manic dollhouse

with a dash of delusion...

[nottendo]

₊˚ʚ 🎀 ₊˚✧ﾟ. shwing ⋅♡ smut⋅♡ theo's doll - mattheo's second choice⋅♡ depraved

minors do not interact; though - i'm not responsible for your online media consumption. all characters written are aged up to 18+

masterlist *current & priors

[nottendo]

bad habits - mattheo riddle smut. all characters written aged 18+. mdni. the usual.

Somewhere between heaven and hell is Mattheo Riddle’s dorm room where you’re currently flat against your back on his bed, your legs wrapped around his waist like an oh so perfect belt. This shouldn’t be happening. Not the sex. Not the two of you. You ended your on again, off again situationship months ago after he wouldn’t commit to something more stable and accused you of only being interested in him because of his red flags – ugh, yeah. However it seems that old habits die hard you really do swear you can fix him, so after an exchange of words in a corridor after transfiguration being quintessentially yourselves:

“Fuck you, Riddle.” “Oh, I’d love to.”

…you were back to how you both liked each other best. Horizontal.

Mattheo rocked his hips deep and slow; pushing into you with an infuriating control that he prided himself on and knew drove you fucking insane. The silk sheets of his bed clung to your damp skin – uniform only half off, in a rush; as he braced himself above you. His dark eyes locked on your face, like he was studying every expression for the first time over again. Like he wanted to memorise every gasp you took.

“Missed this tight little cunt”, he murmured with a low voice; each word punctuated by a rougher, harder thrust which caused your back to arch, chest brushing his. At the words, your legs tightened around his waist; heels digging into his back as if you were trying to pull him even deeper. If it were possible.

“Mattheo, I swear to god, shut the fuck up…”

There were no heat to your words. No venom. Only need. You dragged your nails down his shoulders, leaving red marks that made him hiss in pleasure that only added to yours. Dropping his head, Mattheo smirked against your neck and grazed his teeth across the sensitive skin before he nipped just below your ear; hard enough to sting, soft enough it plucked a whimper from you.

“So make me..”

Oh, yep. There it was. A challenge – and you hated them. Sliding your fingers into his curls, you pulled him into a hiss that was hot, heavy, needy, wanting, filthy. Tongue sliding across his bottom lip, he nipped at yours; causing you both to groan into each others mouths as he picked up the pace. Thrusting into your harder. Thrusting into you with a snap of his hips that caused anobscene slap of skin on skin to fill the dimly lit dorm room. Slipping a hand between your bodies, Mattheo pressed his thumb flat and firm over your clit; rolling it in tiny circles over and over until your thighs began to shake uncontrollably.

“Oh.. fuck - Matty.. shit, keep going…” “C’mon baby girl. Need you to let go for me.”

That was it. A coil deep in the pit of your stomach snapped. A pleasure washed over you that you weren’t expecting – hot waved crashing across your skin as your cunt pulsed tightly around his cock and you cried out his name like it was something holy. Mattheo cursed at the sound, burying himself to the hilt inside of you and stilling as he followed right after – spilling hot and deep inside of you with a low, broken, needy moan.

For a moment; a minute at most, the only sounds in the room were you ragged breaths and the faint crackle of the fireplace that snuck in from the common room outside the dorm door. Mattheo stayed buried deep inside you; moving his head to rest his forehead against your own and smirked that stupid signature, troublesome smile down at you as he studied you again. This time; for a reaction… of what kind though? Only he’d know.

“So… we still pretending that we’re done?”

In response, you squeezed your legs around him once more, pulling an unexpected twitch from his cock that you chuckled at cruelly. Oh yeah – the boy was ready for round two.

“..shut up, Riddle.”

And to that--- he laughed softly. Mhm, seems some habits indeed are impossible to break.

[nottendo]

not being rude, just letting everyone know that for some reason on my phone i can't reply to anon asks. have read them all though. cheers to everyone who has sent them through!

[nottendo]

a few people know i'm in the process of rewriting my own version of nott-lore and would love some feedback on this, but just...

imagine if theodore nott grew up in a home where love wasn't quiet - it was everywhere....

like his parents were hopelessly, devastatingly in love. disgustingly almost.

i'm talking "my love." "my darling." "my everything."

his father looked at his mother as though she'd personally stitched every single star into the night sky with her own hands, needle and thread. they'd slow dance in the kitchen long after midnight with the radio humming softly in the background, half-empty glasses of wine forgotten on the benchtop and steal kisses when they thought their son wasn't looking. he'd leave little love notes in places only she would find them. compliment her in a dozen different languages just to see her smile. buy her flowers for no reason other than she deserved them.

they were the kind of love people spend their whole lives hoping to find and then mama nott accepted a research assignment that changed everything.

