to?” he murmured, his voice low and tempting as he pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I sighed dramatically, feigning frustration. “You’re such a bad influence, Riddle.”

“And you’re such a willing participant, Y/L/N,” he shot back with a smirk, pulling me back in for another kiss. This time, it was even more heated, as if the idea of sneaking around had only fueled the fire between us.

But just as things were getting even more intense, a familiar voice interrupted us. “Oh, don’t mind me. Continue.”

We both pulled away quickly, turning to see Theo standing there, looking entirely too amused for my liking.

Mattheo sighed, rolling his eyes before he spoke, “Theo, mate, you’re my best friend. Can’t you find something better to do than being a cockblock?”

Theo crossed his arms, smirking. “And you two were supposed to be finding the person behind the gossip column, not making out in an empty hallway.”

At Theo's words, realization hit me like a lightning bolt. The Daily Prophet letter! It was supposed to be today! I spun around to face him. “Theo, did the letter arrive yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope, nothing. You might’ve scared them off for good.”

I frowned, trying to think straight despite the lingering heat in my body from Mattheo’s touch. “That’s strange… they’ve been so consistent."

Mattheo’s hand was still on my waist, his thumb brushing gently over my skin, and despite my worry, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at his touch. I turned to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I should probably go so I won’t be late for class,” I said softly, though every part of me wanted to stay right here with him.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I can think of a few more ways to spend the time.”

I laughed, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Tempting, but I’ll save that for later.” With that, I pulled away from him, giving Theo a playful wave as I hurried off down the corridor.

As I walked away, I could hear Mattheo’s voice behind me, low and teasing. “You know, Theo, sometimes I think you take your job as a third wheel a little too seriously.”

Theo’s laughter echoed through the hallway as I turned the corner, already counting down the minutes until I could see Mattheo again.

I sat in class, staring blankly at the parchment in front of me, my quill lazily tracing random lines across the page. The absence of the Daily Gossip Letter today was unsettling, and I could feel the unease settling over the classroom like a heavy fog. Everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing—why hadn’t it come today? The letter had become a constant, its arrival as predictable as the sunrise, yet today, there was nothing.

As I absentmindedly doodled on my notebook, my mind began to wander, trying to piece together why the letter had stopped.

But why would it stop?

I tried to focus, to pay attention to the professor’s words, but my thoughts kept wandering. The gossip letter had become a staple at Hogwarts, a daily dose of scandal that everyone had come to expect. So why would it just… stop?

Unless… unless the person behind it didn’t need it anymore.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I started to think about all the things that had been written about me in that damned letter. The gossip wasn’t just random; it was targeted, specific. Almost like someone had a personal reason.

I started recalling all the gossip that had been written about me. My so-called date with Prince Edward, which wasn’t even a real date because I had turned him down. But when I returned to school, the letter had detailed everything about it—except the rejection part, of course. That happened privately, away from prying eyes. So how did the letter know about the date in the first place? Who else was in Italy at the same time as me?

My heart began to race as I straightened in my seat, my hand shaking slightly as I wrote down the names of the only two people who could have possibly known. The first name felt wrong, implausible, but the second… my stomach twisted as I scrawled it down.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. My thoughts raced back to another piece of gossip—the one about me supposedly flirting with a Durmstrang student during the Yule Ball. The truth was, I had been trying to get information about a certain dark artifact that night, and the conversation had been strictly business. Yet the letter painted a completely different picture.

Again, I scribbled down the name. My hand tightened around the quill as I recalled another instance—Time when I helped Adrian Pucey sneak into the restricted section of the library. It was late at night, and we were careful not to get caught. But the letter described it in perfect detail, down to the exact time we were there. Who else knew?

The quill in my hand quivered as I wrote down the final name. My breathing became shallow, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as all the clues finally came together, like pieces of a puzzle that I had been too blind to see. Every rumor, every piece of gossip, every little detail that had been written about me, led back to one person.

I circled the name angrily, feeling my heart break as I stared at the words on the page, the tears now spilling down my cheeks.

I didn’t care that the professor was calling my name, didn’t care about the shocked whispers that followed me as I bolted out of the classroom. All I could think about was finding him, confronting him. My feet carried me quickly down the corridors, my heart pounding in my chest as I headed toward the Great Hall. But when I got there, he wasn’t among the students milling about.

I clenched my fists, trying to think. Where would he be? Then it hit me—Quidditch practice. They had the last part of the day off.

Without another thought, I made my way to the Slytherin dorms. My mind was racing, anger and betrayal twisting in my chest as I reached his door. I didn’t hesitate as I knocked, the sound echoing in the empty corridor.

