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grlquartz · 1 year ago

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enjoy this little thing because i can't seem to get through writers block right now <3

1.9k words of primo and theo (oc) being cute about an old picture of him; a few drug mentions and a bit of suggestiveness under the cut but nothing too crazy hehe

Comfortable silence had blanketed the sunlit study for a while before either of them realized that the music had stopped playing. Another record had spun to its conclusion.

“Why don’t you put something on,” Primo said eventually, giving a slight gesture towards the general direction of the record player without taking his eyes off of his book.

It was only polite of him to offer, Theo thought, since he had chosen the last few. She yawned deeply as she sat up off of the chaise lounge and set her own book aside. Flipping through the illustration books of old botanical studies had been interesting at first, but now she was glad for something else to put her mind to.

She stood and wiggled from side to side to stretch out her back, then padded over the soft rug in her stocking feet over to the far wall where the turntable and speakers were. Primo had a fairly modest system- not that she really knew much about them anyways- but she thought his collection of music was rather impressive. The bookshelf next to the player supported multiple wire racks of records, each one stuffed to the brim. It was always a treat to discover what he might have hidden amongst the classics.

The sunlight warmed the floor in front of the shelf, where she plopped down criss-cross and began to ghost her fingertips along the ridges of the record sleeves. “Anything in particular?” she asked him, and he answered with a simple hum from his place in the wingback chair.

“Your choice, cara mia.”

Satanas, that narrowed things down. There was so much to choose from… she began to thumb out a couple at a time, sliding them down to get a glimpse at the covers. Some she knew by sight alone. A few familiar covers made her smile to herself- they had almost worn out Rumours, mostly thanks to her. His beloved collection of Tina Turner’s discography was neatly organized in its own section, in the rack that she preferred to peruse; where ABBA and Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles were just a few among some of her frequent picks.

The other shelf was a trip to the wide expanse of hard rock spanning the decades, and from the dawning era of metal; Led Zepplin, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Blue Oyster Cult… just a sampling among countless other artists, many she wasn’t quite as familiar with. Hmmm… maybe she ought to close her eyes and just pick one.

She did, trusting her intuition as she smoothed her fingers over the thin spines, and out came one of her favorites. She gave a little huff, though; she didn’t think he would really be in the mood for it today.

“How about Foreigner?”

He was quiet for a long moment- must have been deliberating- and then he answered somewhat nonchalantly. “Mmm, maybe not.”

She was right. So much for her choice. With a little private roll of her eyes she put the record back on the rack and put her intuition to another test.

Ah, that was better- a Pink Floyd album seemed a much more fitting soundtrack for this lazy, comfortable afternoon they were sharing. When she slipped the record from its well-loved sleeve, something happened to catch her eye; a corner of something, maybe a note, had almost come out with it. No reason to stifle her curiosity…

Oh, it wasn’t a note, it was an old photo. She set the record and its cover down beside her on the floor and flipped over the photo; it was hardly bigger than an index card, and the image quality wasn’t the clearest, but the subject matter instantly made her stomach flip in surprise.

“Hey, ah…” she started, entranced by what she was looking at. “What were you up to in seventy-three?”

From behind her she heard him turn a page slowly before he answered, a little facetiously. “Hmm… a lot of sex and drugs, I imagine.”

Satanas in fucking hell, she could imagine, too. In the picture he absolutely looked like a god of the former and someone who knew his way around the latter. He must have been in his late twenties, she calculated quickly, and she found herself stroking her fingertips over the papery surface of the photo as she stared down at it.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, uh… just…” she couldn’t keep her train of thought on the right track. Holy fuck. She had wondered about what he might have looked like as a young man, and she had some good guesses, but to see it for herself like this was so exciting that she could feel her face starting to flush warm. Whoever took the picture must have caught him at an interesting time, because his expression looked a little sour. But his face, fresh and bare of any paint, was unspeakably handsome- his angular jaw, strong nose, and piercing eyes set under his brow made her heart flitter even now. His skin looked so youthful and more tanned here- she thought she could even notice the shade of a few freckles across the bridge of his nose- and he seemed to glow in the bright sun, maybe from sweat.

