#slytherinboys x reader

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 25th. tom — anal sex / sexual punishment.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: basically how i see a tom riddle punishment playing out. biblical tom of sorts. so self assured its impossible to piss him off so you go to lengths some may consider extreme but…eh. he knows you’re his.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, UNI hogwarts (obvs but just a reminder) reader and tom have an…interesting dynamic, toxic but also not toxic because it works for them, anal sex (obvs), sexual punishment, brief fingering, copious amounts of dirty talk, i once again utilize my favourite place in the school (the library).

"Tom—"

With a hand raised, he cuts you off. "Don't."

You blink. Swallow. Blink again. He's mad—oh, yes, he's mad—more than you've ever seen him and you once watched Abraxas Malfoy knock over his potion during a heavily-weighted exam.

That, in currency to this, is pennies.

You breathe in, try again. "Look, I can explain—"

He doesn't let you. Within a second his wand is out and with a flick of his wrist the room shifts to static—the glimmer from the silencing charm he just cast settles over your corner of the library, and you feel your fingers go numb—

"Why'd you stop?" He cocks his head, brow raised. His jaw is tight, the tension there burning into the space between you. His fingers flex. You can feel how much he's holding back. "If there's an explanation, by all means. I'd love to hear it."

Right—yeah, an explanation. That should help. Certainly, the man staring at you like he has bullets for eyes and knives for fingers will understand—he'll be completely calm once you explain to him you kissed someone else in retribution—because you wanted to get back at him.

"Well, I—" you push up from the desk, desperate to feel bigger, to level with him somehow. Tom thrives in this—having the upper hand, knowing all he has to do is stare at you, all stillness and quiet fury. He knows you hate it, that you'll spiral under it until you break and present him your neck on a silver platter. Until you hand him the knife and beg him to cut. "We had that argument, and I thought—I thought, maybe—you didn't—"

He moves closer. The air thickens. You're too focused on the fire in his eyes to acknowledge the sound of his wand clattering onto the desk—

"You thought?" His voice is something almost bored, like this is a trivial exercise for him—you can barely hear him over the roar of your pulse in your throat.

"—that you didn't want me anymore!"

You force the words out in a desperate rush, and the silence that follows feels like a goddamn canyon—you're just staring at each other, scowling in the wake of what you just said because you both know how utterly foolish it sounds. The only person Tom Riddle has and will ever allow himself to be vulnerable in front of—and you thought he'd leave after a silly argument.

No. You never thought that for a second.

And so, you try to save yourself. "Tom—I-I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry, I know I fucked up—but, it's not just me—I mean, you could have communicated better—"

He takes another step toward you, nodding along as if he's humoring you. "Right."

You step back—you don't mean to but the depleted space between you feels dangerous and your body reacts before you can stop it.

"Maybe—maybe we can learn from this? Right? A lesson for—for us both?" You keep talking. You don't know why, but you do. "And, maybe you could, uh, learn to talk about your feelings better?"

You wince as his eyebrows shoot up, mocking you without saying a word. Tom Riddle, talking about his fucking feelings? Right.

"I mean—you're just—" you hesitate because you know you're digging your own grave, yet he's still staring, daring you to finish. "—you're just so hard to read, you know?"

Another bored nod, another step closer. "Of course."

You swallow, stumbling back—of course Tom knows he's hard to read, that's the point. Every word out of your mouth is a wasted effort, a desperate attempt to reason with someone who's beyond it. Your ass collides with the desk behind you, boxing you in—and suddenly, he's there, right in front of you, all of his typical Tom intensity pouring into the limited space between you.

His breath brushes against your cheek, close enough that his lips could meet yours. But you know they won't. He'd never make it that easy. You can't tell if it's fear or something more wicked that twists in your chest. Dread, excitement—God, maybe both—

"You tried to provoke me."

Your throat tightens around a swallow. He isn’t asking.

"Maybe."

He doesn't blink. "You tried to see if I'd care."

You open your mouth, only to close it just as quickly. What can you say that he doesn't already know? You're as transparent as glass to him, and even that is a goddamn understatement. All you offer is a slow nod, unsure but weighted—he wasn't looking for an answer, he was looking for submission.

"And you thought, maybe, that I would come to you. That I would react. That l'd be angry." His fingers brush up your cheek, slipping into your hair with the kind of intimacy that feels out of place given the circumstances. And, inevitably, when the pull comes biting at your scalp, it's a burn you enjoy more than you should. "Were you hoping I'd punish you?"

"Well—I-"

"You know, don't you," he tugs your hair again to quiet you. Every question he's asking is rhetorical. "You know that trying to provoke me is dangerous."

You nod, fast. "I know."

"You know that I don't like to be provoked."

"I know, I know, I-"

"Shh." His lips brush over your neck, just once—a soft, fleeting thing that promises everything and nothing at once. You can't help the way you lean into him. "You're just making this worse for yourself. No more talking."

You choke on your stupid ego, but force a nod. You asked for this. You won't fight him on it. Not here. Not now.

"Good." He hums, and you feel your heart dance, stomach leap at the barest flicker of approval in his tone. His breath skates over your jaw, and you try not to shake. "You want to show me how sorry you are, don't you?"

You nod again.

"Good." He tugs at your bottom lip and something curls at the corners of his own that doesn't quite qualify as a smile. "Turn around."

With your heart on the floor beneath your feet, you nod for a final time before doing as he asked. You find that turning is a difficult task, though not due to resistance—your body just won't cooperate—a mess of weak knees and shallow breaths and tingling skin. You do it, though, with his hand on your hip, guiding you, directing you, pushing you over the desk until you're bent at the waist, positioned just how he wants.

It's merely a moment before you feel him pressed against your back, feel his belt buckle digging into your ass—

"What do you think I should do to you?" His breath grazes the nape of your neck and reflexively, you arch into him—his hands slide up your thighs, hips, finding your waist and the band of your skirt—he tugs at your zipper, you remain quiet. You know he doesn't want you to answer. "I'm sure you had your hopes. Your assumptions."

Tom Riddle, you've determined, is a torturous lover—a slow hand, a tease until you're in tears from the overstimulation. A sort of devotee to fulfilling your needs while simultaneously tempering his own. He's so very restrained, in everything he does—not fervent, not right away, anyway—

"Maybe you hoped I'd degrade you. Remind you of your place." He tugs down the zipper, letting the fabric fall to the ground at your feet—you shudder and pull your lips tight, willing yourself to stay silent as the cool air hits you. Tom's hand roams over one of your asscheeks, pawing lazily before tapping his palm against it. “Maybe you wanted me to make you feel it."

—he only rushes—he's only careless when he's angry.

And god, he's angry now.

"Maybe." You force the reply through the sting he left on your skin. It's past midnight—quiet is everything but you two, and you're almost certain he locked the door behind him on the way in. You let your head bow, eyes fixed on the wood under your palms. "Maybe I do."

"Of course you do. You've never been subtle." His foot nudges yours further apart, his fingers trailing up your thigh, finding the damp ache between your legs. Your breath catches but you hold still, biting your tongue as he teases—digits gliding through your slit, swirling your clit. "I know you thought about it."

"About what?" You try, though the question barely gets out before his other hand smacks the thick of your ass again, harder this time. "Shit—"

"About what I'd do to you." The hand on your clit shifts to smooth over the sting, rubbing slow, while the other works the buckle of his belt. "Tell me what you wanted."

"I—" you pause, steadying, gathering yourself. You know you have to give him something, but it's hard to think when he's like this. "I—I wanted you to be...careless."

"Careless." He says it like he's savouring it, rolling it over his tongue like candy. It's not a word that suits him; you're not convinced he even knows how. "You want me to be rough—to be selfish. Like you were."

The moment his belt is loose you feel those slender fingers dip back into your slit, two of them pushing inside your cunt without warning, stretching you open as his trousers slip down his thighs— he grunts low, a sound that cuts into the quiet as his cock springs free and he presses it against you, unoccupied hand slipping back into your hair, pulling you up until you're flush with him.

"Yes." You're not sure who sounds more hollow for it—your voice for asking, his for granting it. "I want that. I deserve it. Please. Please—"

"Please. It's always please with you," he mocks, the words a hiss that burn your cheeks. "Yet, I don't get to be selfish like you, do I? I still have to show restraint."

"I mean—oh—fu—" you choke as his lips find your neck, muttering something against your skin before you feel the sudden cool slip of a lubing charm coating your asshole and cunt. "Tom-"

"Despite what you might believe, I've never had much in the way of patience," he breathes, a confession almost, something deeper—something that feels like it costs him. "Not when it comes to you."

"Tom—" you fucking gasp his name as he pulls his fingers from your cunt—only to drag them higher until they find your asshole. Despite his haste he's still at ease, massaging, pressing one finger against it until you let him in. He sinks slowly, curling slightly, and your thighs shake—lungs deflate. "Oh—oh, fuck, Tom—it's been—"

"A while, hasn't it?" He finishes, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, his finger sliding all the way in. "So tight for me. So—tight—"

"Tom—" a repetition of the last one, his name spilling from you like it’s the only goddamn word you know how to say. "Please, Tom. Oh god—"

"Shhh." He shushes, but it's not to quiet you; you know that. He's savouring this. He slips in a second finger, stretching you wider, working you open, and you're biting your lip to keep from crying out. "This isn't about you."

"You—" your voice breaks on another gasp, hands clutching at the desk. "—you think this is punishment."

"Partially." His muses as his fingers scissor, filling you with the most delicious ache. You're so slick, arousal running down your thighs, and that—oh no, that does not escape his notice. "Look at you, dripping for me. And yet,"

"Oh god." The realization crashes over you—it’s punishment as in orgasm denial. "That's—that's not—"

"Not fair?" There's a smirk in his voice, and though he doesn't say it, you hear the word that lingers beneath it: pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. He pulls his fingers out and you whine, feeling empty for half a second before the head of his cock glides against your slit, gathering your juices before finding its way up to the throbbing ring of muscle. "Isn't this what you wanted? For me to be selfish?"

"I just—" words scatter, useless, because you're trembling, breathing hard, and then he's pressing in, slow enough to save you pain but fevered enough to make you feel him. "Oh—oh—"

"Oh fuck." He says it breathless, as if it's an agony to fit himself inside of you. "Oh yes."

And it is an agony—for both of you, though for very different reasons. Tom is huge, and even on a good day, it's a struggle to take him. He's so deep, filling you in ways you'd forgot were possible. You struggle to hold yourself upright—legs visibly shaking, teeth gritting. He sinks all the way in, and in your mind, you can almost see the look on his face, the way his lashes flutter, the way his head tips back—

"Ah—“ he groans, a rough sound that's followed by a huff and a slight roll of his hips, like he's holding back, like he can't bring himself to move just yet. He yanks you up against him by your hair. "That's fucking tight, isn't it? This must be hell for you."

He's not wrong, it is. But it's hellish for Tom too, the type of hell the two of you inflict on eachother that is as fucking addicting as it is anything else—

"Just—" you manage to bite out breathlessly, but it's a struggle to make the words. "Move—"

"Make me," he grits, jerking your head to the side until your foreheads press together. "Convince me to use you. Tell me how badly you want it. How much of a whore you are for it."

Merlin help you, you moan at his words. It's that thing inside you—the needy, desperate part that's dying at his feet. You don't know what it is or why it's there; it just is, and it's greedy. It's not something you'd give into normally—your ego is far too big to give him the satisfaction of begging, not aloud—never in words that he could use against you later—but in these moments, you both learn to make exceptions.

"Dear god, Tom—please, just use me-" you push your hips back against him, one of his hands slide up your stomach, cupping your tits. "Please, l'm—I'm a pathetic, begging whore for you. God, I know you're pissed—I feel it—just take it out on me—l want it—"

He moans—a soft, almost gentle sound—and you know you've struck a nerve, the part of him that's equally as weak in the moment—the part of him that makes it all too easy for things to spiral like this.

"Goddamn you." Something inside him snaps, something that's been frayed, just waiting for a pull—and you've pulled it now, and oh you want, no, you need him to make you pay for it, to make it hurt. "You just—you always-"

He grunts, cutting himself off and in a way, it's almost like he's thanking you because you're giving him an outlet, something to take it out on. You test each other, push and pull and let the other break, because, at the end of the day, it always comes down to this. The two of you. Like this.

A sharp inhale, and he starts to thrust.

"Fuck!" it's all you manage, it's all you can manage, because it—just like that—feels the way you wanted it to feel but it also feels so much more intense, so intense that your brain can't keep up. "Oh god—oh fuck-"

"Fucking hell," he spits, like you're the worst thing in his world and the best thing all at once, and somehow, that makes perfect sense. He lets go of your hair, and you slump forward onto the desk, elbows barely holding you up as his hand smacks your ass, fingers spreading you apart. "So—so tight—“

You're a shuddering mess, helpless to it; all you can do is remember to breathe through it.

"That's it." Another smack to your ass, thrusts quick and deep. "Fuck. The things you drive me to do."

You know him so well—and he knows you just as damn well, and that's the point, isn't it? That's what this is all about. You're the perfect mix of wrong, a match that burns too hot it hurts but the ache makes him feel alive.

"I want to cum—" your neglected clit is begging for it, you’re fucking begging for it. "Tom please—"

At that, he laughs and it's mean and it's condescending and you love—God—how you love it and want it and can't get enough of it. His hips snap forward a little bit rougher and you lose a bit more of your sanity—

"You think you deserve to come, after what you did?" Another smack to your ass.

You don't know how to answer, and he doesn't wait for one anyway. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you—everything is so calculated and calculated and calculated. You've never once seen him falter, and you don't expect to see it now. You don't know if you'd survive it if you did.

"No." He answers for you. "You don't."

His fingers trace around your thigh, grazing your mound and finding your needy clit, your sopping slit, gliding through it—you moan louder than you should as he gathers your slick on his fingers, humming at what he finds there before retreating—bringing them up to your mouth.

