#mommynotts recs

[mommyslibrary]

The first fic to be added on my recs blog as it should

A. Fucking. Masterpiece.

I seriously can’t wait until part two my sweet girl! Love you bunches 💋

blood moon — t.n. & m.r. part 1

pairing: dark!theodore nott x fem!reader x dark!mattheo riddle. (mattheo makes his appearance in pt2)

warnings: smut 18+, dubcon, breaking and entering, violence, blood, knives (cutting into skin), rough oral sex (m. receiving), mask kink, mentions of murder, swearing

word count: 4k

summary: purge night— a night you’ve feared all year despite coming from a rich and powerful family. but when six masked men show up at your door, are you really as safe as you thought?

the purge au… moodboard. nav. more.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the purge; all other weapons are restricted. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers—”

“Blah, blah, blah… we get it. Same shit every year.” Pansy sighed dramatically through the phone, her tone dripping with annoyance. You could tell she was rolling her eyes, and you didn’t need to see her to know she was slouched lazily somewhere. 

Not much later, the ominous, bone-chilling sirens blared violently through the entire city, blasting through the walls and echoing in the still-empty streets. The all so familiar sound never failed to give you goosebumps all over your stiffened body, instantly raising your heartbeat. You briefly closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggled to control your shaky breathing. 

“Hellooo? Are you still there or have you been murdered already?” Pansy joked with a taunting laugh. Your eyes snapped open, her static-filled voice dragging you back to reality, and her humorous tone nearly making you forget the reality of this cruel night. 

Because it wasn’t just any regular night— it was Purge Night. The one night you’d been dreading all year, every year, in which all crime becomes legal for twelve long hours. Logically, you were well aware that you had nothing to fear. Your parents were successful entrepreneurs with plenty of money to afford the most advanced security equipment, keeping you safe from any outside danger.

Yes, to protect you, and only you. Not them— they were out at a purge party, the details of which you didn’t even want to know, shamelessly networking with other high-profile elites while the poor were brutally murdered in the streets surrounding them. Everything about this night gave you a sickening feeling in your stomach. But of course, you knew it would be fine. All you had to do was survive— survive in your mansion, surrounded by unbreachable security. Nothing was going to happen. 

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” you responded, your voice tinged with irritation as you hurried from your bedroom down the wooden stairs to the security room, figuring that if you could check the cameras around the house, it might calm you down a bit. You couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to tiptoe carefully down each step, as though someone might hear you— which was ridiculous, considering how large and heavily secured the house was. 

The eerily quiet house was broken by the first distant, chilling screams of pure terror from outside, making you grimace as you opened the creaky door to the small room, your eyes instantly squinting at the many bright screens that made your eyes burn. 

“It’s just… I hope this night will be over soon, that’s all.” you continued, one hand holding the phone close to your ear while your eyes fleetingly scanned over the security cameras, which were strategically placed to cover every corner outside the house. 

“Oh please, don’t be such a scaredy-cat! Every year it goes just fine, so this year will be no different. When has anything…” Pansy chattered in her usual attempt to comfort you, completely unaware that her words were only doing the opposite, when her voice slowly faded away into the background and your eyes narrowed at one of the top-right screens, which was focused on your front door. What the fuck?

With your heart nearly pounding out of your chest and your hand shakily gripping the phone, you inched closer to the screen, moving as slowly as possible, almost as if the slowness would somehow alter the nightmare playing out before you. A sudden coldness washed over you, your eyes rapidly blinking. No, no, no… this can’t be happening. 

On the pixelated, dark screen, you saw six masked men standing in front of your door, their heads tilted as they stared right at the cameras. You felt lightheaded, your left hand reaching up to lightly clasp your throat, the panic threatening to overwhelm you once you noticed the various weapons they were holding— baseball bats, knives, axes, and god knows what else.

“P—pansy… I, uh… there are people standing in front of my door…” you stammered shakily, still staring at the screen, your body frozen in place with your hand gripping the phone so tightly that your knuckles turned white and your breathing became ragged and uneven. 

“Oh, they’re probably just trying to scare you, babe. I mean, come on, they can’t even come in for fuck’s sake!” she let out a mocking laugh as the chaotic thoughts in your head raced a hundred miles an hour, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty. 

“Pansy, what the fu— you know what? Forget it.” you snapped, your trembling fingers tapping frantically at the screen before finally ending the call, frustrated at not being taken seriously by your best friend— though, to be fair, when had she ever? 

You hastily slipped your phone into your back pocket, already dreading the snarky text she was sure to send you for ending the call, before shifting your attention back to the screen. One of the men removed his mask, prompting you to move even closer with narrowed eyes, your forehead nearly touching the cold glass. 

“Good evening.” he called out in a stoic, chilling voice, his shiny black hair neatly styled, and his stance tall, commanding and unmistakably intimidating. 

“Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, but let me kindly introduce myself. My name is Tom, and these guys— they are my friends.” The scene you were intently staring at filled you with pure terror— this unknown man named Tom, surrounded by men in masks, each carrying weapons that could easily kill you, weapons that were already completely soaked in blood, the dark droplets dripping ominously onto your front porch. 

“This can go one of two ways; you simply let us in, and we will steal— sorry, I mean take whatever we desire, and then, we leave! Or…  we can do this the hard way. But I can assure you, you will not survive the latter.” His tone was almost amused as he finished speaking, and through the grainy pixels, you could see a controlled, sinister smile spreading across his pale face. 

“Do not think you are invincible. We can enter any home we want. And we will want, as wanting is our will on this fine purge night. Do not force us to hurt you.”

His menacing words sent tingles across your skin, all the muscles in your body tightening. And for a good ten minutes, they did nothing but stand there, staring straight into the camera, waiting—expecting—for you to open the door for them. 

It was a chilling sight. Almost as if you were staring at a photograph, the men stood completely still, their blood-covered hands tightly gripping their equally blood-soaked weapons, knowing your blood would be next to splatter across them, mixing with that of other poor, helpless victims. 

When they realised you weren’t going to open the door, Tom gave his men a quick signal, waving his finger in the air, which caused you to cock your head in both curiosity and unease.

“Alright then.” He said, the sinister smile on his face growing wider. But it was fine. You knew they couldn’t come inside anyway. Your house was so securely protected, there was no way they could come in and— Is that a fucking blowtorch? 

“Yes, we are prepared. And you— oh, you chose the wrong option.” Tom coldly stated as if he could read your mind, dragging the words in a chilling tone. Two of his men quickly got to work, the blowtorch slowly cutting through the thick metal doors, meanwhile, Tom continued to stare directly at the camera, his evil, dark smile never faltering, his soulless eyes not blinking once.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was when real panic set in, your eyes flickering with pure terror as you slowly backed away from the screens, gripping whatever furniture was nearby to steady yourself. You hurried out of the room, realising this was the time to hide.

Quickly but silently running up the stairs again, you heard the agonising sound of the blowtorch cutting through the metal, sending shivers all over your body and urging you to move faster. 

You burst into your room, breathless, slamming the door behind you and you panickedly scanned the small space, frantically searching for the best hiding spot. There weren’t many options, but the closet seemed like your only chance, so without hesitation, you flung the door open, stepped inside, and crouched down, wrapping your trembling arms tightly around your knees. 

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” You kept repeating to yourself in a quiet, trembling voice, desperately trying to gaslight yourself into believing it. But who the fuck are you kidding? They were inevitably coming in, and then… well, you didn’t even want to think about it.

You gasped loudly at the sudden sound of a loud bang, followed by distant voices and approaching footsteps downstairs. Nibbling on your bottom lip and one hand clutching your throat, you struggled to calm your ragged breathing, but hoping to make out the conversation happening downstairs— although you weren’t even sure if you wanted to hear it in the first place. 

“We are coming, aha! And we will find you, you little fucking bitch” an unfamiliar voice taunted from down the stairs followed by a menacing laugh, clearly relishing the undeniable fear they were instilling in you as the footsteps and faint chatter grew louder with every passing second.

“Mattheo, control yourself. Search for the girl downstairs, and Theo, you check upstairs. The rest of us will take whatever is valuable and leave for the next house.” You heared Tom instruct two of his men, his voice stern and cold, before adding, “Oh, and whatever you do, make it as painful as possible. I want her to suffer.” 

Goosebumps covered your entire body hearing the chilling words, and you could tell that these guys didn’t fuck around. Everything about them was incredibly organised and prepared. This wasn’t their first time purging. No, they knew exactly what they were doing.

Heavy, resolute footsteps then made their way up the stairs, each deep step resonating through the house, making the silence feel like it was closing it. Theo. There was no way out of this. The only thing you could do was pray that he wouldn’t find you. But deep down, you knew he would. 

“You can’t hide from me, piccola.” a deep, husky voice teased, his voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore. It surprised you to hear a foreign accent— Italian, you guessed. And fuck, you could punch yourself in the face right now for finding it… hot. 

The steps grew louder, tantalisingly slow, until his footsteps reached your room. Your hand flew to your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your brows furrowed as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on steadying your breath. Your heart beat out of your chest, and you worried it was beating loud enough for him to hear. 

Then it was quiet. No sounds. You swallowed, your mouth feeling dry with tears brimming at your waterline, and you gasped when you suddenly heard his voice so close to you. Thank fucking god you still had your mouth covered. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” He said in a dark, knowing manner, and the only thing you could do at this very moment was repeat ‘please don’t find me’ in your head while only hoping your death would be less painful than Tom had ordered it to be. “I know you are...” 

The closet door then abruptly swung open, causing you to let out a loud, surprised gasp. The tears you had so desperately tried to suppress now uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as your head shot up. Soft ‘no’s slipped from your lips when he grabbed you by the arm and aggressively pulled you out of the closet, the words barely audible and you panickedly shook your head, feeling lightheaded due to pure fear. 

“Shut up, cazzo.” he muttered irritably as he threw you on your bed with exasperated aggression. And you immediately complied— not only because he asked you to, but because you didn’t want Matthew to hear you, knowing that Theo had found you, worried of what he might do to you. Matthew… Was his name even Matthew? 

He stood still before you, and for the first time, you took him in, scanning him from head to toe as his imposing, tall frame loomed over you, casting a shadow over where you sat on the bed.

A white mask fully covered his face, and in his right hand, he held a bloody, sharp knife, causing you to gulp in fear. Oh, he looked fucking terrifying— but there was something else, something other than fear deep inside of you. A feeling you desperately tried to suppress. A feeling you felt ashamed to feel. A feeling you could not bring yourself to admit. 

“Huh.” he commented, his head tilting slightly to the left. “Tom didn’t tell me you were such a pretty little thing.” he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing over your cheek, causing you to instinctively pull away, stiffening under his touch. 

“Così carina.” he chuckled mockingly, and your eyes were drawn to his hand that was expertly spinning the knife. His other hand then abruptly gripped your hair, making you gasp, and he slightly tilted your head to expose your neck. 

From your peripheral vision, you could see the bloody knife drawing closer to your neck, making you instantly shut your eyes with furrowed brows, knowing this was it. 

“Can’t wait to see these white sheets turn red.” Theo taunted, but you were shaking, crying and nervously biting down on your lip so hard that blood welled up, waiting for the moment you finally felt the sharp knife against your delicate skin.

And then you did. You felt the cold blade lightly dig into the skin of your neck, the sharp, stinging sensation causing you to tightly grip the sheets, followed by fresh, crimson droplets of blood slowly trickling down your skin— but then he stopped.

“Hm. You know what, bella?” Theo paused for a moment, crouching down to get on eye level with you. The closer he got to you, the faster your heart raced, your whole body heating up with a mix of fear and something else. The deep sense of guilt you felt for feeling… this way gnawed at you from the inside. 

“I might just have other plans for you.” Your head snapped toward him, and you hissed at the fresh cut stretching open, your hand instinctively reaching to the wound, carefully dabbing your fingers on the blood still trickling out.

“You wanna live?” He questioned, and you reluctantly nodded, still unable to shake off the feeling of unease, even as a slight sense of relief—or maybe hope— began to grow inside of you. 

“Then I advise you to get on your knees before I change my mind.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you heard him correctly. Surely not. 

“I— what?” You stammered, breathing in so fast you nearly choked on air as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

“Oh, you heard me.” He rose to his feet, and your eyes intently followed his every movement. The way the moonlight seeped through the blinds illuminated him, and for the first time, you could clearly see his ocean-blue eyes gazing down at you with intense focus— the only feature of his face that was visible through the mask. 

He reached the knife out again, causing you to flinch, but this time he pressed it under your chin to lift your head, the pointy end digging into your soft skin.

“You don’t think I noticed?” he began, and you sat frozen, knowing that a single movement would press the knife deep into your skin. 

“You don’t think I noticed the way you looked at me with those pretty eyes?” You raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, unsure of what he was hinting at, and you absolutely hated this— the vagueness of his words. You hated having to guess what he meant. It made you anxious. 

“I have purged a lot of people, bella. And there is one thing aaall of them have in common— they all have this same, fearful look in their eyes.” he continued, and it made you wonder what he saw in yours. 

“But you… cazzo. With you, I see something else sparkling in those pupils.” The way the mask muffled his voice made you unconsciously lean in closer to hear him better, and he did the same, but for an entirely different reason, until you were merely inches apart. It was a strange observation to make in such a moment like this, but oddly enough, he smelt nice, very nice. A pleasant, musky cologne with the undertone of cigarettes filled your senses. 

“With you I see… lust, yearning, desperation.” he whispered into your ear, the knife digging deeper into your skin, yet still not deep enough to draw blood. Your eyes shot wide open before locking with his, and you felt caught. He hit the hammer right on the nail. 

“Go on, tell me I’m fuckin’ wrong.” but you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Because he wasn’t. Your eyes darted nervously around the room, unable to meet those intense, piercing eyes as the ache between your legs only grew stronger. 

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Bet your panties are soaked already, aren’t they?” you heard a muffled, condescending chuckle coming from under his mask as he slowly twisted the knife under your chin. You so desperately wanted to bite back, to defend yourself, to tell him that he was being ridiculous— but the words were stuck in your throat.

“So… back to where we were.” he growled as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, suddenly remembering Matthew wandering around downstairs and being able to walk in at any time, causing him to rush. 

“C’mon sweetheart. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me if you want to live, a’ight? If Mattheo finds us, it’s over for you.” Ohhhh, Mattheo… right, right.