she was struck with a blood curse. something slow. cruel. incurable.

every day became another battle between unbearable pain and borrowed time. every cure they tried failed. every healer came back with the same answer - "i'm sorry."

there was nothing left to save... well, except her dignity. so one night, mama nott asked the only man she'd ever loved for one final act of mercy. she begged him to end her suffering.

and because loving someone sometimes means carrying a pain you'll never recover from... he did.

but theodore was only a little boy and little boys don't understand mercy. they don't understand impossible choices. they don't understand that sometimes the greatest act of love can look exactly like the greatest act of cruelty.

all he saw was his father raise a wand. all he heard was a curse whispered. all he remembers was his mother falling to the ground; limp and quiet.

so he grew up believing his father murdered the woman they both loved most. meanwhile, his father spent every waking day carrying the weight of a promise he never wanted to keep.

so now there are two people mourning the same woman.

one drowning in hatred. the other drowning in guilt; and neither of them knowing how to save what they had left of each other.

thoughts?

[nottendo]

monday - slytherinboy!demigods crackfic. please don't take me seriously. part 1.

Somewhere between heaven and hell, the Gods accidentally created the Slytherin boys.

Everything that followed was simply collateral damage.

Mattheo couldn’t lose his temper without a thunderstorm rolling in overhead. The louder he yelled, the closer lightning struck the mortal world. Entire weather systems developed trust issues, even worse so whenever he participated in monopoly night.

Alongside him, Theodore had been blessed with control of fire. Unfortunately, he also had the attention span of a goldfish. Each time he got bored, something mysteriously caught alight. National forests, curtains, sacred temples. Once, rather impressively, a lake.

To counter this, Blaise was blessed in ruling the sea and had the confidence of a demigod who genuinely believed he was helping. Every attempt to put out one of Theodore’s fires ended the same way: a tidal wave, several flooded villages and an apology fruit basket.

Draco’s emotions affected meteorology in the most inconvenient of ways imaginable. If he watched a sad movie? Rain. If he heard one heartfelt compliment? Snow. If he endured a bad breakup – shit… the authorities issued monsoon warnings.

Last but not least, there was Enzo; who never really needed to raise his voice. He merely whispered secrets into the window which caused doors to slam shut, rock formations to crumble and someone’s deeply embarrassing diary entry to somehow find its way into public circulation.

The Gods called them boys with gifts. Humanity called them natural disasters. Their parents maintained that they "were going through a phase.” Insurance companies called them uninsurable.

And somewhere… on Mt Olympus which had been taken over by Salazar Slytherin himself many centuries ago, it had been decided by the founders of Hogwarts that perhaps giving teenagers divine powers had been a spectacular lapse in judgement.

None of this, however; was the boy’s biggest problem.

No – you – would arrive on Monday…

[nottendo]

HERE TO SUPPORT TOXIC READER BECAUSE FANFICTION IS JUST FANTASY

also don’t tell me reader and Mattheo would wear these shirts 🤭

I AM IN FULL SUPPORT OF THE SHIRT. SOMETHING MUST BE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS! OMLLL!

[nottendo]

writers can write what they want. 👏 writers can create what interests them.👏 writers are not obligated to bend to readers expectations.👏 writers can be selfish and drabble out things that are just for them.👏 let writers have autonomy of their own worlds and works.

[nottendo]

crush - mattheo riddle soft smut. manipulative reader. mdni. for @theladyriddle & @puddlesoffrogs

“Did you hear? Mattheo has a date tonight in Hogsmeade. 8pm. Some Ravenclaw witch.”

You slip through the dimly lit Slytherin corridors like you belong there – because, well; you do. The castle knows you, the shadows know you, the portraits whisper when you pass and well… Mattheo Riddle sure as hell knows you, even if over the last few weeks he’s been trying to convince himself otherwise.

“Oh, Matty has a new crush…”, you whisper to yourself, lips curving as you saunter around in nothing but his old quidditch jersey that skims across your bare skin. The one you used to wear to bed when the two of you were an item.

The jersey still smells like him – sweat, smoke and that sharp, expensive cologne that he gets whenever he visits London on weekends. You’ve washed it a hundred times and yet still – intoxicating. He left it back at your dorm earlier in the semester when you were still ‘pretending’ to be done with one another. You never gave it back. Obviously. Now? It’s the only thing that covers you as you push open the door to his dorm without knocking.

Witch, please!

He’s standing in front of a mirror near his wardrobe, adjusting the collar of a crips black shirt that he looks far too dangerous in, preparing for his so called ‘little date’. For a second, the only sound in the room is the soft click of the dorm door shutting behind you as you kick it with your foot.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

His voice is curt yet delicious. It’s like salted caramel poured over vanilla ice cream – your guilty pleasure and merlin; there’s that familiar hunger you’re so used to hearing flickering behind the surprise of you standing there.