"Open."

You open your mouth and he feeds you your need—the result of his selfishness. You love him for what he is and you love him for what he isn’t too. How he tries to be both, only when you ask.

"Taste that?" It's a whisper, something he's telling you.

You sob around his fingers as he fucks your ass deep—he pulls them out to let you respond. You nod. "Yes."

"Taste how much you want this?"

"Yes." A pathetic moan. The perfect response.

"Good girl." He presses the words into your hair, the back of your neck, along your spine. He sucks in a breath as he fucks like he needs it just to speak. "You're going to remember this the next time you think about doing something just to spite me, I hope you know that."

Of course you will. He knows it, you know it—there's no doubt in your mind that you'll remember this the next time you toy with his patience; the next time you give him a reason to discipline you again. And what's worse is: you'll do it anyway.

It's a battle you two will fight for eternity.

But you don't get a chance to respond, not that you'd have one anyways—because his hand is on your throat and his lips are at your ear and he's sucking in air through his teeth and then—

"I'm going to cum." He whispers and you hear the pain in it. "Fuck."

You shiver in reply; a whine of a whimper coming from the back of your throat. “Tom—“

"Shh." He shushes you with his free hand, gripping your jaw as his thrusts turn sloppy, erratic. "Fucking take it.”

God—you’ll take it. Of course you will. You asked for this, drove him to this point. You're both sick, but this is the kind that doesn't have a cure.

One of his hands moves to his own hair, tugging at the back of his head; it's the only hint you've had this whole time of how much he's affected by this, how much it's driven him mad. He's doing his best to keep control, to maintain composure and make sure you feel it—but it's the way his hand squeezes your hip when he lets go of your throat that gives him away.

It gives in to what he's been repressing.

"Ohhh—fuck—yes—" and then you feel it, feel him, hot and sticky and warm, filling your ass and holding you there until he’s finished. His body collapses against the back of yours, hips slow rolling until he's drained—until you’ve taken all of him, all of his anger and frustration and restraint along with it. He’s sweaty, exhausted, spent—forehead pressed to your hair. "You feel that?"

"You know I do." You're not allowed to sound so smug, not while you're in the position you're in, but you are. It’s why he loves you. "That's what you were looking for."

"No, that's what you were looking for." He nips your ear, and you hear the smile in his voice when he bites down on it and murmurs a, "and that's why you're my favourite," into it.

"And you mine, Tommy."

[lenoraslament]

Slytherin Boys React: Free Use

If I disappear I come back nastier 🤷🏻‍♀️

You and your boyfriend have a free use agreement.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, free use, CNC, degradation, oral (both), piv, fingering, breastplay, smut with no plot

Mattheo Riddle

Everyone knows Mattheo has an oral fixation. But not everyone knows that watching you put anything in your mouth drives him absolutely crazy. From biting your nails, to chewing on your pen, or sucking on a piece of candy. It drives the man feral. Feral.

After hours you two snuck into the girls bathroom so you could get ready for bed before staying the night in his dorm. You face the mirror brushing your teeth, you don’t notice the way he’s watching you. Gagging on your toothbrush lightly, a small white stream of toothpaste dripping down your lips. The way your pouty lips part as you bend over the sink to check your molars thoroughly.

Suddenly poking under your nightgown, he brushes his cock between your thighs. The smallest warning before he makes quick work of your panties and slides into your warm unsuspecting pussy. A muffled moan escapes your lip as he raises his brows in the mirror, shocked at how good it feels.

“Don’t stop baby” he whispers and you struggle to keep brushing as he thrusts lazily into you. Eyes staring only at your mouth even when you feel yourself clench around him. His focus is on thin line of toothpaste dripping out of your lips as he fucks you stupid.

Theodore Nott

“Mine”. That’s what Theo said as soon as you got to his room. Well he didn’t as much say it to you as he did to your breasts. He sat on his bed, his eyes immediately drawn to your chest highlighted by the little tank top you wore.

He reached his arms out for you and when you stood in front of him to give him a hug he immediately buried his face in your breasts.

“Mine…so beautiful” he muttered.

“Well hello to you too,” you begin to say laughing but he doesn’t respond. He is a man starved. His hands trail quickly from your back to the neckline of your top yanking it down. Yes our bra also becomes a casualty, they bunch at your waist biting into your skin. Immediately he licks a nipple. Swirling his tongue. Taking a little bite. Then the other. His hands squeeze softly, then possessively. Making you hiss at the pressure and moan when he sucks harder.

You feel the heat between your thighs building and your hips begin to keen forward as you moan.

“Mmm, Theo please,” you whine begging for more your pussy dripping needing to be touched. But he doesn’t hear you, he doesn’t care to hear you. He releases one of your nipples with a loud pop and looks up at you with swollen lips and eyes full of possession. It told you he was going to have you however he wanted.

“Mine.”

Enzo Berkshire

Your boyfriend had a way with words. He had a cute mouth, a charming mouth and every now and then a smart mouth. You had spent the better part of an hour listening to him chat and flirt with people at a party. Your friends, his friends, all genders. He couldn’t help it. He was just really that charming. It had managed to tick you off and arouse you all at the same time.

The party had left your mind feeling light and hazy but his behavior left a hot sting in your stomach. When you both stumbled into his dorm, his back hit he bed and he laid yawning.

“Must be exhausted after flirting all night,” you snapped not hiding aggravation in your tone.

Enzo only grinned like the charismatic little bastard he is, “really darling, don’t tell me you’re jealous” he practically purred knowing full and well you were. You made quick work of your panties sliding them down as she stood on the side of his bed.

“Not jealous just curious,” you teased as you began to climb in bed. He raised his eyebrow at you as your straddled his face.

“I’m curious if your mouth can do something that doesn’t piss me off,” your voice a mixture of frustration and lust. His hands found purchase on your hips as he pulls you onto his tongue. Eagerly he slides his tongue against you,his jaw moving aggressively. You feel him lightly suck on your clit as he rocks your hips against his face and your brain shortwires.

Draco Malfoy

You hadn’t even had time to fully form a thought about your transfiguration homework before Draco stuffed his cock in your mouth. You knew when his eyes looked like they did, cold and far away that it wasn’t time to give him any lip about it.

His quidditch loss had left him angsty. The veins on his hands protruding as threw his dirty uniform into the hamper. He only had a towel slung across his hips as he walked into his dorm. You sat at your desk about to open your textbook. The sight of you so calm, unfettered by his loss and so beautiful was almost maddening.

The towel laid on the floor, his hand cradled your jaw and he slid in. The thrusts were rough, you gagged softly as his other hand threaded into your hair. His lips parted, eyes unreadable, when he saw yours tear up as he pushed too far he finally let out a groan.

“There we go, pretty little slut” he let out in a breathy growl, “let me use you”.

Blaise Zabini

The metallic taste of the rings on his fingers on your tongue surprised you. You blinked your eyes open half awake. Your body had been flush against Blaise as you slept, unaware he had been staring for ten minutes dying to feel you.

When the saliva coated fingers dragged between your thighs, you let in a soft gasp. His other hand clamped your mouth as he softly teased your clit ignoring your whimpers. Hungry, searching finally when he felt you dripping and ready for him he yielded his touch. Shifting on top of you, his hand never left your mouth. He knew by the half lidded look in your eyes and the way your thighs spread open eagerly that you were needy.

He shoved his cock inside of you, burying it as deeply as he could as his face fell into your shoulder. His free hand pinning your hip so he could control the painfully slow and intense movement. He pushed you over the edge easily and when he finished he rolled back off of you leaving you dripping and breathless as he fell back asleep.

Tom Riddle

Many would assume that it would have been Tom who wanted to use you freely and not the other way around. True dominance for him, wasn’t taking you whenever he wanted. It was knowing he held your desire in the palm of his hand. Nothing made him happier than knowing that you needed him.

Tom was more than happy to lay nude on his bed, on arm behind his head and the other holding a book. The music he usually played while he studied replaced by the sounds of you moaning as you rode his cock eagerly.

Your skin glistened from effort, your cheeks flushed and breath heavy. Your whimpers and whines pleased him as he mulled over the Charm Theories text book in his hand. Only lowering it a moment to catch a glimpse of you trying to desperately chasing your high. You may be using his cock but he denied you the effort, the attention the friction you truly needed. And he loved it.

If you managed to fuck yourself to orgasm with your needy, pathetic movements he would be tickled. Amused. But he preferred you frustrated and desperate for later. Where he would have you on his own terms.

[frostonthepines]

UM HELLOOOOOO ????

blaise zabini smuttt 🙏🙏

Hehehe I love some good Blaise smut! Let me just...drop this...right here....🫳

TW: 18+, MDNI, chars 18+, gambling, slight oral, PinV

Strip poker. That’s how it started. Blaise loved hosting poker games but, tonight, this one was just for you. And it was going well, until you had no more clothes to remove. You were sitting completely nude when Blaise dealt the next round. 

“Since you have no more clothes, if I win, you have to do a little something for me, Ma.” Blaise spoke out, his low voice hinting in a teasing growl at something more. For the first time in your life, you were thankful you sucked at poker. 

“Oh? And what’s that?” You asked as you picked up your cards. Blaise shrugged his shoulders, shuffling through his cards. He laid them down and clearly won. You didn’t even bother showing yours. You tossed them aside and stalked towards him. He was shirtless, pantless, only wearing his boxers. 

His bulge was pressed hard against his boxers and fuck, he was huge. His size always impressed you. His hands went to your hips as he took in your fully naked body. He took one hand to slowly tease his boxers down and let his tip point out right at you.

“You’re going to ride me until I fill you up. Understood?” He asked, more demanded. You nodded your head but you didn’t sit on his lap. Not right away. You dropped to your knees and let your tongue tease over his length. You dragged it up to the tip, getting it nice and wet for you. 

“Understood.” You said before straddling him. You pushed your tits in his face as you started to thrust up and down on his length. Blaise’s hands dug into your ass, that perfect bubble ass that he loved so much. 

“I’m going to fuck you all night long, Ma.” Blaise groaned as you continued thrusting. And he would. Through endless games of poker, Blaise would spend the rest of the night destroying and worshipping that perfect body of yours. And he would love it. He would love every second of it.

Just a little snippet for now but I hope you liked it anon! Thank-you for the request 💙

[cruel-seduction]

Jealous, Rabid, and Out of Control part 2

Werewolf!theo au. || Click here to read Part 1

A/N - Hello, my certified cute red flags!! This is part - 2. It only have smut but to understand how they got in this situation you gotta read part 1. Read tin order otherwise it wouldn't make sense. I am posting like this since Tumblr doesn't allow more than 4k words at once. And I wanted too add so much smut element that I exceeded the word limit.

Summary - He smelled another man on you. That was cute. Really fucking cute—until he had you on your knees, crying, begging, ruined. Until he edged you for hours, tore you apart, and put you back together exactly how he wanted. You swore you’d never break, never beg, never let him have that power over you. Too bad. Because now? Now, you were nothing but a dumb, wrecked mess, pleading for the release he refused to give. And Theo? He was just getting started. 

Contains - Degrading, Manhandling, Slapping (tits & cunt), Spanking, Choking, Edging, Overstimulation, Forced Submission, Power Imbalance, Mocking, Humiliation, Hair Pulling, Begging, Dumbification, Forced Eye Contact, Possessive!Theo, Rough Handling, Size Kink, Light Worship, Mean!Dom, crying, forced blowjob. Tell me if there is more. 

The room went still.

Then, before you could even breathe, Theo moved.

A gasp tore from your throat as his hands snatched your waist, yanking you down with brutal ease. You fought. Arms swinging, thrashing, shoving at his shoulders, trying to get away, but his grip was iron, unshakable. He caught your flailing wrists with one hand, the other forcing you down, pressing against the small of your back until your knees hit the fucking floor.

Pain shot through your joints from the impact, your hands bracing against his thighs, panting, shaking, your face burning with fury and something else, something dark and unspoken.

Your eyes burned. Tears threatened. But deep down, beneath the rage, beneath the shame—you were fucking thrilled.

Theo’s fingers curled around your cheek, tilting your face up to him, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown, dark, a hunger in his stare that made your stomach twist.

"Open your mouth."

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head, eyes flashing with rebellion. No. His smirk didn’t falter. Didn’t even waver.

Then—a sharp yank. A gasp tore from your lips as his fingers snatched a fistful of your hair, tilting your head back, forcing your mouth to part just slightly, just enough—

And he took the fucking opportunity.

Two fingers shoved past your lips, pressing against your tongue, the taste of his skin, his salt, his cruelty flooding your senses. You choked, trying to jerk away, but his grip only tightened, his fingers pressing down, claiming space in your mouth like they fucking belonged there.

"Suck."

You shook your head, humiliation twisting in your chest, hands pushing at his thighs, but he only yanked your hair harder, tilting your head further back, sending a sharp sting across your scalp.

Tears blurred your vision. Humiliation burned hot in your throat, and your body betrayed you again, heat curling deep in your belly. “Suck.”

His voice was razor-sharp, commanding, and it broke something in you. Slowly, hesitantly, you obeyed. Mouth closing around his fingers, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling—

Theo groaned, low and dark. And when you glared up at him, eyes still burning, still furious, all he did was smirk, thumb stroking against your cheek. "Look at you,” he murmured, mocking, taunting, his voice laced with nothing but pure fucking cruelty. "Thought you liked gentlemen, sweetheart? But here you are, on your fucking knees, sucking on my fingers like a desperate little thing."

Your humiliation burned. And Theo? He fucking reveled in it.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, hot and burning, spilling over your cheeks as Theo’s fingers stayed shoved deep in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, forcing you to take it, to accept it.

“Crying already?” His voice was a low, condescending drawl, thick with mockery as he tilted his head, watching the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. “God, you’re fucking pathetic. Pathetic—and so damn pretty.”

You tried to jerk away, to push back, but he tightened his grip on your hair, yanking you back into place like you were nothing more than his to control.

