she told you she’s celibate, but she told me I can rail her shit
Theo had been your best friend since before either of you could properly walk, a bond that never wavered, even as you grew older and Hogwarts became your shared stomping ground. Your friendship was simple, easy—even if he did have a habit of oversharing details of his sex life that you could really, really do without.
You were sitting with Theo, Enzo, and Blaise at the Slytherin table, picking at your food while Theo recounted—far too enthusiastically, might you add—his latest escapade.
"Mate, I swear, I had her begging—"
"Merlin, Theo," you groaned, stabbing a piece of fruit with your fork. "Honestly, I don’t know why you put yourself in these positions when you know you're leading these girls on."
Theo just grinned, unbothered. “Can’t help it, darling. You know how they get when I—”
"You ever try talking to these girls first? Or is it straight to sticking your dicks down their throats?" Before you could roll your eyes, a presence dropped into the seat beside you. The scent of smoke and something inherently masculine curled around you, the unmistakable cologne of Mattheo Riddle invading your senses.
"What's this, then?" His voice was low, amused as he reached over, stealing a chip off your plate. "You giving Nott a lecture on morality, princess?"
You exhaled sharply through your nose, refusing to turn toward him. “Just asking if you whores ever have a conversation with a girl instead of thinking with your—” his hand reached over your plate once again, taking another chip.
"Now, where’s the fun in that?" he mused, popping it into his mouth.
You rolled your eyes, refusing to engage. "Of course you would say that, Riddle."
Theo let out a loud, amused groan, smacking the table. "Alright, alright, calm down, Thou Holy Virgin Mary"
You blinked. "Excuse me?"
Blaise shook his head, laughed under his breath. Enzo snorted into his drink.
But Mattheo—Mattheo—practically collapsed against the table, laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his seat. "No fucking way," he wheezed, pressing a hand to his chest as he recovered.
Your cheeks burned. The heat spread down your neck, prickling against your skin, but you refused to let it show.
"You lot are laughing at me," you huffed, tossing your fork onto your plate, "but at least I don’t have to worry about pushing a fucking kid out of me anytime soon."
Mattheo snorted, his amusement shifting into something more smug. "Yeah, okay, princess," he drawled, leaning into your space. His voice was low, teasing, but his eyes were sharp, glinting with something dark. "No wonder you’re so uptight. Explains why you’re such a bitch."
That pissed you off.
You turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing, expression carefully composed despite the way anger coiled hot in your gut. The others had already lost interest, falling back into their own conversations.
“Oh, I’ll have you know, Riddle,” you said, voice low, syrupy-sweet. “A girl can take matters into her own hands.”
Mattheo blinked. Just once.
You didn’t wait for a response. You stood smoothly, grabbing your book bag, and just for good measure, you leaned down just enough to let your lips ghost near his ear.
"You’d be surprised what I can do without a man."
And then? You walked away. Swaying your hips. Feeling his eyes burn into your back.
By the time you reached the door, you dared one last glance over your shoulder.
And there it was.
Mattheo, still seated, still staring, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and fuck, I’m turned on.
It was late, the library was completely empty with the exception of those in the moving portraits keeping you company. Most students had long since gone to bed, leaving only a dim glow of candlelight flickering between the shelves.
And you weren’t stupid. You had felt it.
The shift in the air. The way the back of your neck tingled. The weight of a stare burning between your shoulder blades.
You knew it was him.
Still, you pretended not to notice. You turned the page of your book, eyes trained on the words, until—
“Taking matters into your own hands, huh?”
His voice was low. Smooth. Dark with something predatory.
You didn’t jump. Didn’t react. Just hummed, dragging your gaze lazily up to where he stood.
Mattheo leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, dark curls falling into his eyes.
You raised a brow. “Something you need?”
His lips curved. “I think you know exactly what I need.”
A slow heat curled in your stomach. You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What, Riddle? A book? Help with your homework?”
Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, caging you against the table. His hands found the wood, fingers curling against it as he leaned down—so close you could feel his breath against your cheek.
You refused to look up. Refused to acknowledge the warmth pooling low in your stomach.
But Mattheo? He knew.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he murmured.
His fingers brushed your thigh.
You swallowed hard. “And what’s that?”
Mattheo tilted his head, eyes flickering between yours and your mouth.
“You can show me,” he murmured. “How you take matters into your own hands.”
He saw the way your fingers twitched against the table. The way your lips parted just slightly, as if debating whether to let yourself fall or run. And, like the smug bastard he was, he waited.
“Nothing to say?” he mused, his breath brushing the side of your jaw. His fingers drummed against the wood, lazy, slow. “Funny. You had plenty to say at lunch.”
The heat between you was unbearable. His knee pressed between your legs, just enough to send a spike of need through you, but not enough to satisfy the ache building low in your stomach.
Mattheo saw.
Felt it.
And then—he pushed deeper.
“I bet you like it,” he murmured, dragging his nose along the curve of your jaw. “Being the good little princess. The one no one can touch. The one no one fucks.”
Your breath hitched.
“Bet you get yourself off thinking about it, don’t you?” His lips brushed just against your ear. “How desperate they’d be to ruin you?”
You clenched your teeth, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.
He saw it anyway.
Felt the way your body betrayed you, thighs squeezing around the knee he’d wedged between them, the pulse of your breath, the heat rolling off you in waves.
Mattheo hummed, pleased.
Then, before you could react, his hand slid under your skirt.
You gasped. “Mattheo—”
But he wasn’t listening.
“I mean, let’s be honest, yeah?” His knuckles brushed the inside of your thigh. “A girl can take matters into her own hands, sure—but it’s not the same, is it?”
He leaned in, lips barely brushing your ear. dragging his fingers higher, pressing against the damp fabric of your underwear.
“Look at that,” he mused. "Virgin Mary isn’t so innocent after all."
Your fingers curled against the table. "I will kill you."
He just laughed, dark and low. "Yeah? You gonna do it with my fingers in your cunt, or after I fuck you stupid?"
Your brain short-circuited.
Mattheo used your stunned silence to his advantage, slipping his fingers beneath your underwear, dragging them through the slick pooling between your thighs.
"Fuck, Mattheo—"
He hums, watching your face, the way your lips part, the way your brows pull together in pleasure.
"You’re soaked," he smirks. "Thought you didn’t like me."
"I don’t like you," you pant, back arching as his fingers move faster, working you open, leaving you breathless.
He laughs. "Sure, princess."
He pulls his fingers out, and you whimper at the loss, at the emptiness. But then he’s undoing his belt, pushing his slacks down just enough, and your stomach tightens at the sight of him—thick, hard, leaking at the tip.
Mattheo catches your gaze, smirking. "You’re staring."
You roll your eyes, even as you hook your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Are you gonna talk all night, or are you gonna—fuck—"
Because he’s already sliding inside, pushing into you inch by inch, stretching you open in the most devastating way.
"Shit," he groans, hands gripping your thighs. "So fucking tight."
Your fingers dig into his shoulders, head falling back as he fills you completely. You feel everything—the way he pulses inside you, the way his breath stutters against your neck, the way he’s holding himself back, barely resisting the urge to ruin you.
"Mattheo," you whisper. "Deeper, please—"
Something in him snaps.
His grip tightens, and then he’s fucking you—hard, deep, brutal. Every thrust shoves you harder against the wall, knocking the breath from your lungs. You cling to him, nails raking down his back, thighs trembling.
"That what you want?" he rasps, snapping his hips forward, making you cry out. "You want me to fuck you deeper?"
You can’t answer. Can’t think. All you can do is take it, take him, let him fuck you so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat.
"Should’ve known," he mutters, biting down against your shoulder. "All that attitude—just a needy little slut underneath, huh?"
You whimper, gasping his name, digging your heels into his lower back, urging him closer, deeper.
Mattheo groans, pulling back just enough to look at you—your lips swollen, your pupils blown wide, your expression absolutely wrecked.
"Fuck," he mutters. "You look so good like this. Bet Theo would kill me if he knew."
You’re too far gone to care.
"Don’t stop," you plead, voice breaking.
He doesn’t.
He fucks you through it, fucks you until you’re falling apart around him, nails dragging down his spine, thighs squeezing tight around his waist as your orgasm rips through you.
"You feel that?" His voice was wrecked, panting, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he buried himself inside you. "That’s what it’s like when a real man fucks you, sweetheart."
Mattheo groans at the feeling, his pace stuttering, his grip bruising. And then he’s spilling inside you, breathless and wrecked, pressing his forehead against yours as he cums, his thrusts erratic as they slowed.
You were still catching your breath, skirt bunched around your waist, Mattheo’s hands gripping your thighs with a possessive kind of desperation. As he finally pulled out, breath heavy against your ear. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back, taking in the sight of you—disheveled, marked up, and absolutely wrecked beneath him.
His fingers brushed over your thigh before he whispered, “Was that your first?” His voice was dripping with smugness, already assuming he knew the answer. “Did you like it?”
You tilted your head up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. Oh, Mattheo…
“Do you really think I’d lose my virginity to you?” you mused, voice laced with sweet mockery as you reached for your skirt, slipping it back on with slow, deliberate movements. You adjusted it, smoothing out the creases, completely unfazed by the way his expression darkened.
Mattheo’s smirk faltered. “What?”
His expression shifted—something sharp, something dark. "What the fuck does that mean?"
You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder with an easy smirk. "It means, sweetheart," you said, voice dripping with faux sympathy, "that you really should have a chat with Theo sometime."
His brows furrowed, confusion flickering before realization settled in like a slow-burning fire.
"Oh," you mused, tapping your chin like you were deep in thought. "You don’t know about him, do you? About how he doesn't really get the whole 'kiss and don’t tell' thing?"
You slung your bag over your shoulder, taking your time fixing your hair in the reflection of a nearby window. turning to face him, "I don’t kiss and tell—but unfortunately for you, Theo definitely does." you said sweetly.
His brows furrowed. "Theo—what the fuck are you talking about?"
You leaned in, just close enough that he could smell the faint hint of perfume on your skin, the remnants of whatever sin you two had just committed. "Ask him about me sometime," you murmured, a smirk playing at the edges of your lips. "I’m sure he’d love to share the details."
You turned to leave, but not before tossing one last dagger straight at his ego. “Oh, and Mattheo?” You glanced over your shoulder, giving him one last look-over. "Next time, try lasting longer."
Then you walked out, leaving him alone in the dim glow of the library—jaw tight, fists clenched, drowning in the bitter aftertaste of his own ego—because for once in his life, Mattheo Riddle wasn’t the one doing the ruining.
⤷ CONTENT: hide and seek, spanking, anal, oral, theodore and mattheo are bullies, triple kiss, bullied!reader. minors do not interact.
⤷ AUTHOR'S NOTE: better late than never, i'd say! in my country it's still october, so happy halloween!!! i've been thinking of this for this whole month and, although i had to skip a day of this event—which i will compensate you in a few days—i am happy and proud of myself for all the stories i've written so far. thank you for reading these works, for supporting & commenting. 🤍
⤷ SYNOPSIS: you had your halloween treat.
your soles ached after sprinting through corridor upon corridor, twisting around corners until you found a minimally safe place.
it was a bet. a foolish and impetuous bet, made without thinking while conceived in the feverish haze of the halloween feast in the great hall. now, shrouded in the autumnal chill that somehow seeped through the ancient stone walls of hogwarts, reason returned to you and you gasped at the profundity of your folly. what were you thinking, for god's sake? yes, the allure of getting rid of all the harassment from mattheo and theodore was more than appealing, yet as unrealistic as it was seductive.
of course it would fail. they always won.
the bet was stark and clear: you had three minutes to flee and hide in the castle's labyrinth. if they took more than an hour to find you, their harassment would cease. but if they took less than sixty minutes... they'd dictate the consequence.
now, you were crouched behind one of the narrow secret passages in the slytherin common room, totally aware this was the most perilous place to hide. but there was no time. the three minutes were short—an absolute injustice given the hour they commanded for the search of you, but you never expected those slytherins to be fair and honest—and the effort of running in your costume's heels had given you an exquisite pain, even if only for a short while. you'd considered taking them off, but the chance of marching on broken glass from goblets dropped by students leaving the party was strong. you wouldn't have time mind your step, let alone to hurt yourself. the only alternative—and the closest—was this.
and as expected, your hiding spot endured scarcely ten minutes.
heavy footsteps echoed. through a fissure in the door, you watched the ghostface guise—theodore—and the michael myers attire—mattheo—enter the chamber beneath the black lake. their breathing was heavy from the pursuit, the masks they wore were completely forgotten somewhere in the castle's depths. "she can't have gone far," mattheo said to theodore. "she doesn't have enough time for that. let's scour the room."
the hunt began. mattheo rummaged through tables, chairs, and even inside the damn sofas, while theodore wielded his dragon heartstring core's wand, casting revealing spells in every corner of the emerald hued room. you felt tension fill your entire body and tie up your muscles, and my goodness, you couldn't look anymore. your fingers gently closed the door crack with delicate precision, but not enough to go unnoticed by the duo. the centuries-old, worn wooden door creaked slightly under your fingers, loud enough for an italian with very gray eyes to hear.
theodore stopped the process of revealing whatever might be hidden in the curtains, his auditory senses sharpening. he heard nothing. for a moment, he thought he'd imagined it—but what were the odds? "did you hear that?" he asked mattheo, his grip on the wand tightening. mattheo looked at him, bemused, not having heard anything, and shook his head. theodore just rolled his eyes, heading toward where he thought the sound came from.
your body felt like it was tied with ropes. panic possessed you like a fucking demon, taking all your senses with it. you knew nothing could be done. it was over. it would take seconds for one of them to find you, and not even divinity could imagine what your fate would be. maybe they'd hex you—avada kedavra would be too imprudent even for them, incriminating themselves unnecessarily; cruciatus, boring, since your physical pain was never really the focus; maybe they'd bet on the imperius curse, which would guarantee them total control over you—or maybe they'd kidnap you. maybe they'd ridicule you even more. there were so many possibilities that your fright was amplified when strong hands grabbed the door and revealed you.
theodore's perfectly white and triumphant smile spread across his face like wildfire. he observed you quietly at first, his gray eyes lingering on your thighs, faintly exposed by the ascended hem of your gowned—which you quickly adjusted as soon as you felt his scrutiny. "oh, hi, little mouse," he whispered, a satisfied laugh escaping his lips. "here, mattheo," he called.
