freaks come out at night
summary: On your trip to Hogsmeade to indulge in the Halloween activities Mattheo gets ahold of you. Forcing you to confront both your feelings for him and your own wavering sanity.
pairing: Scare actor!Mattheo x Gryffindor!Reader
word count: 3k
warnings: Explicit smut, hair pulling, handjobs, semi-public sex, fake blood, knife play/fucking, dirty talk, squirting, light misogyny. 18+ MDNI
note: I was feral while writing this. Since it’s on the darker side, if anyone I tagged doesn’t want to read it that is perfectly fine! 🖤 the next few drabbles won’t be this intense. or they could be, whatever y’all want.
“I’m telling you,” Mattheo mutters, “she’s a total freak. The way she looks at me? I know she wants it.”
“Yeah right,” Blaise objects as he adjusts his mask. “She’s a snobby Gryffindor,” he reminds him. “You’re really gonna risk it all for some golden girl?”
“I’m not risking anything,” Mattheo retorts, “She loves all this scary, Halloween shit. Heard her telling her friends in class. I bet she’s kinky as hell. So I’m gonna chase her around, get her all nice and wet—”
Theo lets out a laugh before Mattheo can go into anymore detail. “Imagine the scandal: Dark Lord’s son caught messing around on the jobwith one of Harry Potter’s little groupies.”
Mattheo rolls his eyes, and continues getting himself ready, tugging his gloves on over his knuckles. “Doesn’t matter what you think. I’m good at reading people. She wants me. And I’m gonna make sure she can’t deny it tonight.”
For someone as cool, calm, and collected as Mattheo pretends to be, he sure isn’t nonchalant about how he feels about you. Especially in Potions, where the way he stares at you could burn a hole through your head. Being the Dark Lord’s son, and a Slytherin to boot, you should want nothing to do with him. But yet… There's something about him that has you intrigued.
You’re across the castle in the Gryffindor tower, getting ready with the girls before heading to Hogsmeade. With Halloween fast approaching, the village is buzzing with eerie festivities; most exciting of all, a haunted house. The catch?Mattheo and his friends are said to be working it.
Giggles and mindless chatter fill the room. Candles that smell like cinnamon and pumpkin float overhead, casting their warm glow across cheeks dusted with blush and lips touched up with gloss.
“We know Y/N is looking forward to tonight, she’s super into all that scary stuff… like the oddball she is.” Lavender teases and you grimace. Although this is your favorite time of year, you don’t want to go, not really. You're not exactly thrilled to be in Mattheo Riddle’s presence with Romilda around. She’s been pestering you about him for weeks.
"Don't tell me you're scared?" Lavender questions.
As if Romilda can read your mind, she chimes in.
“She's not scared,” she giggles and you immediately lock eyes with her from the mirror, “she’s excited,” she smirks.
“You-Know-Who is going to be there.”
A few of the girls instantly gasp at her comment and your stomach twists. Not in fear that she’s talking about him, but because you know she isn’t.
“Romilda!” you snap through gritted teeth, turning from the mirror to glare at her. “Would you keep your voice down? You’re going to make everyone panic.”
Romilda only smirks in response, completely unfazed. “Relax, we all know I don’t mean that You-Know-Who.” She tilts her head slyly, eyes flicking back to you. “I meant your You-Know-Who.”
“Drop it!” you groan, turning away to finish applying your mascara. But the damage is done. Now, thanks to Romilda, your friends are attacking you with questions. Even the Patel twins are intrigued.
“Y/N, we didn’t know you liked someone!” They chirp at you in unison.
You don’t. Especially not whoever Romilda’s hinting at. Mattheo Riddle? Absolutely not. Never mind the warm brown eyes, the dark, unruly curls, the danger that surrounds him. Or the way he watches you like he’s starving. Shit.
You’re snapped from your thoughts as you are questioned yet again.
“Does he play quidditch?! What house is he in?!”
Before you can defend yourself, Romilda answers for you.