Then, in a tone so low, so casual, it sent a chill down your spine, he murmured, "Grind on the floor, dove.” Your stomach twisted. A hot pulse of something shameful curled deep inside you, but you shook your head, immediate, instinctive.

No. Absolutely not. There was no fucking way you’d do that—even if you wanted to. Even if the ache between your thighs was already unbearable. Even if your body was screaming for relief.

Theo exhaled sharply, a deep, annoyed sound that vibrated through the room, and just as you braced yourself for whatever would come next—

A sharp sting seared through your chest.

You gasped around his fingers, eyes flying wide. The bastard had slapped your breast. The pain was sudden, hot, electric—but the worst part? The absolute worst part? Your body fucking liked it.

A sound tore from your throat—a moan, a whimper, a gasp—you didn’t even know what the fuck it was. Your back arched, hands fisting the fabric of his pants, and before you could recover, before you could reel yourself back in—

He did it again.

Harder. Rougher. The impact sent a sharp pulse straight to your core, and fuck—fuck—you knew he could get worse. You knew if you kept pushing him, if you kept testing his patience, he’d do something crueler, filthier.

And so, with your pride cracking, with arousal dripping down your thighs, pooling beneath you in a humiliating mess—

You moved.

Slowly, hesitantly, you rolled your hips, pressing yourself against the cold, unforgiving floor. Theo groaned, low and rough, his fingers twitching in your mouth as he watched you, devouring the sight of you with a hunger so intense it made your stomach clench.

“Fucking hell.” His voice was thick, wrecked, but still laced with mockery. "You’re actually doing it. Look at you."

You burned, the shame, the arousal, the overwhelming heat twisting into a mess that left your brain mushed out, barely able to process anything but the friction, the ache, the way your body betrayed you completely.

Theo chuckled—low, dark, full of something vicious as his fingers pressed harder against your tongue, keeping you filled, controlled, helpless.

"Thought you were too proud for this, dove," he taunted, watching you with those dark, gleaming eyes, like he was memorizing every second of your humiliation. "Turns out, you’re just a little thing who needs to be told what to do."

Your face burned, your breath hitching, and he smirked, seeing right through you. "Keep grinding, baby. Make a mess of yourself."

And fuck—you did.

Finally, Theo pulled his fingers from your mouth, glistening with your spit, and your head swam—hazy, messy, wrecked from the relentless grinding against the cold floor, from his sharp words slicing through your pride like a blade. Your body was betraying you, trembling, soaking, desperate, and you hated it—hated him—hated the way your thighs clenched at every cruel little thing he said.

And he knew. He always fucking knew.

His spit-slick fingers dragged down, moving toward his belt, and your breath hitched. No. No, you wouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t want this.

But when you saw the way his hands worked, the smooth pull of leather, the sharp click of the buckle coming undone, your mouth went dry. His zipper slid down, and then—fuck.

Thick. Heavy. Hard. Precum dripped from the flushed tip, smearing against his fingers as he pumped himself once, twice, dragging the motion out, making sure you were watching.

“Open up,” he ordered, voice low, rough, dripping with amusement.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Didn’t fight. Didn’t curse him. Didn’t spit something vicious back in his face like you should have.

Instead, you obeyed. Your lips parted, tongue flicking out ever so slightly, and Theo chuckled, shaking his head. So fucking easy.

“Look at you. Didn’t even have to beg this time. What happened to all that fight, dove?” His fingers ran through your hair, deceptively gentle. “You talk all that shit, act like you don’t want me, but the second I pull my cock out, you get all quiet.”

You should’ve told him to go to hell. Should’ve slapped him, pushed him away. But instead, you leaned in, let your tongue swipe over the leaking head, let the salty taste coat your lips as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice strained. “That’s it. Take it. Be a good little thing and—” He pushed in. Too fast. Too deep.

Your hands shot up, grabbing at his thighs as he forced himself further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat before you had time to adjust. A choked sound escaped you, tears springing to your eyes as you tried to pull back, but his grip in your hair tightened instantly.

“Uh-uh. You wanted to act like a brat? Now you can choke on it,” he growled, dragging your head forward, making you take more, more, more.

Your nails dug into his jeans, breath coming in desperate little gasps through your nose as he set a ruthless pace, fucking into your mouth like it was his right. His filthy, degrading words spilled into the air between you, mixing with the obscene, wet sounds you were making—sounds that only seemed to spur him on.

“Crying already? Pathetic. And you thought you could handle a ‘gentleman’? You’re fucking made for this.”

You gasped around him, throat tightening as he pushed in deep, holding you there, his cock buried so far down you swore you could feel it in your chest. The tears you had been holding back spilled over, rolling down your cheeks in hot, humiliated streaks, and Theo only laughed.

“That’s it,” he groaned, shuddering as your throat convulsed around him. “Look at you, dove. A fucking mess for me.”

You hated him. You hated how wet you were. You hated how every cruel word made the arousal between your legs pulse, made you clench your thighs together like it would do anything to stop the ache.

And then he tensed.

You felt it—the way his hips jerked, the way his cock twitched on your tongue, how his fingers in your hair turned bruising. You knew what was coming, and you tried—really fucking tried—to pull back.

But Theo wasn’t having it.

The second you so much as twitched, his hand fisted your hair, yanking you down, shoving you back onto him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled, voice raw, breathless.

You tried to shake your head, tried to mumble something around him, but it was useless. Hopeless. His cock pushed deep once, twice, and then— Heat. Salt. A choked sob escaping your lips as he came down your throat, holding you there, making sure you took it all.

“Swallow,” he demanded.

Your body obeyed before your brain could protest, throat working around him as you swallowed every last drop.

When he finally pulled back, you gasped, coughing, lips swollen and wet as you wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, tears still clinging to your lashes. Your body trembled, a mixture of exhaustion, humiliation, and something else—something dangerous—coiling low in your stomach.

And Theo?

He just grinned.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he murmured, dragging his thumb over your spit-slick lips. “And you thought you wanted a gentleman.”

You barely had time to catch your breath, saliva smeared across your lips, throat burning from how roughly he’d used your mouth. Your body trembled, knees aching from being kept on the floor for so long, but before you could even think about moving—Theo grabbed you, hard.

You barely had time to gasp before he threw you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. The air left your lungs in a sharp exhale, the rough treatment sending an embarrassing rush of heat straight between your thighs. You should hate this—hate how easily he manhandled you, how strong he was compared to you—but fuck, it was hot. No one else had ever picked you up like that, no one else had ever taken what they wanted from you like you were theirs to ruin.

You were still reeling when you heard the sharp rip of fabric.

Your dress—your fucking dress—was nothing more than torn scraps in his hands, carelessly discarded like it was worth nothing. You should be mad, you should be cursing him out, but all that left your mouth was a desperate little sound when his fingers hooked into your panties next, yanking them down with no hesitation.

Theo clicked his tongue, eyes dark as they dragged over your exposed body, taking in every mark he’d already left on you—the bruises on your thighs, the raw bite marks on your chest. His marks.

"You really let me do this to you," he murmured, voice thick with condescension, fingers tracing over the bruises like they were a masterpiece he’d painted on you. "Little miss ‘I don’t need you’—letting me tear your clothes off, letting me spit in your mouth, letting me make you fucking cry just from how bad you want it." His fingers snapped against your thigh, making you jolt. "God, you’re disgusting, dove."

You should have shoved him off—but instead, your thighs clenched together, heat pooling at the base of your spine. He saw it too. That flicker of weakness, of arousal. His smirk grew sharper.

"You like this," he sneered, grabbing your knees and spreading them apart roughly, exposing how soaked you were for him. "Fucking pathetic. Can’t even pretend anymore, can you?"

You hated him. You hated him. But you ached for him.

Before you could spit something venomous at him, two fingers shoved inside you in one swift, merciless thrust. Your back arched off the bed, a strangled moan escaping your lips at the sudden stretch. Fuck.

"That’s it," Theo muttered, watching you keen against his hand. "Think you gonna cum just from my fingers, dove? Gonna roll your pretty eyes back and lose your fucking mind? No wonder you had to go on a date with some pathetic little gentleman—probably thought you could pretend you don’t need me. But look at you now." His fingers curled just right, pressing against the perfect spot, and your hands clawed at the sheets, body jerking at the sheer pleasure of it.

You tried to talk—tried to curse him out, but when his thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles, all that left your lips was a broken "Theo—"

His smirk turned cruel. "What was that?" He slapped your thigh, making you gasp. "Say it louder."

You refused. You wouldn’t. You had your pride.

But then he thrust his fingers deeper, scissoring them inside you while his mouth found your breast, biting down with no mercy. You wailed, body jolting from the pleasure-pain of it, your mind turning fucking blank.

"You’re such a fucking liar," Theo murmured against your skin, licking over the mark he’d just left. "All that attitude, all that fucking backtalk—but look at you. Dripping for me, crying for me, letting me do whatever the fuck I want to you. You don’t need me, right? Then why the fuck is my name the only thing you can say?"

His fingers rubbed faster, harder, his teeth grazing your neck, and you were so close—so fucking close. Your walls clenched tight around him, a desperate sound escaping you as your hips bucked up against his hand.

And then—he pulled away.

The loss was instantaneous, brutal.

You gasped, eyes snapping open, hands reaching to grab his wrist—but he just laughed. Laughed.

"God, you’re fucking desperate," he mocked, licking your slick off his fingers as he watched you pant beneath him. "What, you think I’m just gonna let you cum after that little stunt? After telling me you want some pathetic fucking gentleman instead?"

"Fuck you," you spat, furious, body trembling with unfulfilled pleasure.

Theo just grabbed his cock, dragging it through your soaked folds, his smug fucking smirk never leaving his lips. "Oh, dove," he murmured, voice dark, mocking, brutal. "You will."

And then—he thrust forward.

Theo dragged his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal, letting the blunt head press against your entrance. The sensation sent a full-body shudder through you, a gasp leaving your lips as he teased you, rubbing against you like he had all the time in the world. Like he owned this. Like he owned you.

"You feel that, dove?" His voice was low, mocking, his cock sliding between your folds with lazy, deliberate strokes. "You’re fucking soaked. And for what?" His smirk sharpened, rubbing himself against your most sensitive spot, making your hips jerk. "Some gentleman, right? Did he make you drip like this? Did he make you beg?" He leaned down, lips grazing your ear as he whispered, "Or did he bore you so fucking badly you had to think about me just to get through it?"

Your nails dug into his arms, rage flashing in your eyes, but before you could snap back—he pushed inside.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he stretched you, the slow, unbearable drag of him sinking deeper, spreading you apart with no hesitation. Too much. Too big. Too full. A sharp cry left your lips before you could stop it, your body tensing at the sheer intrusion.

"Too much," you gasped, hands pressing against his chest. "Too—Theo, it’s too much—"

He didn’t stop.

He just grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the bed, his face inches from yours. "Oh, it’s too much?" His tone was mocking, cruel, but his hips kept pushing forward, deeper, deeper, until he was buried to the hilt. His breath was heavy against your skin as he stilled for a moment, letting you feel every inch of him, letting your body struggle to adjust.

Fuck.

You swallowed him whole. Your walls clenched so fucking tight, your body trembling from the stretch, and he felt it all—felt the way your cunt fluttered, felt the way you clenched, trying to handle him.

A low, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight," he murmured, his grip on your wrists tightening. "Like your body knows exactly who it belongs to."

You wanted to curse him, wanted to snap something back—but when he withdrew slightly and then slammed forward, the air was knocked from your lungs.

Your back arched, your mouth opening on a soundless cry as he set a brutal, merciless pace. No hesitation. No restraint. Just pure dominance, pure force. His hips snapped forward, pushing you deeper into the mattress, his hands keeping you pinned beneath him, his mouth crashing against yours to muffle your screams.

His teeth scraped against your lower lip, his tongue shoving into your mouth, not kissing you, not seducing you—just owning you.

"You take it so fucking well," he growled against your lips, his hips slamming into you, deeper, harder. "Look at you. You can’t even talk anymore. What happened to all that attitude, dove? What happened to the girl who told me she liked gentlemen?"

A desperate whimper left your throat, your body overwhelmed, shaking.

"That’s what I thought," he sneered, thrusting harder.

You were so close—so fucking close. The pressure coiled in your stomach, building, building, burning—

And then—he pulled out.

A strangled, desperate sob left your lips, your hands grabbing for him before you could stop yourself.

Theo just laughed.

"Pathetic." His palm cracked against your inner thigh, sending a shudder through your body, making your breath hitch. "Did you really think I was gonna let you cum after you insulted me?"

Your body ached, pleasure still curling at the base of your spine, your mind turning hazy, desperate, ruined.

Still—you forced your lips into a mocking smirk, voice breathless but taunting as you muttered, "Is this the best you can do?"

Theo’s eyes darkened.

"Oh, dove," he murmured, his voice a dangerous purr. "You just made the biggest fucking mistake of your life."

And then—he ruined you.

Your body was wrecked. Shaking, trembling, ruined.

Your mind had long since melted into nothingness, the world around you a blur of sensation, of desperation. Theo had pushed you past your limits, past sanity, past pride. You couldn’t form a single coherent thought—only need.

And he knew it.

Theo’s hands gripped your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His lips were curled into a wicked smirk, dark amusement gleaming in his eyes as he watched you come undone beneath him—watched the way your body twitched, the way your breath hitched, the way your nails dragged over his back, leaving stinging red lines in their wake.

He only groaned, low, deep, utterly wrecked himself, at the pain you inflicted, at the way you clung to him, no longer fighting, no longer resisting—just needing.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice like silk drenched in venom. "The girl who swore she'd never break. The girl who told me she'd never beg."

A pathetic whimper left your lips. Your body was too sensitive, too raw, every nerve ending burning, pulsing, crying for release.