soon, more heavy footsteps approached, and an even crueler and more sadistic smile appeared before your eyes. "fuck!" mattheo's unbalanced voice shrilled. "less than fifteen minutes to find you. you're incredibly dumb." he barked, earning a cold laugh from theodore, followed by his own utterly unhinged cackle.
you felt tears stinging your eyes, signs of your own weakness. the worst part was that mattheo was right—you really were stupid. if you hadn't accepted years of bullying and set boundaries, this wouldn't be happening. if you hadn't made this wager, you wouldn't be here, at their mercy. if you weren't so fucking weak, you could have fought back years ago.
but thinking about the 'what ifs' wouldn't help. nothing would change the fact that they'd won, and now they'd get their payment.
theodore's gloved hand encircled your elbow, pulling you to your feet and dragging you out of the cubicle that had kept you hidden. your other arm was enveloped by mattheo's calloused hand—years of fights had left it that way—and even though the costume required it, he wasn't wearing gloves. they probably bothered him.
the two dragged you to the center of the room, pushing you roughly into its midst. mattheo grabbed your cheeks with just one hand, his face close to yours so you could smell the firewhisky on his breath. "you're going to pay the bet, or are you going to be a little coward?" he mocked, looking you up and down with chocolate eyes gleaming with scorn and... voracity. you felt muscular arms wrap around your form from behind, and a low, hoarse italian voice invading your ears took over the rest of your senses. "you have no choice, little mouse," theodore whispered. "either you pay, or you pay. you knew that when you agreed to play."
theodore drew you flush against him, making your ass feel every inch of his arousal. his gloved hand played with a tress of your hair; mattheo neared, speaking into your other ear. "and let me tell you something, bunny," he whispered. "i guarantee you'll get your halloween treat."
mattheo's pristine dentition grazed your earlobe, and before you could even sigh in surprise, theodore's hands turned your face and fused his mouth with yours.
merciful heavens. never, in your wildest dreams, did you imagine they could feel anything other than pure and genuine loathing for you. apparently, attraction walked alongside fury too.
and you were right. for a long time, mattheo and theodore vied for your regard, over who would get your tears and screams first, over who would have you first. you were the cause of fights countless times because neither would admit to sharing you... until they matured and realized it didn't make sense to be selfish—theodore's mother had taught him that, after all.
they were best friends, kindred spirits. they shared the biggest secrets, the best laughs, and the worst pranks—why not share your sweet pussy too? absurdity.
this proved itself in the rude way theodore's tongue attacked yours, and in the way mattheo bit and sucked your neck with equal roughness. stunned, your comprehension faltered... but when awareness dawned, you let yourself go. you were already screwed. sex with them was better than taking an unforgivable curse, and at least you could use them for your own pleasure too. resisting would be useless, so the most rational thing to do was just accept and have at least a little fun with them.
halloween, after all. walking a bit off your principles wouldn't kill you.
your hands wrapped around theodore's and mattheo's hair, keeping riddle pressed against your neck and finally returning theodore's kiss. however, this wasn't ideal for mattheo. riddle, ever volatile, yielded to impulse, intruding upon the kiss, letting his lower head take over. three tongues clashed, theodore's becoming completely rigid upon feeling the intrusion, his gray eyes widening as he noticed who had joined the party. "fuck," he thought to himself, mentally repeating that this would never happen again and that it was absolutely absurd, and that he'd beat mattheo up later. now wasn't the time, though. he knew mattheo would call him a buzzkill and that would irritate him deeply, distracting both from the matter at hand. from their prize.
so this time, he gave in to mattheo's madness, his tongue becoming soft again and returning the kiss. you were surprised—you'd never had a triple kiss before, and it was certainly a mix of interesting sensations. your tongues danced in a sensual and feverish way, one that made theodore's already hard cock against your ass even stiffer, and mattheo's practically leaking pre-cum, pressed against your stomach. wet, erotic sounds filled the empty room, your mouths mixing into one.
zippers descended sequentially—mattheo's frantic, theodore's measured—affording respite to your tumescent, cosmetic-smeared lips, and theirs.
briefly.
theodore's hand pulled you down by your head, making you kneel on the floor, the rough impact softened by the green and silver carpet. you couldn't really pinpoint the moment they took off their underwear—maybe along with their pants, you really didn't know—but you just knew that both their cocks were slapping your face. theodore and mattheo held their shafts, using your face as a canvas, and their cocks as the brush, slapping each of your cheeks. your eyes closed in reflex, the two heads anointing your cheeks with precum.
mattheo breached your maw first, plunging profundly, abrading your throat's recess. meanwhile, theodore guided your hand to his cock, showing you the rhythm he wanted you to jerk him off with. "it's going to be like this, little mouse," theodore instructed. "you're going to suck him while jerking me off, then invert."
again, fighting wouldn't help, and you didn't. instead, you just engulfed his magnitude in your throat, pulling your head back and forth, drool running down your chin as you pumped theodore. the two moaned in unison as you worked, showing your impressive motor coordination skills.
theodore withdrew you from mattheo's dick impaling his own upon your orifice, your nose hitting his pelvis as his tip hit deep inside. he was slightly thicker than mattheo, both too difficult to suck without losing your breath. now knowing what to do, your hand found mattheo's cock (now lubricated), pumping it in a similar way to what you'd done with theodore. your cheeks hollowed until they took on a concave shape as you sucked theodore, his moans getting louder and more pornographic as the friction increased. meanwhile, the handjob you were giving mattheo felt too good, and this rhythm continued for some time, your hands and mouth alternating between the two men you'd had countless nightmares about.
minutes hence, it was riddle's hand wrapping around your scalp and elevating you, turning you to face theodore, who kissed you roughly again, his hands cradling your cheeks. amidst his assault, mattheo rent your attire and undergarments asunder, exposing your body to the two of them and to the ghosts that inhabited the chamber. mattheo's hand found your glute with a strong slap, and riddle knelt, his face colliding with your round ass. his tongue traversed your untouched aperture mercilessly; theodore's hands grabbed your lower cheeks, exposing your hole to mattheo, and a strangled moan—swallowed by theodore's mouth—tried to leave your throat.
the sensation transcended delight, to say the least. his ardent tongue encircled the virgin realm; your hand anchored him. mattheo hummed in approval. "whore," he breathed.
when you thought it couldn't get better, theodore's lips moved away from yours, and instead delighted in the lips of your pussy. the italian moaned loudly upon tasting your juices, his teeth gently grazing your clit as he sucked it in, followed by his tongue penetrating you, still holding your cheeks open for mattheo. theodore spat on your pussy, watching with hungry eyes the trail the saliva made down your inner thighs to your calves. eventually, positions inverted: theodore's tongue now found the rim of your ass, tasting the subtle hint of alcohol that mattheo's tongue had left. in front of you, mattheo sucked your pussy at a frantic pace, your natural taste almost sobering him up. the rhythm of both was delirious until, finally, pleasure blinded you and your climax hit, leaving your entire body limp and inert against them.
but it wasn't over.
theodore's robust arms wrapped around your waist and placed you not so cautiously on the dark green velvet sofa. he placed you on his lap, with him lying on his back, and before you could even breathe, his cock was inside you. no condom. no precaution.
late for anxieties.
he thrust into you hard, the rhythm of his hips relentless against your pussy. your screams were scandalous, and your hands held his chest, trying to have any sense of control possible. his thick cock stretched you completely, leaving you open and exposed, and that was enough to make you see stars again; you could try to ride him, but it was impossible—he was fucking you at too furious pace, and you had no control over your own movements.
even with your senses fully occupied, you should have suspected how quiet mattheo seemed to be, but saying that crossed your mind would be a lie. you only noticed he was too quiet when theodore's rhythm slowed to almost a stop and a second invasion—this time, in your ass—happened. a strangled scream of pain left your lips, your virgin hole being torn apart. "lube!" you screamed, desperate from the searing pain.
the response you got was a sadistic laugh from riddle, who started moving slowly as theodore resumed thrusting into you. "lube?" he echoed, an unbearable smile on his lips. he spat on his cock, helping to lubricate the tight hole. "the only lube you'll get is this, so just stop complaining and take it."
wretch.
it was horrible to admit that the son of a bitch was, in fact, giving you pleasure. slowly, the searing pain of being stretched by two cocks simultaneously, one of them in a place never touched by any man, was replaced by pleasure so blinding. mattheo's cock took you to heights with the dance between his thick cock and your tight space, theodore fucking you hard in unison, the sound of the three bodies as loud as fans in a quidditch field. theodore's cock slid easily in and out of your pussy, your cunt so wet that he could bury himself fully, apex attaining your core effortlessly.
close to cumming, mattheo pulled his cock out of your ass, and surprising—again—you and theodore, he slid his cock into your pussy, uniting with theodore within your vulva. like in the triple kiss, you two stiffened, and mattheo looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "oh, please, theodore. don't tell me your your virility withstands friction." he moaned, rolling his eyes, not at all bothered by theodore's refusal. when he started moving against theodore's cock, your pussy sheltering both. motion commenced; theodore discerned bliss. exquisite.
he joined.
their cocks alternated paths. while one went in, the other pulled back. one pulled, the other pushed. both moaned in unison, yours high-pitched standing out.
your core was being totally and completely torn apart by two magnitudes. the combination of sensations brought you to the edge, synergy propelled climax, and with that, your pussy squeezed both, and the two followed suit—inside you.
they erupted internally. jets of hot cum were distributed inside you, the two losing total control of themselves and their movements. your pussy was totally soaked with their release, and when the fog of pleasure began to dissipate and the shock of what you'd done—that they'd had bred you—began to set in, you felt mortified.
embarrassed. shy. awkward.
but not regretful.
"you'd better prepare the dna test," theodore said, his breathing totally out of control. "i'm not taking care of the kid if it came from mattheo's balls." laughter erupted from riddle, palm to brow.
all credit goes entirely to the writers, i did not write any of these. if you enjoyed a fic, show the author some love with a comment, reblog, or both !
ⓘ all works listed contain smut and explicit themes. please read all author warnings before reading & proceed at your own discretion.
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⟡ 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒 | murdrsaint
When Theo fucks up — spectacularly, stupidly, drunkenly — he knows there’s only one way to earn back the girl he never deserved but can’t live without.
⟡ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 🕯️ | @nottendo (moscatosin)
⟡ 𝐄𝐀𝐓
⟡ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄 ft. mattheo | @/nottendo
⟡ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓
⟡ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐅 | @nottsangel
best friends is all you and theodore were, but the jealousy of seeing him with someone else was suffocating, driving you to take matters into your own hands
⟡ 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓
it was difficult keeping your hands off your boyfriend while with his friends, so you decided to tease him until he gave him
⟡ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒 | nottsbaby
⟡ 𝐁𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | @nottslove
you accidentally lose track of time at the country club, and the new italian lifeguard just happens to be there... it's totally accidental that on his way to put back the pool equipment, he accidentally ends up pulling on the strings that hold up your bikini together...
armed with a fresh haircut, his infamous italian charm, and absolutely filthy mouth, theo is determined to make his best friend break. unfortunately, you don’t stand a chance against him during ovulation week
Mattheo Riddle is the perfect boyfriend; attentive, loving, and, not to mention great at sex. Thought recently you’ve been thinking of spicing things up. But when you suggest something that he’s not quite willing to try yet, his best friend Theodore Nott has a few ideas on how to help. Even if it’s not exactly conventional.
⟡ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖 ft: mattheo | @sativariddle
check your window, he’s at your window: caught in the mess between jealousy and obsession, theo begins to have a crush on the one person he knows he can never touch: his best friend’s girlfriend. but everything changes the night he sees you with mattheo through the window, a view he was never meant to witness.
⟡ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓? ft: mattheo | @serpentkissess
mattheo and theo are high off a quidditch win when they decide to make a bet, who can fuck you better?
You and Theo Nott have always been the kind of best friends who blur boundaries — late-night talks, too-long touches, and the comfort of always ending up in each other's space. When a casual curiosity about "weird searches" spirals into watching porn together, the teasing turns into something you both can't ignore anymore
synopsis : mattheo and theo are high off a quidditch win when they decide to make a bet, who can fuck you better?
warnings: 18+, pnv, threesome, dp, fingering, oral m&f receiving, dirty talk, overstimulation (probably a completely unrealistic number of orgasms tbh), mentions of partying, mdni, eiffel tower
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
The Slytherin common room was a fever dream of flickering firelight and the sharp tang of firewhisky, the air thick with the buzz of Slytherin’s Quidditch triumph over Ravenclaw. The dungeon’s stone walls pulsed with the aftershocks of celebration—shouts, clinking glasses, the low thrum of victory. You were slumped on a velvet couch, thighs pressed tight under your skirt, the half-empty butterbeer bottle in your hand slick with condensation. Mattheo Riddle and Theo Nott loomed over you, their presence a storm cloud of danger and desire. Mattheo’s eyes, dark as sin, raked over you, his smirk sharp enough to cut. Theo, sprawled in a leather armchair, twirled his wand with a lazy, predatory grace, his gaze sliding down your body like a slow pour of honey, all sly charm and Italian heat.
“Bet I can make her come more times than you,” Mattheo said, voice a low growl, like he was staking a claim. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot, reeking of whisky and mint, making your skin prickle. “What do you think, princess? Wanna see who fucks you better?”
Theo’s laugh was a velvet rasp, his legs spread wide, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I’ll have you screaming my name before he even gets you wet. You’ll be begging for my cock, tesoro, trust me.” His accent curled around the words, thick with promise, his fingers flexing like he was already imagining you under him.
Your breath hitched, cunt already throbbing, soaking through your panties at the torment you've already endured from the pair tonight, slow whispers against your ear, calloused hands roaming your thighs. You should’ve backed out, laughed it off, but their eyes—Mattheo’s warmth, Theo’s teasing—had you hooked, your pulse pounding in your ears. “Prove it,” you whispered, voice shaky but defiant, and their grins widened, feral and dangerous.
Mattheo’s hand clamped around your wrist, yanking you up with a possessive tug. Theo was already moving, tossing his wand aside with a clatter, his long strides matching Mattheo’s as they dragged you through the dungeon’s winding corridors. Their hands were everywhere—Mattheo’s gripping your arm, bruising, Theo’s on your lower back, fingers grazing the curve of your ass, sending heat pooling low. The dorm door slammed shut, the heavy oak rattling the stone walls, locked with a wandless spell that echoed like a gunshot. The room was a cave of shadows, green lanterns casting an eerie glow, the air cool and sharp, smelling faintly of old books and their mingled scents, all undercut with the faint metallic tang of post-match adrenaline.