“Oh, I thought it was obvious?” She taunts, flicking her thick curls over her shoulder before placing her fingers over her mouth, mimicking fangs while hissing like a fool.
“Y’know! He’s tall, dark, brooding—”
“That’s enough,” you cut in sharply, scrambling for a distraction before she says his name aloud.
“Perhaps we should be focusing on something more interesting,” you interject. “Like the very obvious crush Romilda has on Potter?” you say, loud enough to make sure everyone hears you.
That does the trick. The room erupts into laughter, all eyes turning on her now. She flushes, swatting at the air like she can wave the attention away.
“Oh, don’t look so innocent,” you press, enjoying your brief moment of revenge. “You’re impressed that he’s the so-called Chosen One, admit it.”
Romilda straightens her spine, lips curling into a smug smile as if you’ve just proven her point for her.
“He is the Chosen One,” she replies matter-of-factly, arms crossing over her chest.
“And I rest my case!”
The October chill sinks into your bones as you and your friends make your way down the cobblestone street, approaching Hogsmeade. The village is alive and festive. Pumpkins carved with eerie grins flicker from stoops, enchanted lanterns hang in the air above, and the storefront windows are dressed with spiderwebs.
Students from every house mill about in packs, laughing loudly to mask their nerves, daring each other toward the darker corners of the village.
It doesn’t take long before you and the girls round the corner and see it: The haunt. The crooked old house looms at the very edge of the village, it’s ugly and ancient-looking, decorated to resemble the shrieking shack, you presume. A hand-painted sign swings in the wind, creaking with every sway: “Enter If You Dare.”
Fog coils from cracks in the shutters, and every so often you hear the sound of of screams from inside, partnered with the shrieks of fellow students.
Your friend group tightens together, giggles turning to nervous chatter, nudging one another forward.
“Oh Merlin, I can already tell this is going to be terrifying,” Lavender groans, clutching onto Parvati.
“We’re Gryffindors!” you remind them, “We’re supposed to be brave, remember?”
As you and your friends approach the rickety shack, the heavy doors groan open on their own, sending a shiver down your spine. Another group stumbles out, screaming and breathless, their terrified expressions making you even more excited for what’s to come.
With linked arms, you step inside together. The air is cold and carries the faint scent of and something metallic.. like blood.
The first corridor is narrow, lined with portraits that whisper as you pass. Their eyes follow you, some sneering, some weeping, others hissing warnings you can’t understand. A sudden crack makes the frames rattle, and one painting lurches forward as if trying to climb out.
Your footsteps echo on the floorboards, and each sound, whether a dripping pipe or a sudden thump from somewhere deeper in the shack; makes your heart jump. A sudden gust of air rattles the ceiling above, and a large spider drops down in front of all of your faces. Padma screams.
You move forward, sticking close to each other, until the hallway opens into a small chamber. A low light glows from the walls, and you realize the space splits ahead.
“Would you look at that? A split path,” Romilda says, already pulling the others toward the left. “You’re the bad ass,” she mocks you, “you’re into all this weird shit. So you’ll be fine on your own, yeah?”
You know what she’s doing.
Before you can protest, hands push gently at your back, and suddenly you’re standing alone at the mouth of the darker passage. Their voices echo faintly behind you, before disappearing completely but there’s no turning back. The door slams shut between the two corridors with a bang that makes you flinch.
The silence that follows could suffocate you. Your footsteps seem too loud and every shadow makes you jump a little. A single lantern blinks weakly overhead, and as you pass beneath it, the flame flickers out, sending you into complete darkness.
You freeze, heart hammering, straining to hear beyond your own breathing. That’s when you catch it. A slow dragging of footsteps pacing just behind you. You know, instinctively, who it is. You can’t see him, not yet, but the sudden tension is too familiar. It’s the kind of awareness you only ever get around him. That sharp prickle along your skin, like his gaze is threading through the shadows, fixed only on you.