When the door opened, Mattheo’s surprised expression turned into a mischievous smirk as he leaned against the frame, eyes raking over me. “Y/N? What, you miss kissing me so much you had to skip class?” His tone was playful, teasing, and he stepped aside to let me in.

I ignored the flutter in my chest and walked past him into the room. The moment he saw my face, though, his smirk faded. He closed the door and turned to me, concern clouding his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, as he moved closer. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I sat down on his bed, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. His words echoed in my mind, the ones he’d said before about how the person behind the gossip letter must want to get a reaction out of me. I looked up at him, a cold smile curling my lips. "Well, was it good?"

Mattheo frowned, confusion crossing his features. “What are we talking about now, princess?”

“The reaction you got out of me,” I said, and just like that, the smile on my face vanished, replaced by the full weight of my anger and hurt. “Was it everything you hoped for?”

His face went blank, the confusion deepening in his eyes. “Wait, Y/N—”

“Checkmate, Riddle,” I said, my voice trembling as I stood up, the anger and hurt finally spilling over.

"You were the only one who knew about Italy, about what happened there. You were the one who was with me at the Yule Ball. You were there when Adrian and I sneaked into the library." My voice grew louder with each accusation, tears burning in my eyes. "All of those details, every single one of them—it was you. You were the one writing the gossip letter, weren’t you?"

Tears blurred my vision as I continued, my voice shaking with emotion. “Was it fun for you? Watching me losing my mind, seeing how much it effected me? Was it a game, Mattheo? Did you enjoy it? You said the person doing this wanted a reaction—well, congratulations, you got it. You got everything you wanted. I trusted you… I thought you cared, but you were just playing me all along.”

“You’ve been playing me this whole time, haven’t you? Feeding me lies, watching as I fell for every trap you set. And for what? A laugh? A good story?”

“Y/N, that’s not—” he started, but I cut him off.

“Save it,” I spat out, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. “You’ve already won. I just wonder why you haven’t written your final story yet—it’s a good one. Especially the part where you—"

But before I could finish, he cut me off, his voice trembling with an emotion I hadn’t expected.

"What could I have done, Y/N? What could I have possibly done?" he began, his words tumbling out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. "I was there, yes, I was right there with you—through all of it. But do you know why? Do you know why I couldn’t stay away?"

I froze, his words piercing through my anger like a knife. He continued, his voice thick with desperation. "I’ve loved you all this time, from the first day I got off that stupid train, from the first moment I laid eyes on you. And I can’t remember a single day where I haven’t been in love with you.

He paused, his eyes locked on mine, pleading for understanding. "It wasn’t just some stupid crush, Y/N. It was an obsession, it was madness—but it was love. I loved you, and I still love you. I was desperate… Desperate to be near you, to be a part of your life, even if it meant doing something as twisted as this."

I stood frozen."You could have just said that. You should have just told me that."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "Fucking right, Y/N."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"You had a damn prince crying after you rejected him," Mattheo snapped, his frustration and jealousy spilling over. "A prince, Y/N! And here I am, the son of a psychopath, the last person anyone should ever trust, much less love. What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m in love with you, even though my father’s the Dark Lord and everyone expects me to be just like him’? Who the hell would ever want that?"

He paced the room, running a hand through his hair as he continued, his voice strained. "Every day, I watched you. I saw you with your friends, with guys who could give you everything—everything. And the worst part? The worst fucking part was knowing that no matter what I did, no matter how close I got, it would never be enough. Not for someone like you."

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time they weren’t from anger. "You don’t get it, Mattheo. None of that mattered to me. None of it. I didn’t care about titles or any of that. I just wanted someone who was real with me. Someone who saw me for who I am, not just as some piece in a game."

He stopped pacing and turned to me, his expression softening. "I did see you, Y/N. That’s why I did what I did. The letters… they were my way of being close to you, of being a part of your world. But I was so scared of losing you, of you finding out what I’d done, that I just kept digging myself deeper. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway."

His voice broke on the last word, and the sight of him standing there, so vulnerable, shattered the last of my defenses.

Just as I was about to respond, movement from the next bed caught my eye. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Enzo sitting up, looking between Mattheo and me with wide, startled eyes, propped up on his elbows.

He Clearly had heard more than enough. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I’ve got this thing—relationship phobia. Can’t be around emotional confessions, they give me hives." [p.s that’s the same Enzo from Down bad pray for him]

He awkwardly shuffled out of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, guys. Gonna get out of here real quick. Pretend I was never here, yeah?" With that, he practically bolted out of the room, leaving me staring after him in disbelief until the door clicked shut behind him.