You hesitantly walked over to him before getting on your knees right in front of him— right in front of his already hard erection trapped in his boxers, desperately wanting to escape as the tip formed a wet patch of precum on the fabric. 

“Well… you know I could just kick you in the balls right now and run away?” There it finally was— the words that had been stuck in your throat, and the boldness inside of you that had finally come free. It was that unexpectedly tender demeanour of his emerging in brief moments, causing you to see him in a humane light, which stilled your fears. 

He scoffed before aggressively gripping your hair and pulling your head back, causing you to hiss at the fresh wound on your neck stinging at the movement. He drew closer to you before suddenly holding the knife to your throat again, the softness you’d glimpsed earlier vanishing in an instant.

“Oh yeah? You don’t think I’m gonna find you and cut you open? Go for it. Give it a try. Let’s see how that ends.” he warned in a low, menacing tone, your brows furrowing as you clenched your teeth, staring right into his narrowed eyes. 

“Acting as if you aren’t practically begging to suck me off right now, tsk. Hurry the fuck up.” he ordered in a harsh tone, abruptly letting go of your hair and retracting the knife from your throat.

Realising you had no other choice but to follow his orders, you stared up at his masked face, before your gaze fell on his boxers. You could tell he was big just from the imprint through the thin fabric— oh, there was no doubt in that. Reluctantly, you drew your head closer to his crotch, teasingly using your teeth to pull the waistband of his boxers down before slowly sliding them off. 

“See, I knew you were a fucking slut.” he growled, his amusement evident as his erection sprang free against his toned abs, precum glistening at the tip. Oh, well fuck. He was indeed huge, causing your eyes to widen momentarily as you swallowed hard. You glanced back up at him one more time, and he gave you a sharp nod, his hand on the back of your head pressing insistently, urging you closer. 

Your head slowly inched closer to his intimidatingly large cock, and you started with placing soft kitten licks on the tip, tasting the salty precum, when suddenly a mischievous smile began to curve your glossed lips. In one swift, unexpected motion, you wrapped your mouth around his throbbing length, firmly pressing your teeth into the skin while at the same time your hand darted to his balls, your sharp nails digging deep into the sensitive flesh. 

“That fuckin’ hurts, you bitch. Cazzo!” Theo cursed, aggressively pushing you back until you hit the bed, yet the same mischievous smile on your face only widened. It confused him how the terrified, weak girl he saw earlier had transformed into… this. 

“Didn’t expect you to be such a fucking pussy.” you challenged him, fire burning in your eyes. Not because you wanted to die, but because deep down you knew you weren’t going to. If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done that already. With the precum leaking from his painfully hard erection right in front of you, you knew the only thing on his mind was finding his release. He was a man after all— simple, driven by his desires.

“You better shut that little mouth—” 

“Or what? You're gonna threaten me again with that stupid little knife—” before you could even finish your sentence, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you roughly towards him, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat instantly, triggering your gag reflex as you struggled to breathe around his thick, aching erection. He quickly set a brutal rhythm, bucking his hips aggressively into your mouth, and you felt your eyes well with tears, saliva running down your chin. 

“If you stop, I’ll make you fucking regret it.” His hand gripped your hair in a tight ponytail, pulling you to meet his thrusts as he relentlessly fucked your mouth. Gagging sounds filled the room as he forced your head down as far as possible, groaning at the sight beneath him— a sight that could so easily make him come already.

“You wanted this from the start, huh? Such a pathetic—” Theo’s sentence was then abruptly cut off when the door suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall, causing you both to freeze and stare, wide-eyed and horrified. A chill ran down your spine as you noticed another masked man standing in the doorway, holding a blood-soaked baseball bat while casually leaning against the doorframe. Oh no.  

“Well, well, well… look what we have here. You really thought I wouldn’t find out, Theodore? How cute.” 

Mattheo. 

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

a/n: thank you sm for reading ^_^!!!!!!! this was supposed to be one long fic but i decided to cut in into two (or maybe more if needed) parts! im not sure when the next part will be posted but ill try to work on it soon !!! <3

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[moonpascaltoo]

theodore nott

MASTERLIST • SLYTHERIN BOYS • 11/29/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two

theodore nott one

𑣲 voodoo doll I @moonpascal

theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him.

𑣲 you’re the closest to heaven i’ll ever be I @amiableness

Reader is getting hit on and Theo is not a fan.

𑣲 only me I @/amiableness

Desperate to get a persistent girl off his back, Enzo and reader kiss. But when the kiss unexpectedly turns heated, Theo loses it.

𑣲 peonies part 2 part 3 I @/amiableness

Reader is devastated when Mattheo gets a girlfriend and asks Theo to help her get over him.

𑣲 withdrawal I @writingsbychlo

theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn’t realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

𑣲 through the wringer I @dramaticals

theo tries to get your attention by spoiling you with gifts. you pretend not to notice the shift just to mess with him.

𑣲 untimely revelations I @/dramaticals

you and theo are at a slug club party and theo has an unfortunate revelation (he likes you).

𑣲 daisy chains I @/dramaticals

daisy chains mean a lot to you, and theo makes you one to tell you how he feels.

𑣲 jealously’s game I @raekensluver

plotting to make your ex jealous at a party, you pick the last person anyone could expect.

𑣲 stalker!theo I @nottsangel

𑣲 drug dealer!theo I @/nottsangel

𑣲 cockwarming!theo I @/nottsangel

𑣲 that’s what i said I @slytherinslut0

your boyfriend was telling you about his day, when he began speaking fluent Italian, knowing damn well you only knew select words. when you asked him to repeat it, he had you come sit on his lap and ended up doing a little more than just repeating it

𑣲 size kink I @/slytherinslut0

there’s a rumor going around that theodore nott has a big dick….why not see it for yourself?

𑣲 lonely I @evergone

The reader has no friends until destiny (in the form of a boy named Theodore Nott) does everything to make her feel like she belongs.

𑣲 devil eyes I @theostrophywife

𑣲 theo surprises you in the prefect bathroom I @motherearthlovesus

𑣲 buried in books I @strangled-slytherin

Theo finds you asleep on your books in the library after a long night of studying and insists on taking care of you.

𑣲 whoopsie I @bunny-1111

You can't help your clumsiness, but when you land with a bruise on your face, you're reminded that your boyfriend Theo really hates to see you hurt.

𑣲 thin ice I @mommynott

Your friends drag you to a hockey game, but halfway through you lock eyes with Theo. You can’t help but feel a strong pull toward him. Deciding to shoot your shot with the player.

[nottswitch]

── .ᡣ𐭩 DISCORD

my lovely babes @mommynott & @nottsangel have an amazing harry potter discord server where i’m also a mod. it’s open to hp writers, creators, readers and general fans. we have lots of fun, share our fics, writing tips, recs and just yap about anything and everything. it’s an incredibly welcoming community filled with amazing and talented people. the energy is unmatched, trust my word. if you’d like to join, send a dm to me or either of the girlies for the link !! <3

only 18+ .ᐟ you must have your age visible on your blog. no blank blogs.

[mommynott]

The fucking queen has done it again and I’m fucking SCREAMING

“Swallow it” “be a good girl for once”

ARE YOU FUCKING JOKINGGGGG ME????

I’m over here reminding myself I’m a Theo girlie because what the actual fuck

This was truly a smutty work of art and I love love loved it Em! Keep them coming girl

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[mommyslibrary]

LEONA !!!! HOLY FUCK I AM TOO EXCITED FOR THIS WKSKDKDKFKKF I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE THIS COME TO LIFE 😩💋💋

❦ CIRCUS FREAK!MATTHEO

— circus freak!mattheo ; the dangerously beautiful star of the traveling circus you joined to outrun your past. he’s a fire-eater with a devil’s grin, a trapeze artist who craves the thrill of freefall, and the one who lifts you skyward during midnight rehearsals as if you weigh nothing. his hands linger a heartbeat too long, his gaze sears hotter than the flames he tames, and when he catches you mid-air, the moment feels anything but professional. he says it’s all about trust, but why does his touch linger like a secret? why does the blade of his knife graze your skin like it knows every curve? the circus was supposed to be your refuge, but mattheo riddle might be the kind of danger you can’t escape.

navigation. au collection. m.list. circus freak!mattheo

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[mommyslibrary]

TEENA AKSKSKDNDNND

Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck I am so unwell akskdkdkdkr yet again…YET AGAINNNNNNNNNN you hit us with an amazing smutty masterpiece 🥵

I fuckin loved literally EVERY SINGLE PART OF THIS AND IT SHOULD BE FRAMED AKSKSKDJDJD

I’d highlight parts but it would be the whole fic istg skskdjdjdn ily and i loved this sm and istg ill become a tom girl from this fic alone

Behind the Mask | Tom Riddle

Summary: Tom hates you. Well, he hates how attracted he is to you. And that attraction is deeply explored at a masquerade ball one lust-filled night.

TW: 18+, mdni, chars 18+, smut, rough sex, blindfolding, dom and sub, biting, PIV, f!masterbation, choking

Word count: 4.1k

Animosity.

Perhaps that was the only word to describe the relationship between you and Tom Riddle. The two of you had hated one another for as long as you could remember. He was too charming, too manipulative. And you? You were just another mudblood, or so he called you. 

The best thing that happened to you was graduating from Hogwarts. You no longer had to see Tom–or so you thought. It was exactly three years later when you wandered into Borgin and Burkes. 

Borgin and Burkes was not exactly your normal place to shop but this afternoon you were required to go for your boss. He had encountered a dark magic object, a book he didn’t want in his bookshop. You, desperately needing work, were not exactly in a position to say no.

You walked into the store expecting to get rid of the book quickly and leave but there he was. Tom Riddle. He was still handsome as ever but God, the hatred. It was strong. You thought, perhaps, you were over it but just the sight of him brought it all back. 

“I’m sorry, we don’t serve mudbloods here,” Tom said immediately at the sight of you. The hatred was still there for him as well. You slammed the book on the table and turned to walk out without a single word.

You’d take whatever money you had saved up and give it to your boss yourself. You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as Tom for more than a minute. 

Two weeks later, you were getting ready for a masquerade ball of a close friend of yours. You needed this. Desperately. Time away, drinks with friends. It was supposed to be fun. And it would be. Oh, it would be so incredibly fun. 

“Can you just drop it already?” Your friend asked as the two of you finished up your make-up. You had been going on about the meeting with Tom yet again. It was still bothering you. There was just something about seeing him again that brought up a stir of feelings inside of you.

“He called me a mudblood!” You shouted back as your hands messed with your hair. Your friend had enough. She stood up, smoothing down her dress before shrugging her shoulders.

“Like he hasn’t before? Come on. Let’s just forget about Tom and go have fun.” She held her hand out, waiting for you to take it. 

You thought about not going. You thought about giving up on it all and just heading home. But it was a masquerade ball celebrating the turn of the season. And you were never one to turn down fun. You took her hand and walked down to the party, letting go for a moment so you could tie on your mask.

There were plenty of people at this party, more than there should have been. Word got out and everyone started inviting this friend and that one. Strangers brushed past you dressed in various forms of masks. Some were more covered than others. Some were completely unrecognizable. Anyone could be here. And anyone was here.

Tom Riddle had spent the last two weeks thinking of you. The sight of you walking into that shop was one he never imagined he’d see but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Tom had always hated you, of course, but it wasn’t a deep-seated hatred. It was a hatred that stemmed from his unusual desires for you. He hated how much he wanted you. He hated how fucking attractive you were. 

There were rumors of a party, a big one. Tom had heard of a few professors that would be there from Hogwarts. He was desperately trying to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position and saw this as an opportunity to try and weasel some schmooze in. Maybe a few would put a good word in for him but he had to go about it carefully–as he did with everything in his life.

Tom was a meticulous person. Nothing he did was spontaneous. Everything was carefully, planned out. There were intentions behind every action, ill-willed or not. Spontaneity was not his specialty. 

He walked into the party wearing a mask. Nothing special for the occasion but, years from now, that mask would be so well known to the community. It would be a mask that sparked fear and traitours behaviors; however, tonight it was just a mask for Tom to hide behind while he stalked out his prey. 

You were a few drinks in by the time Tom arrived. You weren’t completely drunk but inhibitions were lowered. You were laughing with your friends when one of them pointed out a masked man standing in the corner. The mask seemed to be staring right at you. 

You brushed it off–surely he wasn’t staring at you. There were hundreds of people at this party. He could be staring at anyone. As the night went on, however, you noticed how the masked man kept popping up here and there. Across the dance floor as you danced. On the opposite side of the bar when you got drinks. He seemed to be everywhere.

Tom was searching for professors, looking for people he could convince to get him the job he desired when he suddenly saw you. Your hair, your tight little dress. It was driving Tom mad. All that talk of him being meticulous and planned out, all of it went out the window the second he saw you. 

He could do nothing but watch you. Were you here with someone? A man? If so, who? Who could fuck you better than Tom Riddle could? 

Fuck.

Tom hated himself for thinking that but he hated that he wanted to prove that thought to you even more. He stalked you most of the night before finally noticing you moving up some stairs. Again, Tom was never a spontaneous person. Everything he did was thought out. Everything. 

Tonight, though. Tonight was an exception. You were an exception. 

Tom followed up the stairs, half-expecting to lose you, when he finally saw you standing at the entrance of what looked to be a bedroom. While Tom was being spontaneous, you had planned this out. If this masked man was truly following you, you wanted to see the lengths he would go.

“Can’t get enough of me, can you?” You asked teasingly as you stood in the doorway. Your voice had a slight drunken giggle to it. Tom was annoyed by your cockiness, your forwardness. He simply nodded his head in the mask as he walked forward a bit.

“Cat got your tongue?” You asked again, realizing how silly you sounded. You wanted to curse yourself under your breath but the masked man's hands were suddenly on your waist, pushing you into the room.

There was hardly time to talk, to think. The door shut behind the two of you and you heard the lock clicking without hands being used. Whoever this man was, he was a skilled wizard, and for some reason, that turned you on even more.

“What are you going to do to me?” You squeaked out meekly. Tom said nothing as he continued walking forward until you were pressed up against the edge of the bed. Your knees were forced to bend at the bedframe and your bottom fell onto the mattress.

Tom stared down at you, tilting his head slightly as his piercing dark eyes peered at you from behind the mask. The eyes almost looked familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it. Your hands rested on the edge of the bed as you looked up at the mystery man.