And if that wasn’t enough to draw her attention, then his outfit had captured it. A silver earring sparkled in his earlobe, since his long, wild blonde hair had been tucked behind his ear on that side. A cropped, sleeveless shirt hardly concealed his lean arms crossed over his chest, where he dangled a joint lazily between his fingers and a hairtie clung to his wrist. Or his midriff, where a trail of light hair down his belly caught the sun and led the eye to the low rise of his red athletic shorts, which… left absolutely nothing at all to the imagination. Lucifer almighty.

“Um,” she managed finally, enraptured with the image of him. “Do you still own these?”

“Own what?” he questioned, and now with the record momentarily forgotten she got up to bring the photo over to him.

As she approached he flicked his mismatched gaze up to her, and noticing the telltale color dusting her cheeks, he put his book down. She could only smile shyly as she handed it over to him.

He looked at it for a while as recognition sprawled slowly over his painted features, and eventually his wrinkles creased deeply with a knowing smile. “Where did you find this?”

“In the Dark Side sleeve.”

“Ah.” She could tell that he seemed amused, both at the memory the picture stirred and at her reaction to it. “Yes, that makes sense. Terzo took this,” he explained. “I remember he was so insistent. He was in quite a phase with that camera of his.”

“Oh, yeah?” That piqued her interest- maybe that meant there were other pictures like this one, hidden away in Papa Terzo’s office in a forgotten photo album or dusty storage box… maybe she could sweet-talk someone into getting a glimpse at them, a peek into the past where her amato was experiencing life as a young man. A very, very attractive young man.

But for now she was happy to soak up the image of him in this one; sweating away the heat of some long-passed summer, in shorts that would make even a most devout sinner blush and glance away. What that would make her, she couldn’t say.

He kept smiling, taking in the details of the old photo before finally holding it back out for her to take. “He would tell you I made a terrible subject. But, in my defense, he always picked the worst moments. I believe I had just finished repairing something here, I don’t recall what… look, you can see how filthy my hands were.”

She took the photo again and sure enough, his hands were indeed dark and smudged with the remnants of whatever work he had been doing. She hadn’t even noticed at first glance- an understandable miss, considering what other details there were to admire.

“Satanas,” she finally murmured to herself. “You were so…”

How exactly could she describe him? It was like seeing him at his truest; unhindered here by the slow marching of time. This was the man she knew, unfiltered by age or responsibilities or the hardships she knew he had experienced as his life had gone on- and perhaps much more uninhibited in his self-expression. It only added another level, formed another facet of her attraction to him. In the simplest of terms- he was so fucking hot. Holy shit. She thought she could stare at this forever. Maybe he’d let her keep it to put on her bedside table.

He waited patiently for her to come to her conclusion, and when she didn’t he let out a deep chuckle. “Oh, Theo.”

“Seriously,” she insisted. “I… I think you should let me see the rest of Terzo’s pictures.”

That really made him chuckle then. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“The ones of you,” she said with a little giggle of her own, and now she moved closer to sit slightly against the arm of his chair.

“Maybe one of these days. We can take a little trip down memory lane, yes?”

“I’d like to,” she answered, smoothing her thumb carefully over the photo she still studied thoroughly. “I really like seeing you like this.”

“Young?”

“Well, yeah, but also just… yourself.” She was trying to convey her meaning- how she truly loved learning about his life as himself, as Primo, not just as Papa, and seeing him for who he really was… she wasn’t quite so articulate, but he got the jist. His hand came to slide around her back, settling at her hip, and she let her hand rest against his. The creases and wrinkles in his skin were so pleasant to trace with her fingertips, and she did so absentmindedly.

“You flatter me, dolcezza.”

“Oh, come on. You look amazing. And you still do,” she continued, turning to smile down at him, and when she noticed his eyes softening she felt her own heart do the same.

“I’ve changed a bit.”

“Well, yeah. Haven’t we had this conversation already?” She quirked her brow at him. “Something about aging, and wine…?”

He smiled again, that magnetic smile that even when hidden under layers of dark paints could light her up with excitement and affection. “Oh, yes, you and your metaphors.”

“Oh, pfft. You know I mean it.”

“I do know.” His hand, settled against her hip, squeezed softly around her flesh there. “And I appreciate it very much. You are awfully sweet to me.”