"You don’t even have the words anymore, do you?" His thumb traced your swollen bottom lip, his other hand gripping your hip like a brand. "Can’t even tell me what you want."

You tried—tried to force the words out, but all that came was a soft, desperate plea, a sound so broken, so utterly wrecked that his smirk only widened.

He leaned in, lips brushing over your ear, his voice a low, taunting murmur.

"You want me to let you cum, don’t you?"

You nodded frantically, breath hitching, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, dark and cruel.

"Beg for it."

Your pride screamed at you to resist, to fight, to hold on to the last shred of defiance you had left. But your body betrayed you, arching, trembling, reaching for him, the sheer desperation consuming you whole.

"Please," you choked out, a whimper, a plea, a total surrender.

Theo groaned, dragging his teeth over your throat, his grip tightening.

"That’s my girl."

And then—he gave you everything. And you finally came.

You barely registered the moment he pulled out, barely noticed the way his weight left the bed. You were too tired, too spent, too utterly wrecked. Every muscle in your body ached, but in a way that made you smile—a lazy, unfiltered, thoughtless smile, one that was soft, genuine, without pride or sarcasm.

Theo saw it.

And for the first time all night, he hesitated.

But only for a moment.

Then, he leaned down, brushing a slow, lingering kiss against your forehead, his lips warm, tender, contradicting every filthy, degrading thing he had said just minutes ago. Another kiss followed, this time against your lips—softer, slower, without demand.

You barely responded, too tired, too comfortable, just humming softly in contentment before sleep dragged you under.

Theo watched you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his sharp gaze, before he exhaled, shaking his head as he pushed himself off the bed.

The room was quiet, the only sound was his steady breathing and the faint rustling of fabric as he grabbed one of small clothes and a clean towel before heading to the bathroom.

He returned moments later, his expression unreadable as he sat beside you. Slowly, carefully, he began cleaning you up—wiping away the mess he had made, making sure every part of you was taken care of.

Then, without thinking, his hands moved to your legs, his thumbs pressing into the sore muscles, massaging the ache away.

You sighed softly in your sleep, your body instinctively melting into his touch, trusting him even in unconsciousness.

And fuck, that did something to him.

He swallowed hard, his gaze drifting over your exhausted form before his fingers trailed lower, over your ankles, down to your feet.

And then—he kissed you there.

A soft, reverent press of lips against your skin, like you were something holy, something untouchable.

His jaw clenched. He hated this. Hated how much he fucking wanted you.

But for tonight, just for now, he allowed himself this moment.This moment of worship, of possession, of something he would never admit.

Taglist - @empath-bunny @gipsonnikki @emptyachingblue @syymplypotter @a-little-funny @chimchoom (comment/dm to get added)

© This work belongs to me. I do not allow repost or translating my work. If I found you doing something like that you will be blocked and reported.

[sadnymi]

Alibi.

Slytherin boys x reader ( platonic) , Theodore Nott x reader ( not so platonic)

Summary: Summary: You accidentally got yourself involved in some Slytherin boys' drama.

I was deep in the forest, kneeling on a bed of pine needles, my hands clasped in prayer. The air was still, the only sound was the whispering of leaves above. I was right in the middle of asking for some divine intervention in my life when, out of nowhere, something heavy crashed into me from behind.

I was flattened to the ground with a shriek, my thoughts of divinity abruptly replaced with panic. "Merlin's beard! What in the name of—" I twisted around, ready to fend off whatever forest creature had decided to tackle me.

But it wasn’t a creature. It was Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherins. And he was bleeding. Profusely.

He groaned, clutching his side. "Sorry," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"Sorry? You're bleeding all over me!" I squealed, trying to push him off, but he was too heavy and I was too flustered.

"Calm down, will you?" he said, his voice surprisingly steady for someone who looked like they'd been in a fight with a hippogriff and lost. "It's just a little blood."

"A little blood?" I shrieked again. "It looks like you were stabbed! Wait, were you stabbed?"

He winced. "Yeah, probably. Can you stop screaming? You're making my head hurt."

"Stop screaming? You literally fell out of nowhere, bleeding to death on top of me! Of course, I'm screaming!" I finally managed to wriggle out from under him, kneeling beside him in the dirt. "Who did this to you?"

He groaned again, his face pale. "Don't know. Didn't exactly stop to ask."

I fumbled in my bag for my wand, hands shaking. "Okay, okay, just... just hold still. I’m going to try to stop the bleeding." I pointed my wand at his wound, but then my mind went blank. "Uh, what's the spell again?"

Theodore groaned, but this time it sounded more exasperated than pained. "Episkey. It's Episkey."

"Right, right," I muttered, feeling my face heat up. "Episkey!" The wound didn't heal completely, but at least the bleeding stopped.

Just then, we heard a rustling in the bushes. I turned, ready to scream again, and out stumbled none other than Mattheo Riddle, his face splattered with blood.

I let out another scream, louder this time. "What is it with Slytherins and blood today?"

Theodore winced. "Can you stop screaming? You're going to attract every creature in this forest."

Mattheo, looking a mix of annoyed and amused, glanced between us. "What in Merlin's name is going on here? Why are you screaming?"

"That's what I want to know!" I said, throwing my hands up. "First, he crashes into me, bleeding all over, and now you show up looking like you’ve been in a bloodbath."

Theodore groaned again, trying to sit up. "Mattheo, could you do us a favor and not kill her with another heart attack? She's already a mess."

Mattheo rolled his eyes. "Calm down. This isn't my blood." He knelt beside Theodore, checking his wound. "How bad is it?"

Theodore waved him off. "Don't worry. The boy who did this is already dead. I killed him after he stabbed me."

My eyes went wide, and I started to hyperventilate. "You killed a boy? You actually killed someone? Oh my God, we're all going to Azkaban! I was just praying, and now I'm an accessory to murder! What if they find the body? What if they use Veritaserum on us? I can't go to Azkaban, I haven't even finished my O.W.L.s! Oh God, oh God, oh God—"

Theodore, clearly at the end of his patience, slapped his hand over my mouth. "Can you please stop talking for one minute? You're not helping."

I kept mumbling behind his hand, my eyes wide with panic. He glared at me. "Why can't you just shut up for once?" He looked at Mattheo. "A little help here?"

Mattheo smirked, watching the scene unfold. "You seem to have it under control, Theo."

"Seriously," Theodore grumbled, pulling his hand away. "We're in the middle of a forest, I'm bleeding, and she's having a meltdown about Azkaban. Can this day get any worse?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I was just praying for some divine intervention, not a bloody crime scene!"

"Well, you got it," Theodore said dryly. "Now help me up, and let's get out of here before something else happens."

As we struggled to get Theodore to his feet, I couldn't help but mutter a quick prayer under my breath. "Please, if anyone's listening, just get us out of this mess."

Theodore chuckled weakly, wincing at the pain. "Yeah, good luck with that."

Just as we managed to get Theodore to his feet, the forest seemed to come alive with movement.

From the shadows emerged a group of masked men, all dressed in ominous black cloaks. My heart sank. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I muttered.

Theodore groaned. "What now?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed. "This day just keeps getting better."

I had a full-blown breakdown. "Who are they? What do they want? Why is this happening?" I shrieked, clutching Theodore's arm as the masked men closed in.

The leader of the group, his voice muffled by the mask, pointed at me. "Grab the girl!"

I promptly hid behind Theodore, using him as a human shield. "Why me? I don’t even know what’s going on! I was just praying! Praying! I didn't ask for this! Why would anyone want to grab me? I don't know anything! I'm not important! I was just trying to—"

The leader looked slightly puzzled. "You must be important if you're here."

"What?" I spluttered. "No, this is just some weird punishment because I sneaked out of Hogwarts! I was having a terrible week and needed some divine intervention, so I came to the forest to pray for guidance and peace and—"

"I don't give a fuck," the leader snapped, gesturing to his men. "Grab her!"

The masked men advanced, and Theodore stepped in front of me. "No one will touch her," he said, his wand raised despite his injury.

Mattheo mirrored his stance, wand also at the ready.

I peeked out from behind Theodore, still rambling. "Seriously, this is all a misunderstanding. I was just praying because I failed my Potions test, and Professor Snape looked like he wanted to turn me into a newt, and then my cat got sick, and I just needed some clarity in my life, so I thought, 'Why not go to the forest and pray?' But then Theo crashed into me, bleeding everywhere, and now you guys show up looking like Death Eaters on a budget! This is just a cosmic joke, right?"

The leader looked exasperated. "Shut her up."

One of the masked men tried to grab me, but Theodore and Mattheo both fired off stunning spells, sending the attacker flying back.

Theodore turned his head slightly toward me, his eyes serious. "You need to stop talking now."

I nodded, clamping my mouth shut, but my mind was still racing. "This has to be some kind of punishment," I whispered. "Why else would this be happening? Maybe I angered a forest spirit or something."

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Or maybe it's just bad luck. Now, please, stay quiet and let us handle this."

The leader, looking frustrated, signaled for the rest of his men to attack. "Get them all!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, praying silently. "Please, let this be over soon. And if we survive, I promise I'll never sneak out of Hogwarts again. Or pray in the forest. Or—"

Before I could finish my desperate plea, a figure appeared from the shadows and stabbed the leader in the chest. The leader collapsed, revealing none other than Lorenzo Berkshire, better known as Enzo, looking out of breath and slightly bewildered.

"Sorry, guys," Enzo panted, wiping the dagger on his sleeve. "There was this dragon—well, maybe it was a big bird. Hard to tell in the dark.“

Mattheo and Theodore wasted no time, seizing the moment of confusion. They grabbed the nearest masked men and swiftly dispatched them with a combination of spells and physical blows. The remaining attackers fled into the darkness, clearly not eager to meet the same fate as their leader.

Enzo, looking around at the chaos, spotted me and raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute. Is this Y/N from Charms class? What are you doing out here?"

Before I could launch into my explanation, Theodore sighed and muttered, "Here we go again."

"I was just praying," I began "Well, I had the worst week ever. First, I failed my Potions test, then my cat got sick, and I just thought maybe if I could get some peace in the forest—"

Theo turned looked me dead in the eyes then slapped his hand over my mouth, his expression one of exasperated patience. "I swear, if I hear one more word about praying or forest spirits... or Potions tests or your cat, I'm going to lose it."

I gazed up at him, ready to argue, but then something struck me. His eyes. They were a striking shade of blue, filled with intensity and a hint of something softer, something...beautiful. I blinked, momentarily speechless.

Enzo, clearly amused by the whole situation, leaned over to Mattheo. "Is she always like this?"

Mattheo smirked. "Pretty much."

Theodore, still holding his hand over my mouth, looked at me with a mix of annoyance and something else I couldn't quite place. I nodded slowly, my panic subsiding slightly as I got lost in those mesmerizing eyes.

Finally, Theodore removed his hand, and I took a deep breath, determined not to start rambling again. "Okay, okay, I'll be quiet."

"Thank Merlin," Theodore muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Enzo clapped his hands together. "Alright, now that we've got that sorted, how about we get out of this forest before any more dragons show up?"

As we started to move, I couldn't help but blurt out, "Enzo, there's no dragon out there, you idiot!"

Enzo turned to me. "And how do you know that?"

"Because dragons don't just wander around the Forbidden Forest chasing random students!" I snapped. "They’re kept in the Dragon Reserve, or did you sleep through that part of Care of Magical Creatures?"

Enzo raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And what about that time Hagrid smuggled a baby dragon into his hut? Ever thought about that?"

I scoffed. "That was a one-time thing! And it wasn't even a fully-grown dragon, it was a Norwegian Ridgeback hatchling! There's a huge difference!"

Enzo crossed his arms, a playful smirk on his face. "Well, maybe it was an escaped Ridgeback, then. You can't rule out the possibility."

I threw my hands up in frustration. "Escaped Ridgeback? Do you hear yourself? The chances of running into a dragon in the middle of the night are practically zero! You're more likely to find a Blast-Ended Skrewt out here than a dragon!"

I opened my mouth to retort, but Theodore swiftly grabbed me and pulled me away. I couldn't help but look at his strong, albeit bloody, hand on my waist, leaving a bloodstain on my skirt.

As I glanced from his hand up to his face, I couldn't resist commenting, "You've got a pretty good grip for someone who was just stabbed."

Enzo and Mattheo burst into laughter, and Theodore shot them a deadly look. They quieted down, though still wearing amused expressions.

Theodore leaned in close, his voice low and intense. "You will not say a word about what you saw tonight, understood?"

His proximity made my breath hitch, and I felt my heart race. Dirty thoughts flitted through my mind, and I mentally pleaded, Please, God, I didn't mean to have them. You shouldn't have made him that pretty if you didn't want me to have them.

"Y/N," Theodore said, his voice breaking through my reverie. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

I blinked, snapping back to reality. "Uh, yes. No talking about tonight. Got it."

He brushed the dust from my shirt and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture sent a shiver down my spine.

"You two need a moment alone, or can we get moving now?" Mattheo said.

Theodore shot him another glare. "We're moving."

Enzo, called after us. "Hey, Y/N, if you see a dragon on the way back, be sure to let me know!"

I shot him a glare over my shoulder. "If I see a dragon, I'll make sure it eats you first!"

[riddleauthor]

⛥ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆

Hey babe, I'm Lady Riddle! Here you'll find imagines and one-shots about the Slytherin Boys, playlists, moodboards, p! links and other things I'll discover along the way. Check it out! 🖤

Please send me asks as much as you want, especially ideas for writing (I'll respond once your request is ready) <33

★ 𝖘𝖑𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓 𝖇𝖔𝖞𝖘

imagines (soon)

kinktober masterlist

asks masterlist

ghostface pic (mattheo, tom, theodore)

erotic gif (mattheo, tom, theodore)

ghostface p!link 1

ghostface p!link 2

ghostface p!link 3

ghostface p!link 4

slytherin boys playlist

★ 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

p! links pt. 1

p! audios

carnal desires imagines

b&w vibes playlist

riddle brothers playlist

★ 𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

p! links pt. 1 (soon)

p! links professor pt. 2 (soon)

professor riddle playlist

riddle brothers playlist

★ 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖋𝖔𝖞

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖙

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖟𝖔 𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝖟𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖓𝖎

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖗𝖊𝖌𝖚𝖑𝖚𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖞 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

English is not my first language. I hope you like it! <3

Don't repost anything anywhere else besides playlists and don't claim them as your own! For any requests like translations send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated!