“Nothing.” Tom finally spoke, changing his voice to a lower tone. He hoped the familiarity of it would slip your mind and it did. You had no idea who this man was but he was exciting you.

Tom leaned down just a touch as he grabbed your wrist. He moved your hand between your legs and forced them open. He pushed your hand until it was up against your warm and wet core.

“You’re going to do it to yourself.” He demanded as he took a few steps back. You kept your hand on the spot where he left it, frozen from the demand. Tom crossed his arms over his chest, still staring at you through that damned mask. 

“Open.” He spoke coldly, your legs immediately spreading open. You weren’t sure if it was your decision or his magic but either way, you opened. You leaned back just a touch, pulling up the skirt of your dress so he could get the full show. Your hand started to do circles over the material of your soaked panties.

Little moans escaped your lips before you pulled your panties to the side, pressing your fingers between your wet slit. You were soaked, feeling nothing but pleasure from the intensity of the situation. 

Tom watched as you locked eyes with him from across the room. He could see the pleasure growing on your face, your fingers moving faster. It felt good. Too fucking good.

You didn't know it but you were currently touching yourself to the man you hated most in this world. A type of degradation without words–the mystery of it driving Tom more insane than the act itself.

“Faster,” Tom demanded and you did exactly as he said. Your fingers circled faster, little circles enlarging that already swollen clit of yours. Tom’s cock was hard, pressing against his pants. Nothing ever turned him on but you? Fuck. You did insane things to him and his length. 

It was taking everything in him to not touch himself as well. Your fingers started to move faster as you fell back a bit on one elbow. Your moans were growing, your legs shaking. Tom could tell you were getting closer to that perfect release.

But you wouldn’t finish. No. He wasn’t about to let you feel that pleasure so soon. He looked at your hand and, without using his voice, the word stop echoed through your mind. Your hand immediately stopped and your eyes widened. What the fuck was that?

He took a few steps closer and your heart was beating hard against your chest. What was he going to do? The unknown of this entire situation only makes this moment hotter. You peered at him through your dainty little mask before he stood right between your legs.

His hand reached up and untied your mask and revealed your face. There it was. The face he hated to desire. The face he hated to think about. The face he hated to dream of. It was his most hated face and yet the one he couldn’t seem to get out of his mind. Tom absolutely loathed how much he thought of your face. Your lips. Your throat. 

No words were said. You were frozen, unable to speak. Tom was just trying to make sure you didn’t know who he was. He reached his hand up, his thumb dragging down your bottom lip as he watched your chest rise and fall from the heavy breathing.

“Perfect.” He whispered, not even meaning to. He meant to keep that thought in his mind but it slipped out in spoken word. And now you knew how he really felt. This complete stranger found you to be perfect. Maybe it was all the drinks you had but this felt exhilarating, intoxicating. 

As Tom’s thumb slid off of your lip, he moved to his pointer finger. It traced your jawline before moving down the side of your neck. He didn’t stop. He traced every inch of you as if he were making a map of your body and all the places he was going to devour. 

“Wh-what do you want?” You finally managed to ask, wondering why he stopped you from finishing. Was he going to fuck you? You wanted him to. This absolute stranger. You reached up for his mask and he quickly grabbed your wrist with a force that frightened you. 

“Don’t,” Tom demanded in that same low tone he had been using. His grip seemed to tighten around your wrist and your desires started to turn to fear for a second. What the fuck were you doing? This was someone unknown to you, or so you thought. He could do anything to you. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“I-I’m sorry.” You stumbled on your words and Tom was enjoying seeing you so scared, so timid. A smirk was growing under his mask as your eyes stared up at him with fear. There was something so insatiable about this, having total control over you and your body. 

“Do you want this?” Tom asked through a low tone, his muffled voice barely escaping his mask. Your mind was racing with thoughts. Did you want this? You nodded your head without truly thinking about what he was asking.

“Are you sure?” Tom asked once more as he started to lay you back on the bed. He grabbed your other hand, pinning it above your head, and hovered over you. “Because once I start, I’m not going to stop.” 

The words sent a shiver down your spine. This was your chance. If you didn’t want this, truly didn’t want it, you just had to say the word and he would let you go. 

“I want this.” 

Fuck. 

That was it. You were in for it. There was no turning back now. You were about to be destroyed in this random bed by this random person and, honestly? You were excited for it. 

Tom didn’t need to hear anymore. He flicked his finger at your dress and it instantly unbuttoned. How the hell was he so good at this? The more of your body that was exposed, the stronger the fire grew inside of him. 

You were quickly becoming the oxygen he needed to breathe. As much as he hated you, he really fucking needed you. He ripped off his shirt and that’s when you saw just how toned his body was. You reached up and traced his abs for a moment as you noticed how heavily he was breathing. 

You wanted to taste him, to feel his lips on yours but he wouldn’t take off that damned mask. He let your hands travel to his belt and you slowly started to undo it. Every movement felt like a pause in time. It was as if time ceased to exist in this other world you were living in. 

His pants slid down and his length bulged out of his underwear. Your eyes widened at the sight of it. He was big. No. Not big. Enormous. No wonder he could be so demanding. 

Tom kept his mask in place while his hands ran through your hair. It wasn’t in a loving sense, or even a longing sense. It seemed to be in a sense that said ‘I can’t believe I’m about to fucking destroy you’ and that, more than anything, turned you on.

“What are you going to do to me?” You managed to ask, in a timid and shaking voice. That confidence you had? Gone. You wanted this–gods you wanted this–but you felt so incredibly submissive to this undisclosed man. There was no challenging him and you both knew that.

“The question should be…” Tom started to say in that deep and low tone as he reached for his tie that was lying with his shirt. He pulled it up over your eyes, tying it around you so that you could see nothing before dropping his lips to your ear and whispering, “...what am I not going to do to you, darling?” 

This. Fucking. Man.

Now with your eyes covered, he could finally remove his mask. And he did. His eyes took in all of you, your naked body lying on the bed. The blindfold over your face. The position of you, so submissive and wanting. He hated it. No, he hated how much it turned him on.

He moved his lips to yours and hovered just for a moment before pressing them together. You tasted fucking heavenly, something that only pissed him off more. Why did you have to be so damn perfect? His tongue swirled with yours and you let out soft little moans which only caused his cock to twitch. 

Tom moved his lips to your neck, biting as he did. There would be marks but that was Tom’s plan. He wanted you to see them. He wanted you to wonder who was putting their teeth into your skin. He wanted you to inadvertently think of him every time you saw those little marks. And he was going to put them over your entire body.

His teeth traveled down to your hardened nipples, biting them with a roughness that made you gasp. You weren’t expecting such a thrilling sensation, pain, and pleasure to mix so well together. 

“W-wait!” You started to say as he bit your other nipple, surely leaving marks everywhere. Your hands went for your blindfold and Tom quickly grabbed your hands. He pinned them together, quickly whispering a spell to tie them with rope. Your heart was racing, your mind rushing with thoughts.

“You agreed to this and I told you, once I start I’m not stopping,” Tom growled in that low tone that was starting to sound a little more familiar. You still had no idea who this was but it had to be someone you knew. The way they were treating you? It was someone you knew.

With your hands now tied, you had no control. This man, this mysterious figure, he had complete and total power over your body. And you loved it. You absolutely fucking loved it.

Tom moved further down your body, licking here and biting there. He made it to your thighs and pushed them apart. His teeth dug into your skin, leaving more marks on your inner thigh. Would you touch yourself the next time you saw these marks? Fuck. Tom hoped you would. He really fucking did. 

“P-please…” You begged, whimpered. A smirk grew on Tom’s face as he heard your little voice. The fact he had your body squirming under his touch only made his cock ache more for you. 

“Please, what? Use your fucking words.” He demanded and god, that voice. It was so familiar. It sent a pit into your stomach, your heart beating against your chest with an aching feeling. There was something so known about it and yet you had no idea who this was. 

“Please...the biting…” Your voice escaped your lips with the softest sound. Tom was getting annoyed. Annoyed that this turned him on, annoyed that you weren’t being more clear. 

He bit down onto your thigh a bit rougher this time, his darkened eyes glaring into your face as he did. He saw the shocked look, the mix of pleasure and pain, the way your body squirmed and writhed with pleasure. You liked this. No, you fucking loved this. 

“Stop!” You finally shouted, loud and echoing off the walls. Tom sat up and was impressed by your sudden demanding tone. He looked down at your slit and slowly ran a finger through it. You were soaked. 

“You’re saying stop and yet…” he moved his fingers up to your lips, tracing them over your mouth until you opened up, “...you seem to enjoy it.” 

His fingers slipped into your mouth until you tasted the cold metal of a ring. It was large. There was some sort of emblem on it but his finger was out of your throat faster than you could make out what it was. 

“Tell me you enjoy this,” Tom whispered as he watched his finger drag out of your mouth. Your body was shivering underneath him. So exposed. So open, vulnerable. 

“I like it. Love it. I-I want more.” You spoke with a shuddered breath. Tom sat you up and slipped behind you. He opened his knees while holding you in front of him so that you both faced the same direction. Your legs slipped between his and it wasn’t long before you felt his length teasing your entrance.

His pre-cum soaked tip was aching for you, craving you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, holding your body tightly against his before slamming his cock deep into you. The second he did, his eyes rolled back into his head.

That had never happened before.

He started to thrust, opening his eyes only to see the two of you in the mirror across the wall. He watched as your face gave away the amount of pleasure you were in. The blindfold was tight across your eyes but–fuck–the sensations you were feeling were otherworldly.

“F-fuck! You–fuck–you feel amazing!” You moaned as Tom’s cock pressed deeper and deeper into you. He started thrusting harder, his teeth sinking into your shoulder for a moment. Another mark. Another giveaway that he had destroyed your perfect body. 

“Praise me.” He groaned into your ear as he continued thrusting. He reached his free hand up, wrapping it around your throat as he watched the way your tits bounced with each thrust in the mirror. You were a mess. And Tom fucking loved it. He loved how much he had ruined you at that moment. And he was only just starting.

“You're so big! S-so good! I–fuck–I c-can barely take it!” You praised as you were told. Your hands were still tied together, sitting in front of you as Tom watched the way your body moved with ecstasy in the mirror. 

He could feel his orgasm getting closer. Tom had fucked before, of course he did. But this? This was so different. It was like a whole new experience all together. He had never felt himself wanting to finish so quickly. It drove him insane.

His hand wrapped tighter around your throat, squeezing it until you could hardly breathe. He thrust a few more times before pulling out and pushing you down onto the bed so that you were on all fours.

Tom slapped both hands onto your ass, more marks. More territory was claimed. You held your hands out in front of you as your face pushed into the bed. Tom raised your hips before sliding back into you. 

“I’m going to count to three and you’re going to finish,” Tom demanded after thrusting a few times. Could you even do that? Cum on demand? You were about to find out. 

“One..” 

He pushed deeper into you, pulling your hips higher so that he was hitting every perfect little spot in your body.

“Two…” 

That voice. That fucking voice. God, you knew it. You knew you knew it. And for a second, a split second, you thought of him. Tom. No. It couldn’t be. Could it? 

“Three…” 

The second you thought of Tom, the second his face flashed across your mind, you finished with the heaviest orgasm you had ever experienced. You squirted, something you had never done before, letting juices coat his length and stroll down your legs. 

The sight of it, the sight of how fucking messy you were, it was enough to make Tom finish as well. He slipped out of you and stroked his length until he spread his seed all down your back and your ass. 

As you collapsed onto the bed, you went to pull off the makeshift blindfold but your hands wouldn’t move. Why weren’t they moving? 

“Can you take these off of me?” You asked but no response. You heard a door shut and suddenly, you could move. You ripped the blindfold off along with the ropes and looked around the room. You were alone. Was this some insane fever dream? 

You quickly looked down at your body, seeing how naked you were. You glanced up into the mirror and that’s when you saw them, the bites. They covered your body. The marks were everywhere. The softest little smile grew on your face as you watched yourself.

Tom, meanwhile, was already slipping out of the party. He hadn’t accomplished what he wanted while there but what he got was so much better. He got you. He destroyed you. He marked you. And fuck. That was all he needed.

You went home that night and fell into the bed, slowly pulling the tie out of your pocket that the man had left behind. You couldn’t get the thought of everything out of your mind. Who was he? And why was that the best sex you had ever had? Your mind went back to Tom but surely it wasn’t him. Was it? 

Your fingers were tracing over the tie, your mind racing with thoughts. And that’s when you saw it–the initials that made your stomach drop. TMR.

[mommyslibrary]

Yes I’m still insanely in love with barista!theo and anskdkdjd the chokehold this man and this series has on me already !!!

I can’t wait for more ugh I love him, I love this, and I love YOU so much!

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐭. (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢)

chapter summary: there’s a new coffee shop that has just opened on the street next to yours, and after a long day of work, you wonder if their cappuccino holds up. turns out, it’s not just their cappucino, but also a cute italian barista.

pairing: barista!theo x reader

cw: modern!au, muggle!au, cliché fluff, cursing, barista!pansy

wc: 2.4k

a/n: the first part of this cutie, for all my fluff lovers!! there’s not gonna be anything difficult happening, no moral conflicts, no grey areas, nothing. just pure, raw, unadulterated cuteness. enjoy <3 no taglist!

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; theo m.list ; series m.list ; how to request

The wind was biting, tingling your cheeks as you hurried along the street, pulling the collar of your coat up in a rather futile attempt to shield yourself from the wrath of the quiet beast that was British November. A curse after curse towards yourself was swirling in your head over and over again for not bothering to properly check the location of your rented apartment a year ago. If you had half a brain to do that, you would’ve noticed its unacceptably large distance from the nearest bus stops and underground stations. Even worse, the area was devoid of any type of coziness, leaving you to stroll between the dark walls of brick and glass along with similarly sullen people unwilling to meet your eyes with theirs.

A quivering flicker of warmth caught your eye when you dared to look up from the dampened pavement underneath your feet, just to be met with a chilly gust of air making your eyes water. Through the blur you could distinguish the warmth getting closer and closer, until you were standing right underneath several strings of fairy lights forming sparkling bridges between the trees to you left and the building to your right.

Toasted & Roasted.