She felt fresh warmth blooming in her cheeks, and to that she didn’t know what exactly to say, so she just squeezed his hand. They sat like that for a few moments- the room still blanketed in that comfortable silence, the honey-gold sunlight still illuminating the space- until she glanced back down at the photo one more time, and couldn’t help but smile.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Mm?”

“Do you still have these?”

He looked slightly puzzled at her, until he realized exactly what she was referring to, and now he really laughed.

“Theodora.”

“What? I just want to know.”

“Even if I did,” he countered, rumbling with deep laughter, “I doubt they would fit.”

“I mean... we could at least just see if they do.”

“Mm. Certainly you have no ulterior motive.”

She couldn’t defend herself against that, and he knew it. At her slightly sheepish-looking smile, he laughed again and took her gently to pull her down for a kiss.

#the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #papa primo #primo emeritus #papa emeritus i #primo x oc #em writes #fotv #well this is fotv-adjacent i guess #primo x theo #need a regular tag for them #if liz gives me permission i'll add the picture in question :-)

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ememmerson · 2 years ago

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ღ (Em/Theo, please! Because I think I'm funny 🤭)

@grimmusings / @raisedxbywolves

#Em X Theo #raisedxbywolves #grimmusings

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prythiansprincess · 2 years ago

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written in the stars.

pairing: theodore nott x reader. song inspiration: until i found you by stephen sanchez feat. em beihold. author's note: boyfriend theo is the best theo. if you're wondering, then yes writing this hurt me as much as it hurts reading it but like in the best way possible.

Theodore Nott has always had an affinity for the stars.

When he was younger, Theo's mother used to take him to the rooftop of Nott Manor and point out the constellations to him. The stars told stories, his mum had said. Theo listened with rapt attention as she recounted the tales of Aquila, Heracles, and Orion as they glittered against the backdrop of the English countryside.

The two of them would make an entire evening out of it. Laying on his back atop a nest of blankets and pillows, little Theo watched as the stars climbed higher and higher, filling the horizon with hope and light. Stargazing had been their special secret. The one thing that wasn’t tainted by his abusive father. Theo guarded the memory of those nights in his heart like a priceless treasure.

After his mother’s passing, Theo continued their tradition of stargazing. Even if she was no longer alive, all he had to do was look up at the sky to feel her with him. For that reason, the stars were special to him and he’d never shared its meaning with anyone.

Until tonight.

“Watch your step, cara mia.” Theo said as he guided you by the small of your back.

The dark cloth covering your eyes prohibited you from seeing, but you trusted your boyfriend to keep you from falling. Though you weren’t a fan of surprises, Theo was impossible to resist. All he had to do was flash those pretty watercolor eyes at you and you were an absolute goner.

For you, Theo had always been the exception.

He guided you up a staircase, keeping a firm grip on your waist as the two of you ascended. Wherever you were going, it was pretty high up. You smiled as Theo took hold of your waist, knowing that you weren't the biggest fan of heights. Sometimes it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself. When you reached the top, Theo unfastened his tie from behind your head.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetheart.”

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. The wind whistled through the stone arches of the Astronomy Tower, framing the starkissed night with its marble pillars. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the nest of blankets and pillows arranged in the middle of the wooden floor.

“Did you do all of this for me, babe?”

Theo smiled. “I thought you might like to go stargazing with me,” he said, his voice soft. “Do you like it, my love?”

“I love it, Teddy.” You beamed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his nose. “But not nearly as much as I love you.”

Theo grinned before pulling you in for a proper kiss. His lips were soft against yours and he tasted like peppermint. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your knees buckled slightly. Theo never failed to make you feel like a lovestruck school girl. It never stopped feeling like this despite how many times you kissed this boy.

As if reading your thoughts, Theo smiled against your lips. “Come on, Y/N. I want to show you my favorite constellations.”

The two of you laid down beneath the stars, making yourself comfortable amidst the blankets and pillows. Wordlessly, Theo pulled you into his arms and you nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of sea salt spray and sun kissed skin.

“Tell me the story of the stars, Teddy.”

He smiled, brushing your hair back. “That one right there is Ursa Major. Otherwise known as the Big Dipper, but if you look at the entire constellation, it actually forms a bear.”

“I remember learning about that when I was little,” you said, gazing up at the sky. “Didn’t it have something to do with Zeus?”