You don’t answer him with words. That would be too simple. Instead, you walk straight across the dorm like you own the space; hips swaying just enough so that the hem of the jersey brushes teasingly against your thighs and ass which causes his gaze to drop in the mirrors reflection immediately. He breaths heavily; just once as you approach, hoping to play it cool.

“I have plans tonight.”

“I know”, you purr, stepping around to stand in front of him, and then in so that your chest brushes against his own. “With some sweet little clueless Ravenbore who probably thinks she can ‘fix you’.”

You reach up; sliding a hand down his chest before giving Mattheo a firm push.

He stumbled back; walking instinctively without realising it towards the bed. “Babe, I really like this girl-.”

You follow no. The back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. With one harsh shove at his chest, he falls flat onto his back with a surprised exhale, eyes widening like a deers in panic as you climb over him and straddle his lap on one smooth and trained motion.

Leaning forward, your lips ghost over his jaw ever so softly, “…and yet here you are, referring me as ‘babe’, Matty.”

His hands automatically find your waist even though he doesn’t want them to; gripping hard through the thin jersey as he groans like you thought he would. “Old habit.”

Without waiting, you roll your hips against his own slowly. Deliberately. Giving Mattheo a teasing lap dance that you hum the music to with a smirk on your face. He clearly doesn’t need it. Fuck, but.. he wants it. The friction makes his breath hitch as you wet cunt slides across his jeans and you feel him harden beneath you immediately.

“Or obsession”, you correct, shifting your lips to graze his own, nipping at the lower one. He moans, Merlin – the sound is fucking beautiful. You grind against him again; this time, letting the jersey ride up just enough to tease. “Be honest, Riddle. Were you planning on going out, sitting across from a date, fake laughing at her innocent little clueless jokes and pretending you don’t still think about this every night?”

Mattheo’s fingers dig further into your hips, eventually guiding your movements as he tries to hold desperately onto some shred of control. “You’re fucking insane.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you feel his heartbeat thunder beneath your palms and moan. His eyes roll back at the sound; head tilting back against the bed as low groan escapes again and you continue with your slow, torturing rhythm.

“Cancel the date, Riddle”, you suggest with a sugar sweet giggle that tickles against the hollow of his throat, “Or don’t. Either way, we both know how tonight is going to end.”

His eyes snap open; pupils blow wide with lust and that familiar obsessive glint you fell for moons ago and know oh so well. His hands slide up the jersey beneath your hem, taking their time to appreciate your warm skin.

“You manipulative little witch…”

The growl which drowns out the words has no real anger in it. No. Only surrender wrapped in dark chocolate like affection. Bitter, but you always crave more. Smiling down at him, you roll your hips against his again, sealing your victory with every teasing moment as you reach down to peel the jersey up and over your head, tossing it somewhere far away from the bed.

“Fuck…”, you utter euphorically as the cool air of the dungeon dorms hits you with a crash. “…want you to make me scream tonight, Matty. Loud enough the portraits hear.”

He smirks.

Mhmmm – you think smugly to yourself, looking at him beneath you with an awe you should be ashamed of. He’s a psycho. You’re a red flag. His toxic. You’re tainted. Either way, as his control begins to visible dissolve beneath you; you do know one thing…

..that little crush he had – it isn’t lasting. Not one bit. Not at all.

[nottendo]

round two

theodore nott. soft smut. mdni.

Hot breath down the back of your neck right now was the least of your worries.

You had planned on meeting friends just after 8 in Hogsmeade for some post-exam celebratory drinks before the semester came to an end, but instead the clock on your bedside that you could see in the reflection of the vanity mirror read 7.56 and you hadn’t even gotten dressed yet.

Dressed was perhaps an understatement. You did at one point indeed have clothing on. A pretty little black dress that skimmed mid thigh and had pockets you couldn’t stop talking about all afternoon the day you got it.

This dress though; tossed on the bathroom floor. Along with your heels. Along with your underwear. Along with your dignity.

“Fuckin’… Theodore!”

A sharp snap of his hips sent you forward, hand bracing the vanity sink as your eyes began to roll into the back of your head. One of his hands had woven into your hair; forcing you to look up at the reflection of your naked bodies in the mirror, his other hand; shifting to prop you knee up on the vanity edge to have each thrust go deeper.

This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Theo often liked to ruin your plans. It turns out that, that’s what ex boyfriends do best. Adore you. Court you. Love you. Leave you. Still manage to have you screaming at them and begging for more.