Your eyebrow twitched up in surprise at the unfamiliar sign, the lightness of it contrasting so harshly against the bleak background of your area of residence. Your gaze travelled lower, noting the glimpses of the cozy exterior visible through the panoramic windows and a similarly tall glass door. A hot cup of coffee sounded delightful right now, plus, it had been a while since something good appeared anywhere in your vicinity. Without thinking twice, your body turned right, your feet already making swift steps towards the most inviting door you’d seen in a while. In a few seconds that lasted an eternity, the door shut out the cold and the slowly but surely commencing drizzle, and you were finally enveloped by delicious scents of coffee and pastries and mellow music streaming through the homely space around you.

The bar counter was straight across from the entrance, with the usual menu on the wall above it. You made a beeline towards it, taking off the beanie warming your head up until now and untangling the mess of knots that was your scarf, hastily wrapped around your neck about an hour ago. Your curious eyes were skimming the menu and the see-through display with different cakes and pastries teasing your senses when you heard a voice coming from behind the counter.

“Welcome to Roasted & Toasted, how can I help you to–”

A head of brown curls emerged from behind the cash register. The seemingly confident voice trailed off at the last word, widened ocean eyes fixed on your face, lips parted and sucking in a silent but sharp breath.

“–day.”

The ending came out in a breath. A noticeable Italian accent registered in your brain, and you filed away this thought to remember later, for reasons you couldn’t quite grasp yet. The guy behind the counter straightened up, running a hand through his messily pristine hair that fell onto his forehead despite the effort, and flashed you a wide charming smile, a stark difference from the shock written on his face just a few seconds ago (to which you were completely oblivious).

“It’s on the house,” he blurted out before you even had the chance to speak, with the confidence of someone who had just had the whole world laid at his feet. “Your order’s on the house,” he repeated, as if he liked the way the words rolled off his tongue and was proud of himself for saying it.

“Um…”

You hummed to compensate for your lack of proper response – it was the first time you were bombarded with a free drink right after walking into a new coffee place, and before you could even place the order.

“You have a special offer?” you prompted, trying to make sense of the sudden generosity. The guy’s smile widened, making the corners and the underside of his eyes burst into crinkles that you found adorable way too fast for having seen him for the first time.

“We do,” he answered a bit too quickly, which, again, completely went over your head. “Special offers for special clients,” he added with a wink, which made you bite the inside of your cheek to stop your mouth from producing uncontrollable giggles, already born deep in your chest and making their way up your throat. You were certain you hadn’t seen any special offer promos on the outside, which could only mean one thing – you had just become a subject of rather shameless flirting.

“Well, that’s… good.” You cleared your throat, still coming to terms with the fact that the cute barista had just flirted with you. At the back of your mind, there was knowledge that you had to make an order, but words seemed to escape you for the moment, so you decided to busy yourself with looking through the menu above the counter again.

The guy followed your gaze and a smirk appeared on his lips, one that could easily be mistaken for a simple smile if you didn’t look close enough. “Fancy anything?” he asked, raising his eyebrow just a bit in a politely curious manner, though there was something behind the watercolour of his eyes that you couldn’t quite name – or couldn’t make sense of yet. “We have the pumpkin spice, the autumn classic,” he started, his smirk widening at the sight of your eyes intently fixed on his. “But I’d personally suggest a lavender latte as your first “Roasted & Toasted” experience.”

You completely missed every single word that the guy said, entranced by the sound of his voice – you didn’t know voices like that even existed. When the last syllable came out of his mouth, you shook your head, feeling heat treacherously creeping up your cheeks at the realization that you had zero idea what he had just said.

“I, um… I’ll just have a cappuccino.” You gave him a smile that you tried to make look as far from sheepish as possible. Your usual order seemed like a pretty safe option in your slightly dazed state. “No sugar, salted caramel syrup, please.”

A low chuckle in the guy’s voice sounded like music, another detail you duly noted and stored in a totally new folder in your brain with “cute Italian barista” as a title. Why it was there was a question you had no answer to and frankly, didn’t want to busy your mind with. It was occupied enough with staring him down as his lips formed words you didn’t understand.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. A cappuccino this late in the day," he tutted, his tone coming out as a soft scold. You didn’t get it at first, but the heat in your cheeks increased in temperature, even though you tried to keep a distant yet polite exterior appropriate for the barista-client interaction. It was getting increasingly hard, though, with the way the guy’s eyes were scanning your face. "You English lot have it that bad, huh?"

"Uh… I guess."

You gave him a small shrug, trying your best to hide your flustered state. Noticing it nonetheless, the barista chuckled once more and his smirk finally softened.

"Sorry, just my Italian blood," he explained, looking down at the counter and shaking his head, the tiny action making the his curls bounce from side to side. Then, he glanced up again, his lashes almost hiding his magnetizing eyes from view, which you found endearing and slightly annoying at the same time. "You’re making me commit a deadly sin, I hope you know that."

You couldn’t help a giggle of your own this time, confusion slowly making way for a strange feeling of giddiness.

"Noted," you answered, tilting you head to the side a bit as you continued studying the wonder that was the guy behind the counter. "Won’t repeat the mistake again. Don’t want you indulging in blasphemy…" You took a quick look at the badge on his uniform apron. "…Theodore."

If you were attentive enough, you would see a slight bob of his Adam’s apple right after you called out his name. He quickly schooled himself back into the charming smile he was sporting, a nod of his head serving as a sign of his acknowledgment.

"No, no, it’s fine,” he reassured you in a playful manner. "Like I said, a special offer for a special client." Another wink made your heart do a leap, the bounds of your chest suddenly seeming too restrictive. "And it’s Theo, alright? Theodore makes me feel like a grandpa."

"Alright, Theo."

The name seemed a pleasant hum on your lips, which Theo himself seemed to agree with, if his content smile was any indication.

"I assume you’re taking your coffee here," he noted, briefly glancing at the window behind you. Outside, the drizzle intensified, turning into a full-on shower rattling against the ground and seeping through the soft sound of music inside the coffee shop.

"You would be correct," you confirmed, also taking a look behind your shoulder and realizing that the weather was as horrible for being out in the street as it was perfect for a quiet hour inside, with a cup of coffee and a book to keep you occupied.

"Great. I just need your name now. For the order," Theo added in a hurry, as if he needed to clarify, which he quickly masked with a nonchalant smile. You didn’t put much significance into it, not in the mood to overthink, as it usually happened with your racing mind.

Theo scribbled down your name on a piece of paper and tucked the pen into the front pocket of his apron, smoothing it out.

"Be right up."

Your hand automatically reached for your card, but then you stilled it in the air, remembering the ‘on the house’ part. Giving Theo a slightly awkward nod, you made your way to a quaint table right next to the window, taking off your coat and settling into the plush chair.

"Nott? The fuck was that, huh?"

"Pansy, shut up for a damn second, will you?"

Theo rolled his eyes, fumbling with the buttons on the coffee machine to start up a cappuccino. His movements were precise, if not a bit tense, since the haze of his interaction dissipated, and he was left alone with his dear but annoying friend-turned-colleague. Pansy had been watching the whole thing from the small kitchen, hidden by the curtain, and as soon as you left for your table, she started on her relentless journey to tease the hell out of Theodore.

"I’m just being real here. You were making heart eyes at her." Pansy raised her eyebrow in mock amusement; while Theo’s flirty nature wasn’t a surprise for her, the way he was acting with you was certainly different from his usual getting-the-girl antics.

"Yeah, well, you’re just pissed you can’t hog all the pretty girls to yourself," Theo quipped, refusing to acknowledge the blush that was firmly set on his cheeks at the mention of his ‘heart eyes’ – he was all too aware that he was, in fact, making them, and he wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it, either.

Pansy let out a short chuckle, pushing herself off the doorframe to wipe the counter clean – just in case their annoying wench of a manager decided she had another problem with that.

"You’re not mad about… Jennifer? Juniper? Are you?" she asked, her voice obviously teasing. At that, Theo grumbled under his breath, something about her not even remembering the name, but there was no bite to his words. He already forgot all about the girl from earlier in the day that Pansy swooped in to charm; no, from now on he had a one track mind, and its destination was sitting so cozily next to the window, it made his heart beat faster at every stolen glance.

Theo tried to stop his hand from trembling while he worked on making your coffee as appealing as possible. Latte art on a cappuccino should’ve been easy enough, he’s had tons of practice both at work and at home, but for some reason, he needed to make yours especially beautiful. Pansy watched him with rapt attention, an amused smirk never leaving her lips.

"You’re really going all out, aren’t you?” she chimed in as Theo cursed when his hand swayed left, making an unwanted streak appear on the foamy surface. "Theodore Nott actually trying for a girl. Who would’ve thought."

"Shut. The hell. Up," he gritted through clenched teeth, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he created another elegant swirl, one he was rather pleased with. He leaned back to admire his creation – you should like it, there was no way you wouldn’t.

Your head snapped to the left when you heard your name being called in that voice you had grown to miss in the last few minutes, while Theo was busy making your coffee. A smile appeared on your face, as if your lips had a mind of their own, and so did your legs, if the skip in your steps on the way to the counter had anything to say about it.

"There you go. Salted caramel, no sugar."

Theo carefully placed a beige cup on top of the bar counter, dusting off his hands while watching you reaction with what he hoped was a casual expression. It wasn’t that in the slightest, and you would notice, if your own mind wasn’t preoccupied with trying to behave like a functioning human being and not a smitten teenage girl.

"You’re… quite talented," you commented on the coffee art, your efforts to keep yourself in check as futile as Theo’s. A wider smile was hurting your cheeks with the force it was threatening to escape with, and you gave up, allowing yourself to grin like an absolute idiot.

"I am quite talented with my hands, yes," Theo replied, immediately cursing himself for the double meaning he didn’t intend to bring into the conversation. His usual smoothness seemed to evade him in your presence, but the prettiest twinkle in your eyes and the way you looked to the side was a reward he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Theodore Nott was many things, and stupid wasn’t one of them. Until he met you, that is. Only when the door closed behind your back did he realize that he forgot to ask for your phone number. He ran a hand over his face, frustrated, mad at himself and left to pray to everything that was holy that you would pop by again.

[mommyslibrary]

Not a Tom girlie but FUCK marrrrrrr I’m gasping 😩😩😩😩 This was so hot AKSKDKDKF I loved it and I love you💋💋💋

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Restless Nights.

Short Summary: Tom finds the perfect way to get you to relax after a long study day.

Warnings: 18+ only! clit play, fingering, edging, begging, praise

A/N: In case you were wondering where I have been, here is your answer. (Except the Tom part, ugh.)

wordcount: 1,2k

You sigh as you turn the page of your textbook. It’s been hours since you started studying for your final exams, hours since you last gave your body a break. You know you should call it a day—but there is so much left to do and so little time, you simply can’t afford to stop. Lost in the lines of your book, eyebrows drawn together as you try to concentrate, try to make sense of the written content, you don’t notice Tom shutting his newspaper and getting up from his seat. Only when he stands behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders, do your eyes glance at the empty spot opposite of you. “Let’s go to bed. You have done enough today,” he says, and though his voice is softer than usual, you know he means it. Tom doesn’t like when you overwork yourself—which is blatant hypocrisy in your eyes. “It’s only ten more pages, I- oh—“ his thumbs sink into the aching muscles of your shoulders, massaging with precise ease. “So tense,” he mutters, encouraging you to lean back against the wooden chair. You rest your head against him, humming softly as your eyes slowly flutter closed in exhaustion. His hands work magic on your sore muscles, and for the first time in hours your worries fade, fully focused on your boyfriend’s fingers sinking into your skin so perfectly. “I have been so busy, Tom. I am sorry for neglecting you.” He huffs. “Don’t worry about me. But I do need you to take a break. Now.” Of course, he manages to convince you to go to bed. You could never say no to him—not when he sweet-talks you, not when you are on the brink of exhaustion anyway. So you let him lead you up the stairs, let him kiss you softly as you reach your bedroom, his hands wandering to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You protest weakly as his warm hands slip under the fabric of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. “Shhh. Let that pretty head of yours rest.” He mutters, and you close your eyes as his lips trail kisses down your neck, tilting your head to give him better access. His fingers work the zipper of your jeans, the rough material soon dropping to pool at your feet, leaving you in your underwear.  You step out of your trousers as he leads you towards the bed, and before you know it, your head is resting on his chest, one leg draped over his as his hands trail over the bare skin of your tummy. Tom halts as he reaches the waistband of your burgundy lace panties. 

“Okay?” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your cheek as he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the shell of your ear. Only when you nod does he slip under the thin material, brushing over your clit as he slides between your folds. Tom teasingly moves up and down, humming as he feels your arousal coating his finger. 

“So wet for me. You needed this, didn’t you?” “Yes, oh God—“ You nod, your hips bucking into his hands as you search for the friction you so desperately crave. His other hand finds your breast, fingers teasing your hardened peak through the fabric of your matching lace bra. “Go on, tell me what you need, darling.” “Need you to— oh—“ “This?” He drawls, his thumb finally finding your puffy clit, teasingly swiping over the sensitive bud. It isn’t enough—it’s too light, too slow, your body writhing for more. Your skin burns with need, the continuous teasing having you on the edge of sanity, body aching for release of the pent-up frustration inside of you. “Please, Tom, please make me come, I need you.” He groans in approval, and like on command, he presses down, the pad of his thumb rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. Your hand closes around his wrist as your back arches into the pleasure, soft moans escaping your parted lips. “Why do you have to be so— oh—“ you gasp as one of his fingers pushes into your soaked entrance, easily slipping past the resistance. “—so good at this.” His lips curl into a smile as he places a soft kiss on the top of your head, easing a second finger into you. “I know what my girl needs.”  With his thumb on your swollen bud and his fingertips repeatedly brushing over your most sensitive spot inside your soaked cunt, your mind soon grows hazy with need, hot pleasure rushing through your veins. He’s praising you for how good you are doing for him, how much you deserve to feel this good. Tom knows you are nearing your high—the way you squeeze him even tighter, walls fluttering around his digits as he thrusts harder inside of you. His fingers then curl, stars clouding your vision as you are on the brink of reaching your climax. “Tom— I am going to—“ But before you are able to tip over the edge, he stills. 

“Don’t forget your manners. Be a good girl and ask, darling.”

You whine in frustration, but you know it is no use to protest now. 

“God, please— I need to come. Please, Tom, please make me come.” You know he enjoys this, being in power over your pleasure. And even after an exhausting day—he won’t let you have it that easily. His thumb is now circling around your clit, but never quite touching you where you need him most—it’s driving you close to insanity. “Oh God- Please—“ you whine, desperately bucking your hips against his touch. He knows how much you despise his teasing—but that’s exactly why he loves it so much.