Somewhere close, the faint threat of a laugh echoes through the air and the footsteps stop, and then.. silence. Ice runs through your veins as your pulse quickens. You inch forward, one hand skimming the damp wall before you, reminding yourself it’s just a game, an act. But then, just as you think you feel secure again a large, powerful hand darts out of the dark and snatches your wrist.
You scream, stumbling back, only for your shoulder to slam into a broad chest that wasn’t there a heartbeat ago. Warm breath grazes the shell of your ear, close enough to make you shiver, and a low voice rumbles from behind you.
“Alone so soon?” a voice whispers, deceptively calm, taunting. “So you are brave….. or perhaps a fool.”
You try to twist, but he’s faster. A gloved hand slides down your arm, pinning you just enough to remind you of the game you’ve stepped into. You can’t make out his face in the blackness, but his identity is unmistakable.
Your friends’ laughter is a distant memory now. It’s just you, the pounding of your heart, and Mattheo’s presence all around you, suffocating you and thrilling you in equal measure.
Your cunt begins to throb without warning.
His grip loosens suddenly, allowing you to stumble forward into the dark again, his voice chasing after you with a low, amused growl:
“Aren’t you going to run?”
Adrenaline pumping through you, you dart through the darkness, chest heaving as you run down the dark corridor. Soon you burst into a wide chamber veiled in thick, rolling fog. At the center is a long, rotting table, its wood warped and split beneath the weight of a grotesque feast. Moldy bread, plates filled with bloody, unrecognizable meat, and skulls set in place of candlesticks.
He catches up with you in no time. His breath hot and heavy on your neck as he cages you in, wrapping his strong arms around you tightly, pulling you flush against him and you can feel how hard he already is through his pants.
“Boo!” he taunts in your ear, and goosebumps rise on your skin.
“I… I thought the rules say you aren’t allowed to touch us?” you question nervously and his grip only tightens.
“Do you want me to let go?”
You don’t. Of course you don’t. He knows that.
“Nuh-uh,” you groan.
He laughs darkly, running his nose along the side of your neck, inhaling your scent. You can’t see it, but he perks up like a rabid dog. “I fucking knew it,” he growls. “I knew it was your perfume that I smelled when we brewed Amorentia.”
His words make your heart skip, and suddenly it feels like butterflies are going to burst from your chest.
“I think we both know why you’re really here,” he says before nipping at you, causing you to yelp and grind against him subconsciously.
No point in fighting, he’s got you where he wants you.
“Oh yeah? You want me to beg?” you ask, feeling bold as his cock twitches through his jeans as it presses hard against your ass.
“Maybe. I do like the sound of that… or maybe I just want to test you out, see how far you’re willing to go.”
His hands slide down your sides, around to your front, unbuttoning your pants with experienced quickness. He hooks his fingers into your panties and drags them down your thighs as you too eagerly kick them off. You lean forward, quickly removing your t shirt and bra. One of his hands slides between your legs from behind you, cupping your already dripping pussy while his other hand grabs your chin, forcing you to turn back and look at him.
“Look at that, all ready soaked for me, huh?” He asks before rubbing at your clit eagerly. He abruptly removes his fingers from you and you gasp. In seconds he’s turning you around and lifting you onto the table, pushing the decorations out of his way. He pulls his own pants and boxers down in one swift motion as his painfully hard cock springs free. A moan bubbles in your throat as he moves closer to you, his length nudging against your thigh.
You watch eagerly as he rips his mask off. There he is in all his glory. A shit-eating grin on that beautiful face of his. He slowly pulls a knife out from his pocket before quickly dragging it along your face. You wince. He flips the knife with ease, holding the blade in his palm as he spreads your legs open, tapping the handle against your cunt.
“What are you doing?” You ask, wide-eyed.
You cry out loudly as he rubs the handle between your slick folds. “Oh, baby,” he mocks, seeing your surprised expression, “did you l think I just fuck whoever? That I’d just bend you over and let you cum on my cock?” He asks as he circles the cold handle around your entrance.
“I—”you mumble, “I don’t… I don’t care!” you cry out, too horny to give a fuck what he puts inside of you. “So you’re okay with this?” He probes, already sliding the knife inside of you, painfully slow.