[missesnott]

Study date | Theodore Nott x Fem. Reader

•Summary: You and Theodore chose a day to study together at your dorm. As soon as he walks in, he notices that you have a collection of stuffed toys. After he leaves, you realise that one is missing. On the next study date you both have, which is in his dorm, you find your stuffed toy in his bed.

•Requested by: @helendeath

You were sat on your bed, waiting for your friend, Theo. Tonight you were helping him with potions. Despite being very inteligent, Theo isn't very good at potions, and you help him how you can.

A knock on your door is heard. You get up and walk towards the door, opening it.

"Hey!" you greet the slytherin.

"Hey bella" he greets back, entering your dorm. "This is your bed?" he points to a bed with some stuffed toys.

"Yes, but I was about to take them out of here..."

"Leave them if you want." he says, not seeming to worried about it. "You also give names to them, like a child?" he plays.

"No... only to Willow..." you point to your favorite stuffed animal "Anyways, can we start or are you going to mock me about it?" you sat on your bed again, Theo following you with a small smile.

You both take your books out and you start teaching him all he needed to know. Hours pass by, but you don't seem to notice, neither does Theo.

"Is easy, isn't it?" you ask him with a soft smile.

"Now it is." he looks back to you.

You both took a gander at one another for a couple of moments until you saw the time.

"It's almost dinner time..." you say and break the eye contact. Grabbing your book, you get up to put it on his place. Theo sits on the bed and grabs his things, putting them back on his bag.

"See you at dinner?" he asks, on the door.

"I'll be there in 10." you smile and he nods, leaving.

[...]

Ten minutes pass by and you had now entered the Great Hall. You searched for your friends and sat next to them. The dinner was spent with you and your friends eating, gossiping and chatting about your up coming exams, and for your surprise you had a transfiguration exam.

You weren't very good at this subject, but you knew someone who was. You looked for him and eventually found him, laughing with his friends. You smiled and continued to chat with your friends.

"I think I'm spending the rest of the evening studying..." one of your friends said.

"Me too" a blonde girl agreeds.

"I'm free tomorrow, which means I have the whole day to study."

"And you better! McGonagall's exams are not easy..." the green eyed girl said, the blonde agreeing once again.

Since you three had finished eating, you get up and start to walk to your dorm. One of your friend was a Hufflepuff, so she turned to another corridor, saying goodbye to you and your other friend.

"So, you'll study tomorrow alone?"

"I guess... I'll ask Theo if he can help me. He's way better at transfiguration than I'll ever be."

"Theo? Theodore Nott?" she asks in disbelief.

"Yes, we help each other."

She opens her mouth to say something but she doesn't speak. You both continue the way to your dorm and say goodbye once again, since you did not shared the dorm.

You enter your dorm and check your messy bed. Taking a deep breath, you change your clothes and take your stuffed toys of the bed, so you could sleep but you notice one is missing, Willow.

You looked everywhere. Under the bed, on your bag, through the ground. Willow was nowhere to be found. Upset, you just decide to go to sleep, maybe in the morning you'd find her.

[...]

The sun's rays hit your face, waking you up. Groaning, you get up, walking to the bathroom taking a bath. You remember that Willow is missing, and decide to look for her afterwards.

You get out of the shower, dress and see the time. Theo had some classes now, and you hadn't ask him if he could help you.

Walking fast to the Great Hall, you spotted him speaking to his friends. He sees you, and you call him over with a gesture. He quickly gets up and walks to you.

"Hey bella, what do you need?"

"I was hoping that you could help me with Transfiguration...? I have an exam tomorrow and you know I suck at the subject..."

"Sure, today at 4PM? In my dorm this time?"

"Yes, thank you so much!" you smiled at him and he smiled back.

[...]

It was already 4PM and you were walking to Theo's dorm. You knock and a few seconds later he opens.

"Hey, come in."

You enter his dorm and he guides you to his bed. The first thing you see is nothing else then Willow, the stuffed toy you thought you had lost. You decide to not ask him about it.

"So, where do you wanna start from?" he asks staring at your eyes.

You broke the eye contact once more and take your book out.

"Here..." you lay in his bed next to him, belly down, pointing to the subject.

"Bella, that's the easiest thing I'll probably teach you today" he jokes again.

"Yes, well then please start. My exam is tomorrow and I stayed my whole morning studying."

He starts to explaining everything to you, detail by detail.

3rd post! A little to much [...]? maybe... sorry about that

[julieee404]

Kinktober masterlist 2024!!<33

This is the first time I'm doing this but yeah I'm excited!! It will ofcourse be with the slytherin boys!.

October 1st: ❥ Hate sex, Semi-public, Dub-con ❥ Mattheo riddle

October 2nd: ❥ Virginity, Innocence kink, Orgasm denial, Chastity ❥ Theodore Nott

October 3rd:   ❥ Public, Toys(remote control), Orgasm denial, almost caught ❥ Draco Malfoy

October 4th: ❥ Cockhold, Bondage, Praise kink ❥ Lorenzo Berkshire, Tom Riddle

October 5th: ❥ Monster sex(Teratophillia), Cockbuldge, Size difference, Tentacles ❥ Mattheo riddle

October 6th: ❥ Prostitution, Public, Orgasm Denial ❥ Theodore Nott

October 7th:   ❥ Fucking Machine, Bondage, Blindfold ❥ Tom Riddle

October 8th: ❥ Glory Hole, Semi-public, Group sex, Stuffing, Toys ❥ Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Lorenzo Berkshire, Theodore Nott, Tom Riddle

October 9th: ❥ Stuck, Incest, dub-con ❥ Draco Malfoy

October 10th: ❥ Temperature play, Praise kink ❥ Theodore Nott

October 11th:   ❥ Breeding, Stuffing, Toys(plugs) ❥ Mattheo Riddle

October 12th:     ❥ Non con, Deepthroathing, Dedegration ❥ Tom Riddle

October 13th:   ❥ Shower sex, shower head ❥ Mattheo Riddle

October 14th: ❥ Fisting, Bondage, ❥ Lorenzo Berkshire

October 15th: ❥ Gun play, dub-con, Roleplay ❥ Mattheo riddle

October 16th:   ❥ Mirror sex, Praise kink ❥ Theodore Nott

October 17th: ❥ Cheating, Stepcest, Semi-public ❥ Draco Malfoy

October 18th:   ❥ Gore, Semi-public, Praise kink ❥ Mattheo Riddle

October 19th:   ❥ Belly bulge, Insecurity, Loving sex ❥ Theodore Nott

October 20th:   ❥ Sex pollen, Praise kink ❥ Draco Malfoy

October 21st:   ❥ Cockwarming, Worksex ❥ Tom Riddle

October 22nd:   ❥ Piss kink, Public, Dub-con ❥ Tom Riddle

October 23rd:   ❥ Mask kink, Knife play, ❥ Mattheo Riddle

October 24th: ❥ Somnophilia, Breeding, Overstimulation ❥ Mattheo Riddle

October 25th: ❥ Teacher x student, degradation, Cheating ❥ Tom Riddle

October 26th:   ❥ Morning sex ❥ Theodore Nott:

October 27th: ❥ Semi-public sex, caught(and joined) ❥ Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott

October 28th: ❥ Incest, Edging, Breeding, Double penetration, Anal ❥ Tom Riddle and Mattheo Riddle

October 29th: ❥ Sex tape, Drunk Sex, Dedegration(mild) ❥ Draco Malfoy

October 30th: ❥ Drunk sex, dub-con, Foodplay, Semi-public ❥ Mattheo Riddle

October 31st: ❥ Bondage, Double penetration (also in the same hole), Praise kink, Dedegration, Anal ❥ Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire

[raverinalavara]

Unfair Love

Your fingers were cramping from how hard you were holding the door. Your eyes mad to be deceiving you, Regulus fucking Black cant be standing in front of you. The guy you loved from the simply age of 5 all the way until the end of school. He had been your best friend, the guy you pined over for years and years while he pushed you aside every time he got a girlfriend. Only to suck you right back in when he got bored. 

“No..” You said moving to close the door to your brother's manor. Tom, Mattheo and You were triplets. Magical beings already formed crazy connections but the three of you could literally feel each other and each other's major feelings. So the shock and pain of seeing Regulus had pulled them from the upstairs living room to the top of the stairs. Leaning against opposite walls, Tom positions so he could see down the stairs easily keeping an eye on you while being positioned in a way to be easily overlooked. 

When Regulus pushed his way in, it took everything in both of them to stay put but your voice stopped them. “Tom is home. If that's not bad enough, so is Mattheo. Do not come any further into my home Regulus.” Regulus paused just inside the door, while he had been friends with both boys in school. He also knew they were fiercely protective of their ‘baby’ sister. They would kill each other if the other hurt her, so they would easily Avada him if he pushed to hard. 

“Y/n.. Dont marry him.” He said in a nonchalant tone. Acting like he wasnt rocking her world and trying to crumble her relationship to pieces. “ Regulus.. Your being a dick.” You said unconsciously stepping towards the stairs and pulling your hands up to your chest. He stepped towards you and smiled in a cocky way that made you want to slap him “Come on y/n/n, you know you its always been me.. Dont marry him.” 

Those words sparked anger in your gut. 

Stepping towards him this time you sneer. “I was second to every single girl that even looked your way in school! You literally asked me to the yule ball and then FORGOT and went with some girl from Ravenclaw! I cant.. I wont.. I.. I..” It felt like a let down to your last name when that spark died and never turned into a fire as you started to almost hyperventilate. Every time he broke your heart played through your head as his eyes flicked above your head. 

You didnt need to turn around to know your brothers were coming down. Mattheo was past you quickly, having moved before your breathing even got uneven. Tom wasnt as familiar with panic and anxiety attacks as you and he were. He didnt stop to comfort you as he grabbed his old friend harshly and jerked him out the door. He didnt slam it on his way out knowing that would just startle you and make it worse. 

Tom had always for some reason been the one you went to for comfort. You thought it was probably just because he was the ‘oldest’. He was the one who retucked you into bed when you had bad dreams even though he was the same age. He had always just carried himself in a way that gave big brother vibes. Every where you went people thought you and Matt were twins and Tom was the older brother. 

He would always have a hard time dealing with others feelings but he always made the most effort for his siblings. When you collapsed onto the stairs and started sobbing he moved the rest of the way to you quickly. He tries to get you to calm your breathing but its like you cant hear him. He does the only thing he knows too, the same thing he use to do when you were children and he couldnt wake you from a nightmare. Pressing his forehead to yours he gently entered your mind. it was easy to find you in panic because when all the thoughts finally formed into a picture you were stood frozen while everything moved around you. 

Him saying your name broke your focus as you turned confused then relieved to see him. “Tommy” You said in a broken whisper as he reached for you, tucking your head against his shoulder and hugging you he looked around. “Lets walk through all this, yeah?” Nodding against his chest “I just feel so much right now.. Im so mad at Regulus. Ive tried my entire life to be what he wants, to be someone he sees but he never did. I was just someone to placate his ego in between relationships.” 

Tom watches as memories of you crying, of Regulus manipulating you and leaving flash around him and he squeezes tighter. “He hasnt spoken t-to me in years and then he just shows up here the night before Im supposed to get married?!” You sob and then suck in a harsh breath “Oh my god. Teddy.. Whats he going to think when he finds out I was crying over another man when im supposed to be relaxing and getting ready to marry him!” 

You pull away and pull out of your head and then away from Tom in the real world. Standing you start to pace and pull at your hair. Tom sighs and stands to try and stop you but the door flies open. Mattheo running in frantically looking for you, only to be shoved out of the way by your tall sandy blond fiancee. “Tesoro” He barley whispers as he rushes to pull you into his arms. Your knees giving out again but he keeps you up. His huge hand cups the back of your head and neck as he shushes you gently. 

Theo swears his heart is breaking as your shoulders rack with sobs. He turns to look at his other best friends, Tom is staring at the door, clearing pissed and trying to stay put. Mattheo is pulling at his own hair when he sees the questions in his friends eyes. Hes struggling because he wants to tell him so he can better comfort you, but he doesnt want to betray your trust. Thankfully he doesnt have to, you can feel his panic and pull away just enough too look up. “Regulus was here.” 

Theos head snaps back to you and he tries to reign in his feelings quickly knowing that they will all play out on his face. His first feeling was worry, he had worked so hard to show you how you should actually be treated. So many dates where he couldnt even hold your hand yet. Regulus had treated you so poorly from day one that his nontoxic love was foreign and unwelcome. 

You had grown up in vastly different environments. Birthing triplets had killed your mother. While your father wasn't horrible or abusive, he was unattentive. He would rather you have a nanny (who he sleeps with before replacing and repeating) then try and raise you alone. While Theo grew up with parents who not only loved him but each other. 

Next was anger at the audacity. Then was worry again but this time for you. Taking a deep breath and taking your cheek in one hand he wipes your tears away. “Ok, tell me why your so upset by that. We have to be on the same page to talk through this. Can we go sit down?” you shake your head and pull him up the stairs, away from your brothers to your room. You let go of his hand and keep walking straight for your bathroom. 

After a few mintues long arms wrapped around you, crossing over and gripping your upper arms. “Im here, Tesoro. Whenever your ready.” You didnt register any measure of time as you stood under the water with him holding you and pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. “I dont deserve you theo..” you say so quietly he almost doesnt hear. Before he can ask what you mean your already speaking. “Here I am, the night before marrying you, crying over some other guy.. God im so horrible.” 