Mattheo didn’t wait. He shoved you against the nearest four-poster, the carved wood biting into your hips, his body pinning you, hard and unyielding. “Having regrets yet?” he growled with no intention of letting you answer, lips crashing into yours, all teeth and desperation, his tongue claiming you, tasting of smoke and sin. His hands tore at your shirt, buttons popping like tiny explosions, scattering across the floor. Theo was behind you, his deft fingers unhooking your bra, letting it fall as his lips grazed your neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin. “Cazzo, you’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot and damp, nipping until you whimpered.
You were caught in their heat, drowning in it—Mattheo’s raw intensity, Theo’s calculated seduction. They stripped you bare in seconds, skirt yanked down, panties ripped off, the fabric tearing with a sharp rip that made you gasp. Your skin was alive with sensation—the cool silk sheets under your knees as they pushed you onto the bed, the rough calluses of Mattheo’s hands, the soft brush of Theo’s fingers. You were trembling, cunt dripping, the air thick with the musky scent of your arousal, mingling with their sweat and cologne.
Mattheo climbed over you, knees spreading your thighs, his eyes locked on your slick folds. “Fuck, look at that, so fucking wet already,” he said, voice hoarse, his fingers sliding through your folds, the wet squelch loud, obscene, filling the room. “You’re dripping for us, barely touched you yet.” Theo knelt beside your head, his cock already out, hard and curving, pre-cum beading at the tip. “Open that pretty mouth, dolcezza,” he purred, voice like silk, “let’s see how much you can take.”
“First one’s mine,” Mattheo snapped, smirking at Theo as he plunged two fingers into your cunt without warning, stretching you so fast you cried out, the burn raw and overwhelming. His knuckles grazed your walls, curling hard against your G-spot, his thumb grinding your clit in brutal circles. The wet slaps of his fingers fucking you echoed, your slick coating his hand, dripping onto the sheets. Theo’s hand tangled in your hair, guiding your lips to his cock, the taste salty, musky, as he pushed past your lips, hitting the back of your throat. “That’s it, baby, let go,” he coaxed, voice low, “choke on me, show us how good you are.”
The first orgasm hit like a tidal wave, your cunt clamping down on Mattheo’s fingers, a scream muffled around Theo’s cock as your body bucked, slick spraying onto Mattheo’s wrist, the sheets. “Fuck, yes, soak my hand,” Mattheo groaned, not slowing, his fingers pumping through your spasms, dragging out every pulse. “One,” he counted, voice smug, his free hand slapping your inner thigh, the sting blooming hot.
Theo didn’t give you a second to breathe. He pulled out, letting you gasp, only to replace his cock with his fingers, forcing you to taste your own slick as he slid them into your mouth. “Suck.” he ordered, his other hand pinching your nipple, twisting until you yelped. Meanwhile, Mattheo’s mouth descended, his tongue lapping at your oversensitive clit, sucking hard, the wet slurping sounds mixing with your choked moans. “So fucking sweet, still pulsing for me,” he muttered against you, the vibrations sending shocks through your core. “Come on, baby, give us another.”
Your body was screaming, nerves frayed, but the pleasure was relentless. Theo’s fingers fucked your mouth, his thumb smearing your spit across your lips, while Mattheo’s tongue flicked mercilessly, his fingers sliding back in, three this time, stretching you to the point of pain. The second orgasm tore through you, your walls spasming, your thighs shaking as you screamed around Theo’s fingers, slick gushing again, pooling under you. “Two,” Theo purred, licking his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving your flushed, tear-streaked face.
They didn’t stop. Mattheo was on you now, flipping you onto your knees, the bed creaking under his weight. “Gonna fuck you till you’re dumb,” he growled, his cock slamming into your sensitive cunt, the stretch burning, his girth filling you so completely your breath caught and your toes curled. His thrusts were brutal, hips slamming into your ass, the wet slap of skin on skin ringing out, your slick coating his thighs. Theo was in front, fisting your hair hard, guiding his cock back to your mouth. “Suck me good, doll, let’s see that throat work,” he said, thrusting deep, your gag reflex kicking in as spit dribbled down your chin.
“Who’s fucking you better, baby?” Mattheo taunted, his thrusts punishing, each one driving his cock deeper, hitting your cervix, making your body jolt. “Mmmngh—Matt—fuck!” you babbled, voice breaking, your walls clamping down hard, spasming around his length as another orgasm ripped through you, your nails scrabbling at Theo’s thighs, desperate to hold on. Slick sprayed, soaking the sheets, your body trembling uncontrollably. “Yeaahh, that’s it, makin’ a fucking mess on my cock, aren’t you?” Mattheo groaned, his hips stuttering, your pussy gripping him like a vice. “Three.”
You were a wreck, oversensitive, nerves screaming, but they didn’t care. “Can’t—please, too much,” you sobbed, words slurred, spit pooling on the sheets as Theo pulled out, stroking himself, his eyes dark with lust. “Too much?” Theo mocked, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him, his thumb smearing your tears. “We've barely started.” Mattheo spanked you, hard, the sting sharp, blooming across your ass. “Keep coming, baby, let go for us,” he growled, his cock relentless, dragging another orgasm from you, your body convulsing, vision blurring as you screamed, “Four.”
They repositioned you, your limbs like jelly, barely able to hold yourself up. Theo took Mattheo’s place now, pulling you to straddle Mattheo, who lay back, his cock sliding into your dripping cunt with a wet squelch, the burn making you whimper. Theo was behind, lubing himself with a wandless spell, his fingers teasing your ass, cold and slick, before he pushed in, slow but unforgiving. The dual stretch was unbearable—two cocks filling you, splitting you open, the burn, the sensitivity and pleasure blurring into a single, overwhelming pulse. “So fucking tight back here, fuck,” Theo grunted, his voice strained, his hands digging into your hips. “Relax, baby, let us both have you.”
They moved together, Mattheo’s hips snapping up, Theo’s thrusting deep, their cocks dragging against your walls, filling you completely. The room was a symphony of filth: the wet, rhythmic slaps of their thrusts, your broken sobs—“Oh god, can’t, please, fuck, I’m done”—their grunts, Theo’s Italian curses, Mattheo’s filthy encouragements. “Take it, you can take it,” Mattheo murmured, his thumb circling your clit, sparking another orgasm, your body shaking, cunt and ass clenching around them, juices gushing down your thighs. “Five,” they growled together, their voices raw.
You were gone, fucked-out, babbling nonsense—“No more, fuck, can’t take it, please, oh god, can't — again”—your body betraying you, orgasms crashing one after another, six, seven, eight, you couldn’t count, each one tearing through you, leaving you trembling, tears streaming, drool pooling, your mind a haze of pleasure and pain, so close to the edge of blacking out. “Look at her, Mattheo, fucking ruined,” Theo rasped, his cock twitching as your ass clamped down, another climax making you shudder. “Good girl, so fucking tight,” Mattheo groaned, his fingers slick with your release, his hips faltering as your pussy milked him.
They didn’t stop, pushing you past reason, your body a trembling, oversensitive mess. “One more, baby, give us one more,” Theo growled, spanking you again, the sting sharp, your cunt spasming as another orgasm hit, your screams silent now, throat raw. “Nine,” Mattheo counted, his voice breaking as he thrust up, spilling into you, hot and thick. Theo followed, his cum flooding your ass, his groans vibrating through you as your body shook, another climax—ten, maybe more—leaving you limp, barely conscious. Cum and arousal leaked around both of their shafts, both snapping their hips a few more times in a symphony of moans.
They slowed, finally, your body boneless between them, their cum dripping from you, mixing with your slick, soaking the sheets. The air was heavy with sex—sweat, musk, the sharp scent of your release, their cologne. Mattheo pulled out first, his hands gentle now, conjuring a warm, damp cloth to clean you, the softness a stark contrast to his earlier brutality. Theo eased you onto his chest, his lips brushing your forehead, whispering, “Brava, amore, so fucking perfect.” Mattheo tucked a blanket around you, his fingers brushing your hair, murmuring, “Took us like a fucking champ, princess.”
You couldn’t speak, eyes fluttering shut, their warmth anchoring you, the steady thud of Theo’s heartbeat under your cheek pulling you into oblivion. The sheets were ruined, the room echoing with the ghosts of your screams, their grunts, the wet sounds of your body breaking for them. They held you close, their rivalry sated, their touches soft, as you drifted off, utterly spent.
⌗ ┆content: perv!theo, boyfriend!mattheo, cheating & betrayal, strong language, heavy sexual content. if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around, i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with. for @pilupotter ᰔ
⌗ ┆ summary: check your window, he’s at your window: caught in the mess between jealousy and obsession, theo begins to have a crush on the one person he knows he can never touch: his best friend’s girlfriend. but everything changes the night he sees you with mattheo through the window, a view he was never meant to witness.
♫ — ❝ check your window, he’s at your window. ❞
╰› navigation.⌇m.list.⌇my au’s .⌇other song lol.
THEO HAD NEVER KNOWN the ugly emotion of jealousy. it was an unfamiliar feeling to someone like him, one that belonged to other boys, boys who had to fight for attention, compete for power. jealousy, after all, only creeps in when you see something you want but believe you’ll never have. that had never been theo’s reality.
from the moment he could speak, if he pointed at a toy in a shop window, his father’s gold handled it before he even asked. if he admired a rare piece of jewelry in passing, it was in his room by nightfall. no explanations. possession had never been a question, it was an expectation. even people, in their own strange way, came to him. at school, if he decided he wanted someone’s company, it was only a matter of time. he never pleaded, never played the fool to earn friendship. he watched, waited, and the chosen eventually fell into his circle. whether from fear, or fascination, it didn’t matter. they came.
his father had shaped him this way. the elder nott would speak in a tone that meant more to theo than a shout. “there’s a difference between being loved and being feared,” he told theo once, as they stood in the drawing room. “when people hear the nott name, they do not smile. they do not speak it softly. they whisper it. that is power. power isn’t loved. it is obeyed.”
theo was like a cloth wiping down a table: soaking up everything his father said, holding onto it all until the next time he needed it.
so no, jealousy had no place in his chest. not when he’d been raised not to envy, but to expect. not when the world had always shown him that if he desired something, it would eventually belong to him.
mattheo was the only one who didn’t fear theodore, his closest friend, most would say. even back when they were in school, people used to joke they were glued at the hip. they told each other everything. from the girls they slept with, in detail, to family stuff. nothing was off limits.
when mattheo got kicked out of his father’s manor and showed up at the nott’ manor asking for a place to crash, no one was surprised when theo’s father said yes. the place had plenty of guest rooms, and mattheo had always been like a second son to the old man. leaving him homeless on the street would’ve been unthinkable.
"helloooo, girl next door,” mattheo whistled under his breath, leaning forward slightly as he peered out of the window. theo was scrambling through the mess on his desk, trying to find a quill beneath piles of parchment and books. at the sound of mattheo’s voice, he paused, head snapping up. with a furrowed brow, theo walked over and came to stand beside his friend. his gaze followed mattheo’s, settling on the window that overlooked the neighboring manor. it sat a little further out, though one window in particular caught their attention.
directly across from theodore’s was your room. your light was on, the sky outside had already started to darken into deep blues and purples. from where they stood, they could see just enough: the curve of your shoulder as you walked past, the way your curtains shifted with the breeze. "oh yeah," theo muttered, looking away. "the new neighbor my father was talking about." watching someone through their bedroom window, even unintentionally, felt intrusive to theo.
“didn’t think to tell me?” mattheo asked, he watched you move around your bedroom, opening boxes, pulling out books and folded clothes. your hair slipped over your shoulder as you bent forward, revealing the line of your bare neck. “sorry,” theo sarcastically replied from beside him, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “didn’t think you’d care about us getting a new neighbor.”
“i didn’t.” mattheo tilted his head, shifting a little closer to the glass. “now i do.”
you had no idea you were being watched, placing a few things on the windowsill before turning toward the bed, where a white towel was laid out. mattheo’s gaze followed your hands as they reached for the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, inch by inch. you were probably getting ready for a shower.
a cold water bottle came flying through the air, smacking mattheo square in the cheek. “stop watchin’ the girl, will you?” theodore snapped. “you look like a fuckin’ creep.” mattheo flinched only slightly, caught off guard, then turned his head slowly, the corner of his mouth curling into that annoying smirk. he rubbed the side of his face where the bottle had hit but didn’t look the least bit remorseful.
“jealous?” he drawled, cocking a brow. theo didn’t answer right away. he turned back to his desk, sifting through the mess like he hadn’t heard the question. a few crumpled pieces of parchment were swept into his hand and tossed into the nearby bin. “you’re still the love of my life, theo,” mattheo added, leaning back against the window frame. “there’s no need to be jealous.”
theodore let out a dry snort, not even turning around as he casually flipped him the middle finger. “and if she catches you staring at her while she’s taking off her shirt?” theodore said, looking over his shoulder. “might as well tattoo ‘pervert’ on your fuckin’ forehead and let the whole neighborhood know.” mattheo just shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek as he glanced once more toward the window.
“don’t know,” he said. “some girls love that shit.” theodore exhaled sharply through his nose. he was done. done trying to reason with a walking hormone in human form. “get to bed,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “you’re speaking with your dick again.”
mattheo chuckled, stepping closer to theo and giving him a playful shove to the chest. it wasn’t hard, more of a nudge, but it earned a shove right back.
that shove earned mattheo’s full attention: a harsh push to theodore’s shoulder that made him stumble back a step. without hesitation, theo shoved him again, harder this time. mattheo huffed. he’d always been a sucker for a good play fight, the kind that started as a joke but never stayed that way for too long. and the second theodore turned his back to brush him off, mattheo lunged.
he tackled him around the middle, dragging him down to the floor. the impact sent theodore crashing onto the floor with a thud, his back hitting the wooden floor beneath it as a grunt escaped his chest. “you fucker-” theodore cracked, trying to twist out from under him. but mattheo was already trying to pin him, arms locked around theodore’s shoulders.
in the fight, theo shoved at mattheo’s head with one palm, trying to push him off. his fingers caught the side of mattheo’s head, forcing him sideways — too far. the motion sent mattheo’s skull colliding with the edge of the desk beside them.