"That's it. So good for me. Let go, sweetheart. Take what you need," he murmurs, his voice low as he sinks back into you, thumb pressing down on your needy clit again. Your pleasure builds rapidly, and before you know it, it overtakes you, crushing you like a tidal wave. Your body convulses around him, thighs trembling, eyes rolling back as you tumble over the edge. Tom works you through your orgasm expertly, only when you whimper in overstimulation does he slowly withdraw his soaked digits from your cunt, accompanied by a low groan. He lets you rest then, fingers softly stroking your hair, lips placing lazy kisses on your bare shoulder. You are more asleep than awake when you remember the ten pages you had left to study, eyes shooting open at the realisation. Slowly, you lift yourself off him, reaching for your sweater on the ground. “I am going back to study,” you say, and he sighs, reaching for your wrist. “No chance. You have barely gotten any sleep these past few days.” Tom reminds you, pulling you back onto the bed. You giggle softly as his arms circle your waist, pressing you snugly against him. “Going to make you come until you can’t even think about leaving me anymore, sweetheart.”

@riddleswhcre my lovely baby thank u for inspiring me. 🤎

[mommyslibrary]

Yall have NO IDEA HOW EXCITED I AM FOR SURFER!THEO AKSKDKDKD

dating surfer!theo (although he’d never call it that)

you're not just another girl in theo's orbit- he knows it, you know it

but that doesn't stop him from sliding out of your life just as easily as he will, inevitability, slide back in

[mommyslibrary]

12 Days of Dickmas has started 🎁💋❄️

Lights, Lust, and Leather

12 Days of Dickmas — Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Christmas break has you feeling lonesome, taking matters into your own hands you decide to decorate the common area when suddenly your…enemy? 👀 Stumbles in…and let’s just say he’d much rather decorate you.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, ewb!theo, enemy!theo, dom!theo, blow job, throat fucking, restraints, rough sex, degrading, dirty talk, choking, slight slapping, spanking, slight brat taming, slight edging, PIV, creampie, dom&sub, enemy!theo going to fucking town

The Common Room felt deserted, almost empty in the absence of the other Slytherin students. It was the first day of Christmas break and the vast majority of the students were eager to head home for the holidays.

But you had stayed behind. You decided to take it upon yourself to decorate the usual brooding common room, turning it into a dark Christmas wonderland.

With a slick twirl of your wrist, you flicked your wand toward the speaker, ‘Santa Baby’ starting to coo ever so softly around the area. A gentle yet merry smile painted over your face as you rummaged through a box filled with string lights.

Singing softly along to the cheerful music, you felt content. Just a few classmates had stayed behind. But with one particular classmate…you weren’t sure how to feel. Would something even happen?

Wearing a tight verdant v-neck along with a form-fitting, black leather skirt. You felt completely enveloped in the cozy holiday feel. Climbing up on the ladder you had set up next to the fireplace, you carefully began to hang the twinkling lights, draping them with ease yet sophistication.

However, that damn skirt seemed determined to reveal more with each movement. You found yourself teetering precariously on the ladder diligently hanging the set of lights with one hand as the other tried to tug down the leather.

Even with the ladder, you couldn’t seem to reach certain areas across the fireplace. “What the fuck-“ Mumbling a groan to yourself, you messed with your skirt, trying to pull it down to cover the creek of your ass.

Maybe wearing a skirt this short wasn’t the brightest idea. Fuck it. No one was around anyway. You shrugged your shoulders with a sigh as you reached even higher, placing the lights as you could.

At this exact moment, Theo stumbled into the empty common room, his mind still occupied with the final grades yet to come and the fact Mattheo had taken off with some random girl for a week.

Unaware that he had even entered, you were heavily concentrated on the decor. Your tongue creeping from between your lips, your eyes squinting at the bulbous lighting.

As Theodore stepped deeper into the space he froze, his eyes falling on a sight that immediately banished all thoughts of finals and grades from his mind. There, amongst the twinkling lights and Christmas decorations, was you.

You struggled on the ladder. Your skirt having ridden up to reveal a tantalizing expanse of tempting and smooth skin. The skin he knew so fucking well.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed behind you. "Well, well, well…" Theo had walked in on your festive preparations, eyeing you down fully. His stare was searing into your juicy ass just as you turned your head with a smirk.

Playfully rolling your eyes to the Italian. “Nott…” With a soft giggle, you swore you felt your cheeks flush up. Fuck. How could he always get you this flustered? You hated him. Loathed him. In every aspect…besides sex.

Taking another stride toward you, Theo shoved one of his hands in his pocket. Slowly caressing his knuckles down your bare thigh with the other one.

His gaze now shifting up to meet with yours. “-Surprised you’re doing all of this.” In his usual taunting tone, you could feel your jaw clenching. Why do you have to be so annoying yet so fucking hot?

“You’d be surprised by a lot of things I can do, Nott”

Theo now palmed around your thigh, giving it a faded squeeze while a deep chuckle muttered from his lungs. “Hm…Would I be though?— I think I’ve seen all you can do, Bella.” For fucks sake. That damn Italian nickname. It drove you up a wall.

You could feel the heat already shooting down between your legs from not only his words but his touch too. The sexual tension already spilling over the edge. Something that happened quite often with the two of you.

“Actually, you haven’t.” Replying in a snippy manner, you slowly cocked your head to the side as you continued to hang the Christmas lights onto the mantle.

Trying to ignore Theodore, you shifted over, standing on your tiptoes. Your smooth skirt riding up more so. He could hardly hold it together at this point.

“Being a fuckin’ brat today aren’t we?”

Through a growl-like tone, Theo took a step back and you sighed. Your eyes rolled once more as you faced him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a dick.” Mumbling your words, you fully turned your back.

Putting your focus back on the decor. Theodore, walked to a nearby couch, plopping down as he placed his hands behind his head, manspreading as he observed you.

Engrossed in the twinkling lights, you began to think he had wandered off. But no— Theo was still there. His sight traced down your entire body. Admiring every single crook and curve. “Fuckin’ hell-“ Breathing his thoughts aloud, your head whipped around in surprise.

“If you’re still here, why don’t you get off your ass and help me?” The irritation radiated off of you, but fuck, Theo found you that much hotter when you were angry, annoyed, bratty. Liking the challenge of you.

“You see…I could help you…” he started, relaxing further into the couch with a sly shit-eating grin. “…But what fun would that be? I’m enjoying the view, Tesoro.”

Even through his annoying aura, Theodore held his charm. Something that always worked on the ladies. Even you. “God— You are so fucking annoying…” Sneering your words, you felt the rage bubbling inside of you.

The rage that would so easily turn into passion with him. Fuck me. Suddenly you realized what you had said. What you had done. But you weren’t upset about it in the least.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Theo stood up abruptly, making his way over to you on the ladder. Feeling your knees already start to go weak. You had pushed him over the edge like you always did. His aggression was going to be taken out on you like it always was.

“I— nothing. I said nothing.” Stifling back your flirty laugh, you gave Theodore a bratty yet knowing look. Coaxing him deeper into sexual frustration.

“Oh, you’re going to regret this, brat-“ Before you could even respond, he picked you up easily. Throwing you over his shoulder, his free hand yanking the string lights off of the mantel.

“Hey! Those took forever to put up!” With a whine, your body limped against his own. Feeling his strong hands holding tightly onto your thighs. “Don’t care.”

Practically spitting out his words, he stormed you both off to his dorm room, locking the door behind him before throwing you down on the bed. “I got under someone’s skin didn’t I?” You were only fueling the fire now, but fuck. You loved to see Theo so angry.

The way he’d dominate the fuck out of you. The way he’d pound into you like crazy. Angry sex with Theodore Nott? Top fucking tier.

“I’m going to fuck that bratty mouth of yours until you can no longer speak.”

Nothing but dominance danced in Theo’s eyes. He stalked over, plugging the string of lights into the outlet behind his bed before sitting you up on your knees. “Maybe that’s what I wanted…”

The excitement was coursing through your veins but all of a sudden he brought both of your hands behind your back. Tying your wrists together with the wired lights. Feeling the warmness of them against your delicate flesh.

“W-what are you doing?” Stuttering through a low laugh, you felt Theodore tighten them snuggly. However, he didn’t respond. He was in full Dom mode now. Throwing off his shirt before Unbuckling his belt, he tossed them both to the side.

His ocean gaze filled with an assertive winter storm now as he shuffled his jeans off, pulling out his massive hardened length. “Open up, marmocchia-“

The Italian pet name for brat slipped through his lips while he grabbed a fistful of your silky hair. Bringing you closer to his cock. “Needy for me hm-“ Cutting off your words, Theo took his free hand, using his thumb to part your lips open before ramming his blood-filled throbbing cock into your mouth.

“Fuck— Shut the fuck up and suck me, slut.” He groaned loudly, both of his hands wrapped throughout your locks now.

Thrusting his hips against your face, your once siren-like eyes turned to a doe-eyed stare. Taking him all in as your hands instinctively fought against the restraint of the lights.

—Gluck Gluck Gluck- the noises you were making while he fucked your throat was making Theo’s dick spasm with pleasure. Snaking his hands down quickly, he took the material of your shirt and tore it straight down the middle, your forest green lace bra popping out.

“Let’s get these perfect titties out, Tesoro.”

He growled, tugging your breasts right out of your skimpy bra, seeing those hardened nipples perk right up. Theo fought out a groan, mercilessly thrusting down your throat while his hands found their way back into your hair.

One gripping hard on the back as the other brushed through your strands gracefully. Pushing his length further down your throat, you gagged against him, tears now pricking the corners of your eyes.

A low and menacing laugh freed from Theodore as he fucked your face even harder. Taking one of his hands and lightly slapping the apple of your cheek. “Open up that throat, slut- I know you can do it…Open.” The assertiveness was prominent through his grunts.

You tried to loosen up your throat muscles, your mascara dripping down your face as you did. But when you heard an approved moan from Theo, you knew it was working.

“Ah— Good fuckin’ girl…Just like that”

Seeing him bite his lower lip through your blurry vision, you felt a sense of pride run through you. Knowing you were feeding Theo with nothing but pure bliss.

He started to cram further and further down your throat, seeing the outline of his cock down your esophagus. Fuck. Your binded wrist felt hot to the touch by now, whimpering through his intense plows.

This went on for a good few minutes until Theo felt like he could fucking bust a nut on the spot. Not only that but your throat had an intense beating. And he fucking knew that.

He slowly pulled out, drool falling from your mouth as you inhaled sharply. “Fuck—“ Your voice was burnt, sounding hoarse. He did in fact keep his promise.

“C’mere…Imma fuck that perfect pussy of yours now.” Your cunt throbbed with excitement as he spun you around. Not having access to your hands, your head fell directly onto his silk bedsheets.

Your ass flawlessly perked up for him. But that leather skirt? It remained on, he just made sure to carefully roll it up.

-Smack! Theo’s hard and heavy palm swatted across your bottom causing it to redden instantly.

“Gods— P-please fuck me…please.” You begged the Italian through a whimper, veering your head to the side so your submissive eyes could lock with his.

A cruel and ungodly smile of seduction plastered over his features before he gave another slap to your ass, watching as it rippled. “How can I say no when you beg like that?” With a smirk, he slammed his needy cock deep inside of you without warning.

“Cazzo— You’re so fuckin’ wet for me-“ Theo rasped through his rough slams, feeling your walls stretch out with ease. Tightly grabbing your restrained wrists with one hand, the other dug into your hip, surely breaking skin.

But fuck did you enjoy this. “I forgot how big you were!” Crying out from the swirling sensations of pain and pleasure, he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath.

“Yeah? I’ll have to fuck you more often, Cara Mia.” Thrusting into your soaked cunt even harder, he pulled back on your wrists, hovering you just above the bedding.

“-Yes—Yes…Fuck! I’m so close, baby—“Your moans only seemed to get louder with each passing second. The gushing sounds of your wetness and Theo’s skin slapping against your own echoed around you.

But suddenly, he quickly pulled out of you. Just as you were on the brink of climax. “-The fuck?!” Squeaking out, your brows furrowed up at him, seeing that taunting, edging look in his eyes.

“Not yet.” Firmly speaking, he swiftly untied your wrists, wincing from the blood pooling back to them. “On your back, slut.” With his demanding tone, he didn’t even give you a chance to respond.

Tossing you over on your back, a raspy yelp emitted from your lips, breathing heavily as Theo restrained your left wrist to the bed, using the sparkling lighting.

Your lips parted but no words seemed to come out. You simply watched as he moved over to your other wrist, tightly binding it to his bed frame. “But what if-“

A hint of concern tainted you. —what if something went wrong? But Theo could see the anxiety spiking within your mind. A small closed-mouth smile twitched on his lips.

“It won’t- I promise…I won’t let anything happen to you…alright, Tesoro?” He reassured smacking a sweeter kiss to your lips as he positioned himself between your legs.

That was the thing with Theodore Nott. As much of an asshole he could be with you, he would randomly show a more soft and affectionate side. Something you wanted to explore even deeper. “O-okay…” Bright red tinged your cheeks, Theo teased your leaky slit with his pre cum covered tip.

Lifting that black leather skirt so it bunched right around your midsection. “Fuck…you’re drenched.” Through a breathy rasp, he tilted his head back momentarily. And right when you’d least expect it, slipping right back between your clenched walls.

Twisting your own hands and gripping the bases of the string lights, you pulled them ever so slightly, feeling the burning bulbs dig further into your flesh. A burn you were slowly craving more and more of.

“You fuck me so good, Theo!— just like that!” Arching your back, you could feel the now warmed sheets shifting beneath your body, Theo only railing into you faster than before.

“That’s right, slut— No one else fucks you like this, hm?” His domineering tone croaked through his own deep moans. The sensations you were sending through Theodore were otherworldly. “N-no fuck!— Only you…only you, Theo…gods- I’m so close!”

Your moans now turning into screams that bounced off of the stone walls of his dorm room. He smirked, wrapping one hand around your throat, the other grabbing onto the top of his bed frame.

The pounding of the wooden oak ramming against the wall was hefty and loud, your eyes practically rolling into the back of your head.

“Yeah? My dirty little slut wants to cum? Release for me.” He husked, those dead eyes flickering between your own. Rolling his hips smoothly at great speed, he was hitting all your sweet spots.