Before your hands can cover your face, Theo has spun you around and is tilting your face forcing you to look at him. He looks just a little annoyed as he speaks, “Dont say that. Do you remember what Tesoro means?” You sniffle and nod but he raises his eyebrows waiting for you to say it. “It means treasure.” He nods and smiles just a little “So.. My Tesoro couldnt be horrible.. I get it darling.. He was your first love, theres a lot of trauma there. I know your not crying because you miss him, your crying for 17 year old you, for 15 year old you and so on. And thats ok, because thats how we heal.” 

Theos heart warmed as you stare up at him in awe. “I know its difficult for you, my love. That this open communication and understanding isnt something that comes naturally too you. So youll have to give me just a little grace while I continue to learn to navigate you. I promise one day Ill be an expert.” He leans in and kisses your forehead, staying there for just a moment to give you both a second to pull yourselves together. 

When he pulled back the smile he loves was back on your face. He sighs happily and kisses your nose before looking at you. Everything was right in his world again, all he needed to do now, was wait for you to go to sleep. Because Regulus.. Well Theo completely understood where YOU were coming from. But Black? Nah. While tending to lean towards his mothers Hufflepuff nature, sometimes he needs to remind people why he was sorted into Slytherin. Why he became friends with The Dark Lords children. Why he and your brothers trusted him to care for you. And tonight, it would be Regulus` turn to learn. 

[ixnehce]

Sweet Spoils

ft. tom riddle

SYNOPSIS: a casual date at a cozy café takes a turn when you can't resist sneaking a bite of tom's dessert

notes: wc. 300~ gn reader, crack/banter SORRY GUYS THIS ONE IS REALLY SHORT 😞😞hopefully will be posting more frequently in the future... no warnings as far as i know

It was supposed to be a simple, peaceful date. You and Tom were at your favorite café in Hogsmeade, tucked into a cozy booth near the back—the kind of booth where the cushions were worn enough to feel like they were made just for you. The evening had started off just right: overpriced café food, too much butterbeer, and enough time to get lost in conversation. But then came the dessert.

It wasn't usual for Tom to opt for dessert. Maybe he was feeling indulgent today, or maybe he had gotten tired of watching you consume deadly amounts of sugar alone. Either way, all you knew was that his cake looked good.

So when he turned to look for his wallet in his coat, you took the opportunity to sneak a bite of the perfect, velvety cake. Just a tiny spoonful—he wouldn't even notice...

Tom narrowed his eyes as he turned back to see a suspicious, spoon-shaped mark in his cake. “You’re eating my cake.”

Ah.

But you, who had the art of being unapologetic perfected, barely looked up from your ice cream. “No... I’m just borrowing it. Like, temporarily.”

Tom's lips twitched into a smirk, but his tone remained steady. “Oh, well, you can temporarily stop touching my food, then.”

You finally lifted your gaze, lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m just making sure you’re not getting too full.”

“Ah, so you're my personal dietician, are you?”

“If I were your dietician,” you said, casually stealing another bite, “I’d tell you to eat less of this. Give it to your girlfriend.”

Tom leaned forward, blocking your next spoonful with his fork. "My girlfriend consumes enough sugar as it is. In fact, she's already at risk of a heart attack, so I think I'd be doing her a favor if..." He eyed your ice cream with a mirthful smile.

"Absolutely not. Back off."

[mattheosdior]

K.˚୨୧⋆｡˚

✎ mattheo riddle x fem!reader

✎ word count : 1.1k

✎ warnings : mentions of fighting, but mostly fluff.

summary : your boyfriend takes you on a dinner date that leads up to a cozy night in with him.

a/n : kinda nervous, this is my first time posting my writing on this app (and writing in second pov). so if any mistakes are made blame my inability to write this way…? also, this is a little inspired by ‘K.’ by cigarettes after sex, and a mix of my own ideas w/ minor plot. enjoy!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it wasn’t a rare occurrence that your boyfriend, who gave you the ultimate princess treatment, to take you out. him taking you on dates and spending quality time with you was basically his love language—on top of his physical touch addiction, which he likes to deny, deny, and deny.

even now, as you sit across from the dark, curly-haired boy, who is dressed in a sleek black tuxedo, with a crispy white blouse peeking underneath. his onyx eyes couldn’t peel themselves away from you throughout the wonderful dinner you’ve had together.

the conversations that came easy and switched even easier, the warmth of hearing his laughter throughout the fancy restaurant when you landed a joke had your heart soaring inside of your rib cage.

despite his hands being nowhere near you, his presence was enough to feel like he was touching you. your soul. underneath his reputation that he upheld from his father’s last name at hogwarts, and the walls he builds with everyone else, there was a precious boy.

the one he allows you to see.

as you both wait for the waitress and check to arrive, he switches the topic smoothly. “so, do you have anywhere else in mind you want to go for this date night? or are you ready to head back?” his tender eyes gradually travel over your appearance.

the makeup you had made him wait extra minutes for, your hair which was neatly done and resting around your shoulders, the silky, black dress that clung effortlessly to your figure—and had a small slit on its left side, exposing some of your thigh and leg.

you gnawed on the skin inside of your cheek, laying your options out on the table. there weren’t many shops open this late. And not only were you two dressed up—but it would be silly to go anywhere else in what you’re wearing. you two would be out of place, even if you wanted to go grab a sweet butterbeer from the three broomsticks.

you knew mattheo wouldn’t care about anyone else’s opinion, and which eyes were on the two of you if you did decide that you wanted to go to the three broomsticks. i mean he was used to being mixed into rumors that made zero sense half of the time. surely he could handle any amount of attention.

still, you settled on replying with a simple, “no…?” your tone gave away hesitation, which only caused his eyebrow to lift. “no,” you repeated, this time clearer. “it’s late and we have early classes tomorrow.”

“so?” he decided to push, keeping his mischievous eyes that had the burning candle flame in them on you.

it wasn’t news to you that trouble followed your boyfriend everywhere he went. it was attached to him no matter how far he ran. hell, he’d even go as far as chasing it himself, looking it straight into its eyes, willingly.

finding him in heated fights, and the long days of detention that followed for the consequences of his actions. sometimes he didn’t have to use his fists to land himself inside detention—he’d manage to do that by skipping and ditching periods whenever it suited him.

“so,” you dragged out the single word, attempting to get him on board with you. “i’d rather spend the rest of the night with you. in your dorm.” his brows rose slowly, and his eyes gleamed with amusement on that offer alone.

you knew you had him.

“and suddenly, that sounds like the best idea you’ve had in a very long time, sweetheart.” his tone was smooth, silky, low.

and that’s exactly what happened when you both stepped inside his dorm. with flickering candles keeping the surrounding dark at bay—the gentle flames casting shadows over his ‘artwork’ you had continued to tease him about. the sketches he spilled his thoughts, words, and his emotions into, were scattered on his walls. all telling you different stories within the parchment paper and the black chalk he used.

to the deep, glistening waters of the black lake through the two sets of windows that divided the dorm and murky waters with panels of glass. you knew you were safe. as soon as that cigarette was lit and in between his lips, and finding yourself tangled in messy sheets with him, there was nothing that could divide the two of you.

not only were you wrapped in his familiar cologne but you were wrapped in his sweet warmth. his arm had you tucked into the side of his bare torso, gently running his fingers through your hair as your head lays on his chest. your fingers always found themselves occupied on the scars etched across his olive skin, tracing them with your fingertips, mindlessly.

“i think you have a weird obsession with my scars.” his feather-light voice had your fingers pausing their soft movements on one of his scars. “i mean seriously, they’re nothing special.” he shifted a bit, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on his nightstand, and blowing out the rest of the gray smoke from his lips.

nothing special.

they were all special. you knew that. problem was he didn’t. and it drove you insane.

“you might hate them,” you said softly, moving your head upward so you could meet his eyes, which only had raw love and security in them because he knew your answer remained the same. “but I don’t,” you added, and you could’ve sworn you heard his heart skip a beat from where your ear was pressed against his chest.

his eyes softened, swirling with the flames from the candles on his nightstand. “you’re impossible,” he said quietly, his fingers going from your hair to the edges of your jawline, the pads of his fingertips tracing your skin until he got to your chin. “you’re too perfect.” his eyes darted all over your face, tracing your skin with his eyes.

“no one is perfect,” you pointed out, slowly pushing yourself up from the plush sheets that tried their hardest to not let you go, moving closer to him until your lips brushed. “everyone has scars. whether they’re hidden or shown. yours just so happen to be above reach—to touch, to see, to love,” you whispered on his now slightly parted lips.

his eyes drifted from your vulnerable pair of eyes down to your pink, perfectly sculpted lips. “then show me your scars,” he whispered as he gradually met your eyes through his dark, thick, and long eyelashes, putting his puppy dog eyes on full display for you. “because i want to touch, see, and love them too.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[iniquitousyearning]

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.

[lenoraslament]

slytherin boys + edging/orgasm denial!!!

Thanks for the request!

Slytherin Boys React: Edging / Orgasm Denial

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, piv, oral (male and female receiving), degradation, orgasm denial, edging, smut with no plot.

Mattheo Riddle

“Add Ashwinder egg to a cauldron, then add horseradish and heat” Mattheo’s voice sounded strained as your head bobbed down on his cock. The sound of your gagging muffled his words so you pulled away as he groaned.

“What kind of egg?” Your eyebrow raised as he tried to grab your hair and pull you back. You smack his hand as he gives you a desperate look.

“Ashwinder…baby please” he mutters and you lick the head flicking your tongue over it.

“What’s next?” You asked as your tongue moves down the length.

“Anemone?” Mattheo asks as he grabs the bedsheets, his head falls back as he groans. You sit straight up and he panics. “Thyme? Occamy?” He grabs your wrist trying to pull you back, he’s aching and he bites your lip. Your head is shaking as you hop off, “Rue!? IS IT FUCKING RUE!?” He calls after you but you’re already walking towards his door giving him a devilish smirk.

“You really should study” you tease leaving him panting helplessly on the bed as he reaches for his potions textbook to find the recipe for Felix Felicis hoping he could still get lucky.

Theodore Nott

Your thighs burned, it was quite a workout. Theo’s head was thudding on the headboard as your rocked your hips back and forth on him. Your ministrations were slow and teasing. His knitted brow, mouth hanging slack as another low groan escaped his lips was worth how absolutely spent you were.

Just when you felt his legs begin to tighten you pulled away giving him a little slap on the cheek.

“Ah fuck” he muttered his eyes nearly rolling back as you ripped another climax away from him. He licked his lips as he looked at you half lidded, “No more teasing, let me fill you up” he muttered in his low voice.

“No” you said haughtily, “why don’t you ask Astoria to?”. Your cheeks were flushed with defiance. You caught them talking, no flirting in the common room.

“I don’t want her baby, I only want you bella” he said in nearly a whiny voice that made you grin.

You sunk back down on his aching, rigid cock as his lips let out another moan.

“Then say my name, and maybe I’ll let you come” you say and snap your hips forward to see if you can chase your own high before you take away his.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Enzo is flattered, tickled even when you tell him you want him to edge you. What the hell were you thinking? This boy researched. For hours. Reading articles, watching porn, asking his friends.

Your legs are tied to his bedposts, Enzo lays between them observing your impossibly wet pussy. It’s been nearly an hour, your back arches as you desperately seek out a means to an end. His fingers swirl around your swollen clit, eliciting a loud moan from you.

Enzo chuckles and dips two fingers into your cunt, listening to how loudly you cry out from barely any movement. The past hour he has edged you so badly, you nearly begin to beg when he pulls away again.

He ghosts his finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves and you come. Hard. You clench around nothing as your body finally gives in at the faintest touch.

“Holy shit,” Enzo says in a low voice. He didn’t mean for you to finish so soon, although just the sight of you letting go is enough to make him want more.

“Let’s do that again” he says.

Draco Malfoy

“Don’t be so impatient love,” Draco whispers as he slides his cock over your aching pussy.

“Once…Draco I said it ONCE,” you whine and your eyes roll back as you bite your bottom lip. Earlier in the day he had tried to pull you away from a conversation with Enzo. You made the mistake of rolling your eyes and telling him to “stop being impatient”.

You try and grind yourself up to meet him but he is quick to shove your hips down and onto the bed as he tuts.

“Baby please” you plead as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“So needy for me pretty girl,” he says and shoves himself forward making you gasp. A few strokes and he’s gone again leaving you nearly clawing at his back for more.

Blaise Zabini

It was time for revenge. After he made you fall apart in the Great Hall you knew you had to get your boyfriend back. It was Friday night and another party in the Slytherin common room was in full swing.

You had on a short, black bodycon dress, no panties. There was work to be done. When you spotted your boyfriend he was laughing with Draco, already a few drinks down.

“I need you baby…now,” you muttered in his ear. He stood nearly immediately and began to lead you to his dorm. You shake your head and pull him down the hall, the sight of the broom closet makes him even more excited. Nothing gets him going like the taboo.

He’s ravaging your lips, neck, chest. When his hands reach your thighs and he realizes you aren’t wearing panties he groans loudly. You hitch your leg up on his waist as he fumbled with his belt. The two of you combined feverishly, he pushes into you with eager strokes.

It’s not long until you hear his breath hitch and you pull away so quickly he is breathless with confusion. You pull away with a wink and open the door, he scrambles to cover himself.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked loudly.

“Save it for later I guess” you call back grinning.

Tom Riddle

“You think,” Tom snapped forward making your hips bite into the desk, “you’re so damn….” He pulled your hair making you flush to his chest, “funny”.

To be fair it was funny. Tom was in the common room, talking to Mattheo and Draco when you sauntered over. You sat on his lap, your lips moving to his ear, “I’m so wet right now,” you mumbled to Mr. No PDA. Tom’s eyes widened as Draco and Mattheo smirked at you straddling his lap.