Theo nodded. “In Greek mythology, the Olympian God Zeus fell in love with Callisto and got her pregnant. After she gave birth to the child, Hera was so mad she turned Callisto into a bear.”

“That hardly seems fair,” you responded with a frown.

“Zeus was a bit of a wanker,” Theo said in agreement. “Hera was even worse. She cursed Callisto to wander the forest for years in bear form until she was hunted by her own son Arcas. Just as he raised his spear to strike her down, Zeus stepped in and sent them up to the heavens. Callisto as Ursa Major and Arcas as Bootes.”

“The Greek gods were truly a piece of work,” you replied. “But at least we got those constellations out of them."

You squinted, pointing at the cluster of stars hovering in the east. “What’s that one?”

“That’s the constellation of Leo,” explained Theo. “Named after the Nemean lion that Heracles defeated during the first of his twelve labours.”

“Didn’t he make a cloak out of the lion’s pelt?”

“Smart girl,” Theo said proudly. “The cloak made Heracles invincible and more fearsome than he already was. The Nemean lion’s heart is made up of the star Regulus, which is associated with the arrival of spring.”

“The Little King. I read that it burns hotter than the sun.”

Theo couldn’t help but smile. Before he met you, he never thought he’d find someone to share such a special and intimate thing with. He was worried that no one else would understand his love for the stars, but as he watched you peer curiously up at the sky, your nose scrunched in careful concentration, Theo felt all of his doubts fade away.

“Regulus is unique because it can be seen in both the Northern and Southern hemispheres.”

The blue star glittered brightly above your heads, as if it was showing off for the occasion. “It’s beautiful,” you breathed.

Theo stared at you, at the childlike wonder shimmering in your eyes, and he felt like the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. The gravity of what he felt for you hit him all at once.

“Yeah,” Theo said softly, still looking at you. “Beautiful.”

You grinned, intertwining your fingers and kissing his knuckles. “How do you know so much about the stars, Teddy?”

“My mum taught me.” Theo answered, drawing circles on your hip. “When I was little, she used to take me to the rooftop of the manor and tell me the story behind each star. She was fascinated by them. Before she met my father, she wanted to teach astronomy at the Stati Magia.”

“The Italian School of Witchcraft?”

Theo nodded. “My mother attended the Stati Magia, just like her mother and her mother before her. A tradition that I unintentionally broke, as nonna Lucia loves to remind me. Sometimes I think the old bat wishes that I was born a strega instead.”

You giggled. “You would’ve been a very pretty witch.” Theo chuckled as you propped your head up in one hand. “Did your mum end up becoming a professor?”

“No,” Theo said sadly. “After I was born, my father said that her place was at the manor. He refused to move to Florence, even though he knew it was my mother’s dream.”

You stroked his hair, nodding emphatically. Theo rarely talked about his mother. You knew that her passing was a painful subject for him, so you never pushed him to talk about it unless he wanted to.

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry, my love,” you said. “But at least she was able to pass down her love of the stars to you. In a way, she lived her dream by teaching you.”

A soft smile tugged at your boyfriend’s lips. “I suppose she did.”

You laid back down, but this time you cradled Theo against you. He rested his head against your chest, listening to the calming sound of your heartbeat. Talking about his mother will always be hard, but you helped ease the pain.

“What about those stars?” You asked, pointing to the north. “What did your mother tell you about them?”

“Perseus and Andromeda,” Theo answered. “Those are actually her favorites.”

“The chained maiden.”

Theo stirred, inclining his gaze to the horizon. “Andromeda was the Princess of Aethiopia, the daughter of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. She was said to be very beautiful. Her mother bragged that Andromeda was fairer than the Nereids, which angered Poseidon. As punishment, the Sea God sent the creature Cetus to ravage that coast of their kingdom.”

You nodded, recalling the story. “King Cepheus chained her to a rock and offered her as a sacrifice to appease the sea monster.”

“Luckily for Andromeda, the hero Perseus found her before Cetus could attack again. Perseus fell in love with Andromeda and defeated the monster so he could free the princess. They ended up marrying and became king and queen of Mycenae. When they died, the goddess Athena placed them side by side in the heavens so that they would never be parted, not even by death.”