“asshole,” mattheo muttered under his breath, he rubbed the spot where his head had hit the desk, slowly pushing himself up before giving theodore a light kick in the ribs with the toe of his shoe before disappearing out the door with a dramatic slam that rattled the frame.
theo rolled his blue eyes and stood up. mattheo had been living at the nott manor for nearly six months now, but he still spent more time in theodore’s room than his own. no matter how many guest rooms the home had, he always ended up across theo’s bed, in his desk chair, or raiding his bookshelf.
theo thinks it’s because his room has always felt more like home than anywhere else. when they were kids, they rarely hung out in the guest rooms. those spaces were too too quiet, meant for people who didn’t stay. theo’s had history. it had laughter ghosting into the walls, secrets in the closet. back then, when life felt fresh, before things got complicated, before people started drifting: they all used to cram into his room without a second thought.
pansy would sprawl across his bed, flipping through magazines and rolling her eyes at draco’s ‘girly’ commentary. blaise would sit on the floor, leaning against the dresser, legs stretched out. enzo always found the window seat, sketchbook in hand, not listening to the talk around him.
mattheo was everywhere. on the bed, on the floor, by the door. moving constantly: he was trying to soak in every second of it. theo’s room held their shared growth. the jokes, the fights, the long talks that happened when the lights were out and no one wanted to be the first to fall asleep. even now, theo can still hear the echoes of it when he steps inside. maybe that’s why he feels more at peace there than anywhere else: a place with the memory of his happiest days, when they were all together.
theodore walked over to the window, and reached for the curtains, he hated sleeping with them open. the way outside lights bled into his room always messed with his sleep, casting odd shapes on the walls and waking him up at stupid hours.
just as he grabbed the fabric, something caught his eye. you had just stepped out of the shower, the steam still curling around you. a towel was slung loosely around your body, clinging to your damp skin, the fabric darkened in places where water still kissed your flesh. your hair was wet, heavy with moisture, dark strands sticking to your shoulders and framing your face.
theodore paused the moment he saw you. he watched, completely helpless as a bead of water traced a slow path down the slope of your collarbone, disappearing beneath the edge of your towel.
he swallowed, feeling the back of his throat burn, blinking twice as if to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. every instinct in him choosing between looking away out of respect and drinking in the sight of you: wrapped in nothing but a bit of fabric.
the towel slipped from your body, falling to the floor soundlessly. theo’s breath hitched the second the fabric fell, revealing every inch of your bare skin. his lips parted without him realizing, gaze caught immediately on your breasts: perfectly perky—and pierced. the silver flash of the jewelry against your skin made his head spin.
he should’ve looked away. fuck, he knew that. he should’ve snapped the curtains shut the moment he saw you walk in, dripping wet from your shower, towel barely clinging to you. he should’ve thrown himself into bed, buried his head under the covers, forced himself to pretend he hadn’t seen anything.
you didn’t bother getting dressed. still naked, you crossed the room without a hint of shame, water on your skin as if you were dipped in moonlight. with a small hop, you climbed onto your bed, body completely exposed from where theodore stood frozen by his window. he watched you move, comfortable in your own skin. the way you shifted around on the mattress, adjusting your pillows, tossing them this way and that way without a care in the world. you were putting on a show without even realizing it, every twist of your hips, every stretch of your arms offering him a new angle to memorize, to burn into the back of his eyelids forever.
once you finally settled, your back sank into the sheets, muscles relaxing into the mattress. the soft cloth cradled you, hugging every dip and curve. theo’s chest rose and fell unevenly, unable to look away as your pierced nipples stood tight and hard, pointing up toward the ceiling. the silver jewelry small and beautiful on you.
you trailed your right hand down, fingertips dancing lazily over your breast, nails scratching slightly across the sensitive skin. lower and lower you went, dragging those fingers over the smooth, freshly shaved skin of your lower stomach, your body arching just slightly into your own touch.
he could see everything: the way your breathing deepened, the way your thighs shifted apart the ever so slightest, welcoming yourself home. with a roll of your wrist, you dipped your hand even lower, your index finger brushing gently over the swollen mound of your clit.
theo couldn’t move, couldn’t even think as he watched you spread yourself out across the bed, knees bent and falling open, giving him a full view of everything. your skin practically glowed, a leftover dampness still clinging to your body. your fingers, those delicate fingers moved lazy strokes over your clit. his stomach tightened painfully, a low heat coiling in his gut. he watched as you dragged the tip of your finger in circles, the movement so soft it was almost teasing yourself, building your own tension.
you tilted your head back slightly, letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip. he didn’t know if you were trying to muffle your sounds or if it was some subconscious need to savor the pressure, but either way, it didn’t matter. all thoughts that made sense abandoned in favor of the desperate need flooding his body.
everything he was feeling, every throb of want, every spike of lust, every dizzying pull toward you seemed to rush straight down to his dick, swelling painfully against his sweats. you moved, hips rolling up into your own touch, adding more pressure. with the kind of slowwww that made theodore’s vision blur at the edges, you pushed a finger deep inside yourself. “mmph…”
the sound you made punched the air right out of theodore’s lungs. it wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. whether you had meant it to be heard or not, it banged through him, making his entire body clench and his cock harden so fast it hurt. he squeezed his eyes shut for half a second, trying and failing to gather himself. but the second he opened them again, you rewarded him with an even filthier sight.
another finger joined the first, stretching you wider, making your hips rock slightly against your hand. you moved them in and out, out and in, fingers disappearing into the heat of your pussy, coated in the evidence of your own wetness. theo’s ears were ringing, too consumed by the sight of your hand moving, of your body writhing slightly against the sheets, of your thighs trembling as you fucked yourself open.
your eyebrows pulled together, forehead creasing in that beautiful, desperate way as your pleasure built. gasping sounds slipping free without a hint of restraint. the movements of your fingers grew faster, your hips subtly chasing every stroke, your thighs trembling with the effort to stay open. theodore’s eyes devoured you. every detail. every breath.
he noticed everything: the way your right breast, slightly pressed to the side by the movement of your arm, causing the piercing threaded through your nipple to poke out at a perfect angle. theo felt a an aching need crash through him, a hunger to have it between his teeth, to feel the cold shock of metal against his hot tongue, to suck and tug and soothe until you were gasping even harder beneath him.
his hand gripped the windowsill so tightly his knuckles turned white. he stared hard, breath fogging up the small corner of glass before him, matching the uneven, shuddering breathing of yours. every squeaky whimper, every hitch of your hips, every sound of your fingers plunging deep into your own body buried itself into his mind.
you came with a cry, legs quaking around your hand. your face softened in the aftermath, a look of pure bliss taking over your beautiful features: lips parted, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks.
with a violent jerk, theo closed the blinds, the snap of the cord sounding too loud in the silence of his room. he stumbled back a step, chest heaving, staring down in disbelief at the painful boner against his sweats. he dragged a shaking hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. he felt like a damn teenager again, seeing boobs for the first time on a crumpled magazine page he wasn’t supposed to have.
“you think she’d like this?” mattheo asked, holding the dress up between his fingers. he rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, raising an eyebrow. “she’s always fuckin’ talking about wanting dresses with this kind of fabric. all soft and shit.”
it had become a routine, one theo never spoke about, even to himself. every day, he found his feet carrying him to the same spot: the window in the far corner of his room, the one that offered a perfect view into yours. from there, he could see you through the soft cover of curtains that you always forget, or maybe just didn’t care, to close.
most days, you were alone. reading, usually. sometimes curled on your side with a blanket pulled up to your waist, the bedside lamp illuminating your face. other times, you were cross legged in the center of your bed, a book propped open against your knees, mouthing the words silently as your fingers absentmindedly traced the dog eared page corners. sometimes, you’d bring a friend over, usually a girl with a laugh too loud. you’d lounge across your bed together, heads bent over the edge of your bed, your body loose with comfort.
theodore would watch. you’d become his obsession without even trying. he told himself it was nothing. that it would pass. that if he just kept watching from afar, the pull in his chest would ease. but it never did.
what made it so much fucking worse, what twisted the blade in deeper, was the guilt. not just the guilt of watching you when he shouldn’t have, but the guilt that grew the day he saw you kiss someone else. the day he realized it wasn’t just someone.
it was mattheo. theo hadn’t known. not even a hint. mattheo told him everything, or so he thought. they’d been friends for years, bonded by too many fights and drunken nights and secrets they weren’t proud of. every hookup. every fling. every girl who’d passed through mattheo’s bed had been a joke, something to laugh about the next morning.
not this time. theodore had been standing at the window like he always did, eyes drifting toward your room. you were sitting cross legged on your bed, a paperback open in your lap, your hair loose and slightly messy like you’d just woken from a nap. you were turning a page when the door to your room opened, and theodore’s heart gave a confused lurch: mattheo stepped in. like it was normal. like it was his place to be.
theo had watched, body frozen except for the slow tightening in his jaw. mattheo didn’t say anything. as if he didn’t need to. he just crossed the room with that confidence he always carried, tossed his hoodie on the chair by your desk, and leaned down. as if this was a routine, pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss that was far too comfortable. your hands slid up into his hair and kissed him back, like you’d done it a hundred times before.
theo just stood there, staring with furrowed brows. the silence of his room made everything worse, the way your lips moved, the curve of your smile against mattheo’s mouth. he watched as his best friend slid his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing the fabric upward, revealing the bare of your waist, the lump of your breasts, the metal piercings theodore had spent countless nights dreaming about tasting with his own tongue.
and when mattheo came back from your house that night, theodore couldn’t stop himself from prying. working around the edges of the conversation like trying to defuse a bomb without knowing which wire to cut, asking the kind of casual questions that wouldn’t make him seem desperate to know.
eventually, however, mattheo cracked. laughing under his breath, running a hand through his curls: told theo that the two of you had been sneaking around together for about five weeks now, slipping in and out of each other’s beds, pretending the fire between you wasn’t setting blaze to everything it touched. and just like fuckin’ that, theodore felt stupid.
he sat there, nodding along like an idiot, pretending to find it funny, pretending he wasn’t shattering apart piece by piece inside. because all those nights he’d been standing at his window, staring at you like some fool, you’d already been his. mattheo’s hands had already mapped the curves theo could only dream about touching; his mouth had already tasted the skin theo ached to claim.
of course. of course that was why your curtains were drawn most nights now, blocking theo out.
regardless, even after theo found out you were dating mattheo, the acknowledgment hadn’t been enough to pry him away from that damn window. it should’ve been. god, it should’ve been. but how could he stop? you were still there, every day, existing just on the other side of the glass. gorgeous. the thought that you belonged to someone else now, that you were mattheo’s, should’ve made it feel wrong. and it did. it absolutely did. but that shame came with something addictive. the twisted thrill of watching something he could never have, of seeing you laugh or stretch or curl beneath your sheets in the early morning, knowing you were his best friend’s girl.
“no clue. you’re the boyfriend,” theo muttered, eyes scanning the hang of a sundress mattheo had plucked from a display rack in some dress shop. a pale blue thing, the kind of dress that would fall just below your thighs and hug your waist. theodore didn’t want to picture you in it, but of course, he did. he could already see it: you standing barefoot in your bedroom, spinning just slightly in front of the mirror, fingertips brushing down the fabric. or worse—he imagined it sliding down your shoulders, puddling around your ankles as mattheo stepped toward you with that smirk he wore when he knew he was about to get lucky.
“have to get it for her,” riddle said, holding the dress up. “she’d look fuckin’ amazing.”
theo stayed quiet. watched as mattheo strutted up to the front desk, tossing the dress gently onto the counter. the woman behind the register gave a soft smile, eyes flicking up to riddle. theo could make out the exchange from a few steps back, hearing the cashier ask, “for your girl?” with a teasing smile. mattheo’s curls bounced as he nodded and said something that made her giggle. some stupid line, no doubt.
theodore had never been the jealous type. anything he wanted, he got, usually without even having to ask. but people always want what they can’t have. and theodore wanted you. wanted you soooo badly in a way that ate at the open places inside him he hadn’t even realized were empty.
mattheo strolled back, confidence in every step, a small black bag dangling effortlessly off his ring finger like it weighed nothing, catching on the silver rings he always wore. his grin was all teeth. “let’s go,” he said, tilting his head toward the street. theo didn’t trust himself to speak, not when his head was a hurricane of thoughts that had no business being there. he kept his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes on the ground, his jaw tight as he tried to walk off the jealousy clawing at his ribs. it was stupid, he knew.
by the time they reached home, the sky was a shade of indigo. theo didn’t wait around — the front door had barely clicked shut behind them when he was already climbing the stairs two at a time, footsteps heavy on the wood. he didn’t even glance back.
mattheo didn’t follow. turning on his heel and heading right back out the door, toward your place. theo caught it from the top of the stairs: the quick jingle of keys, the door creaking open again, the soft click as it closed behind him. theo stood there, hand still on the banister, lips parted like he might call out — tell him to wait, to stay, to go fuck himself. but nothing came out. what was he going to say anyway? don’t go see her? mattheo would’ve just laughed. that cocky laugh that always made theo feel two inches shorter. he’d say something like, “jealous?” with that tilt of his head, and then walk out anyway. so theo let him go. let him take that damn bag of whatever he bought you, let him walk right into your space, right into your home, into the warmth that wasn’t his to want.
who the hell was theo to protest? he went straight to his room, peeled off his jacket, and crawled under the covers fully clothed. the sheets were cool against his skin, but it didn’t soothe anything. the drinks he’d had earlier sat heavy in his stomach — not enough to make him dizzy, but enough to make everything feel just a little off. he hoped they’d knock him out. that sleep would come quick.
it didn’t. he lay flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes to block out the thoughts, but they came anyway. he counted the cracks in the ceiling. focused on the soft tick of the old clock on his dresser. on the way the wind brushed against the window, rattling the glass every so often.