He dragged you to his room shortly after, immediately bending you over his desk. His hands yanking your panties to the side as he pushed into you at a punishing pace. You weren’t mad about it, in fact it’s what you wanted.

“I am funny,” you tease defiantly. He pulls away turning you to face him. His eyes are pure rage, the quiet kind that actually makes you nervous. Tom lifts you onto the desk, he spread your legs and dropped to his knees, surprising you.

Under a vicelike grip on your thighs, he flutters his tongue softly, almost delicately. Tom does not usually go down on you, even though he is absolutely phenomenal at it. Within minutes you’re trembling, eyes rolling back so close to your orgasm you can nearly taste it.

Then he pulls away, wiping his mouth as he observes at your shocked face. Before you can protest he grins.

“See, I can be funny too”.

—————————————————

Actively taking requests!

[cruel-seduction]

Jealous, Rabid, and Out of Control Part 1

Werewolf!theo au || Click here to read part 2

Summary - He smelled another man on you. That was cute. Really fucking cute—until he had you on your knees, crying, begging, ruined. Until he edged you for hours, tore you apart, and put you back together exactly how he wanted. You swore you’d never break, never beg, never let him have that power over you. Too bad. Because now? Now, you were nothing but a dumb, wrecked mess, pleading for the release he refused to give. And Theo? He was just getting started. 

A/N - Hello, my certified cute red flags!!! This is part - 1. It doesn't have smut but it does contain sexual language. Read this first to read next (smut part obvs) Otherwise it wouldn't make sense. I am posting this first since Tumblr doesn't allow more than 4k words at once. And I wanted too add so much smut element that I exceeded the word limit.

The last time you saw Theodore Nott, he promised you something. "I’ll ruin you."

You thought it was just a threat, a filthy whisper against your fevered skin as he ravished you—like an animal. Like he’d been starved for you, deprived of you, and the only way to fix it was to consume you whole.

You remember the way he touched you, the way he didn’t stop even when your body gave out beneath him, boneless and shaking. How he had mocked you, pressing sloppy kisses to your jaw while you cried from pleasure, from exhaustion, from him.

"Too much?" he had taunted, running his tongue along your throat, chuckling when you whimpered. "Come on, baby. You wanted this. Be a good girl and take it." And you had. Until you couldn’t.

Until the world went black. You had woken up alone.

You expected pain, soreness, to be sprawled out on the same dirty mattress he had taken you on, your skin still damp with sweat, marked and used. But instead?

You woke up in your own bed. Clean sheets. Fresh clothes. A glass of water left untouched on your nightstand.

Like it had all been a dream.

Except for the bruises on your throat. The bite marks littered across your chest, the dull ache between your thighs, a ghost of his filthy, merciless worship.

You had cursed his name, forcing yourself into the shower, scrubbing your skin raw like it would erase the way his hands had claimed you. But no amount of soap could wash him off.

That had been seven days ago. And now?

A deep, throbbing ache settled between your thighs, making your legs shift under the table. You exhaled, forcing yourself to focus on the man in front of you.

Ethan—no, Evan—smiled at you, bright and sweet. Too sweet. The kind of sweet that didn’t bite. The kind of sweet that wouldn’t wreck you. That was probably why your mother had set this up.

An appropriate man. A man who wouldn’t leave you trembling and marked, who wouldn’t shove you against walls and sink his teeth into your skin like an animal. A man who wouldn’t make you wait for seven fucking days without a single word, without so much as a trace of his scent to hold on to.

Your fingers curled against the tablecloth.

Theo hadn’t even let you see him after that night. No mocking presence lingering in the dark, no heated stare following your every move. It was like he had disappeared, leaving you to wake up hating yourself for how much you wanted him.

The date couldn’t end fast enough.

You barely heard Evan—when he walked you outside, barely felt the air against your skin as he turned toward you, his eyes warm and expectant. Shit.

He was going to try and kiss you.

Your stomach plummeted. Not because of the kiss itself—you could handle that. You’d been kissed before. You knew how to fake it. But because the idea of anyone else touching you—anyone other than **him—**felt wrong. You were a stupid bitch and you knew it but You don’t wanna kiss him. 

Your brain short-circuited.

And instead of a kiss, you hugged him.

Hard.

Too hard.

The poor guy stiffened, caught completely off guard. His arms awkwardly patted your back like you had just lost a loved one. Jesus.

You wanted to disappear into the pavement. “Uh,” he said, clearly confused. “Nice—nice hug.” “Yeah,” you mumbled against his shoulder, absolutely mortified. “Hugging is great.”

By the time you managed to untangle yourself from the world’s most awkward embrace, you could feel your own pulse slamming against your throat. You turned on your heel, fast-walking down the sidewalk, desperate to get home, away.

But even as you walked, your mind betrayed you. You weren’t thinking about the disaster you had just left behind. You weren’t even thinking about Evan reaction.

You were thinking about Theo. You were thinking about what he would do if he found out.

What he would say if he knew you had let another man sit across from you, let another man look at you like he had a chance. What he would do if he found out you let another man even think about kissing you.

But he wouldn’t find out.

Right?

… Right?

The door barely clicked shut before you saw him. Theodore Nott.

Sitting on your couch like he had nowhere else in the world to be. Legs spread wide, fingers tapping lazily against the armrest, head tilted like he had been waiting for you all fucking night.

Your stomach twisted. Where the fuck had he been? Seven days—seven whole days, and not a single sign of him.

Your pride stopped you from asking. You kicked your heels off, tossed your bag onto the table, arms crossing over your chest as you stared him down.

Theo’s gaze flicked lower, and his lips curled.

“That really pushes your tits together.” His voice was all amusement, all casual filth, like he wasn’t saying something disgusting. His head tilted as he dragged his gaze over you, slow Your jaw clenched, nails digging into your arms.

You wanted to hurt him, cut him down just to see if he could bleed like everyone else.

So you did.

You tilted your head, letting your lips curl into something mean. “Must be frustrating,” you mused, tone syrupy sweet, “wanting so bad to fuck something that doesn’t want you back.”

You saw it—the flash of something cruel in his eyes.

Good.

He deserved to hurt. Deserved to feel just an ounce of the frustration simmering beneath your skin.

But he didn’t lash out. He didn’t even look offended.

Cause Theodore Nott never took your words offensively.

Instead, he studied you. Like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

And fuck. That look—that look. That without-you-I-would-perish look was the only way you ever wanted a man to look at you. Like he was hungry in a way no one else could ever satisfy him but you.

You swallowed.

Turned your back on him. It was only two steps before you felt it.

The shift. The slight tensing of his body. He leaned forward.

“In a rush to get away from me, sweetheart?” Something in his tone made you stiffen. You forced a shrug. “Maybe I just have better places to be.”

A lie. A bad one. Theo inhaled deeply.

The air changed. “New perfume?” Your stomach twisted. You forced yourself to stay relaxed, forced yourself to keep walking. “Maybe.”

“I meant your scent.”

Fuck.

Your fingers twitched. You could feel him behind you now, too close, his presence looming like a dark shadow against your back. You shrugged again, reaching for the kitchen counter. “Might be from a friend or something—”

A mistake.

Before you could take another step, he grabbed you. One rough hand on your shoulder, yanking you back against him, his grip a warning, a demand.

Your breath hitched. Theo leaned in, his lips barely brushing your ear. “Don’t fucking lie, baby.”

His grip tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

His scent—smoky, dark, utterly overwhelming—wrapped around you like a noose, choking out any rational thought. But you weren’t going to let him win. Not now.

His voice was softer this time, but no less dangerous.

“What is it, dove?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me.”

Your jaw clenched. You forced yourself to relax in his hold, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your tension. “None of your business.”

His fingers flexed. You could feel the frustration radiating off him, the way his body tensed at your dismissal, but he waited. Waited for you to push him further.

So you did. “I was on a date,” you said, tilting your chin defiantly. “With an actual gentleman.”

Silence. You couldn’t see his expression, but you felt the shift. Something in the air turned sharp, crackling like a storm ready to break.

Then—a low chuckle. Dangerous. Dark.

It sent a shiver straight down your spine. His grip didn’t loosen, but his tone was almost amused when he spoke.

“A gentleman?”

“Yes,” you snapped, twisting in his hold just enough to throw a glare over your shoulder. “You know, a guy with manners? Held the door open for me. Didn’t shove his tongue down my throat like some rabid fucking dog. Actually listened when I talked, instead of just thinking about what hole he was gonna use me for.”

For once, you had actually wounded him. But instead of lashing out—instead of snapping like you thought he would—he just exhaled, long and slow, his fingers dragging up your body, wrapping around your throat with a grip that was just shy of bruising.“You think you like gentlemen?” His voice was low, smooth—deceptively calm. His thumb stroked over your pulse, feeling the way it betrayed you, the way your body refused to match the venom dripping from your words. “You think you’d be satisfied with some soft little fuck who’d probably cum in his pants before he even got you wet?” He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear, his voice nothing but a dark promise. “That’s fucking adorable

Your stomach twisted violently. Before you could speak—before you could even breathe—his hands were on you. A sharp gasp ripped from your throat as he lifted you effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“What the fuck, Theo—put me down!” He didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t pause. Just started walking, his grip firm around your thighs, his movements steady—unbothered. And then—a sharp slap against your ass.

A real one.

You yelped.

The bastard laughed.

“What?” Theo taunted, deliberately squeezing the soft flesh in his palm. “Not used to being handled like this, baby?” You kicked. Hit his back, his shoulder, his fucking legs—anything to make him let go.

But all he did was laugh again, another sharp smack landing right over your already stinging skin. “You’re acting all mad now,” he mused, gripping your thighs even tighter when you tried to squirm. “But I bet you liked sitting across from that poor fucker, all prim and proper, knowing damn well who you belong to.”

“I don’t belong to you, you fucking psycho—” Another spank. Harder this time. Your teeth clenched, humiliation burning through you, but you refused to let him win. “I hope you fucking choke,” you snapped. “Or get hit by a bus. Preferably a big one.”

Theo snorted.

“Adorable baby but you’re the one who is gonna get choked now..”

Adorable. You wanted to kill him.

By the time he reached your bedroom, you were still thrashing, still trying to fight him off, but it didn’t matter. With one effortless motion, he threw you down onto the bed. You bounced against the mattress, breathing ragged, wild, furious.

Theo just loomed over you, watching, smirking. Looking at you like he was about to devour you whole

Theo’s eyes were cold, dangerous, a storm of rage barely contained behind his sharp, mocking smirk. He looked utterly fucking unimpressed as he leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossing over his chest like he had all the time in the world.

"On your knees." You let out a sharp laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah? Over my dead fucking body.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. But he didn’t argue. Didn’t snap. Didn’t move. Instead, his voice dropped—low, smooth, so fucking calm it sent a chill down your spine.

"I’m gonna count to five, dove.” He tilted his head, the warning in his gaze sending every nerve in your body into high alert. "If you’re not on your fucking knees by then, I’m grabbing you by your pretty little hair and dragging you here myself."

Your stomach twisted. He was serious. But fuck him. You lifted your chin, lips curling into something sharp, something cruel, just to piss him off. Just to see how far you could push him. “One.”

Your fingers curled against the sheets, your heart pounding despite the steady smirk on your lips.“Two.” A flicker of doubt. “Three.” Your breath hitched, and you fucking hated that he noticed. That his smirk only deepened. “Four.” You weren’t moving. Fuck him. “Five.”

Taglist - @empath-bunny @gipsonnikki @emptyachingblue @syymplypotter @a-little-funny @chimchoom (comment/dm to get added)

© This work belongs to me. I do not allow repost or translating my work. If I found you doing something like that you will be blocked and reported.

[sadnymi]

Nonsense

[Theodore Nott × reader]

Summary: you have always been Hogwarts perfect girl ,excelled academically, demonstrated exemplary behavior, and has been a role model, but your obsession with Theodore Nott was getting out of hands.

Warning: fluff, strong language.

Words:3k.

I had been obsessed with Theodore Nott for as long as I could remember. Every morning before class, I’d muster up the courage to say, “Hi, Theo,” my voice soft and shy. I couldn’t help but blush every time he glanced my way.

In the Great Hall, I always found myself sitting at the nearest table to him during meals, stealing glances in his direction. Theodore was effortlessly cool, the quintessential bad boy, and it only made him more irresistible. His presence was magnetic, and I found myself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Despite my nerves, I made a decision. Today would be the day I finally talked to him. As I took a deep breath, calming my racing heart, I reminded myself that I had nothing to lose.

I saw him sitting alone in a corner of the library, sketching something intently. My heart skipped a beat. This was my chance. I approached him slowly, my palms sweaty, and my mind racing with all the possible things I could say without making a complete fool of myself.

“H-hi, Theo,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his eyes locking onto mine. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What’s up?”

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. “I, uh, I just wanted to say that your drawing is really, um, beautiful,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, you’re really talented. Like, really, really talented. It’s just so...beautiful. And, um, did I mention you’re talented?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Thanks,” he said, clearly amused by my nervous rambling. “I appreciate it.”

I felt my face heat up, my cheeks undoubtedly a bright shade of red. “What are you drawing?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He tilted the sketchpad so I could see. It was a detailed drawing of a dragon, its scales intricately shaded, its eyes fierce and alive. “It’s incredible,” I breathed, genuinely impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my reaction. “You like dragons, huh?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, they’re fascinating creatures. And the way you’ve captured its essence is just...amazing. You’re amazing.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that made my stomach flutter. “You’re quite the fan, aren’t you, Y/N?”

I bit my lip, nodding shyly. “I guess you could say that.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know, you’re cute when you’re all flustered.”

I felt my blush deepen, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Th-thank you,” I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me. “You should stay. Maybe I’ll draw you next what do you think?”

My eyes widened, and I felt a rush of excitement. “Really? You’d do that?”

He nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. I think it’d be fun.”