He’d swung past your dorm to drop off some books that he’d found in the middle of packing his trunk for the summer break. Was it a convenient excuse? Maybe. Had he heard you were heading out? Absolutely. Did he know it wasn’t just your friends that you were meeting for drinks, but that new boy you fancied? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

So, Theo decided to do what he did best. Fuck you senseless to the point that you’d either be late with bruises all down your neck that makeup wouldn’t hide and you’d be forced to indulge your friends with the details of what had just happened or, stay in and spend the night with him instead.

Little shit.

“Uhh – forgot how fucking tight this pretty little cunt was.”

Your brain couldn’t function to long enough to come up with a reply; instead, a moan just ripped through from the back of your throat as you slid back and lifted your ass a little higher to deepen the thrusts. Panting like a dog in heat as your tits began to spill out of your bra with how rough he sent you forward.

Theo’s hand on your thigh slid up gently, slipping between your legs to toy with your soaked clit as your body withered. Voice whimpering. Your phone on the vanity had begun ringing – friends calling through to the point it almost vibrated itself onto the floor.

The mirrors reflection showed the time. 8.01.

You were late, but fuck – you were oh so close.

Trying to prop yourself up, you failed when you felt your clit get pinched. The sensitive bundle of nerves throwing your body into euphoric overdrive as Theo sunk his teeth into the crook of your neck.

“…don’t even think about coming too soon, Bella”, he warmed with a growl; hot breath cursing down the back of your neck again. “And if you do… cazzo – you’re not that late. We’ve got plenty of time for round two.”

[nottendo]

forever, never, goodbye

slytherin boy au - off to war drabbles.

Mattheo

One more argument over this ridiculous war that he’d volunteered for, and you were done. The relationship was done. Several years washed away because of a split second decision he couldn’t help but make.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Instead, you stood in the hallway with your infant son balanced and propped on your hip, watching as Mattheo crouched down beside the front door as he laced up his boots like it were a religious ritual. The metal dog tags hanging low around his neck tapped softly against his chest with each breath taken.

“You don’t have to go”, you whispered. You were determined not to break. Not again. You’d cried all night.

Mattheo smiled without looking up. “Yeah.”

“So then, don’t.”

A silence settled between you both. You could feel the knot in the back of your throat tightening uncomfortably, causing your breath to fall short. When he finally stood up, he walked over to you in three long strides and leaned forward, kissing your forehead ever so gently before brushing two fingers beneath your son’s tiny chin which earned a gurgle of laughter.

The kid didn’t know any better.

“I’ll be back, princess”, his voice was steady enough to be certain. Steady enough to make you hate him for it. “You know that for you I always keep my promises.”

Fuck. Hell. You wanted to believe him. Badly. Honestly.

Instead however, you memorised the weight of his arms around you as he embraced you in a hug just once before leaning out the front door, terrified that the feeling of him might be nothing more than a memory before the day was even over.

Theo

Theodore packed in complete silence.

You hated it.

The duffelbag he’d placed the contents of his life into sat neatly on the end of the bed. Every folded shirt perfectly aligned, every buckle fastened with a meticulous precision. You watched on curiously. It was as if he had determined that being organised somehow made leaving easier.

Typical Nott behaviour.

Watching on from your vanity, you nervously twisted your engagement ring around your finger endlessly. Every now and again, the rock would catch your skin, pinching you back into reality.

“So when should I stop waiting?”

Your voice wasn’t loud – each word scraping against your tongue, but it were enough to cause him to stop. Hands freezing mid motion. A click in his jaw. The vein down the side of his neck tightened.

Theodore didn’t answer immediately. Exhaling, he lifted a hand to brush his fingers through his hair roughly and finally, brought himself to walk over to you; crouching down in front of where you sat to cup your face ever so gently and tenderly that the gesture nearly broke you. Tears weren’t due to start, but when he rested his forehead against your own, they did.

“I don’t want you to.” “Theo---.” “Baby, if I don’t come home”, his voice caught for the first time all morning, “I need you to keep living anyway.”

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pull him in closer before he could finish.

“…no.”

His arms wrapped around the back of your waist and held you tighter.

“I know”, he repeated like a prayer, “I know…”

Draco

You’d never seen Draco struggle with a tie before. Ever. He’d redone it four times already in the span of the last two minutes, muttering under his breath something you couldn’t quite hear as he stared into the bathroom mirror.

“You’ve forgotten how to wear one?”, you questioned with a small smile. “I’ve forgotten how to leave you.”

That smile you wore – instantly gone. His confession was so quiet you almost missed it.

Almost.

You walked over and placed your hands on his shoulders, turning him around to face you before pulling the knot loose and tied it for him yourself with trembling fingers.

“You’ll write?”, you asked. “Every chance I get.”

You nodded.

“And you’ll come home?”

His cold grey eyes flickered to look up at you then. Not like someone who held the Malfoy name. Not like the decorated officer standing in this tiny, bathroom space.