"mm... ugh."
theodore jolted upright, ears straining like an animal catching the faintest scent of a target. had he heard that right? he thought he was imagining it, but then he heard it again, clearer this time. “yes… augh, yes…” desperate.
he would have known those sounds anywhere. those pretty little squeal of a moan that slipped from your mouth. he’d spent many nights pressed against the windowsill, watching you with your curtains drawn open just wide enough, seeing the way your body moved beneath your own touch. each quiet gasp, each whimper had been burned into him. engraved so deep inside his mind that even now, with nothing but the sound of your voice to guide him, he could see it all: the way your lashes fluttered, the way your fingers moved, the way your back arched off the mattress as you chased your own pleasure.
theo tossed aside his blanket and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. pushing himself up with his arms, he began walking toward the window. it was already open, though the curtains were drawn. grabbing them at the center where outside light peeked through, he yanked them open.
your bare back faced the glass. mattheo lay stretched out beneath you, his dark curls a mess against your pink silk pillows, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. your nails: painted a perfect, glossy white, the edge of your french tips scratched lightly over the broad of mattheo’s chest, leaving red trails. every movement you made was sluggish, lifting your hips, rolling them with a rhythm that made mattheo’s fingers dig deeper into your skin, leaving bruises theo could already see forming along your hips.
his best friends hands clutched you, urging you to move faster, so much harder, needing more.
you leaned down, your spine arching in a curve, and pressed a line of tongue mouthed kisses along the side of mattheo’s neck: hungry kisses that spoke of intimacy theo had never been allowed to taste. he watched you part your lips against mattheo’s throat, tasting the salt on his tan skin, heard the low groan mattheo let out as you continued to ground your hips down.
theo bit down so hard on his own cheek he tasted blood. his cock was hurting against his sweats, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe, terrified he’d miss a second.
mattheo’s hands slid from your hips to the plush of your ass. his fingers digging into the meat, squeezing with a grasp that made your body jolt slightly against him. with rough strength, mattheo lifted you just enough to adjust the angle between you, guiding you down again. until you took every inch of him, your bodies fitting together like two broken pieces of the same shattered thing.
theo saw the way your head tipped forward, a moan falling from your lips: the sound sooo soft, vibrating against mattheo’s throat where you kissed him, your lips dragging across his pulse point. fingers curled against mattheo’s chest for balance, the rock of your hips as you rode him faster.
mattheo’s cock drove into you, the swollen head bumping against your g-spot with each thrust.
theodore could see it, could feel it, just by the way your body reacted. every time you lifted your hips, your thighs quivered, your back arching in those beautiful little spasms you couldn’t control.
but frustration simmered just beneath the heat because you were facing away from him, the smooth curve of your back blocking the view he craved most: he’d always loved watching the way your pierced nipples caught his full attention, how the metal glinted as your chest rose with every breath. and now it was hidden from him, kept secret while mattheo got to touch it, taste it.
each grind of mattheo’s hips had your body jolting forward, theodore knew, knew that the thick veins along his best friend’s cock were dragging against your squishy walls, stroking you just right. the way your body melted against his, the way your mouth parted in gasps said everything. your wetness coating him, making every thrust sticky, the lewd squelching sound loud enough that theo could almost hear it through the damn glass.
theo’s dick was throbbing painfully against his jeans, hard as fuck. he hated himself for it. hated that he couldn’t look away. hated that you were right there, split open for someone else, and he couldn’t touch you.
a sound clawed its way from theo’s throat as he shoved his hand into his pants. the first cold brush of his fingertips against his cock tore a choked gasp from him, body jerking against the window. he wrapped his hand around himself in a punishing hold, stroking, as if he could tear the want out of his body by force alone.
“fuckin’ look at yourself,” theodore heard mattheo. you whimpered, head falling back, the ends of your hair grazing over his best friends thighs.
theo fisted himself harder, his eyes on the curve of your back to your golden hoops — in his mind, he saw it clearly: the tattoo beneath your right breast, the one he wanted to mouth, to bite, to worship until you sobbed his name. he imagined it was his cock buried deep inside you, his hands tangled in your hair, your voice breaking as you screamed for him.
that alone made the coil inside theo snap: a release that yanked a whine from his throat. his fingers pinched instinctively, milking every last pulse of hot, desperate seed into his palm. his body jerking against the windowpane, trembling as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through him. the glass against his forehead blurred and fogged with his stuttering breath, but he barely noticed, lost to the absolute high of it.
however, he was instantly flooded with embarrassment at how quickly he had come, all from just the simple sight of his best friend and you.
“oh, come on, nott. it’s my girl’s fuckin’ birthday,” mattheo said, annoyed. pleading as he leaned heavily against the edge of theo’s bedroom window, arms crossed tight over his chest. his chocolate eyes moved between his friend and the view just beyond the glass, where you sat at your vanity, running your fingers through your hair. “pansy and her girlfriend are already there,” he continued, yanking his head toward the sound of laughter and music starting to rise.
“draco, enzo, blaise—everyone’s waiting. it’s going to be weird as fuck if you don’t show up.”
theo didn’t look up. he remained at his desk, wiping it down with a soft cloth like he did nearly every evening. no matter how often he cleaned, it somehow managed to look messier by the next morning. what mattheo didn’t say, but knew, was that theodore’s desk sat in the perfect spot, positioned just below the large window that framed a direct view into your room. from where he stood, theo could see everything. the setup wasn’t intentional, it had been that way since before either of them could remember. his desk had always been there, longggg before he realized what that window actually offered.
“don’t feel like it,” theodore replied, barely looking up from where he was running his cloth in circles across the surface of his desk. “barely even know the woman,” he added with a shrug.
he didn’t know you, not in the way people usually mean when they talk about getting to know someone. he didn’t know your favorite color, or what kind of movies you liked, or whether you bit your nails when you were nervous. but he knew what your body looked like beneath soft silk and tight cotton. he knew the way your lips parted and your head tilted back when you were chasing pleasure, whether it was under someone else’s touch or your own. he’d never heard your voice in conversation, but he’d heard it in squeaky moans carried through open windows.
mattheo exhaled loudly, dragging a hand down his face before turning back toward the window. “exactly,” he said, gesturing toward the sight of you. “you don’t know her. so m’trying to fix that. my two favorite people don’t even know each other, theo. that’s messed up.” that made theodore pause. he turned his head, giving a sideways glance at mattheo. his best friend wasn’t even looking at him, his gaze had returned to the window, locked on you.
curious despite himself, theo followed his best friend’s line of sight. you were sitting at the edge of your vanity chair, legs crossed, applying a final coat of lip gloss. your hair was half up, curls falling down your back like warm honey. the dress you wore, silky where it hugged your hips: the one mattheo had bought for you last week.
you looked gorgeous. too stunning. and somehow theo’s eyes weren’t drawn to the usual things. his attention caught on the tiniest details: the shimmer of body oil on your collarbone. the way your earring swung each time your head tilted. and, because he couldn’t help it, the outline of the piercings on your breasts, barely visible through the thin material of the dress, but justtttt enough to be noticed if someone was looking closely.
“not in the mood to party anyway.” the words were simple, tossed out casually as theo leaned back in his chair, fingertips tapping lightly against the edge of his desk. but the second they left his mouth, mattheo’s head snapped around like he’d been slapped. “not in the mood to party?” he repeated, disbelief in his voice.
mattheo had known theo since they were kids, since scraped knees to the stolen bottles of alcohol behind the castle. if there was one thing he could count on, it was that theodore nott never missed a party. not for exams, not for breakups, not even for detention. the boy lived for chaos, for loud music and dancing girls and a drink in each hand. so this didn’t make sense. “who are you, and what the fuck did you do to my best friend?” he asked. “seriously, tell him i want him back.”
nott rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. he shook his head and stood up slowly, stretching before he leaned his weight against the desk. “i’m serious,” he said. “go have fun with your girl. it’s her fuckin’ birthday, just tell her i said happy birthday, yeah?” but even as he spoke, even as he tried to sound uninterested, theo’s eyes wandered back to the window. back to you. still seated at your vanity, fastening the tiny clasp of a necklace around your neck, brushing the curve of your collarbone as you adjusted it.
theo couldn’t go to that party. he wouldn’t. if he saw you and mattheo together, up close, arms around each other, eyes locked in that way that only couples do. he wouldn’t be able to handle it. he’d pretend, obviously. theo was good at pretending. he’d lean against the wall with a drink in hand and wear that handsome grin. but the whole time, he’d be watching you. watching him with you. watching you with him. it would tear him apart.
you were already irresistible when seen through a window. but up close? with that perfume he’d caught traces of in the hallway? with your laugh in his ears instead of muffled through glass? he’d lose his mind.
mattheo bit the inside of his cheek. he hated this. hated the feeling of walking away from something that was supposed to be fun, that was supposed to include everyone he cared about. he and theo had done everything together since they were eleven: first smokes, first fights, first girls, first heartbreaks. there wasn’t a memory worth keeping that didn’t have nott’s name scribbled somewhere in the corner of it. and now, on a night that mattered. his girlfriend’s night, your night, mattheo couldn’t help but feel wrong leaving him behind.
however, mattheo knew better than to argue. if theo said he didn’t feel like partying, then dragging him out would be a lost cause. the fucker was more stubborn than anyone he’d ever met. once he was set in a direction, you’d break your legs trying to turn him around.
letting out an exhale through his nose. “alright,” mattheo said finally, turning toward the door, disappointment dragging at his voice. “if you change your mind, the party’s next door. you know where to find us.” theo gave a nod, already turning his back on his best friend. behind him, he heard the sigh mattheo always gave when he was pretending not to care, followed by the slow creak of the bedroom door opening, closing, then fading footsteps down the hallway.
the moment he knew he was alone, theo turned around. he didn’t even try to hide it anymore. his gaze went straight to your window.
you were standing now, having just risen from your vanity chair. the hem of your dress settled around your thighs as you reached for your perfume, spritzing a small cloud into the air before stepping through it, letting it kiss your skin.
your hands smoothed down the fabric of your dress once more as you took a final look in the mirror, brushing a curl of hair behind your ear. theo watched as you grabbed your little clutch bag. paused at the frame for just a second, looking back, maybe to check your reflection one last time, maybe just thinking—and then disappeared from view.
of all the people theo could’ve become obsessed with, why did it have to be you? why did it have to be his best friend’s girlfriend? the one girl he couldn’t have, the one person who should’ve been completely off limits. obsession didn’t even feel like the right word anymore. it was deeper than that.
when this all started, when theo first saw you touching yourself, you weren’t even with mattheo. he remembered that night vividly: down to the way you were lying back, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every desperate sound you let out. your hand was slow between your thighs, and the look on your face was tattooed into his mind permanently.
what if he’d moved first? what if he hadn’t stayed silent, hadn’t given mattheo time to get close to you? would you have looked at him the way you look at his best friend now? would you have let him touch you until you were trembling, maybe even crying from how good he’d make you feel? would you have let him ruin you in all the ways he dreamed of?
oh, could’ve, should’ve, fuckin’ would’ve. but the most twisted, most fucked part of it all: theo had only grown more obsessed after finding out you and mattheo were together. he couldn’t explain it. something about seeing the two of you wrapped up in each other, giving and taking pleasure so lovingly, cracked him open in ways he didn’t even want to name.
just like mattheo had said, his two favorite people. you and mattheo: two people theo is utterly obsessed with — had found each other. the two people theo loved to watch, to crave for, had somehow ended up in a relationship.
god, he loved it. he loved when his best friend came back smelling like you: the sweetness of your skin, raw scent of sex still sticking to him. he loved knowing you had made mattheo feel so good that he’d finally settled, finally stayed in a relationship.
theo loved it. loved that if it couldn’t be him wrecking you, worshiping you, making you come on his cock so deliciously, at least it was his best friend. if he wasn’t the one making mattheo’s eyes flutter shut in pleasure, you were. he tried to deny it — every part of him convinced that he was just jealous because mattheo had you. but the truth was more twisted: he was jealous because you had mattheo too.
theo blinked hard, over and over, as if it would somehow erase the thoughts that had taken inside his mind. thoughts so bizarre, so fucked, they didn’t even feel like they belonged to him. his chest felt tight, his skin too hot. he pushed himself up from his desk chair, the legs scraping roughly against the wood floor, and stalked toward the bathroom. he slid open the shower door with a clatter, the sound echoing in the tiled space, and twisted the faucet on full blast toward freezing cold. the pipes making a shuddering sound as he tore at his clothes: stripping his shirt off over his head, kicking his pants down in one tug, leaving a trail of garments behind him like he couldn’t get them off fast enough.
the moment he stepped beneath the icy spray, the shock of it hit him instantly. theo hissed through his teeth, bowing his head as the water tickled down his overheated skin, soaking his hair, dragging goosebumps across his frame. he leaned a palm against the cold tile, his other hand curling briefly into a fist at his side as he forced himself to stand there, to let the freezing water do its brutal work.
the arousal he’d gotten, just from the vivid thought of his two favorite people tangled up in pleasure, so good for him — fucked him up.
he stayed there longer than necessary, shampooing his hair, scrubbing his body hard enough to turn his skin red. as if he could wash the images out of his mind along with the sweat from his skin. when he finally shut off the faucet, the silence was instant. water dripped from his hair, trailing down his spine as he reached for a towel. he wrapped it low around his hips, the cotton scratching at his skin, and wiped a hand across the fogged mirror without bothering to really look at himself.
he grabbed a handful of cotton swabs, poking one into his ear, not yet swishing it around. with the other hand, he reached for his toothbrush, squeezing a quick line of mint toothpaste across the bristles before jamming it into his mouth.
theo stepped back into his room, still brushing his teeth, however: he stopped dead in his tracks. the sight before him instinctively made him stumble back a step, his heel catching on the edge of the rug. the toothbrush slipped from the corner of his mouth, hanging awkwardly. “what ttthe—” he mumbled, his voice barely hearable through the toothpaste foam.
he spun around and rushed back into the bathroom. the faucet screeching as he turned it back on with clumsy fingers, quickly bringing his mouth down to gather water. he swished, then spat it out, gripping the sides of the sink to steady himself for a second before straightening up. his eyes searched his reflection in the mirror, as if to confirm he wasn’t losing his grip on reality. then he stepped back out into his room.
you were standing near the foot of his bed, wearing that dress, it looked even more stunning up close. one thin strap had slipped down your shoulder, exposing more skin that seemed intentional… or maybe it was intentional. you tilted your head slightly. “rude of me not to announce myself, i know,” it was the first time he'd heard your voice in a complete sentence, and he was already captivated by it. “but you were in the shower, and i didn’t want to interrupt.”
theo just stared at you, his brain struggling to catch up. he blinked once. then again. and again, expecting you to disappear like some strange dream.
his voice came out lower than usual, cracking embarrassingly. “where’s matt…heo?” his gaze darted briefly around the room, expecting his friend to appear from behind the curtain or the closet door. if you were here, then surely mattheo couldn’t be far behind.