However, as soon as you got the go-ahead, you didn’t wait any longer. Throwing your head back against the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut while your legs trembled. The rush of your juices squirting out all over Theo’s length, soaking it whole as you hit a sensational orgasm. “See…”

A ragged whisper strumbled through his lips, the Italian accent rolling off perfectly along with it. “…No one fucks you like I do…no one makes your body react the way I do…no one can make you feel as good as I do.” His raunchy words only made your heart flutter.

As fucked up as that was, it was true. You were catching your breath, your body fully limp after finally cumming. The pulsating feel of bruises forming shooting up to your wrists.

“You’re…right….”

You moaned through Theo’s plows, your gaze locking with his before you continued. “…But it goes the other way too, Theo…” bucking your hips forward, pushing him deeper inside of you. He smiled, sweat beading down his forehead from how hard he was fucking you.

“And you are also right, Bella.” His muscles flexed, both of his hands holding onto the headboard now as he let himself lose control within you. That perfect fucking pussy

“Fuckin,— God- you’re going to make me cum…Fuck—“ he tripped over his words, feeling his dick twitching within your warmed walls. His seed shooting deep inside of your cunt could have had you cumming again.

Just seeing the way he tensed up, his groans, the way he never took his hungry eyes off of you. Not even for a second. He kept his cock inside of you as he came to a full stop.

Both of your breaths matched each other, a comforting silence wrapping around both of you like a cozy winter blanket before he leaned down. Pressing a lingering soft kiss to your lips, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re too good, Tesoro.” He complimented, pulling out of you and watching his white load dripping out of you. Letting out a satisfied groan as he did. Theodore quickly grabbed a towel to clean you up before untying your wrist.

Massaging your now bruised arms, you hissed. Giving the Italian a cheeky smirk. “I suppose I should go finish hanging those up.” With a giggle you pulled your leather skirt down, throwing your bra back on.

But your shirt? It was a torn mess. Before you could even say something about it, Theo playfully tackled you back on the bed. “Nah- you’re not going anywhere…That can wait.”

The most sarcastic and egotistical grin spread across your face as you stifled back a loud laugh. “Oh? Thee Theodore Nott wants to hang out with me huh?” You teased him, feeling as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you into a spooning position. “Oh shut it…don’t let your head get too big.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, he smacked a kiss to the crook of your neck as you both relaxed. Weirdly enough as much as you both loathed each other in a public setting, when it was just the two of you— and sex was involved- Theo wasn’t half bad. You could get used to this. Maybe Christmas break wouldn’t be as boring as you anticipated.

AHHHHH THE START OF DICKMAS !!! I hope everyone enjoyed the first of twelve 🎄🎁

If you haven’t already please go check out @nottsangel @nottswitch @slytherinslut0 as they’re also doing fun little Christmas works!❄️

Dividers linked in my masterlist 🌙

Love my naughty smut sluts 💋

[mommyslibrary]

BABESSSS OMG THIS WAS ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE AND I LOVED THE FLUFFFF OMG 😭😭😭😭 him sneaking in through the window had me WHEEZING lmao!

But no this was super good and so sweet I loved it 💋💋💋💋

Ink & Ivy

When you start a seemingly regular shift at Ink & Ivy, a new bookstore, an old friend's prank backfires.

fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!!! brother's best friend (kinda? like 2 sentences), graduated au, mattheo riddle x reader, i think that's it

w/c: 1k

masterlist

a/n: sorry this took so long to put out! it's just my first fic I'm putting out there so i was getting really finicky

The ding of the front door rings through the book shop. Icy wind blows at your hair, abruptly being cut off as the door shuts behind you. Relishing in the warmth of the fire burning in the corner of Ink & Ivy’s front room, your footsteps sound off the creaky wooden floors.

The place smells like parchment and coffee, and as you walk down the hall to the employee’s break room, you pause as a shelf catches your eye. It looks oddly empty. “Why didn’t Susan restock last night?” You whisper to yourself as you resume your walk to the break room. Susan Bones was a fellow Hufflepuff during your time at Hogwarts, and although you two never talked during school – your brother Theo always dragging you along to participate in some stupid prank – you two became good acquaintances after you applied for this job.

After shedding your winter attire in the break room, you clock in. The hours tick by, and that empty shelf keeps nagging at you. Shooting a glance out the window, you determine that now is a good time to journey to the stockroom. It looks like nobody is going to venture in any time soon, so you might as well do something useful.

The door to the storeroom squeaks as it opens, and you stop in your tracks. A head of curly brown hair was poking through a window. “What the fuck-” 

He looks up, and you instantly recognize your brother’s best friend. It’s Mattheo, the boy who would always tease you at school. You haven’t seen him since you graduated three months ago. 

“Oh- Well- I-” He stutters, clearly caught off guard. 

“Mattheo, you don’t even work here. Get out of the damn window so you can explain yourself.”

You watch as he awkwardly maneuvers himself through the window, dusting himself off as he stands up to his full height. You can’t help but giggle when you see his sour expression. 

“What?” He asks, his tone defensive. 

“Nothing. You’re just ridiculous. But I’m not surprised; you have been since we met in first year.”

After reading a label on a box and making sure it’s the right one, you pick it up and begin to walk back to the front room of the shop. Surprised, Mattheo scurries after you. 

“I wanted to play a little prank,” he explains as the two of you walk down the short hallway. You stop in front of the empty shelf from earlier and set the box down, intent on restocking it. “And I haven’t seen you all summer. Would it be weird to say that I missed you?” He asks sheepishly, making you stop in your tracks, looking over at the man next to you. 

Putting the book you were holding back in its box, and you study his expression. He looks embarrassed. Maybe a little nervous, even. “Why?” You ask, ignoring the hope fluttering in your heart. 

You’ve had a silly crush on him ever since he bought you an expensive quill you wanted in sixth year. And now that he’s standing in front of you after visiting out of his own free will, saying you’re flustered would be an understatement. 

“Your reactions are adorable when I tease you. And that one time when we replaced your wand with a trick one, your reaction was priceless.” 

You swat his arm in frustration, retorting, “That wasn’t funny! McGonagall got so upset with me. I was afraid I was going to get detention because she thought I wasn’t taking class seriously.”

He laughs, but his expression seems to soften. “Sorry, princess. Didn’t realize it got you into trouble. But what can I say? I don’t regret it.” 

You huff and roll your eyes, but stay quiet. It’s in the past now, no use saying anything. The two of you restock the shelves, and before you know it, the shelf is full again. “I’ll take this box back to the storeroom. You go back to the register, ‘mkay?” 

You nod and let him take the box to the back, heading for the register like he said. It’s not long before he’s standing in front of you again, his elbow in the table, hand perched in his palm. 

You raise your eyebrow, “What now?” 

“Just looking.” He stands back up. “I remember you used to read all the time... What have you been reading lately? Any books you’ve been eyeing?” He asks, looking at you expectantly. 

You sigh and tell him what you’ve been reading, along with explaining that your TBR is endless. “I can’t decide on anything,” you complain. 

“Well then send it to me. I’ll decide for you.” He pauses before speaking again. “You get commission, right?”

“Uh… yeah. Why?”

“Let me buy you a book.” He’s smiling like an idiot, and it makes you blush a bit.

“You’re kidding.”

“You think I’m kidding? Darling, I’ve had a thing for you since fifth year. I like buying you presents. Hasn’t it been obvious?” His blunt confession makes your jaw drop, cheeks burn, and butterflies break out of the cage you so painstakingly put them in. “And I would say you share the same feelings, if the blush on your cheeks is anything to go by.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you look for something to say, shocked by his bold words. “Why tell me now?” Your voice is quieter than you intended it to be, and his expression softens. He walks around the counter to stand next to you and gently puts a hand on your cheek, making you look up at him. “Theo isn’t here to pound me into a pulp for falling for you anymore,” he explains, chuckling. “And he can’t stop me from doing this." With that, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, holding your face in his hands. The kiss is chaste, nothing too crazy, as if he’s afraid of pressuring you. 

As he pulls away, you look at him with wide eyes, watching as he grins at you like a school boy. “So what book do you want me to buy?”

Ty for reading! I hope you liked it <3 Let me know if there's something I need to fix, and if you wanted to be added to the tag list let me know!!

[mommynott]

Finally made a side blog for all the amazing fics I’ve read 💋

The Lust Library 𓆩♡𓆪

Main Blog ˋ°•*⁀➷ @mommynott 💋

All my favorites and must reads posted here

ᴬ ᶠⁱᶜ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ ᵏᵉᵉᵖˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᵗʸ ᵃʷᵃʸ ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

[mommyslibrary]

ARINA !!!!! HOLY FUCKING FUCK AKKSKDMDND

Sorry I’m actually freaking the fuck out right now my Ghostface kink is going so crazy

The way this is a NEED not a want but a NEED god I fuckin loved this😩💋

NINETEEN. phone sex — ghostface!theo

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

kinkmas mlist. more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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

[mommyslibrary]

Anytime….ANY FUCKING TIME

that you write Tom I simp for him even more akskdkdkd

Em this was fucking amazing I’m SCREAMMMMMMING! God and you can just FEEL the passion whenever you write him. I loved it. I love you. That is all🥹💋💋💋

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 10th. tom riddle — oral sex, experienced!tom.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: your ex couldn’t make you orgasm, so you were certain you were broken. tom shows you just how wrong you are.

warnings: 18+, SMUTTT MDNI, tom riddle can eat me aliv—sorry who tf said that?, tom riddle is such a realist; he sees a problem and he finds a solution, tom is a munch, praise kink, oral f!receiving, experienced tom, hufflepuff!reader.

Months pass, and your project remains the only thing Tom ever prioritizes when it's you asking.

Progress is slow—slow because you're usually far too busy talking to actually focus—yet, he always stays. He listens, even when the things you say should bore him, even when they mean nothing at all. He sits there—giving you hardly the barest scraps of himself in return as you fill the space between you with everything that crosses your mind.

Things he'd never waste a second hearing from anyone else.

And tonight, to no-one's surprise, you're doing it again—rambling on about nothing and everything all at once. You've got this way of talking—weaving tangents into something almost poetic, and usually, he lets it fade into the background as he works. You're saying something about the differences between the seasons, or maybe it's just some other kind of sentimental nonsense—at this point, he's not entirely sure.

It's easy to tune out. He tells himself he's not really listening.

Until—

"Actually, I guess I should clarify that—it's all hypothetical. I don't date," he doesn't know what you said before this, but he's certainly intrigued by it now. "And really, it has nothing to do with like, self esteem or anything, I'm just broken. Best to save someone the trouble."

That stops him cold. It's not so much the declaration that you don't date—he could have guessed that himself—but more so the way you've just called yourself broken.

It's not a word he's ever heard you use before.

"What do you mean, broken?" He asks, the question coming out far more blunt than he probably intended.

It just seems so out of character for you—you've always been an optimist, far too annoyingly positive to speak of anything this way. He blinks when you freeze, and blinks again when a moment of self consciousness seems to pass over your face—and he notes how that's a first for you, too.

"Broken...as in, uh, not normal," your eyes flit down to your lap, tracing the wood beneath where you're seated on the floor in his dorm. "My ex made that very clear in his assessment of me."

The mention of an ex is something he'd been anticipating—you're in your twenties, after all—but it's the idea that your ex is the source of you calling yourself broken, that he can't quite swallow.

"You're 'broken' because of one ex?" He says, and he can't stop how derisive and skeptical his voice sounds. He doesn't care to try. "I'm not following."

"I'm what you'd call, damaged goods, I think," you murmur, and there's an almost self-deprecating smirk on your face. He can't help but think how he's never seen that look on you, either. "I've got a slew of unhealthy baggage that comes along with me. You know, childhood traumas, abandonment issues, daddy issues—"

He snorts at that—daddy issues—and your head snaps up, smirk deepening despite yourself.

"Don't snort at my daddy issues," you huff, and there's a familiar annoyance in your voice that puts him at ease. "They're valid and real."

"I'm not denying their validity," he counters, his own smirk beginning to surface. "But daddy issues? Come on. You're not some tired cliché ripped out of a teenage romance novel. I refuse to accept your declaration of brokenness until you give me factual reasoning."

You laugh at that—alive and genuine—and for a moment, he's reminded of why he even tolerates you in his space at all.

"Fine," you cross your arms over your chest. "What do you want to know then?"

He makes a low, contemplative sound at that—because there's a million questions that come to mind with the words damaged goods—and after a moment, he settles on the one that falls out first.

"What is it, precisely, that makes you broken?"

You sigh, a bit theatrically—he knows you're just putting on a show and he wants to laugh at you for it—but he reigns that in, for now, while you figure out how you're going to respond to that.

The truth is, you don't know how to tell him the real reason you're broken—the part that has nothing to do with the laundry list of emotional baggage you could rattle off with ease. It's something...different.

Something more physical.

"I don't know, okay?" You're getting defensive. You're not sure why but you are. "Just—forget I said anything. We have this assignment to—"

"You dodging the question tells me it's more than just psychological," he cuts you off, leaning back into the couch. The way he's looking at you makes it clear—there's no way he's letting this go. "You getting defensive tells me you're embarrassed by it."

You sigh again, leaning back on your palms to mirror his body language, though it doesn't feel half as natural on you as it does on him.

"And you, being an insufferable arse, is telling me I never should have mentioned it in the first place."

His smirk at that makes you want to glare at him.

"Stop dodging," he says. "You brought it up. You don't get to take it back."

It's a challenge—the gleam in his eyes is practically screaming so. You're not sure why the sight of it makes something low in your stomach clench, and you're even less sure of why you want to tell him something like this—something you haven't told anyone else—not friends, certainly not family.

Whatever the reasoning, you can feel yourself relent.

"Maybe," you pause, the look on his face makes you second guess yourself. "...maybe I don't want to tell you because I'm afraid you'll look at me differently." You glance down at your lap, fingers twitching against the yellow pleats of your skirt before finally meeting his eyes again. "And I kind of like the way you look at me now."

Something like curiosity passes over his expression at that—but it's quickly hidden by the type of skepticism that tells you he still doesn't believe you're being serious.

"You're overthinking it," he replies, unmoving. "Whatever it is you think you're going to tell me, I'm not going to look at you differently. You're still you—no filter, unabashedly verbal—"

"Too verbal. Too positive, too loud," you finish his sentence for him—because you know that's how he thinks of you. "Too annoyingly optimistic. Far too hufflepuff for your cold snake skin. I know."