Just your husband.

The boy, the man, the menace – you fell in love with.

“I’ll spend every second trying.”

Taking your hand, he brought it up to his lips, kissing your wedding band softly before shifting past you to walk out the door; leaving nothing but the scent of his cologne lingering in the much emptier than you’d wanted manor; long after the car engine you’d heard idling earlier had faded off into the distance.

Blaise

Contrary to popular beliefs; Blaise hated goodbyes.

He’d rather make you laugh than admit he was afraid, and see you smile over watching you cry. So to that, he’d spent the entire day teasing you for overpacking his bags and slipping chocolate back into cupboards every time you tried to sneak another in for him.

“Are you planning on feeling the entire battalion?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I’m planning on feeding my idiot boyfriend.”

His grin faltered as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his lap. Uncharacteristically, he reached out to the bedside table nearest him and half opened the top drawer, staring into it for a few seconds before shutting it, like the choice he wanted to make wasn’t his to do so.

You’d known about the ring box he’d hidden in there for weeks. You were waiting. Patiently. It seemed now though that you’d be waiting even more.

Taking your hand, Blaise placed it on his chest so that you could feel his head beat. Steady. Powerful. Yours.

“You know”, you muttered, smiling at him, hoping to keep a brave face, “-you don’t have to be brave all the time.”

“I know”, he replied, pulling you close to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

“You can tell me you’re scared, Zabini.”

He kissed your neck softly before sighing. “I am.” The two words barely existed above a whisper. “But if I stay… someone else goes instead.”

Valor at its finest. Although right now; you’d be more than content with him staying and not leaving when the sun came up the next morning.

[nottendo]

someone convince me that theodore's middle name shouldn't be james, and that mattheo shouldn't call him tj. i'll love you forever if you can kick this stupid idea out of my head.

[nottendo]

fuck jkr. i want to extend the slytherboy universe by adding some family in. anyone around to discuss potential siblings with me? oh and smut ideas.... because that fluff from the other day hurt my ribs.

[nottendo]

cuddles - theodore nott just fluff. i can't believe i wrote fluff. what is happening to me? i must be sick. for @theladyriddle and @puddlesoffrogs

You sink further into the pile of blankets you’ve got spread across your bed; quill in your hand scratching steadily across parchment that’s in your lap. In the corner of your dorm, a fire crackles softly in the hearth while outside, rain taps against windows that frame Mother Nature’s reckless abandonment of what should have been your date night plans rather discreetly.

Why not stay in and study when the weather is meek? The best thing about all this? Well, attached to your side, like a particularly stubborn parasite is Theodore.

Soft. Warm. His heavy sighs making your heart race and your pulse weak.

“You’ve read that page three times already...” his voice murmurs with a groan. “I haven’t.” “You have.”

Rather than arguing, you flip a page in the textbook beside you and continue to scribble down notes for an upcoming quiz you have on celestial bodies for Astronomy later in the week. Then you pause; swiping your tongue across your bottom lip before smirking slightly at the fact he’s right. Merlin, he’s always right.

“...alright - maybe twice.”

His laugh, warm and cozy like pancakes drowned in syrup that you've been craving since breakfast, vibrates against your shoulder and creeps up your neck, heating your skin. He’s curled into your side shamelessly. Needily. One arm draped around your waist; his face tucked into the crook of your neck as though that’s simply where he belongs.

With every word he speaks, his hair brushes against your jaw making it very hard to focus.

Very.

“Can you move?” you ask softly. “Nope.” “Theodore, I have a test to prepare for.” “How tragic.”

His grip tightens around you and he kicks a leg over your own to shuffle an inch closer. You sigh dramatically yet secretly love the attention. You’ve been dating for months and whenever date night plans get ruined, he always gets like this.

Needy. Affectionate. Entirely unwilling to function unless he's touching you somehow. At first, it was cute. Now… just adorable.

“You are actively ruining my future, you know that?” “I think my presence enriches it actually”, he adds.

“It doesn't.” “It does.” “Theodore.” “Mhmm?”

You fight the smile threatening to pull at your lips although it’s a battle you don’t win. He notices immediately.

“You're smiling.” “No, Theo - I'm not.” “You are.” “Nope.” “You absolutely are.”

There’s another pause from you as you take a deep breath to sigh, but then low and behold – his nose nudges softly against your neck. You immediately lose your place in your notes. Fuck. Your eyes scan the same sentence three times. Then four. Merlin’s beard… five times.

You fail to absorb a single bloody word. This idiot lying beside you knows exactly what he's doing.

“You did that on purpose, Nott.” “Did what babe?”

His voice is muffled against your skin as he speaks and you feel a spark rush down your spine as without noticing, your body begins to curl itself into him.