“he actually sent me,” you said, lifting the keys you still had clutched awkwardly in your hand, as if they somehow validated your presence. “said you… uh… had condoms.” theo almost chuckled at how shy you got just saying the word condoms. sweet thing. if only you knew how much he had already seen, how much he had already imagined. his blue eyes dragged over you, barely suppressing the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“yeah?” he exhaled, turning away, crossing the room. his towel sat low on his hips, the damp fabric wrapped around the cut of his waist. every step he took made it shift dangerously. you stayed frozen by his bed, trying very hard not to look: failing miserably.
theo crouched down in front of his dresser, yanking open the bottom drawer. it creaked, revealing a mess of old things: wrinkled shirts, an empty box of mints, and underneath it all, a few leftover condoms from an ex-girlfriend.
he grabbed three without thinking, large hands checking the slim foil wrappers, and walked back toward you. the condoms dangled casually from his fingers as he extended his hand out: just close enough for you to reach. your hand was halfway there when theo snatched them back.
“you know how to put them on, right?” you lifted your gaze up at him through your lashes, lips parting slightly like you wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. and theo, all bare in front of you, save for the thin strip of towel slung dangerously low around his hips. the shape of him barely covered the way your thighs instinctively pressed together.
you shook your head. theo could’ve groaned at the sight. he already knew, obviously. knew you and mattheo didn’t use condoms, his best friend had always been stubborn about it, even back at school, bragging about how he hated the “killjoy” of it. the number of plan b boxes theo had seen mattheo toss into his bag over the years only confirmed it: it was even worse now that he had you.
regardless, knowing it was your birthday, theo was certain mattheo wasn’t going to stop at just one round. not a fuckin’ chance. shit, knowing his friend, he’d probably go as many rounds as the number you were turning, determined to fuck you until you couldn’t even remember how old you were.
these were mandatory.
“want me to show you?” theo asked, the words slipping out before he could think better of them. he knew. fuck, he knew — this could either go insanely wrong or exactly how he’d fantasized a hundred times in the guilty corners of his mind. the moment the question was said, your pretty lips parted, eyes blinking up at him with disbelief. theodore couldn’t blame you, your boyfriend’s best friend had just asked if you wanted him to show you how to put on a condom.
silence pulled between you. theo’s stomach twisted, a thread of doubt shredding through the daze of heat blurring his mind. he thought about taking it back, covering it up with a laugh, pretending it was a joke, anything to save face.
“yes,” you breathed. so sickly sure. the single word dip into him like a match to gasoline.
theo’s pulse pounded loud in his ears as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed. he ran a hand through his damp hair, pretending to be okay, but every nerve in his body was tickling. he gestured for you to sit beside him, hand loose in the air, but his entire body felt tense. you obeyed without hesitation, shy as you perched on the mattress next to him. so fucking obedient. so fucking tempting.
he let the towel fall from his hips with a flick of his fingers, letting it pool on the bed. your breath caught. fully bared in front of you, was theo’s dick: an angry red at the tip, straining up at full attention. all from the simple sight of you sitting there, looking so shy and sweet in that little dress mattheo had bought you.
you swallowed, throat bobbing with the effort. your body shifting almost unconsciously on the bed: thighs pressing together, hands clenching into the fabric of the comforter beneath you. you couldn’t stop looking at him, at all. that gorgeous, heavy heat standing between his hips. theo’s mouth tilted into a smile at your reaction, but his voice stayed rough around the edges, when he said, “don’t open it with your teeth. could accidentally rip it. then it won’t work.”
you nodded, completely focused on him. on what he was doing. on how he was doing it.
he tore the wrapper open with his hands, the foil crinkling. he plucked the condom from the packet, letting it spread slightly between his fingertips. “it’s a little wet,” theo murmured, his accent peaking through due to nerves. “you have make sure it doesn’t slip through your pretty little fingers.” the way he said it, your pretty little fingers, made your entire body hot. you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he lined the condom carefully with the head of his cock, making sure it was angled just right before slowly rolling it down.
the latex slapped onto his skin, catching every vein, every impossible inch that had you pressing your thighs even tighter together. “just like that.” you bit down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep from making some humiliating sound right there on the bed. your hands squeezed tighter in your lap, thighs trembling from the effort of staying still.
“can i… can i try?”
theo was about to nod, maybe crack a joke about grabbing a banana or something less dangerous, but you shook your head quickly, moving forward on the bed before lifting a manicured hand to stop him. “i mean… on you,” you said. “can i try… on you?”
theo genuinely thought he was on the verge of passing out. your words ricocheted around his mind, hitting every nerve. his heart was pounding so loud it was all he could hear, he wondered if you could hear it too. nott gobbled down his saliva, fingers a little shaky now as he grabbed one of the extra condoms from where he’d tossed them on the bed. his hand brushed yours when he passed it over, your manicured nails scratched slightly against the rough pads of his fingers as you took the foil packet from him.
he forced himself to move, peeling off the condom he’d already put on, tossed it into the small trashcan by his desk.
you tore open the foil carefully, trying not to rush, your bottom lip caught between your teeth in concentration. when you slid the condom out, you held it up between your fingers. “you weren’t wrong,” you said, giving him a shy glance from under your lashes. “it’s… really wet.”
his cock twitched, visibly, at the sound of your voice, at the sight of you sitting there so pretty. you turned slightly to face him, holding the condom between your fingers. theo had to clench his fists into the mattress to stop himself from reaching for you. you were so close now that the scent of your shampoo mixed with the smell of latex was starting to become theo’s new favorite scent.
he observed, almost in slow motion, as you lined the condom up with the tip of his dick, so carefully he found it cute. and started to roll it down over him.
the first brush of your nails against his cock had theo’s thighs tensing, an involuntary jerk of his hips that he quickly bit back. you were trying so hard to be gentle, to be careful, your eyes flickering up to his face every few seconds for approval. “like that?” you whisper, voice barely hearable over the ringing in his ears. you were so close that when you tilted your chin to look at him, the slightest movement brought your face right near his: breath sweet, brushing across the tip of his nose. theo thought he might actually lose his mind. his dick throbbed against your palm, and it took every control he had not to thrust into your hand and wreck every bit of innocence still in the room.
“just like that,” theo rasped. he cleared his throat roughly, trying to ground himself, to wrestle back the thin shred of control slipping through his fingers. he was about to hook a finger under the rolled latex and slide it off, end this insanity before it went any further. when your hand shot out and stopped him, fingers brushing his wrist.
“wait,” eyes wide and questioning, locked onto his. “what about… if it’s filled?” you asked, cheeks flushing at the bluntness of your own words. “how do i remove it without any of the… juices spilling inside me?”
thrown off by how sweetly filthy that question sounded coming from your mouth. theo licked his lips slowly, mind racing, what to do. because the images flashing behind his eyes were downright dirty. he should have just explained it easily — but instead a far darker thought came to mind a sick, sick thought. one he didn’t have the power to resist.
theo reached out, his fingers brushing along your bare shoulder where the strap of your dress had slipped down. he caught the strap between two fingers and lifted it gently, sliding it back into place, his knuckles skimming your heated skin in the process. the soft prickle raising across your skin in visible waves. his fingers stayed a second too long, memorizing the warmth radiating off your body, before he forced himself to pull away.
“i’d show you… but it’s more of a visual lesson.” a smile tugged at your mouth, and you leaned in, just enough that theo could see the lust in your eyes. “good thing i’m a visual learner.” the condom still slapped over his cock stretched as he grew even harder. something he hadn’t thought physically possible until now.
“oh, i believe you,” theo muttered, he nodded toward the two empty condom wrappers on the mattress, to show how very serious you both were taking this ‘lesson.’ he adjusted himself on the bed, settling more toward the middle to give you both more room. “let me just-” he started, reaching for himself, intending to stroke his cock and mimic how the condom would fill. however, before his fingers could even brush his hardened dick, you stopped him.
“i have a better idea,” you said, syrupy sweet. “to get the full experience.” theo blinked at you, confused, until you rose up from where you were sitting beside him. you swung a leg over him, straddling his hips, and his heart just about stopped.
the thin material of your underwear brushed over the sensitive head of his dick, and theo had to bite back a sound. a pathetic noise that scratched up his throat. he could already feel it, could already feel himself on the verge, and you hadn’t even taken him inside yet.
“always have to be sure…” theo’s voice weakened. you gave him a look, that sexy look and slipped your fingers down between your legs, hooking into the side of your panties. you dragged the fabric aside, exposing yourself to him, and theo’s mouth actually watered.
you reached between your bodies, your hand wrapping around the base of him. theodore nearly jolted at just that, your fingers, so warm wrapping around him. “for learning purposes,” you said softly, locking eyes with him. for learning purposes. you lifted yourself up a bit, lining him up with your entrance, and theo could barely believe this was real. he was finally going to touch you, finally going to make you feel so unbelievably good, just like he’d imagined far too many times. then slowly, soooo slowly, you started to sink down.
the head of his red, angry dick disappeared into the squishy walls inside you. theo whimpered instantly, an embarrassingly wrecked sound that slipped out through his nose and clenched teeth. this was the same position you’d been in when he watched you and mattheo through the window, your back to him, making his best friend fall apart under your touch. only now, you were on top of theo, and he could still smell your boyfriend on your skin. he could still smell mattheo on you.
he wasn’t sure which he loved more: the scent of you on mattheo… or the smell of mattheo left on you.
your palms laid flat against theo’s chest for balance, hips rolling in waves that had both of you gasping, lost in the feeling. his hands roamed your body, thumbs sweeping over the curve of your waist, the full bulge of your breasts. his hands traced lightly over the ink just beneath your right breast, the red cursive spelling angel against your skin.
what an angel, riding him like your boyfriend, his best friend, wasn’t just next door. throwing a party in your honor. “feel fuckin’ amazing…” theo breathed against your skin. “my best friend had all this to himself?” his words dissolve into kisses and biting sucks against your pierced nipples, leaving trails of swollen, purpled marks. you moaned, arching into him, shoving your breast deeper into his mouth. he groaned as he sucked around the metal, loving the taste he had only ever dreamed about. it was even better than he had imagined, shocking against his tongue.
even up close he could still taste the traces of your boyfriend’s cologne clinging to your skin. the thought should have disgusted him. however, it made him impossibly harder.
theo sits up, caging you against him in a bruising hold, his arms locking around your body so tightly you can barely breathe. he holds you there, crushing you to his chest as he thrusts up into you, giving you everything. your hands fly to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, dragging him even closer to your chest as he continued to drive into you.
“keep hitting right th—ugh…” your words broke off in a choked moan, the sentence dying on your tongue. theo didn’t need to hear the rest; he already knew. he obeyed immediately, adjusting the angle of his thrusts, jabbing into the spot inside you that made your body jolt. you tried to keep moving, hips grinding down against him in desperate circles, but every time the thick head of his cock nudged that sensitive spot: you faltered, legs trembling around his waist. theo caught you when you slumped forward, letting your head drop onto his shoulder as you whimpered. his arms curled around you, holding you steady while he kept thrusting up into you, meeting your weak movements halfway, guiding you through the waves of pleasure crashing over your body.
every breath you took fanned across his neck as you clung to him. you hadn’t even bothered warning him that you were about to come, you couldn’t find the words, and he didn’t need them anyway. he could feel it.
the way your walls sucked him in, squeezing him tighter. even through the condom, he could feel the rush of your release, dripping down all over his cock. theo cursed under his breath, losing his rhythm as his own orgasm hit, his body pushing against yours. hips lifting up into you one last time, deeper than before, as he spilled into the condom with a groan muffled against your shoulder.
for a while, neither of you moved, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing. theo pulled out of you, the latex still slapped against him gleaming with your juices. but instead of letting go, he wrapped his fingers tightly around the base of the condom. “first,” he said, voice still recovering from the aftershocks, “don’t just yank it out like you usually do.” he demonstrated, pinching the tip of the condom carefully between two fingers to trap the contents inside. “always pinch the tip,” he instructed, “or you’ll make a fuckin’ mess.”
“then,” theo murmured, eyes locked on yours, making sure you were paying attention. his fingers gripping the base of the condom, not letting a drop escape. “slowly roll it down,” he instructed. “keep your grip tight at the tip.”
you watched, still catching your breath, as he demonstrated for you: rolling the condom down his still softish cock inch by inch. you could see the way his knuckles tensed slightly with the control he forced himself to maintain, ensuring not a single drop spilled.
when the condom was finally off, theo pinched the tip again for extra caution, lifting it between two fingers. you caught a glimpse of it, full of everything he was going to pour into you. theo twisted the open end into a tight knot, sealing it shut before tossing it casually into the nearby trash can with a flick of his wrist.
only then did he turn back to you. your back sprawled out across his bed, hair wild against his dark sheets, skin covered in sweat. fat purple hickeys scattered down your neck, your chest, your thighs. theo stood for a moment, just drinking it in, the gorgeous sight of you, the mess of you. the way you looked destroyed and beautiful under his touch. part of him, a greedy part, wanted to take a picture, to keep you like this forever, ruined by him with the scent of his best friend on you.
instead however, he let himself hover over you, one hand brushing your cheek. “happy birthday, by the way,” voice almost too soft for what they’d just done.
he lowers himself, mouth trailing a path down your throat, across your collarbone, tongue lapping up the thin sweat he left behind. you exhale through your nose, blinking down at him through post-orgasmic daze. “you’re obsessed,” you whisper, voice wrecked.