“A love written in the stars,” you said with awe and wonder. “I can see why it’s your mother’s favorite.”

“When I was a boy, she told me that she hoped I’d experience a love like theirs, minus the sea monster of course.” You chuckled. Theo knit his brows together like he did when he was deep in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “It’s sad to think that she never found her Perseus.”

You brushed his hair back, running your fingers through his curls gently. “She might not have found her Perseus, but she did have her Theo.”

Theo turned over and looked at you. The intensity in his gaze made you shiver. He was so ingrained in your heart that it felt inaccurate to continue calling it yours.

“After she died, I never thought I’d share her stories with anyone again, but I’m glad I shared them with you.”

“Thank you for trusting me, Theo.” You said as you placed a kiss on his temple. “It means the world to me that you not only shared your mother’s stories, but her memory as well. I would’ve loved to meet her.”

The tender smile on Theo’s face was heartbreaking. Then softly, he whispered. “She would’ve loved you, Y/N.”

Your heart cracked open, his words spilling like sunlight over every crevice, warming you from the inside out.

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, but you forced yourself to give Theo a watery smile. “Because I’m a nerd who memorized obscure mythological facts?”

Your boyfriend smiled. “No,” he said gently, caressing your cheek. “Because you made her wish come true. You are my love written in the stars, cara mia.”

The moonlight kissed Theo’s tan skin, the silver beams caressing his face like a lover as if the moon and the stars craved to commit his beauty to memory as badly as you did. Gods, he was breathtaking.

This was the Teddy you knew and loved. Your Teddy.

Those watercolor eyes shimmered with emotion. “Sometimes I think the gods made you just for me, like our souls are linked in a way that neither logic nor magic can explain. Whatever it is, I think I’ve loved you since before the heavens and the earth existed and I’m fairly certain that I’d still love you even after the last star falls out of the sky.”

“You’re the love of my life, Theodore Nott.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as this boy—this beautiful boy ensnared your mind, body, and soul. “I’d find you in any universe and in any galaxy. Maybe someday we’ll be immortalized in the stars too.”

Theo held your face in his hands. His expression was open and vulnerable, like he wasn’t afraid to lay himself bare before you. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“We’re two halves of a whole,” Theo said. “I loved you yesterday. I love you today and I’ll love you tomorrow. You’re it for me, Y/N. You and no one else.”

“You and no one else, Teddy.”

Under the constellations of the star crossed lovers, Theo kissed you so gently that it made your heart ache. As Andromeda and Perseus kept watch over the horizon, Theodore Nott knew one thing for certain.

Someday the stars would tell your story too.

#theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott fluff #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #blaize zabini

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yanxidarlings · 6 months ago

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been reading x reader fics with the slytherins and whenever they are together/interact as a group my brain just goes but what if extreme yandere! slytherin gang, reader gets sorted into slytherin and whether or not they knew the slytherins before, you best bet they have now been claimed as the slytherins' and only the slytherins'. not even just the boys but pansy as well, a whole goddamn quidditch team worth of yandere's (platonic? some platonic? some romantic? all romantic??) that the reader is now stuck with.

honestly bonus points if the reader is vulnerable in some way; magical malady, obscurus, bad homelife, all the more reason for the slytherins to be so protective and possessive.

i high key get the vibe that pansy would kind of wring all the boys in (girlboss pansy ftw) from mauling each other over the reader, that or she actively encourages it so she can whisk the reader away "boys, amirite?" (male! reader, blinking: ).

The Theo's™ are feral when it comes to the reader, especially Mattheo, but put those two together and you've got WWE: Hogwarts Special.

Draco would 100% treat the reader as a live in servant but also be way too eager to impress them, and value their opinion to a concerning degree

Honestly i'm still trying to properly sus Enzo out but i get the vibe that he's fully under the impression that he's the readers favourite. A lil too friendly and comfortably with 'em, a lil too invested in whether or not they're still a virgin, that type shit.

I have seen Blaise portrayed a few times as closest friends with Pansy so from now on I will be rolling with that it's now yanon so you just know these two judge the other bozo's from their high horses as if they aren't just as weird about the reader.

the group wouldn't be scared to threaten, manipulate or gaslight the reader either, you know all the buzz words "nobody but us likes you" "we're keeping you safe" "but you like it, right?" and so on and so forth.