“That!” “What is that, exactly?”

You glare at the page you’re trying to read… then at him.

“Theodore.”

His shoulders shake with quiet laughter as he tightens his grip on your more so. Instead of responding, he just stays silent and buries his face further into the crook of your neck.

“Silence is not an answer.”

Neither happens to be the way that his fingers begin tracing absent minded patterns against your sides. His touch is nothing scandalous. Nothing inappropriate. It’s just lazy circles through the fabric of your jumper as he spells out your nickname with a warm touch.

It’s comfortable. Familiar. The sort of touch that somehow distracts you more than anything else ever could and ugh, it feels perfect. Outside over the castle, thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance as mother nature boils with emotion at the world.

Inside your dorm, Theodore lets out another content sigh and settles even closer than he had been before. For the love of Merlin.

You are never passing Astronomy at this rate.

“You should be doing something productive too”, you mutter hoping to buy yourself a few moments to actually study.

“I am.” “You're practically lying on me.” “Exactly.”

You huff. He’s won. Theodore grins. He knows. You can hear his victory without it even being announced.

A minute passes. Then another. The another. Then – yeah you guessed it: another. Your quill begins to slow. The it stops scratching words out entirely. The parchment in your lap remains blank for far longer than it should.

Theodore notices and perks up as he begins to press kisses against your skin that pepper up the side of your neck.

“Giving up already babycakes?”

How you hate that nickname.

“No.” “Mmm.” “No.” “Mhmmm.”

You place the quill down, half tossing it on the bed and feel the way his grin widens against your skin. Then you huff in absolute defeat.

“I actually hate you some days.” “You are a terrible liar, babe.”

Unfortunately… yeah; you are. You let your head fall back against the pillows with a groan and the second you do, Theodore moves. Like this has been the permission he’s been waiting for all evening. His arm slinks further across your waist as he knocks anything you’re still holding out of the way and shifts to make himself comfortable on top of you.

You whimper unexpectedly. The pleased noise he makes is downright embarrassing and you’re so freaking glad you’re both in your dorm room alone. He gets comfortable between your legs and brushes his lips across your own. You want to be frustrated, annoyed; maybe hex him, but the feeling of him against you like this....

You whimper. He smirks.

“There we go.”

He settles down for another cuddle and clings onto you like you’re heaven sent on earth.

“Theodore, you're ridiculous.” “…and you love me.”

You roll your eyes so hard they may as well almost get stuck in the back of your head permanently. Either way, out of habit, your hand finds his hair to stroke through the soft locks anyway. His reaction is immediate. Theodore’s eyes flutter shut. Then his entire body visibly relaxes. He melts into you and you embrace him completely.

The sight is so unfairly adorable that it nearly makes you laugh. Nearly.

“Oh, you’re the most pathetic wizard there is...”

“Don't care”, he murmurs softly; heart beating against your chest.

“You’ve practically melted.”

Your hand stops stroking his hair for a second and he shifts to chase the feeling.

“Mhmm.. keep doing that.”

Your fingers thread through his hair again. Slowly. Carefully. As if the move is some sacred little ritual that you’ve got reserved only for him and yeah… truth be told, it actually is. Theodore lets out a satisfied hum that settles somewhere beneath your ribs and you smile at the mess you’re making of him. Gone in the wind is the sharp tongued Slytherin who can talk circles around professors and scare half the school with a single look that is lowkey terrifying.

In his place… just your boyfriend.

Who is comfortable. Who is sleepy. Who is annoyed that date night got cancelled, however seems completely content all because he’s melted into your arms and you’re playing with his hair.

Puppy dog style pathetic.

“Merlin Theodore”, you whisper. “You really just wanted cuddles huh?”

One of his eyes cracks open as he grins mischievously. “I've been trying to hint at it forhours.”

You laugh softly. It’s sweet. To Theodore – the noise sounds like both a lullaby and a daydream. Outside; the rain gets harsher and begins to hammer against the windows. You really couldn’t care though. Your homework now sits abandoned. Your textbook drops off the side of the bed without a care. The Astronomy quiz you were trying to prepare for suddenly feels like a problem for tomorrow.

Because right now… Theodore is warm. Warmer than the fire. Warmer than the syrup you’ve been craving and before long you even register it, his breathing begins to slow against your neck. Soft. Warm. Sleek.

You glance down with a subtle shift.

He is fast asleep. Looking like an angel. Looking like sin. Of course he bloody is. The slytherin parasite got exactly what he wanted. You shake your head with a giggle before rolling your eyes and pressing a gentle kiss into his hair. Then you stroke your fingers through it once last time.

Tomorrow you'll study. Maybe. Maybe. For tonight however; you’ll let your boyfriend win.