“Mhm.”
He grins wide as he keeps going, the metal feels strange against your warm flesh, but the feeling of fullness is undeniable.
“Tell me how much you love being filled with this knife,” he growls.
“Fuck,” you groan, arching your back as he plunges deeper. The sensation is so overwhelming; pleasure mixed with pain sends waves of heat throughout your body. Your chest heaves as he stretches you wide, filling you to the hilt. “S’good, I love it.”
Mattheo smiles devilishly. “That’s it, take it all,” he says huskily, his breath hot against your skin.
He pulls you closer with one hand, towards the edge of the table so he can thrust harder. The knife slides in and out of you effortlessly now, slick with your juices. His free hand reaches up to grab one of your tits, squeezing roughly while his thumb circles over your nipple.
“I’m gonna make this pretty little pussy cum for me,” he whispers, before leaning in to nip at the sensitive flesh where your jaw meets your neck.
You moan loudly, the combination of sensations driving you to the brink of insanity. He releases your tit, and it now matches your face from when he grabbed it. Fake blood from his hand smeared all over. He could cum at the sight.
He’s positioned himself so his cock meets the rhythm of the knife, rubbing against you, precum smearing along the delicate flesh of your thigh. You reach your hand out, wrapping your delicate fingers around his length. “Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he praises and you take this as sign to continue. Pumping his cock vigorously as he continues his assault on your cunt.
He pulls the knife almost all the way out, leaving just the tip inside you before slamming it back in harshly. You scream again, blood curdling and your body jerks with each of his thrusts. The sound of wet flesh fills the room, mingling with cries of your pleasure.
“Fuck, Mattheo, fuck—I’m gonna…”
His grin is wicked, eyes glinting.
“You wanna cum?”
You shake your head furiously, but your lip is caught between your teeth so hard it nearly bleeds.
“Yes please, please!”
The blade’s handle presses deeper against you, angled up just right, and your whole body threatens to shatter.
“Say it.” His voice is a growl, low and rough. “Say I was right. You do want me.”
Your thoughts scatter, vision blurring as he drives you higher. “I… you—what?”
His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head down, forcing you to watch the knife disappear inside of you repeatedly. Your hand still tugs on his cock.
“Don’t play dumb, slut. You’re dripping all over my blade, you were dripping when I took your clothes off and I’d barely touched you. You wanna cum so bad? Admit it.”
“Fuck,” you groan, tears streaming down your face. “Yes, I want you. I need you,” you moan, desperate and undone. “So, so bad.”
“Look at you, begging like the whore I knew you were,” he rasps, relentless. “That’s a good girl, come on then, cum for me.”
Your thighs tremble, the tightly wound coil inside of you snaps and your eyes roll back into your head. White hot electricity engulfs you. Your cunt pulses so hard it forces Matty’s knife out of you and you gush all over him, releasing his cock from your palm in the process.
“Fuck…” he hisses, watching as you catch your breath. “That’s something you don’t see everyday.” Your body turns hot, cheeks blushed with shame, you’re thankful he can’t see.
You’re sure you look a complete mess. Tears, mascara, fake blood caked all over you and yet Mattheo swears you’re an angel.
You’re twisted, and clearly broken. But you’re not ashamed of the dark parts inside of you. Gryffindor or not, Mattheo knows he needs someone with that kind of fire in them.
“You’ve got to tell me,” he mutters suddenly, voice rough. “Did you slip me a fucking love potion?”
Your wide eyes meet his. “What? No! I would never—”
His lips twist into a half-smirk, though his jaw is tense.
“Feels like it. No other reason I’d want someone this badly. Bloody hell.”
He brushes your damp hair from your face, surprisingly gentle for a fleeting moment, then he grips your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. “Make sure you get yourself together before you go out there, huh pretty girl? he tells you as you get up.
“And don’t fool yourself, princess. This is far from over. You’ve got no idea what you’ve started.”
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