This family is insane.

We both stood there in silence for a moment, the sudden interruption leaving us both a bit stunned. I didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like Mattheo didn’t either.

“Y/N,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking as he took a tentative step toward me. “Please… say something. Anything.”

“You hurt me, Mattheo,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You lied to me, manipulated me."

“I know,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I did, and I hate myself for it. But Y/N, please believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to keep you close.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I wiped them away furiously, hating how vulnerable I felt in this moment. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt? Why did you have to go through all this?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice so quiet, so broken, that it made my chest ache. “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how else to be close to you. I didn’t know how to tell you that I loved you without feeling like I was going to lose you.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “But you didn’t have to do it like this, Mattheo. You didn’t have to lie to me, to manipulate me, just to be close. I would’ve—” My voice broke, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. “I would’ve loved you anyway."

Mattheo's face softened, his brow furrowing in confusion as he whispered, "You would?" His voice was barely audible, almost as if he didn’t believe the words that had just left his lips.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer right away. My heart was pounding, and I could feel the walls I had built around myself beginning to crumble. Without a word, I got up from the bed and walked toward him, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Yeah," I finally said, my voice trembling as I stood in front of him. "Because it would’ve been easy, Mattheo."

His eyes searched mine, desperate and lost, as if he was trying to find the truth in my words.

"I’ve loved you," I began, my voice cracking, "from the moment I stepped off that stupid train, too love must have been in the air that day or something. But I couldn’t let myself admit it. Instead, I pushed you away, pretended I couldn’t stand you because I was terrified—terrified of how much I wanted you, how much I needed you." Tears spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them this time. They streamed down my face as I choked out the words I had been too afraid to say for so long. "I didn’t know how to deal with how much you consumed me, so I fought it. But it was always you, Mattheo. It was always you."

He moved closer, his hands gently cupping my face, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. His touch was soft, so different from the way he usually carried himself—like he was afraid I might break if he wasn’t careful.

“I didn’t know…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I did. I do,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper as I leaned into his touch. “I just didn’t want to admit how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

Mattheo’s forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my skin as he held me close. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with a kind of raw vulnerability I’d never heard from him before. “I didn’t know how to show you what I felt without messing everything up. I was so afraid of losing you that I did the exact thing that could drive you away.”

I shook my head, trying to push away the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. “I know,” I whispered, my hands clutching the front of his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping me grounded. “I know now that the letters were more about admiring me than harming me. They only felt too much when another boy was involved, and… and I get it. I get that it was your twisted way of dealing with jealousy.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze intense but soft, as if he was seeing me for the first time. “You mean everything to me,” he said, his voice so quiet it was almost a breath. “I just didn’t know how to show it without screwing it up.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” I told him, my voice shaky as I tried to make him understand. “You just have to be you. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Mattheo’s grip on me tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was like he was asking for permission, for forgiveness, and I gave it to him willingly, kissing him back with all the emotions I had kept bottled up for so long.

As the kiss deepened, I felt the last of my walls crumble, leaving me completely vulnerable in his arms. But for the first time, I wasn’t afraid. I knew that despite everything, this was where I was meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other from here.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips, my voice thick with tears and longing.

“I love you to—”

The door suddenly burst open, and Blaise walked in, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. He froze for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of us, and then a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t this cozy? I was just coming to grab a book, but it looks like I walked into the middle of a romance novel. Should I start narrating? ‘And in that moment, their love ignited like a house elf’s poorly managed kitchen fire…’”

I felt my face flush, and I quickly stepped back from Mattheo, wiping at my eyes. “Blaise, could you just…not?” Mattheo said .

Blaise chuckled, completely unfazed by Mattheo’s irritation. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here, pretending I didn’t walk in on whatever _this_ is.” He waved his hand vaguely in our direction before sauntering over to the bookshelf.

I shot Mattheo a look, trying to stifle a laugh as Blaise exaggeratedly searched for his book, humming to himself like nothing unusual had happened.

Mattheo sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, “I’m killing you after this.”

“Nuh,” Blaise called out, pulling a book from the shelf and turning back to us with a grin. “You love me.”

“Debatable,” Mattheo shot back, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Blaise winked at me before heading toward the door. “Carry on with your dramatic declarations of love. I’ll leave you two to…whatever this is.” With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving us alone once more.

As the door clicked shut, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, Mattheo looked down at me.

“Where were we?” he asked softly, pulling me back into his arms.

“I think you were about to tell me how much you love me,” I teased, my heart swelling with warmth.

“Right,” he whispered, his voice turning serious again as he leaned in to kiss me. “ Fuck yeah I love you. So much.”

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