F.R.I.E.N.D.S: Dysfunctional Edition

vibing with this au rn might expand on it later

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xzinbdg · 1 year ago

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p1harmony reaction to "i have some tea"

pairing: p1h x reader

author's note: hello!! today we have some p1h! I am kinda running out of ideas but I might start like "bf texts" with individual members! stream killin it!! have a nice day/night! byebye!! 🤧🤧

p1harmony masterlist // my masterlist

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pizzaapeteer · 5 months ago

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BRUHHHHHHHH BRUHHHHH IM BRUHING SO HADD RN

EMERALD im screeching so mf loudly this came out perfectly!!!!!! Enzo is the star of this show, that cheeky motherfucker of a A FRIEND plsssss his comments throughout the store all the way to him watching you get fingered 😫 and when you invite him to join!! Pls that baby looked ready to combust

“he wants you. he’s always wanted you”

this is taking best friend trope to another LEVEL and I’m here for itttttt

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."

#please I’m shaking!!#pizza loves em #loveeeee you!!!!!#Theodore nott #theo nott smut #Lorenzo Berkshire #Enzo Berkshire smut #Theo x enzo x reader #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #pizzas reqs ꨄ

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boraems · 10 months ago

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i want eloise with cressida but also theo but also i would not mind philip..... as long as something involves eloise i'm here for it 100%

#eloise bridgerton #eloise #theloise #creloise #eloise x phillip #eloise x theo #eloise x cressida #ems☆shitpost

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angel5ofp0rn · 11 months ago

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♡ part eleven ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

You have been re-married to your former ex-husband John Price for a few days now. Because, at the end of the day, John is a gentleman and would be damned if he were to have a child out of wedlock.

He’s at the grill on your back porch, beer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other. A few of his SAS buddies, who came for the small re-marriage ceremony and are leaving tomorrow, are chatting with John while you greet the parents of your children’s friends for your youngest’s birthday party.

“Another little John, huh?” Kyle, one of John’s SAS buddies, nods towards your barely-visible baby bump and takes a sip of his beer.

“Another little John.” You confirm with a grin and rub a hand over your bump that is mostly concealed with your sundress.

“Gonna keep trying until one of ‘em finally looks like you?” He matches your grin.

“That, or until John gets his own personal football team. Whichever comes first.” You joke. Kyle just shakes his head with a chortle.

You look back towards the porch, watching John expertly handle the grill. He catches your eye and gives you a wink, making your heart flutter despite the years and the complications.

"How’ve you been holding up, then?" Kyle asks, a bit more seriously now, his eyes searching yours. “Heard you just found out about Nadia and Theo a few months ago.”

You smile softly, looking out over the yard where the kids are playing, laughter and shouts filling the air.

"It's been... an adjustment. But we're making it work."

Kyle nods, his expression understanding. “‘Course. You two’ve always had something special, haven’t you?”

Before you can respond, a small hand tugs at Kyle’s pant leg. You look down to see your oldest, wide-eyed and bouncing with excitement. "Uncle Kyle, can you play socc- I mean, football with us?"

Kyle grins, setting his beer down on a nearby picnic table. "Sure thing, champ. Let's show these old folks how it's done."

You laugh as Kyle and your oldest head off further in the yard, the other children tow. As you watch them play, you notice Matt walking through the gate with his daughter.

A small knot forms in your stomach as the man approaches, a polite smile on his face. "Hey there," he greets, his eyes flicking to John at the grill before settling back on you.

"Hey, Matt," you reply, trying to keep your tone light. "I'm glad you and Emma could make it."

His daughter, Emma, runs off to join the other kids, and Matt stands there awkwardly for a moment. "How’ve you been?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"Good," you say, nodding, blushing. "Things have been good."

John, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, wraps an arm around your waist, the other still holding a beer. "Mark," he says with a nod, his tone neutral. "Good to see you."

“You too, John," Matt replies with a smile. He’s not phased by the purposely incorrect name, or at least he’s not showing it.

You nudge John with your elbow and he covers his smirk by taking a swig of his beer.

Matt eventually joins some of the other parents in watching their children play football or jump around in the bouncy house.

“Why do you have to be such a jerk?” You glance up at John.