“of fuckin’ course i am,” he mutters, almost resentful, like somehow it’s your fault he’s like this. when his mouth reaches the curve of your breast. he stops, catching on the silver piercing on the tender peak. “fuck…” he breathes. his mouth falls open, tongue flicking over the metal before he seals his lips around it, sucking it into the heat of his mouth. his free hand cups your other breast, thumb rolling over the second pierced nipple, the barbell clicking under the pressure.
he devours your chest, leaving trails of saliva and bruises like signatures across your skin. dark red and purple marks blush over the soft bump of your breasts, around the delicate piercings, down to the fragile skin just above your ribs.
you sink your nails into his hair, yanking sharply when the overstimulation becomes too much. he looks up at you then, lips all swollen. “now go show my best friend everything i just taught you.”
summary: Mattheo Riddle is the perfect boyfriend; attentive, loving, and, not to mention great at sex. Thought recently you’ve been thinking of spicing things up. But when you suggest something that he’s not quite willing to try yet, his best friend Theodore Nott has a few ideas on how to help. Even if it’s not exactly conventional.
wc: 6.8k
warnings: MDNI, all characters are 18+, established relationship, pet names, sexual taunting, dry humping, dubcon?, consensual cheating lowkey, mentions of insecurity/anxiety around sex positions, slight locker room chat from the boys, mentions of being drunk/alcohol consumption & Theo being hilariously good at riling Mattheo up. Self indulgent but I digress
If Mattheo Riddle knew how to do one thing right in his life, then he’d say it was fucking. Fucking you to be exact, his darling girlfriend. His angel. The glue that held him together more than half the time, not that he’d admit that to anyone but you.
He knew how you liked it— he knew the moment you were about to shatter just by the way you said his name. Merlin, he knew just about everything about fucking you, like it was his personal mission to know exactly what you liked and disliked. As long as it made you feel good, Mattheo was more than willing to learn.
Or, so he thought. Foolishly.
When you asked one day— all shy glances and mumbled words as he pressed kisses to the crook of your neck— if you could try something new, Mattheo was all ears. That was, until you suggested that for once you do all the work, treat him for a change. It was then he crumbled. Cheeks flushed with a faint but noticeable blush, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed shyly.
It went on like this for over a week. He’d have you caged in his arms, trapped underneath him, cock brushing against your tight walls. A sinful drag that made him grunt against your lips in sheer appreciation, and all of a sudden, you’d break the kiss. Eyes peering up at him all innocent and curious, like he wasn’t still thrusting in and out of you, deliriously chasing the high he was ‘oh so close’ to reaching.
“Matty…” you’d purr, in that voice that almost-always made him bend to your will. That syrupy tone enticed him like a siren’s call, and the moment he heard it, he knew exactly what you were asking for. What you’d been subtly hinting at ever since the first time you’d asked and he’d shrugged it off.
Control.
He’d fuck into you faster— deeper— covertly try pressing his lips against your throat, biting down in all the spots he knew you loved. He tried his very best to render you unable to even think about asking again, but it would never work.
“I just want to try it…” you’d urge, bringing it up moments after he finally came. A small pout on your lips, as he gasped beside you, flat on his back and attempting to catch his breath from over-exertion. “Feel bad you’re doing all the work.” You slid closer to him, propping your head up on your hand.
Mattheo only huffed and rolled onto his side, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple, muttering the same thing he always said when you asked, “Just let me worry about making you feel good, yeah?”
After the third variation of that conversation— mid thrust, usually— Mattheo was starting to crack. Running out of ways to turn you down, and ways to distract you with his cock; or mouth, or fingers. Which meant he began to think about your request, albeit hesitantly, grappling with whatever strange part of him couldn’t relent.
It hadn’t exactly driven a wedge between the two of you, but he was growing more and more defensive each day. New excuses slipping from his lips each time you gave him that butter-wouldn’t-melt look.
“I just don’t want my sweet girl lifting a finger, not when I can make you feel so good.” He’d purr into the soft skin of your thighs, thumb tracing your clit in tight circles, whilst his tongue returned to lap at your slit.
“But you look so good underneath me, love,” he’d reason with a smirk, cock pistoning in and out of you, slow and deep. Drawing the prettiest of moans from your parted lips.
Then, “Stop asking, yeah? You’ll take what I give you and you’ll shut that pretty little mouth.” He’d growl, bucking into you rapidly, one hand pressed across your mouth to silence your whines.
And yet, when you finally stopped bringing it up, Mattheo found he didn’t feel the relief he’d expected.
If anything, it left him with a gnawing sort of feeling— the kind that lingered long after he’d made you cum, and even longer after your breathing evened out beside him. He’d lie there in the dark, still naked beside you, your skin warm and damp against his, and feel unfulfilled. Like he’d missed something, though he couldn’t pinpoint what.
It got worse in the quiet moments. When you drifted off, lashes resting on flushed cheeks, his hands itched to touch you again. Not to chase his own release, but to chase that look. The one he knew you’d have if he ever gave in. That look of pure, soft, aching, need.
He told himself it was stupid. That neither of you needed it, sex was perfect the way he knew how. You nestled into the pillows, and him doing all the hard work. It was safe— comforting, almost— the ease of that routine settling something in him he was yet to face. And yet, each morning he woke up lately, your innocent request was already waiting for him, unmoving and stubborn as ever.
Mattheo felt restless, wand twisting around his fingers, a soft tap each time the wood scuffed the table. Completely oblivious to the Herbology Essay that lay untouched in front of him, he had bigger problems than naming properties of bubotubor pus— like the fact that, for the first time in his life, his sex life was subpar.
And even worse? He’d come to realise it was entirely his fault.
Theo sat across from him, kicked back in his chair like he owned the place, ankles crossed on top of the table. His fingers idly turned the page of his textbook, attention only half there— the very picture of smug detachment.
Mattheo was driving himself up the wall just thinking about it, the way you’d looked so downtrodden each time he’d shut down your simple ask of him. And it began to eat away at him, at all hours. But especially, when he was meant to be focusing on other things, like making sure his grades didn’t slip enough that he got benched for the rest of the Quidditch season.
The more he thought about it, the more the problem weighed on him— and right now, sitting in the library on Monday night desperately trying to get through his homework, Mattheo wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him up. Just to be done with it altogether.
It’s not like he didn’t trust you, or that he didn’t want you on top. Rather the opposite, if he was completely honest. That other side to him, the feral and hedonistic one, reared its head at the mere mention of you. His pulse thrummed the moment he caught even a whiff of your sweet perfume. He just… wasn’t sure. It was vulnerability, he supposed, and that was one thing Mattheo wasn’t good at.
“You’ve shagged plenty of girls, Theo.” Mattheo spoke up eventually, breaking the silence with more of an observation than a question.
It was no secret that Theo had a reputation amongst the ladies of Hogwarts. The kind built on easy smirks and playful flirting, and always ended in the lingering smell of cologne and sex that had them coming back for more. He was the kind of guy who could convince you the sky was green and the grass was blue, and if he ever felt anything for them, he never made it clear. That was just part of the allure, ‘The Nott Charm’ as Theo often called it in jest.
Theo only hummed, half interested and half judgmental. Turning the page of his book with intrigue that had to be put on, if only to urge Mattheo to offer up something better— or shut up altogether.
Mattheo cleared his throat when he realised his mistake, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in bemusement. “I just mean— you know what you’re doing, right?”
Theo’s gaze slid up slowly, deliberate, as if he were deciding whether Mattheo was worth looking at just yet. One eyebrow rose in lazy curiosity, the corners of his mouth curling like he’d been expecting this.
“Trouble in paradise, amico?” His smirk was pure provocation. “Young love’s first fight?”
Mattheo scoffed, throwing himself back in his seat with an exasperated groan. Theo only stuck out his tongue.
“Like you’d know a thing about love. Bloody new girl every week! I don’t know how you keep up, Casanova.” Mattheo bit, mirroring Theo’s childish gesture stubbornly.
“Oh?” Theo leaned forward just slightly, elbows on the table, smirk sharpening as all playful teasing slid from his face. “Then why bother asking me at all?”
Theo’s head tilted tauntingly. As if daring him, with that look like he already knew everything Mattheo wanted to confess.
Mattheo hesitated, glancing around at the nearby students — all too buried in their own work to notice. A flicker of heat threatened to rise in his cheeks at the thought of discussing you like this, with Theo of all people.
“It’s… ah, forget it,” Mattheo muttered finally, shaking his head and glancing back down at his essay.
But Theo was like a dog with a bone.
“Don’t tell me…” Theo hummed, eyebrows creasing as he pretended to think, “She’s terrible in bed?” Theo drawled, probably only saying it to rile him up.
Mattheo’s jaw clenched, eyes darkening in warning. “Careful with your next words, Nott.” He gritted out, “She’s my girlfriend.”
Theo raised his hands in mock surrender, grin firmly in place — the same, sly grin he gave to every girl he’d ever left wanting more. Mattheo should’ve known this was hopeless, that Theo was the least likely of his friends to understand.
“Alright, alright. Message received.” Theo mused, letting his hands drop down to the table, leaning forward with that same lazy curiosity. “Spit it out then. What’s bothering you?”
Mattheo exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. “It’s just—” He broke off, staring at the grain in the tabletop as though it might help him find the words. “Have you ever, uh…” He gave an awkward head tilt, like that would somehow explain it.
Theo stared at him flatly.
“That’s not even remotely a question.” Theo laughed coolly, studying the exasperated look on Mattheo’s face with amusement.
“You know,” Mattheo tried again, shifting in his seat, “let her…?”
Another vague nod.
The smirk on Theo’s face was immediate, sly and crass. Spreading across his lips like all his Christmas’ had come at once.
“Oh. You’re into that, are you?” His voice dripped with amusement, one brow raising higher. “Didn’t peg you as that kind of guy, Riddle.”
“What— No! Salazar Theo, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mattheo scowled, colour creeping into his cheeks at the insinuation.
Theo only grinned wider, shrugging noncommittally, “You’re into what you’re into mate, I don’t know what shit you like.”
“I just mean…” Mattheo huffed, leaning closer as his voice dropped to a whisper, “letting her take control?”
His eyes scanned once more to make sure no nosey Ravenclaws had overhead him. Part of him in disbelief that he was even saying this out loud.
Theo blinked once. Twice, like he couldn’t quite believe what Mattheo was saying. Then snorted dryly, “Well, duh?”
Mattheo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, duh?”
“I mean,” Theo said as he leaned closer— tone utterly casual, too casual for what they were discussing really. “Free pussy in your lap and she does all the work? Come on man.” He groaned, eyes rolling like it was a wet dream. “Hang on— are you seriously telling me you’ve never let her ride you?”
Mattheo grimaced, looking away sheepishly. “Not… exactly.” He answered, suspiciously evasive in his reply.
Theo sat back, shaking his head slowly, like he’d just been informed of an unforgivable crime against wizardkind. “Salazar save me, Riddle. That girl is a waste on you.” Theo stifled a groan.
“It’s not that simple,” Mattheo muttered, glaring at his untouched essay. Theo was all too comfortable with this conversation, and Mattheo needed out of it, quickly. “You wouldn’t understand, Nott.” he snapped quietly, practically hissing the words across the table.
“Mate… it is.” Theo said, voice low and incredulous, “It’s exactly that simple. You sit there, you shut up, and you let her ruin you. Merlin’s bollocks, have some dignity man!”
Mattheo shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but the heat in his ears gave him away instantly.
“Alright, alright. I get the picture, Nott, now shut it, please.”
Theo must’ve caught it, of course he did. The way Mattheo’s jaw clenched, the flush creeping up the back of his neck at the thought of you that Theo had so kindly painted.
“You think letting her be in control makes you weak, don’t you?” Theo spoke, with that smug knowing look on his face. That same look that said ‘I’m your best mate, of course I’ve worked it out before you did’.
Mattheo scowled harder, refusing to dignify him with an answer to a question he already knew. And Theo knew alright, he could read Mattheo like a book, probably better than he knew himself. For better or for worse.
Currently Mattheo was learning towards worse.
Theo leaned in just enough for his voice to drop low, almost conspiratorial. “Take it from me, it doesn’t. It makes you smart. Let her think she’s running the show, and you’ll get more than you ever knew to ask for.”
Mattheo scoffed, pretending the words slid right off him, but Theo wasn’t done.
“Course,” he added lightly, flipping a page in his textbook, “if you’re too scared to try it, she can always come to me. I’m good with first-timers, y’know.”
Mattheo’s head snapped up, his glare dangerous, but Theo was already scanning his notes like the conversation was over.
“You’re an insufferable prick, Nott,” Mattheo muttered. Well used to Theo’s distinct lack of embarrassment by now.
“And you…” Theo replied without looking up, “are going to be thinking about this all bloody night. Let her fuck you and be done with it.” He shrugged, voice lacking any sympathy for his predicament.
Mattheo’s forehead fell down against the table with a groan, because as much as he hated to admit it, Theo wasn’t wrong.
It was just a throwaway comment. Theo being Theo and needling for sport. Mattheo knew that. But it stuck, like tyres spinning in a muddy field. Each time Mattheo shook the taunting sound of his best friends teasing off— it felt like he was digging himself deeper.
And by the time he was back in his dorm, tossing his books and half finished essay to the side, the words had wormed their way right under his skin and settled.
Let her think she’s running the show.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea. Merlin, his cock stiffened just thinking about you, never mind the thought of you on top of him.
No, it was the exposure that came along with it— because Mattheo was a control freak. He latched on to situations where he could control how people felt towards him, how you felt towards him. And giving that all up, no matter how minor it seemed, terrified him.
But now, thanks to Theo and his love for meddling, he was beginning to realise that it wasn’t the ‘what if’ that might be the problem here. It was him.
He flopped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, jaw tight. He could picture you in his mind without trying— sitting in his lap, hands braced on his chest, that determined glint in your eyes when you were set on proving a point. He imagined the roll of your hips, the heat of your thighs caging him in, the smug little smirk you’d wear because you always got what you wanted, eventually.
Mattheo shifted uncomfortably, dragging a hand down his face. Fuck, stop thinking about it, he told himself as he adjusted his trousers, ignoring the stirring sensation that pooled in his stomach.
Except then the image shifted. It wasn’t him under you anymore. It was Theo. And for some godforsaken reason, that was worse, and better, all at once.
His stomach knotted. He’d kill him. He’d actually kill him. But the sound— in his head, imagined, yet as clear as day— of Theo’s low groan when you moved? Yeah, that might just kill him first.
“But Matty,” You whined with a faux pout on your lips, arms crossed over your chest dramatically. Mattheo’s eyes rolled as his arm tightened around your shoulders, guiding your smaller frame to walk alongside him.
“It’s late, sweetheart.” Mattheo’s voice was raspy from the firewhiskey he’d been drinking all evening, a sleepy haze lacing his words. But you were in no mood to call it a night, much to your boyfriend’s evident frustration.