[nottendo]

someone give me soft slytherin boys who bury their face into the crook of your neck and whine when you tell them you have to study but they just want 5 more minutes of cuddles because they've had a terrible day and your warmth makes them feel at home.

then, obviously - cuddles turns into fucking and low and behold you're pinned face down, ass up on the bed as they plow into you.

[theladyriddle]

"Tonight, I'm in the hands of fate I hand myself over on a plate now / Come, pull my strings, watch me move I'd do anything, please (I'm yours to keep)." —Behind The Wheel - Depeche Mode

The red glow of your bedroom lights illuminates Mattheo's sharp features as he grins at you beneath the crimson hues.

(You'd insisted they're romantic. His mouth had been too busy to disagree.)

The relationship between you is still new; the giddiness of falling for someone lingers over your every interaction. His kisses sprout butterflies in your stomach. His smile knocks the breath straight from your lungs.

It's that very same smile that has your heart thudding with a nervous beat as his hand snakes around your neck and glides under your hair like it belongs. His thumb, left free, rubs circles into the side of your throat. His grip is firm; it makes you feel safe and secure in a way you never before knew anyone could.

Mattheo pulls you into a kiss, your lips brushing together—once, twice, more; so chaste it makes your heart melt. When he finally pulls back, his dark eyes are sparkling with playful joy, ruby-red from the luminance.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen.

"You know," he murmurs, swiping his thumb up and down your neck, "I keep thinking how pretty you would look covered in hickeys." His grin turns predatory as he leans in at an angle and turns your neck in the direction of his hand, leaving your throat exposed to him. He begins to press firm kisses on the skin, each one slow and deliberate.

"Don't you dare," you breathe out in warning, even as goosebumps rise on your skin from the sensation. Damn him, and his soft lips, and his sultry grin, and absolutely everything else about him.

He sucks on the tough skin, his lips light enough to create a vacuum but not quite rough enough to leave marks. "I won't, pretty girl, don't worry," he hums in reassurance, though he's already found a new spot to worship with his attention. He licks a stripe up your neck, his tongue hot and wet. "But maybe one day..." His teeth graze on your skin, nip teasingly to wind you up as he continues, "One day, when we're all alone and no one's around to see..."

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your mind grows hazy from lust at even these simple gestures. He sucks a little bit harder, enough to leave a red mark that would fade by the next morning. You gasp quietly as he continues, "One day, like maybe on our honeymoon..." He punctuates the statement with another nip, but you barely notice it.

Honeymoon? He was already thinking about a honeymoon? You freeze, swallowing the lump in your throat as you listen to his seductive drawl.

"One day," he repeats, "I'll cover every inch of your body with my marks, until you're red and purple everywhere I can reach. Then, finally, everyone who ever looks at you will know that you're mine."

It's a hauntingly possessive statement for a relatively new relationship, but you can't hide the heated shiver it sends down your back. And you definitely can't hide your quiet moan when he goes ahead and sucks a love bite into your neck anyway.

At least he had the decency to do it where you can hide it with your hair, you manage to think before you kiss him senseless.

p.s.—welp, my first post. big thank you to @puddlesoffrogs for the beta read, as well as my irl editor E. and huge thank you to everyone who put up with all my stubbornness in the pursuit of peer pressuring me to post my first fic/drabble, lol. love you all <3

[nottendo]

IF YOU'RE A MATTHEO GIRLY GO READ MY FRIENDS FIRST POST OR I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND FORCEFULLY READ IT TO YOU. xoxox

[nottendo]

round two - raver!theo x clubber!reader aged up 18+ as always; read at your own media consumption.

for @solasuniverse - thank you for putting up with me. i wrote this on my lunch break. enjoy xo ((not edited, not proofread. i'm sorry!))

Venom – Hogsmeade’s newest club is vibing. Your friends convinced you to go out tonight. Your original plans had just been to study, but after a few threatening text messages and the promise of a ‘night of your life’ you slipped into a dress that was sitting at the back of your wardrobe for good reason and threw yourself into chaos the moment you walked in.

The bass is hammering through your ribcage before you’re even on the dancefloor. You’ve got a drink in hand that a random passerbyer gave you and you’re 50/50 about taking a sip. The music thrums through you like a second heartbeat; strobe lights cut in sharp flashes across your face and before you know it you’re standing in the middle of a crowd of sweat slicked bodies grinding up against anything that has a pulse or rhythm.

It’s overwhelming. The people, the sounds, the vibe. That is until the boy you’ve stolen glances from all semester across a potions station in Snape’s Thursday afternoon class locks eyes with you through the haze of chaos and suddenly your whole world goes from technicoloured to calming grey.