“What?” He gives you an unconvincingly innocent look.

You roll your eyes and grab the nearly empty lemonade pitcher from the table. You take in inside to refill it, leaving John outside with everyone else.

You hear the sliding glass door open while you’re slicing fresh lemons to put into the pitcher. John appears behind you, his hands finding your hips and pulling you into him. His facial hair tickles your neck as he presses a few kisses there.

“C’mon, love. Y’r not upset with me ‘cause of Mitch, are ya?” He murmurs.

“His name is Matt.” You correct, still focusing on the lemonade. “I just don’t know why you have to act like that. His daughter is one of Gabriel’s best friends, I see him all the time at school pick up and at soccer practice. It’s already awkward because of that date we went on; I don’t want it to be even worse every time we see each-“

You gasp when you feel John lifting the skirt of your dress up your thighs.

He hooks his index finger around your thong, moving it to the side for access. “Ya still have feelings f’r him? Hm?”

You shake your head ‘no’, setting the knife and lemon down on the cutting board. John hums as if he’s considering your answer.

You hear his belt coming undone. Then his zipper.

“Saw how flustered and red you got when he was talkin’ to you…” John mumbles, his hardness pressing up against your entrance. “Can’t have that, now, can we?”

You slowly shake your head again.

John’s head pushes past your lips and he sinks into you slowly, wanting you to feel every inch pushing deeper inside of you.

“Y’think he could make you feel like this?” John whispers, his breath hitting the back of your neck. “Think he’d know exactly how you like it? Hm?”

“N-no,” You shake your head again. Your hands ball up into fists as you try not to moan too loudly. “John, the party-“

“It can wait.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

John reaches a hand around to stimulate your throbbing clit with his middle finger while your walls tighten around his thick member.

“All mine,” John grunts as he thrusts deep into your tight little pussy. “I don’ care if I have to fuck you in front of him to make it clear.”

You both come within a few minutes. Your eyes roll back, you can hear your heart beating in your ears.

“Uncle Si? Is my mummy getting the cake?” You hear your youngest ask outside. Your eyes widen for a moment and you almost push John off of you, but Simon casually redirects the birthday girl away from the house and back into the yard.

John finally pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. He adjusts your dress for you, gives your ass a slap and takes the pitcher.

“Go get y’rself cleaned up, lovey. We’ll do the cake when you get back.” He presses a kiss to your temple and heads outside.

You stand in the kitchen, dizzy and blushing…

And triumphant, because your little plan to make John jealous worked.

A little drama never hurt.

•••

You lean down to press a kiss to your oldest’s head from where he’s fast asleep, lying on top of Kyle on the living room sofa.

“Little man partied hard.” Kyle grins. You offer to take him up to bed so Kyle could relax more comfortably, but he waved you away. He said something about how he couldn’t let you carry anything, let alone a five year old, while pregnant.

You just shrug and head upstairs. Simon is on his third or fourth bedtime story, and your youngest is trying her hardest to hold her eyes open.

“Goodnight, birthday girl.” You press a kiss to her head.

“Mummy, you forgot uncle Si.” Your now three year old yawns and rubs her eyes with her little fist.

“Goodnight, Simon.” You grin, then press a kiss to the top of his head as well. Your daughter burst into giggles.

“g‘night,” Simon mumbled shyly. “Now, li’l miss. This is our last book, got it?” He warned your toddler in his fake-stern tone.

You finally get to your room and immediately walk to the master bathroom. John’s already in the shower and hasn’t noticed you walking in.

You’re quick to undress and toss the clothes into the hamper before stepping into the shower behind your ex husband.

You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him close to yourself.

John doesn’t even flinch- he never does. He just continues washing his hair as if you’d been here the whole time.

“Kids asleep?” He asks casually, turning to wrap you up in his own arms.

“Kyle’s got Gabe, Simon has Lins.” You confirm as you let your eyes close, resting your head against John’s bare chest.

“And who has you?” John asks with a lazy smile. He begins to wash your hair for you without you asking, as if it was just natural for him to care for you.

“You have me.” You murmur, still hugging him. “‘m all yours.”

“That’s wha’ I wanted to hear.” John has his hands on either side of your head. He tilts it back just enough for him to give you a proper kiss on the lips before going back to washing you.

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