I sat down across from him, feeling a mix of nervousness and exhilaration. “I’d love that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mesmerized by the way his hand moved across the paper, I didn't even notice someone approaching. My mind was completely absorbed in Theo’s sketch and the subtle expressions on his face. I was smiling, lost in the moment, when suddenly, Theo’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” A voice cut through my trance, but I barely registered it, still smiling and looking at Theo.

“Y/N,” Theo said, looking between me and someone else.

“Yeah?” I responded, still a little dazed.

He nodded towards my ex, who was standing there awkwardly. “He wants to talk to you.”

I blinked, finally noticing jacob standing there. “Oh, hi,” I said, my voice flat.

Jacob gave a tight smile. “Can we talk, Y/N?”

“Sure,” I replied, standing up reluctantly. Jacob frowned but took my arm, gently steering me away. I kept glancing back over my shoulder, my eyes drawn to Theo, who was already back to his drawing, seemingly unfazed.

“Y/N,” Jacob started, but I was only half-listening, my attention still fixated on Theo.

“Y/N?” Jacob repeated, more insistently.

“Yeah?” I asked, finally looking at him.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, but his words were a blur. All I could think about was Theo’s sketch, his focused expression, the way his hand moved so confidently across the page.

“Y/N!” Jacob said sharply, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Just go away, Jacob,” I said, waving him off without really thinking.

“But, Y/N—”

“I’m serious, Jacob. Just leave me alone.” I turned back towards Theo, who was still engrossed in his drawing. I hurried back over to him, feeling a mix of relief and excitement.

Theo looked up as I approached, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who was that?”

“Who?” I asked, momentarily confused by the intensity of his gaze.

“The guy you were just talking to,” Theo said, smirking slightly.

“Oh! Him. That’s…uh…” I stammered, trying to remember. “Jacob! That’s Jacob. He’s my ex.”

“ You forgot his name ?” Theo raised an eyebrow, smiling he added. “You seemed pretty distracted.”

I laughed nervously, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I guess I was. I just...couldn’t stop thinking about your drawing....”

“Is that so?” Theo asked, his voice low and teasing. “You must really like my drawings, then.”

“I do!” I said eagerly. “You’re so talented, Theo. I wish I could draw like you.”

He chuckled, the sound making my heart skip a beat. “Why don’t you try?”

“Oh, I’m terrible at drawing,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “You don’t want to see that.”

“Come on,” he insisted, pushing the sketchpad towards me. “I’ll help you.”

I hesitated, then picked up the pencil. My hand shook slightly as I tried to draw a simple line. Theo’s hand covered mine, guiding me gently.

“Like this,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. He moved my hand slowly, and I felt a thrill shoot through me at his touch.

“I’m really bad at this,” I whispered, embarrassed.

“You’re doing fine,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “Just relax.”

I took a deep breath, letting him guide me. Together, we managed to sketch a rough outline of a dragon. It was nowhere near as good as Theo’s, but it was better than anything I could have done on my own.

“See?” he said, smiling at me. “Not so bad.”

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Thanks, Theo. You’re a great teacher.”

He looked at me, his eyes intense. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

Before I could respond, Blaise Zabini sauntered over, his usual confident smirk in place. “Hey, Theo,” he greeted, then turned his attention to me. “Oh, hi, cutie.”

“Hi,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Blaise,” Theo said, acknowledging his friend.

“Just wanted to let you know about the party this weekend,” Blaise said, his eyes flicking between Theo and me. “Should be a good time. You’re coming, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Theo replied.

Blaise turned to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why don’t you come too, Y/N? Bring a friend if you want.”

“Can I?” I asked, looking between Blaise and Theo.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Blaise said with a grin. “You and that friend of yours... what was her name again?”

“Y/F/N,” I supplied.

“Right, Y/F/N,” Blaise repeated, nodding. “But are you sure you’re up for it? These parties can get pretty wild.”

I smiled, a determined glint in my eye. “I can handle it. You’d be surprised.”

Blaise chuckled, clearly amused by my confidence. “What do you think, Nott?”

Theo smiled, his gaze meeting mine. “Yeah, she can come. Should be interesting.”

As soon as I was out of earshot, I practically sprinted to find Y/F/N. I spotted her in the common room, reading a book. I burst in, unable to keep the news to myself.

“Y/F/N!” I exclaimed, causing her to look up in surprise.

“What’s got you so excited?” she asked, marking her place in the book.

“I talked to Theo today,” I said breathlessly, sitting down next to her. “And Blaise invited us to a party this weekend!”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Theo Nott?”

“Yes!” I said, practically bouncing with excitement. “And he helped me draw, and he was so sweet, and then Blaise came and invited us to the party!”

Y/F/N grinned, her excitement matching mine. “We definitely need to go shopping for new outfits.”

“Absolutely.“

The end of the year was fast approaching, and the air in the Great Hall buzzed with anticipation. Professor Filius Flitwick stood at the front, addressed the assembled students.

“As you all know, the Yule Ball is a time-honored tradition,” he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. “This year, we have the honor of selecting one student to represent Hogwarts at the ball. This student has consistently excelled academically, demonstrated exemplary behavior, and has been a role model for their peers.”

I felt my heart pound in my chest, my mind racing with possibilities. Could it be me? I had always been at the top of my year, never cursed, never got into trouble. But still, it felt like a dream too far out of reach.

Professor Flitwick continued, his gaze sweeping over the students. “It is my pleasure to announce that this year’s representative for Hogwarts will be... Y/N Y/L/N!”

The Great Hall erupted into applause, and I felt my face heat up with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. I stood up slowly, my legs feeling a bit wobbly as I made my way to the front. Professor Flitwick smiled warmly at me as he shook my hand.

“Congratulations, Miss Y/L/N,” he said. “You’ve truly earned this.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I managed to say, my voice shaking slightly. I turned to face the hall, my heart soaring as I saw my friends cheering for me.

As I made my way back to my seat, I caught sight of Theo, his signature smirk firmly in place. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking every bit the confident bad boy he was known to be.

“I knew it would be you,” he said as I approached, his voice low and teasing.

I felt a giggle escape my lips, my cheeks burning. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said, his smirk widening. “You’re the perfect student. Always top of the class, never in trouble. It was a given.”

I bit my lip, trying to contain my excitement. “Thanks,”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze intense. “So, you’re coming to the party, right?”

I nodded, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face. “Yes, I am.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

I felt a shiver of excitement at his words, my heart fluttering in my chest. Just then, one of his friends called out to him from across the hall.

“Theo! Come on, we’re going to be late!”

Theo glanced over his shoulder and then back at me. “Looks like I need to go. See you at the party?”

“See you there,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

As the weekend approached, Y/F/N and I spent hours picking out the perfect outfits for the party. And we were getting ready in our dormitory, the excitement palpable in the air.

“How do I look?” I asked, twirling in front of the mirror.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Y/F/N said, adjusting her earrings. “Theo won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

I blushed. “Let’s hope so.”

We made our way to the party, the corridors of Hogwarts buzzing with the energy of students eager to celebrate. As soon as we entered the room, Blaise Zabini spotted us and sauntered over, his usual charming smile firmly in place.

“Ladies,” he greeted us, his eyes sparkling. “You both look stunning tonight.”

“Hi, Blaise,” I said, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

“Hi,” Y/F/N added, smiling.

Blaise turned his charm up a notch, giving Y/F/N an appreciative once-over. “You both are making everyone else look underdressed.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Thanks, Blaise.”

As the night went on, I found myself searching the room for any signs of Theo. The party was in full swing, with students laughing, dancing, and enjoying themselves. We eventually found a spot to sit, and a few people came over to congratulate me on being chosen to represent Hogwarts at the Yule Ball.

Blaise leaned in, his smile never wavering. “Can I get you ladies a drink?”

“I don’t drink,” I said quickly, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“I do,” Y/F/N chimed in, giving me a playful nudge. “But only if it’s something good.”

Blaise laughed, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

As Blaise left, I continued to search the room for Theo. My eyes finally landed on him, and my breath caught in my throat. He looked incredibly handsome in a black shirt, the fabric fitting him perfectly and highlighting his lean build. His dark hair was tousled in that effortlessly sexy way, and his eyes scanned the room with an easy confidence.

“There he is,” Y/F/N whispered, noticing my gaze.

“Yeah,” I murmured, my heart pounding in my chest.

Theo’s eyes met mine across the room, and a slow smile spread across his face.

I turned to Y/F/N, trying to steady my breath. “ I can’t breathe. He looks so handsome, I think I might die.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Y/N, you’ve got it bad.”

“No, seriously, that black shirt has me thinking...” I paused dramatically, “no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while I gasp for air and scream the Lord’s prayer, he can top me.”

Y/F/N’s eyes widened, and she tried to interrupt. “Y/N…”

But I was on a roll. “Vertically, horizontally, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, in a chair, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, in the shower, on the street against the wall, until the room reeks. NO BREAKS!”

“Y/N!”

“I mean, come on, have you seen him? He’s so—”

“Y/N!” Y/F/N hissed again, her voice more urgent this time.

“What?” I snapped, feeling a bit annoyed at the interruption.

She looked at me with a horrified smile, trying to point behind me. “Please don’t freak out, but…”

“Please tell me he’s not—” I began, my voice trailing off as I turned slowly to see Theo standing right behind me, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

For a moment, I just stared at him, my brain scrambling to process what had just happened. My heart plummeted, and I was about to fall from my seat.

“Y/N,” Y/F/N said quickly, “I—I really need to go search for Blaise. I think I heard him calling my name.”

She darted away, leaving me alone with Theo. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

“Hey,” he said, his smirk widening. “Quite the imagination you’ve got there.”

“I—uh—” I stammered, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I didn’t know you were...”

“Listening?” he finished for me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Clearly.”

“I, um...” I trailed off, not knowing how to respond.

He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “So, vertically and horizontally, huh?”

My face turned beet red. I was about to fall off my seat when he caught me, his hands firm on my waist.

“Easy there,” he said, his voice soft and teasing.

I blinked, trying to find something to say. “Theo, I—”

He gently touched my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Theo chuckled, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know, you don’t have to fantasize. All you have to do is ask.”

My breath hitched, and I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. “Ask?”

He nodded, leaning in so close I could feel his breath on my skin. “Yeah. Just ask.”

“Theo, I—”

He interrupted me, his face now inches from mine.

“Do you know what really turns me on, Y/N? Hearing you, the perfect little angel, talk so dirty. It’s like discovering a secret side of you. And I have to admit, it’s fucking hot.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back a moan. "I was just—"

"Just what?" he whispered, leaning in so close that his lips brushed against my ear. "Just fantasizing about me taking you in every possible way? About me fucking you so hard you can’t breathe?"

A shiver ran down my spine, and I couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped my lips. He chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me.

"You’re so damn sexy when you’re flustered," he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my neck.

"Do you want me to kiss you right now?" he asked, his lips hovering over mine. "Because I want to. So badly."

I nodded, barely able to breathe. "Yes."

He closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands roamed my body, pulling me even closer, and I melted into him, all my senses overwhelmed by his touch.

"Am I interrupting something?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

I pulled away from Theo, my heart racing. "Draco, I—"

Theo sighed, stepping back but not letting go of my hand. "You’ve got impeccable timing, Malfoy," he said dryly.

"Do you two want to join us, or are you planning on giving everyone here a show?"

"We’ll catch up later," Theo said smoothly, his eyes still locked on mine. "You go without us, Draco."

Draco smirked. "Alright."

Theo watched Draco walk away before turning back to me. "Now, where were we?"

I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Theo, I—"

"Let’s start with a date," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "What do you say, Y/N?"

"A date?" I echoed, still trying to process everything.

"Yeah, a date," he said, his eyes softening. "And maybe, we can see if you really do scream God's prayers."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[boysinmaidoutfits]

I could have you, couldn’t I?

Part I. Part II.

Theodore Nott x Reader

Planning on making this a series, just wanted to see if anyone likes it! English is not my first language so sorry if there’s any typos! Hope you enjoy!!💚

Summer quickly passed, you mainly spent it with Mattheo (your brother) and with your parents in your beach house, where Theodore’s family visited, your parents were old time friends and it was slowly becoming a habit for them to come every summer, the only thing that your family didn’t know was your old time crush on Theodore, and your first kiss which you shared with him on the beach when you both were drunk, but did Theodore remember? Or were you the only one haunted with memories with his lips on yours?

it was already fall, the crunchy orange leaves, the strange spice in the air which hit your nose everytime you opened your window, fall was your all time favorite season. You put on your mini black skirt, your sweater which was a bit baggy but also hugged your body perfectly, along with your black knee high boots. With a final glance in the mirror you decided you were good to go.

As you stepped out on the hallway from your nicely warmed up dorm room, the slightly chilly air hit you, your nose scrunched a little by the sudden coldness and change in the air, but you didn’t mind it at all. You began walking down in the hallway, chandeliers decorating the ceiling with every step you took, as well as the old gothic windows sparkling as the sun shined through it. You loved to get up early and be productive, sit in the library, grab a latte from your favorite coffee shop this was always your routine during fall. The main thing why you enjoyed it so much was because you could be alone without the other students, they were mostly sleeping, classes only started around 8am. But this day was different, as you stepped into the library with your latte in hand, there he was sitting there all alone at your spot Theodore Nott.

You couldn’t believe your eyes, quickly hiding behind one of the bookshelves. Out of all the people HE had to be here? Your brother’s best friend, you fell for him for the first time you saw him, his mesmerizing blue eyes, his messy hair with his locks, and the way he wore his shirt with a green and black striped tie on it. Goddamnit you liked him so much it hurted, you fantasized about him all the time and now you’re hiding from him. This is pathetic,he probably doesn’t even remember anything that happened between us, i thought to myself as i stepped out from behind the bookshelves, my head bumped against something hard, Theodore’s chest.

“Hiding from me topolino?(little mouse)” he looked down at me with a sly smirk on his face, and oh damn, i knew i was in trouble.