Theo is all sharp edges and dark charisma. Usually, whenever you see him you’re fawning over the fact that his Slytherin uniform drapes him oh so perfectly, but tonight; the mesh shirt that clings to his lean, toned chest along with ripped jeans make him look sinful and delicious. His hair’s a mess from dancing, he moves through the crowd like a hunter stalking prey; and before you know it, your backs against his chest as his hands grab at your hips – pulling you close in the crowd like he owns you; the hard line of his cock already straining against your ass.

“…look who came out to play tonight.” His voice in your ear sounds like a sin and a prayer. Warm breath chases down the slope of your neck and the moment he spins you around; your hands find his chest; fisting his shirt before he cups your face and pulls you in for a kiss that’s filthy from the get go – tongue sliding in past your lips, teeth nipping, saliva mixing as a pill from his mouth gets passed into yours and you groan in acceptance.

His hands drop to run down your body before they find their way to your ass and yank you in tighter against him. Slipping beneath your hem, his fingers massage their way past your panties and you choke out a moan in distress.

“C’mon.”

Theo doesn’t waste time. Fuck – why would he? Grabbing your wrist, he drags you through the writhing crowd towards the clubs bathrooms without missing a beat. The hallway is dim. The floors are sticky. The bass from whatever song it is the dj is playing vibrate the walls and the inside of your thighs. He walks the both of you into an empty stall, slamming the door behind you and locks it lazily as your mouths once again find each others to collide.

His belt is far too easily undone; jeans dropped, your dress shoved up around your waist. He drops to his knees; teeth grazing your panties as he yanks them down and licks a thick, slow stripe between your folds to your clit. Before you can breathe; he buries his tongue into your pussy without warning. Groaning. It’s like bliss.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD..”

Before you can register what’s going on, he hooks one of your legs over his shoulders, devouring everything you have on offer. He’s relentless; tongue lapping with a teasing flick across your clit before fucking into you; sucking your juices, moaning against your like he’s the one who’s getting head. Before you even notice, you’re grinding against his face, smearing wetness against his mouth and chin that drenches your thighs and has Theo’s lips shining as he stands up to capture you in a kiss again.

“—fuck.”

His jeans dropping a little further, boxers down; his cock springs free – long, thick, flushed with a red tip and already leaking. You reach out and stroke it; his eyes blowing wide and grey with need.

“On your knees”, he orders with a smirk, “..and how about you open that pretty little mouth for me?”

You do as asked; dropping onto the dirty stall floor without hesitation and take him in deep. He fucks your throat with shallow thrusts; one hand tangled into your hair as your eyes water and the other braces against the wall behind you; angling him perfectly.

“Mhmm, fuck.. yeah – just like that.”

You begin to choke.

“Good little fucking slut.”

Saliva drips down your chin and onto your tits as Theo uses your mouth like his own personal little fuck toy. After a minute, he pulls you up and spins you around; bending you over the toilet as he wraps a hand around your throat to hold you down and lines up behind you; slamming himself in with one brutal thrust into your soaked cunt.

“FU--.”

The stretch is so good that you cry out as it burns. He doesn’t give you time to adjust; instead just pounding into you hard, his hips snapping against your own loudly against your ass as the wet sounds echo off the walls.

“Taking me so fucking deep, principessa. So fucking good.”

You try, but can’t even answer – instead just moan as the pill you took earlier makes its way through your system and push your ass back onto his cock as every thrust you receive turns into liquid ecstasy. He reaches around; fingers pinching at your clit and you swear that you can feel him in your stomach as you begin seeing white. Theo leans down, biting at your shoulder and your head snaps back, half turning to look at him.

“T-T-The…”

“Gonna full this greedy fucking pussy”, he groans into the crook of your neck; thumb and forefinger still twisting your clit. “Gonna have my cum dripping down your thighs on the dancefloor later sweetheart; then I’m gonna drag you back to my dorm and fuck it back into you again.”

Your eyes roll back at his words. Your vision whites. The orgasm building hits you unexpectedly like a freight train as your body shakes, your cunt flutters and your walls start clenching around his cock. He curses warm against your skin; burying himself into the hilt and cumming hard as he pumps rope after rope of thick, hot cum deep inside of you.

Theo’s hands on your hips; he doesn’t pull out once he’s done, instead just grinding you slow and deep as he fucks in any drop that’s threatening to spill out and rides the aftershock as your body goes limp.

A knock at the stall door snaps the two of you back into reality. He tells whoever is on the other side to fuck off and pulls out, a hand dropping between the both of you as he strokes stiffness back into his cock and spins you around to hitch your leg up before he buries back deep inside of you.

“Better yet..”, he smirks; leaning in to kiss you. “How about we just stay here and try round two?”

[nottendo]

forgot to do a 1.5k follower celebration (and a 1k one..) so... the request box is open (if it doesn't eat your asks).