"Exactly," he says, tongue running over his bottom lip in attempt to quell his smirk. "So I reiterate. There's nothing you could tell me that would change that."

"Fine," you relent, giving in begrudgingly because you know there's no other option. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He just lifts a hand at that, as if to say; whatever you think it is, I can handle it. The action makes you suck a breath into your lungs, trapping it there.

"You're right," you say after a long exhale. "I have a slew of psychological bullshit that would take the span of a year for me to fully go over in one sitting—but, I'm fine with it. That's...that's not the thing that made me call myself broken."

He says nothing, just makes a motion with his eyes for you to keep going.

"It's, uhm...physical." You whisper, and your brain is moving too much and too fast and you're not even completely sure how to say it without sounding insane. "And...I don't know, I just...I can't orgasm. No matter what. I just can't—it's frustrating and embarrassing and it's the reason my ex ended things."

There's a silence that follows, and he knows if it were anyone else, they'd probably find a way to comfort you. Reassure you. Tom, however, isn't anyone else—

"You're joking," he says, and his tone is incredulous again.

A self-depreciating laugh leaves your lips involuntarily, the sound of it making you almost want to cringe.

"Would it be less embarrassing if I was?"

He's still just watching you, dissecting your words as if waiting for you to crack a smile and confess this was all some stupid joke—and the vulnerability of it aches like a stab to the gut.

"This is the reason you think you're broken?" Is what he goes with when he finally realizes you're being serious. "Because you haven’t orgasmed?"

The bluntness of it makes you flush, makes you wish you could sink into the floor. "I know it's not normal, okay—"

"It's not an abnormality, either," he asserts, with casualty. "You might just have a disconnect."

You blink, caught off guard—not just by his choice of words, but by how matter-of-fact he sounds, like this isn't the mortifying confession it feels like.

"A disconnect?"

"A disconnect," he repeats, looking you over, something clinical slipping into his eyes. "Between mind and body. And considering how loud your thoughts are—"

"Hey—" you snap, suddenly feeling a bit indignant, but he just continues on.

"—it's not surprising that you can't get out of your own head."

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he's not a therapist, so what the hell does he know? But the certainty in his expression makes you pause. He doesn't look patronizing or condescending, just...assured. Like he knows exactly what he's talking about.

You hesitate, lips parting, a protest forming on your tongue. Before you can say anything, though, he raises a hand to stop you.

"Come here," he says, standing up from the couch.

You blink, trying to decipher what the hell he's implying—because if anything, the last thing that's going to make you less paranoid about intimacy is proximity.

"What?"

He just looks at you, making a motion with two fingers, beckoning you to stand.

"Don't ask questions. Just come here."

It's an order, and it makes your spine tingle in a way that's definitely not comfortable—but you get up from the floor, and move closer to him anyway, closing the distance between you with only a few steps until you're close enough to him that you can practically feel the heat that seems to come off him in waves.

It's weird—he's suddenly too much all at once—you're so much more aware of him being in front of you than you think you've ever been before and it does not help that he's just looking at you—as if studying you—blinking only once as he raises those same two fingers to your neck, resting them against the pulse point at your throat.

Your entire body tenses. His touch is far more gentle than you ever imagined it being, something disarming that makes your pulse beat faster against his fingers as a result—and because this is Tom, with all his smug and certainty—he gives you a look that tells you he can feel it before he slides his fingers up to rest on your forehead.

You scowl at the motion, but he clicks his tongue, the sound as condescending as it is amused.

"I told you, you're an overthinker." He murmurs, eyes dipping to your lips. "Too much noise."

You want to refute that—mostly because you're not overthinking, you can't be—he's just so unequivocally overwhelming—

"I'm not—"

You start, but he moves his fingers from your forehead and places them against your lips—

"Quiet." He scolds, and that makes something low in your stomach clench. "Your body knows what to do. You're just letting your thoughts get in the way."

You long to protest again, just for the sake of defiance—but then his fingers are against your collarbone, and that motion in your stomach becomes a bit more of a squirm—

"Your body is trying to tell you something," he whispers, watching each little hitch in your breath. "But you're too busy talking over it to hear what it's saying."

You realize—with a sort of horror that's laced with something a little more uncomfortable—that he's right. Your body is trying to say something. It's communicating through the unsteady force of your breaths, through the clench of your fists against your skirt—

Of course, he notices. He's noticing far too much.

"Relax," he murmurs, and now he's trailing those same two fingers in an unhurried path down your shoulder. You suddenly regret every decision that led to you wearing a T-shirt. "I'm not going to bite you."

Something about the way he says it makes you wish he wasn't quite so convincing—the familiar banter you long for gone with the sharp exhale that comes out of your mouth as his fingers encircle your wrist—

"Your pulse is racing," he says casually, far too casually for how much effort it's taking you not to scream. "Does that seem broken to you?"

Gods—you want to respond—you really, really do— but your thoughts flatline when you realize his touch has shifted. He's no longer just holding your wrist; he's guiding your hands to rest against his chest, and—

"There you go," he whispers, and the tone of it tells you he knows exactly what it is he's doing to you. "See? Your body's doing exactly what it's meant to do. You—" his fingers trail up your arms, and his voice gets lower. "—are not broken."

You swallow hard, acutely aware of your hands on his chest and the way your palms are clammy against the fabric of his shirt. He's shifting you now, deliberately crowding you, and it's only when you feel the edge of the couch press against the back of your calves that you realize—perhaps a second too late—exactly what it is he's doing.

You stumble back onto the leather, and he follows—crushing his lips to yours.

You gasp, startled, because despite everything you truly hadn't seen this coming. The kiss is messy, clumsy, and his hand finds the nape of your neck, tugging at your hair with just enough force to make it sting. And inevitably, when you gasp again, he takes it as an invitation to work his tongue into your mouth, other hand slipping under your shirt—trailing up your stomach.

You're trembling now, and he makes a low sound at the realization. Your brain is racing to catch up, and the irony of this isn't lost on you—he'd just claimed you weren't broken, but he might as well be destroying you himself.

He parts from your lips only to trail his own across your jaw—

"You're shaking," he murmurs with a smirk against your throat—as if he's taking immense pleasure in the fact—you hate how smug it makes him sound. "Do you want me to stop?"

You want to tell him he's being a bastard, but then his lips press to that spot on your neck—the one that makes your breath hitch and your pulse stutter—and you find yourself whimpering at the sensation.

"No," you breathe, and you'd be embarrassed by the pleading tone in your voice if you weren't so lost in the moment. "Don't stop."

He makes another low, satisfied noise at that.

"Good," he whispers. "No thinking. Just feel."

You swallow—throat dry. It's unfair how easily he's dismantling you with nothing but his mouth and hands. Unfair how he's leaving you breathless and unraveling while somehow making you feel seen in a way you can't explain, even with your eyes shut.

"Tom," you find yourself whimpering, and you aren't even sure what you're asking for—you just know you want more as his lips trail lower—as his fingers work to tug down your skirt. "Gods."

"Shh. Feel me," he murmurs, almost possessively, his lips brushing lower, grazing over your stomach, then your pelvis. "Let your body do the talking."

You've got your hands tangled in his hair before you even know what you're doing, and you hate the fact that you're pretty sure you'd melt into a puddle if he weren't holding you together.

"I feel you," you whimper as he kisses lower. "You're all I feel."

He makes another low sound at that, and you just know it's the response of ‘yeah, that’s right’—but then he's between your legs, panties shifted out of the way, and the first sweep of his tongue against your clit makes all coherent thought shift to static.

"Oh! God," you gasp, the word barely escaping before dissolving into a whimper when he does something with his tongue that makes your vision blur. "Tom—oh, fuck."

He just makes that smug, satisfied noise against you again before his tongue swirls over your clit and you find yourself almost cursing whatever deity made him so good at this, because it's not fair how quickly he reduced you to a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him and—

"Don't stop," you find yourself babbling, digging your nails into his scalp and knowing you look like a goddamn wreck as he makes a meal out of you—tongue lapping up your slick and swirling your clit before sealing his lips around it and forcing your back off the leather beneath it. "Please, don't stop, please—"

It's all you can manage to say. Your thighs are shaking now, and you're sure he's got you dripping all over his face with how soaked you are. He knows you're falling apart and he just keeps going— your brain ceasing function in favour of just focusing on how fucking close you are—how close you are to something you've never felt before in your life—and you're not even sure what you're begging for anymore but it's incoherent and loud—

"I need—" you whimper, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan against you. You don't know what you're asking for, but you know he has it. "I need—I need—“

"Let go," he murmurs against you, the roughness in it vibrating up into your belly. "I dare you."

There's still a little bit of you functioning on autopilot, just enough to tell you that when he murmurs those words—vibrations rattling up your cunt and into your chest—you're completely done for.

It’s merely a few seconds later that your high reaches its peak and he just keeps lapping as you shake apart beneath him with an intensity you've never felt before in your life—orgasm shredding you apart at the seams. Your thighs clamp around his face, your eyes squeezed shut, ears ringing so loud you barely register his low, muttered praises: "good girl," "so good," "there you go."

You’re fairly positive your legs will never be able to support you again when you finally come back down, feeling entirely like jelly as he pulls back, tongue flicking over his lips to clean off whatever's left of you.

And without thinking, you grab him and pull him up, crashing your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss. He tastes like you, like him, like something you can't quite describe—and it makes everything feel intense and unbearably real all at once.

He gives you a moment, as if letting you recover, just languidly kissing you back—and you have to be honest with yourself and admit that this kind of makes you want to scream.

"A disconnect," he smirks against your mouth, the tone still smug. You manage a weak smack to his shoulder, though it does nothing to wipe the satisfaction off his face. "Still sure you're broken?"

You hate that he's right. Hate that he's managed to pull a reaction from you that you didn't think was possible. But as you sit there, shaky and spent, you know you can't deny the truth: no, you're not broken.

"Not broken." You whisper back. "You will be though, if you don't stop smirking at me like that."

[mommyslibrary]

Yeah I’d 100% take Theo back in a heartbeat for sure LMAO

I loved this and it was so cute the initials on the tree akskdndnf ily 😭😭💋

Slytherin Boys Break-up Blurb: Part 2

Part 2 of the break-up series. This one is filled with groveling and begging for forgiveness. Enjoy little stars.

Mattheo: You walked through the common room, seeing your friends smiling. 

“What’s gotten into you three?” You asked as you made your way to your dorm. 

As soon as you opened it, the heavy scent of flowers hit your nose. They were everywhere. Your favorite flower filled the room. There were petals all over the floor. Candles that casted a yellow-ish glow. And right in the middle was none other than Mattheo Riddle. 

“I am so, so sorry.” He finally said as you looked at him. You could hear his voice cracking as he spoke. It had been a rough last month without Matt but you weren’t sure you were ready to forgive him. Not yet anyways.

“Matt…” Your  voice trailed off. You were unable to form words as you looked at the transformed room. This was something Matt always did to you, take your words away. In both good and bad ways. Perhaps this was a good way.

“I know. I know I messed up and I know I don’t deserve you, believe me. But please. Please let me at least try to make it up to you, Princess.” Matt pleaded, something you never thought you’d hear before. 

You were staring into eyes when you finally noticed the little box he was holding. A red one with a white bow on it. He held it up and you walked closer to open it. Your hands shook a bit as you undid the bow and opened the box. Inside was the most beautiful bracelet with your birthstone set right in the middle.

“You know you can’t just buy me back.” You finally managed to say. Matt smirked, the smallest chuckle escaping his lips as he stared at you.

“And I’d never expect to. This is just the first of my many apologies to come. Because you, Princess, you deserve this. You deserve this and so much more.” Matt explained through that cracked tone once again. But this time it wasn’t just a crack. It was a full break. Tears sat on his waterline and you could feel your heart breaking.

You weren’t quite ready to forgive him but this was a good start. You placed one hand on his cheek as you kissed him softly, knowing that you’d give him that second chance. And you would be forever grateful that you did.

Theo: It had been weeks since your fight with Theo. Usually he apologized right away but this time you haven't heard from him. Maybe you two really were done.

You were walking through the castle when your phone went off. A text from Theo telling you to meet him in the forest. You almost didn’t but something told you to go. 

As you walked through the dense area, you saw him leaning against your favorite tree. It was the large one right next to the babbling creek. He had the faintest smile on his face as you approached him.

“What is it Theo?” You asked sternly and you saw how sad his eyes looked. There were dark circles under them. He wasn’t sleeping. You could tell.

“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t get that stupid fucking fight off my mind.” Theo admitted after a minute of staring at you. He pointed to the tree, seeing the initials the two of you had carved into it months ago.

“I come back to this tree every day and I stare at those letters. I can’t do this, cara mia. I can’t be away from you. And I’m so fucking sorry I ever thought I could.” He admitted before looking back at you with the most solemn look on his face.

You could feel your heartbreaking listening to him. He hurt you. He let you walk out. Fuck. Maybe this was a bad idea. You shook your head as you looked at him.

“It’s too late, Theo.” You whispered as you started to talk away. You took two steps before you felt a hand on your wrist, pulling you back in. 

Your eyes shot up to his blue ones. They stared into your soul, begging for forgiveness. 

“I let you go once. I won’t ever make that mistake again.” He said firmly. He was pleading through his eyes, hoping you would just give him a second chance. He didn’t deserve it. Fuck. He really fucking didn’t deserve it. But you missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit.

“Please, tesoro. Please just…just sit here with me?” 

And you did. You spent the rest of the evening sitting with Theo against that tree, yours and his initials carved just above your heads. Maybe he didn’t deserve this but you didn’t mind letting him talk, explain his side. Apologize. And god did he apologize. He did nothing but apologize over and over again. Maybe he’d get that second chance after all. 

Lorenzo: You still couldn’t believe the way Enzo had acted. It was months later when you finally saw him for the first time. And he looked awful. He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t taking care of himself.

Good.

You didn’t even look his way as you walked past him. The closer you got, the faster your heart started to beat. The pain and anger started to bubble inside of you once more.

“Y/n, wait!” Enzo called out to you but you didn’t stop. You kept pushing forward as your shoes squished across the courtyard grass. 

“Stop! Please, I just want to talk!” He shouted once more, now following behind you. You could feel everything boiling inside of you, not sure if you could hold it back anymore.

“Come on! Just stop!” 

That was it. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You stopped but not because he asked. You stopped because if you didn’t, you were going to boil over and explode. You turned to face him, your hair spinning around you as you whipped around quickly.

“No! You don’t deserve a conversation. You don’t deserve my attention. After what you did, Enzo? Seriously? You deserve nothing but the scum on my shoe.” You shouted at him, much to his surprise.

There was a small moment, a moment where the two of you would stare at one another with a longing–a longing for something that has now been lost into the past. 

After a few moments, you finally turned and walked away. Lorenzo watched you leave. He watched you until there was no you left. His heart was breaking, knowing he’d messed up–knowing he had lost you forever. 

Over the next few months, you received the most lavish gifts, the most detailed letters. Every day, Enzo sent you something. Even if the two of you never spoke again, it made him happy knowing he was still in your life somehow. And you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t want to admit it, you enjoyed how much he was wanting to earn your trust back. And maybe, just maybe, he would.

Draco: It had been five weeks since your break-up with Draco. The pain was still raw but you were trying your best to push through. As you made your way to your next class, you realized you hadn’t seen him much and you wondered why.

You walked into the classroom, heading to your desk before noticing a book on it. It wasn’t a book you recognized. You picked it up, feeling the black leather in your hands and noticing the pages had gold edges to them. Beside the book was a small piece of paper that had your name on it, noting the book was for you.

You opened the book and recognized the handwriting immediately. Draco. A part of you thought maybe you wouldn’t read this, shouldn’t read this. It would only hurt. 

That didn’t stop you. You started to read the words, slowly realizing what this was. The first page detailed Draco’s upbringing. His relationship with his father, his mother. All of it.

You moved on to the next one and with each new page realized he was opening up to you. Maybe he couldn’t say it, but he could write it. 

You read it until you reached the end, noticing how only half the journal was full. There were still plenty of blank pages left but each one was numbered as if it was continuing. 

“I see you’ve found my gift.” Draco called out behind you. You turned around quickly, seeing him standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Draco, what is this?” You asked, still slightly confused why he would give you something like this. He walked a bit closer, his eyes completely locked with yours with each movement.

“It’s me opening up in the best way I know you.” He stalked a bit more forward before stopping right in front of you, “You deserve that, Y/n. I was an idiot for not realizing that earlier and I’m sorry.” 

An apology from Draco Malfoy? You never thought you’d see the day.

You glanced back down at the book, flipping it in your hand before opening up to the blank pages. Draco pointed to it, the silver ring with his family crest in the middle shimmering as his finger touched the empty page.

“And the blank pages? That’s for us to use together. For our new memories. We’ll write in it every day if that’s what it takes to earn you back.” He said softly before finally moving his finger from the page.

“Draco…” You said softly, closing the book. The effort was sweet, the gesture appreciated. But you were nervous. Was this all for show? 

“I promise. I will be as open with you as I can, even if it’s through letters.” He said softly, taking his hand and wrapping it through your hair. 

How could you resist this? You weren’t going to fully cave for him just yet but this was a step. It was a very welcomed first step to getting back to what you once were.

Blaise: You hadn’t heard from Blaise in a few weeks. In fact, you hadn’t seen him at all which was shocking. Blaise was everywhere all the time or so it seemed. Not seeing him on campus was something that should cause concern.

You were walking back to your dorm one day when you saw smiling faces and little giggles in the common room. What the hell was everyone so happy about? You opened your door and there in the room stood Blaise. 

He was standing in pajamas and holding your favorite flowers. All of your favorite snacks covered the bed. Soft music played from the speaker. Your eyes went a bit wide as you tried to take everything in.

“Blaise? What the hell are you doing here?” You asked through a bit of shock. You were trying to process what was happening but it was almost too much. Almost.

“Apologizing. I’m so sorry for what I did. And I know, I know I might have lost you forever but, ma, even if I just have you as a friend that’s good enough for me.” Blaise spoke softly. You could feel your heart racing with every word.

There was something about this moment that made you think, perhaps, you would remember it forever. It wasn’t anything big or special but it was important. To you, it was important. 

“Blaise…” You said softly, letting your voice drop off at the end of his name. His eyes searched yours and he seemed to wonder if you would take his gesture.

“We can spend all day in here. Watching movies. Talking. Eating every snack the house elves could manage to find for us.” He said as his voice ran off into the smallest chuckle.

Always joking, that was Blaise. Even in the most serious moments, he could make you laugh. It was something you always enjoyed about him. He took a small step forward, still holding the flowers in his hand.

“All I need is you. No parties. No outside world. Just you. So, what do you say, ma?” He asked quietly. You thought about it but there wasn’t much to think about. What he did was wrong, yes, but this? This was a great start to making up for it. 

You walked towards him, taking the flowers and giving them a small sniff before setting them on the nearby desk. Your eyes went back to his, those dark eyes that only seemed to sparkle when you were around. 

“A day in here with you sounds perfect.” You whispered before feeling him wrap his arms around you in a hug. You hugged him back and as you did, you felt as if your life problems all seemed to disappear.

You would spend the entire rest of the day with Blaise, talking and laughing about everything possible. It wasn’t a confirmation of a restart of your relationship but it was a push forward. And Blaise loved it. Even if it was just the tiniest bit of attention from you, he loved it because, at the end of the day, you truly were the only thing that mattered. 

Regulus: It had been a year since you had heard from Regulus. There was a part of you that perhaps thought you would never hear from him again. There were rumors he died. Rumors he ran away. Rumors he joined the dark side, fighting for Voldemort. But you couldn’t believe any of it.

You knew Regulus. He would never do that. If he had joined the dark side, it was only to fight from the inside. The worst rumor was the one that he died. You couldn’t bear that thought. You would have to see him, see his dead body before you accepted that truth.

You were walking back from Hogsmeade one afternoon when you got caught in the rain. You were rushing, trying to make it back to the castle when suddenly you heard your name called out.

The voice was familiar, one that sent waves through your body. You turned around to see Regulus standing in the rain, drenched. His long and curly hair was plastered to his forehead as he stared at you.

“Reg?” You asked, almost not believing it was real.

“I’m sorry.” He replied through the rain. Your heart was racing, there was a building of tension between the two of you as you stared at him.

“I’m sorry I left you. But it’s over. It’s done.” He explained and your mind started to race with a million thoughts. He did it. He won. And he came back for you. Just for you.

You dropped your books, rushing up to him and jumping in his arms. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close before he pressed his lips to yours in a heated and passionate kiss. 

“Don’t you dare ever leave me again, Regulus Black.” You said as you broke the kiss but stayed in his arms. He looked down at you with the softest smile on his face. 

“I won’t.” 

And he wouldn’t. He’d never leave your side. For as long as the two of you lived, he’d be right there. For you were the only important thing in Regulus’ life.

[mommyslibrary]

Ahem

NEVER DID I THINK ID BE SIMPING FOR FRED YET HERE I AM. YOUVE DONE IT AGAIN KIRAAAAAAAA

“I knew you were a little freak, love, but this…” He was cut off by his own moan when he felt the pressure of the candy against his dick as both were suddenly shoved into your mouth. “…Shit!”

KSKDKDKD THIS WAS SO HOT NOW I WANAN SUCK DICK WITH A LOLLIPOP

All in all I loved it and I love you but also fuck you bc now I’m slowly liking Fred 💀💋

— if you’ve been nice, you get…

─────────────── 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 & 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭. ─

summary: during your trip to hogsmeade, you decide to pop into the famous honeydukes for some sweets. who would’ve guessed that your best friend would find the sight of you with a lollipop so enticing?

pairing: bsf!fred weasley x reader

cw: 18+ smut, friendship without boundaries, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, praise, slight gagging, candy play, cursing

wc: 1.5k

a/n: for all my fred lovers out here!! let us all indulge in some sweetness <3 and dick

» navigation ; masterlist ; fred m.list ; kinkmas 2024

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The atmosphere inside of Honeydukes was everything you could expect from this time of year – despite it only being the beginning of December, the students already started feeling the holiday spirit. The shop was filled to the brim with what felt like the entire Hogwarts, from rowdy squealing first-years to the seventh-years who still had a soft spot for sweets despite pretending to be too cool for that. Hogsmeade residents groaned and huffed, trying to squeeze between the buzzing bodies, irritated beyond belief about Hogwarts students flooding the village once again.

You were standing next to the shelf filled with different lollipops, absently browsing, because you already had one in your mouth – a long green stick flavored apple and cinnamon, just right for the Christmas atmosphere filling the space around you. Your mind was drifting, and you didn’t even notice someone approach before a pair of strong, long arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind, encircling your entire form.

“Merlin!” you exclaimed, immediately knowing who that was – you could almost feel the cheeky grin against the back of your head.

“Just Fred would do.”

His voice was just as cheeky as his smile when he pulled away a bit, easily turning you around to face him. You were ready to retort with a snarky remark, as you usually would, but something stopped you, something that was as familiar as it was unexpected – the look in Fred’s eyes. The way they weren’t looking into yours at all. The way they were fixed firmly on your lips, currently wrapped around the tip of the green lollipop.

“Mhm,” you hummed to yourself, tilting your head to the side a bit as you took in the situation. You felt like you could read your best friend’s thoughts in real time, as if they were being broadcasted in a running line right across his face. And you didn’t mind the implication. Not at all.

“I see you’re being smart right now,” Fred made a remark, the grin on his face turning into an understanding smirk. He wasn’t shy about his obvious desire, on the contrary, he wanted you to see it. He also knew that you, being a good little friend, wouldn’t say no – you would even encourage it, being the tease that you always were next to him.

You chuckled, deliberately sucking on the lollipop this time, the wet sound of the candy going in and out of your mouth filling the close proximity between your faces.

“You wanted something?” you asked, pretending to be clueless, even though you knew you weren’t going to keep the act up for long – Fred had this effect on you that seemed to mirror your own on him, and his playful yet undeniably hungry gaze was doing wonders to warm up the space between your legs right now.

“Oh, come on, hun.” Fred rolled his eyes, an amused chuckle escaping him. “We both know exactly what I want. And, may I add, what you want as well.”

It was your turn to play annoyed, because he was, of course, as right as always; over the years of friendship as close as the one you shared, he learned to read you like an open book that he didn’t even have to open – it laid exposed right in front of him.

“Where?” was your only question, your eyes briefly darting around the stuffy, crowded room of Honeydukes. Fred followed your gaze, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought of a solution. A moment later, a smirk grazed his lips again as his eyes fell somewhere behind you.

Without another word, he grabbed your hand and started leading you away from the shelves, shamelessly pushing through the endless number of students blocking your way – he was too damn impatient. Your steps stuttered after his long ones, your fingers gripping the lollipop stick so that it wouldn’t fall to the floor – you had plans for the candy, after all.

The tiny space Fred squeezed you into looked like some kind of a utility room, but the lack of space was the last thing on your mind at the moment – not like you’d need much of it anyway. Once the door was locked thanks to him casting a spell, Fred leaned against the wall, looking at you expectantly; as much as he liked enjoying you and your body to the fullest, now was not the place or time. You instantly understood him – and you didn’t protest. Sinking down to your knees, you ran a hand over his thigh, ending up right on the straining bulge between his legs. Fred groaned, his mouth parted as he looked down, catching the sight of your face right next to his already aching cock, your lips wrapped seductively around the lollipop.

“Gonna be a good girl, huh?” he murmured, his voice breathless yet still containing the playfulness that never seemed to leave it even for a moment. “Come on, love.” He gently nudged your head closer to his crotch, and you followed his touch, nuzzling your face against his clothed length, feeling how hard and ready he was, all for you.

Your hand swiftly moved to unzip his trousers, pulling them down along with his boxers just enough to free his member. It sprung free from the confines, immediately staining the hem of Fred’s jumper with precum, which made you chuckle at his eager state. The lollipop left your mouth with a pop, and the hand holding it wrapped around the base of Fred’s cock, holding the candy right next to it. Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this particular direction, but the words died in his throat when you took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip and the tip of the lollipop at the same time.

“I knew you were a little freak, love, but this…” He was cut off by his own moan when he felt the pressure of the candy against his dick as both were suddenly shoved into your mouth. “…Shit!”

He had to muffle himself with the sleeve of his jumper, because the way you made him feel threatened to expose you to everyone currently swirling around the Honeydukes shop. You hummed around him, feeling your lips stretch at the corners from the lollipop significantly adding to his thickness. The saltiness of his precum mixed with the sugary sweet taste of candy, creating a completely new yet strangely welcome sensation.

You started bobbing your head up and down, only able to take half of Fred’s cock due to the lollipop being in the way. Fred didn’t seem to mind – the added pressure of the candy seemed to make up for the lack of your usual technique. You pulled away for a moment to drag your tongue from the base to his tip again, slurping up the sticky, sweet and salty liquid that was formed by your saliva. You spat some of it back into his cock and the lollipop, lowering your head once again to continue the job.

“Making a mess of me, huh?” Fred moaned out, glancing down and seeing drool running down your chin, slimy strings dripping down onto the floor underneath you. “Such a good girl, love. Such a good fucking girl.”

His praise encouraged you to increase your pace, your head moving even more enthusiastically. You could feel a generous amount of liquid filling your throat, making you gag a bit as the sweetness of the lollipop tickled your glands, but it didn’t make you stop at all. You knew Fred was close – from your position on your knees, you could see the way his eyes fluttered close every so often, the way his chest heaved deeper and faster than usual. Your tongue swirled around the tips again, your cheeks hollowing out as you sucked them in, creating more friction between the sensitive flesh and the hard, sticky surface of the candy. Fred’s hand gripped your hair without actually moving your head – he just needed something to hold onto.

“Fuck, love,” he raggedly breathed out as his cock ended up pressed between the inside of your cheek and the lollipop once again. “Gonna– F-fuck!”

He didn’t have time to warn you; you felt his length twitch in your mouth as the hotness of his cum hit the back of your throat, mixing with the saliva gathered there and making you gag again. Your lips trembled a bit around him as you swallowed, slowly lapping up the remnants of his release and the significantly thinned out candy. Fred’s head fell back against the wall, and he let out a breathless chuckle, his eyes darting down to your wet, fucked out face.

“Gonna have to get you some more of those, yeah?” he murmured, taking the lollipop out of your mouth and placing it in his, a teasing smirk appearing on his lips. You scoffed in response, giving his thigh a light smack. You knew he liked what had just happened, though, and you didn’t mind giving him another sticky treat.