“Ugh, you’re no fun..” you huffed, earning a snort from behind you. Theo was trailing a few paces behind, choosing to leave the Hufflepuff party at the same time as you and Mattheo. Which wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary, dating Mattheo sometimes felt like dating Theo, there was never one without the other— and you’d accepted this well before you even officially became a couple.
“Yeah Matty,” Theo echoed with a lazy smirk, falling into step on your other side and wedging you between the two boys. “Don’t be such a bore. The girl just wants a bit of fun.”
Theo’s thick brows wiggled suggestively, coaxing a shy laugh from your throat. Ever the gentleman with his sexual innuendos, everyone had long stopped groaning at his lack of embarrassment in that department— sex jokes were a given when you were dealing with men who behaved like horny teenagers.
You snorted, shooting Theo a grin that he returned happily. But Mattheo’s jaw flexed, his grip around you tightening as though he could shield you from Theo’s words by sheer force.
“She gets plenty of fun,” your boyfriend muttered under his breath, his tone both flat and warning.
You were oblivious— partially— to the silent standoff between them, mistaking Mattheo’s unsociableness for tiredness. Quietly, you pressed closer into his side, the faint smell of aftershave and cigarette smoke invading your senses as you breathed him in.
His arm slung around your shoulders tugged you closer as you traipsed through the dungeons, a comforting heat as your short skirt and crop top offered little warmth in the draughty corridors. You buried yourself further into Mattheo as you waited for the staircase to change, silently cursing the magic that typically would have had you in awe.
Theo hummed from beside you, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels as though the tension he was creating between you all was nothing but entertainment for him.
“Does she now? ’Cause if I didn’t know better, that’s not entirely true— is it, Matty?” He pressed, his eyes skimmed over the top of your head, smirking towards your boyfriend as if you weren’t there at all.
Your cheeks burned, half from the firewhiskey, and half from Theo’s deliberate jab. You’d all had a bit to drink tonight, but you didn’t feel that drunk anymore. Not with the way Mattheo stopped dead in his tracks, pulling you to a stop too as he glared sharp enough to slice clean through his best mate.
“Careful, Nott.” he gritted out, voice low and dangerous. Like something was transpiring between the two boys, something that you evidently were not privy to.
Theo just lifted his hands in mock surrender, eyes glinting like he’d already won. Ignoring the way your head twisted between the two boys confusedly.
“Relax, Riddle. I’m not offering. Just observing.” His gaze flicked down to you briefly, then back to Mattheo, a sick grin tugging at his lips. “Unless, of course, she’s been begging you for something you’re too bloody stubborn to give.”
You stiffened, suddenly hyperaware of the tension coiling between them. Inquisitive, your eyes fixed on Mattheo, the pieces beginning to fit together as you took in the expression on his face. A mix of a scowl and a deer caught in headlights, his lips parted and eyes blinking towards Theo silently. The three of you still stopped dead in the centre of the corridor.
“Uh…Mattheo?” You nudged cautiously. You weren’t certain, but you weren’t stupid either. A sinking feeling of embarrassment began to harden in your stomach, nausea creeping in and replacing the warm feeling you’d been floating around with all evening.
Theo’s words clearly struck a nerve in your boyfriend, who’d stiffened and was having a silent standoff with his best friend. It wasn’t like Mattheo to discuss things of that… nature with Theo.
You knew all too well how defensive he became when someone was prying into his personal life, and without sounding big headed— you knew you were a particular sore spot for Mattheo.
Yet Theo’s grin turned positively wolfish. “That look she gives you sometimes. Frustrated, all wound up. Not from lack of effort, no—” his eyes flicked to you, then deliberately back to Mattheo, “—but from lack of freedom.”
You blinked, caught between confusion and embarrassment, mouth opening and closing in blatant shock. The way his lips curved round each word, the slight twinge of his accent as he spoke, all of it made clear that this ran deeper than Theo’s typical teasing. Mattheo, however, looked like he might kill him, or at least try to.
You were certain now, Mattheo had to have told Theo about your sex life, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t positively mortified.
“Shut your mouth.” Mattheo’s voice was like gravel, low and venomous. His arm tightened around you again, as though if he held you close enough, he could stop the words from reaching you.
Theo just chuckled, shaking his head. “Touchy, touchy. Don’t worry, tesoro,” he added with a wink in your direction, “your boy here just likes to keep his hands firmly on the reins. Isn’t that right, Matty boy?”
Your lips parted, questions bubbling up, but Mattheo cut you off with a sharp tug, practically dragging you away down the corridor towards the common room. Even as you tried to ask what the fuck Theo was on about.
“—Don’t. listen to him.” Mattheo cut you off, his words clipped, final, and leaving no room for argument. His grip firm against your shoulder as his pace quickened. You were near enough jogging to keep up with him, glancing back at a smug Theo as your boyfriend hissed the password at the concealed entrance in the dungeons.
Mattheo’s grip on your arm didn’t loosen until he’d ushered you to step into the Slytherin common room, his chest brushing against your back as he followed close behind you. It was empty at this time, students either still at the Hufflepuff party or in Hogsmede. Which in the moment, unsure of whatever was going on between the two boys, you were immensely grateful for.
The fire had burned low, casting the space in deep orange shadows. Empty—except for you, Mattheo, and Theo, who strolled in behind with all the ease of a cat who’d cornered his prey.
“Just… don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He’s being an arse.” Mattheo muttered again, guiding you gently toward the stairs, seemingly hell bent on getting you as far away from Theo as possible.
You could feel him behind you as you climbed the stairs, following the familiar path towards his dorm room. Glancing behind you caught the tail end of his movements, a hand running through his curls like it might clear the storm from his face. You saw the way he glanced back at Theo and mouthed something you couldn’t work out, but from the way his back straightened menacingly, you could hazard a guess that it was some variation of a threat.
Theo followed. Of course he did, not one to miss out on teasing your already irritated boyfriend. He was grinning like the Cheshire fucking cat, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. The two of them like an old married couple as Mattheo groaned and told him, audibly this time, to piss off.
You let yourself into Mattheo’s dorm with a practiced ease, a sobering wave of exhaustion settling in your bones as you crossed the room. Mattheo had already begun toeing off his shoes by the dresser, not caring where they landed.
Part of you was angry, shuddering at the thought of Mattheo sharing details about intimate moments that should’ve been reserved for the two of you. But it was embarrassment that won out, your cheeks still painted with a noticeable flush as you settled onto his mattress and reached down to the thin straps of your heels.
“You know,” Theo chirped in a lazy voice, appearing at the doorframe a moment later, letting himself in without a modicum of remorse. “It’s a shame, really. But if you can’t keep her entertained, Riddle, just know I could.”
Your head snapped towards Theo, who had wandered in and taken to leaning against his bedpost. Mattheo had stepped forward fiercely, putting himself between you and his best friend. His mouth had dropped open, but you got there first.
“That’s enough, Theodore,” you snapped, turning the full force of your glare on him. “What I do with my boyfriend is none of your business. I don’t know what has gotten into you both, but it stops… now.”
Your arms folded across your chest, ignoring the glance that Mattheo shot you. The last thing you needed was a lecture from him on why feeding into Theo’s needling was a bad idea.
The tension coiled in the air like a thick blanket, settling over the silent dorm room as neither boy offered you an answer. Mattheo stood with his jaw tight, now avoiding your eyes and glaring at Theo— who just stared back at you, that stupid smirk still on his lips.
“You’re right, Tesora.” Theo relented, sitting down on the edge of his mattress, and risking a small glance towards Mattheo, “I, for one, am terribly sorry…” his hand waved halfheartedly and crossed against his chest, “Sorry that your boyfriend’s too much of a control freak to ever let you fuck him properly.”
Mattheo’s eyes squeezed shut, inhaling sharply at the same time that your jaw dropped. Your face burning red with embarrassment, staring wordlessly between the two boys.
“I- That’s… none of your concern, I mean…” You stutter helplessly, fingers twisting the bedsheets beside you to occupy your hands. Mattheo only sighed, teeth gritted together as he pinched at the bridge of his nose.
“Come off it, love,” Theo scoffed, leaning back on his hands to support his weight, legs spreading casually. “I know you’re dying to show him what he’s missing.” His head nodded in Mattheo’s direction as he spoke.
Then, he patted his thigh, utterly at ease.
You froze, jaw agape as your pulse raced in your throat.
Mattheo seemed to be equally taken aback. He looked at you, then at Theo, fury blazing—but he didn’t move. His jaw worked, lips parting like he wanted to object, but no words came.
And that silence… that silence was louder than anything he could’ve said.
“Well?” Theo’s head tilted, voice smooth and entirely calm. Like he hadn’t just propositioned his best friend's girlfriend like it was completely ordinary.
“I…” your words caught in your throat, eyes wide and mouth working to wrap around some sort of response to that.
Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, so quick you began to hear it echoing in your ears. Mattheo still hadn’t said a word, hadn’t so much as uttered a single syllable in your defence. He just stared, eyes flickering between your still frame and Theo’s relaxed stance.
A different sensation coiled in your belly, the prior embarrassment and nausea melted away and was replaced with something new. A burning heat that made your cheeks flush darker and your mouth dry up. Maybe you were drunker than you first thought, or maybe Theo had mastered wandless magic and cast imperio on you.
Whatever the reason, you felt the burning desire to fulfill his request.
Mattheo hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t moved. But you could feel him watching—could feel the weight of his stare press against your skin like a hot iron. His jaw ticked, his fingers flexing once at his side, and still he gave you nothing. No stop. No claim. Just that unbearable silence that made your pulse kick harder.
You swallowed, legs unsteady as you moved closer. Your skin prickled; the wrongness was suffocating, but the thrill of it made your stomach twist. One word from him and you’d have stopped, you knew that. One word, and Theo wouldn’t even have tried. But Mattheo didn’t speak. He just stared through narrowed eyes, watching with a mix of curiosity and lust clouding his vision.
That feeling at the pit of your stomach began to bloom, and with one nervous glance back over your shoulder you met Mattheo’s eyes. Burning, more black than brown, thick with something you couldn’t place.
Theo’s hand slid up your hip, tugging you forward, and the moment you hovered above him the air in the room shifted. Mattheo’s lips parted like he might intervene, and then—nothing. No command. No release. Just that sharp, blistering restraint that felt more like permission than anything else ever could.
When you finally sank down, Theo’s exhale was rough in your ear, but you barely heard it. All you felt was Mattheo’s gaze, searing through every movement, every shaky breath. His knuckles were bone-white from how hard his fists were clenched, his shoulders wound tight as if he were barely holding himself back.
He didn’t stop you. He didn’t even speak a word against Theo’s request. The choice—this entire filthy, shattering choice—was his as much as yours.
“See?” Theo murmured, voice silk and smoke. Humming appreciatively as you swallowed down the nervous gasp that threatened to spill from your lips. “She’s a natural.”
And when you shifted, just slightly, just enough to feel the undeniable press beneath you? Mattheo’s breath left him in a ragged sound that sealed his fate.
“She looks angelic, no?” Theo questioned, his fingers slipping down your hips and pressing firmer against your thighs. You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop any sound escaping, your eyes still firmly fixed over your shoulder on Mattheo.
Your boyfriend stared at the scene like he wasn’t quite sure where to look. From the moment you’d stood, his eyes had turned dark, thick with that same look of lust he got whenever he got hard. You’d seen it a million times, you knew what it looked like… and that reassurance made up for everything you were about to do.
Gently you rocked your hips, just slightly, just enough that Theo’s grip tensed around your thighs. The pads of his fingers dug into your skin, it felt different from Mattheo’s touch. Where Mattheo was soft and gentle, reverent and boyfriend-like; Theo was calloused and firm, lust-filled and craving.
Theo’s jeans pressed against your bare legs as your skirt rode up an inch higher, you could barely contain the gasp as he moved you. Tugging you down till your core pressed against his thigh, the slightest brush against your clit coaxing a whimper to fall from your lips.
“That’s it,” Theo breathed approvingly, his hands bracketing your thighs, tugging you into motion before you could object. The rough drag of denim between your legs, only separated by the thin cotton of your underwear and his jeans, made your head fall back with a sharp gasp.
Mattheo sucked in a breath, the ghost of a groan caught in his throat. His eyes followed every stuttered roll of your hips, guided by Theo’s rhythm, studying every gasp and muffled moan that came from you.
Mattheo made a noise, a growl almost and for the longest moment you thought he’d snap— tell you to get the fuck off his best friends lap and drag you away by the wrist. But instead Mattheo shifted his weight, his jaw loose as he stood less than a meter away, and his hand snaked between his legs. Rough and deliberate, palming himself through his trousers as though the sight of you riding his best friend's thigh was impossible to look away from.
Your breath hitched at the movement, your efforts stilling as the realisation washed over you, shame and heat colliding in your stomach. Mattheo wasn’t pissed, he was hard. Rock hard. And he wasn’t even trying to hide it.
And instead of stopping you, instead of prying his darling girlfriend off of his best friend's thigh, he muttered, voice dark and deliberate, “Go on, angel. Let him feel how needy you get.”
The words shot through you like fire. Your head fell back, a gasp tumbling free as you ground down harder against Theo’s thigh.
“F-fuck…” you whispered, though you weren’t even sure who it was made for anymore. Too caught up in the drag of your core against Theo, in the look in Mattheo’s eyes as he palmed himself to the sight.
You didn’t notice him move until he was there—looming heat at your back, swallowing you whole. Theo’s grin twitched when Mattheo’s chest pressed flush against your back, pinning you against him. Trapping you between two bodies.
Mattheo’s cock ground into your spine, heavy and insistent, his grip bruising on your hips as his fingers snaked around your frame. He breathed against your shoulder, voice wrecked and frayed.
“Couldn’t just sit there.” Mattheo murmured with a dry laugh, like sharing his girlfriend was the most normal thing.
Theo’s laugh was low and knowing, his hands sliding higher on your thighs, tilting your body to grind down harder against him. “Knew you wouldn’t….”
And then you were caught between them, writhing on Theo’s lap while Mattheo rutted against your back, two different types of hunger tearing you open from both sides.
“I…” you whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as the feeling intensified. Theo’s thigh flexed beneath you, his thick muscles from quidditch giving you more pleasure than you could handle. Mattheo’s lips attached themselves to your neck, alternating between kisses as drags of his teeth against sensitive skin. Two pairs of hands grasped at you, pulling you back and forth like some twisted game of tug of war.
“Shhh sweetheart,” Theo cooed, his thigh flexing so that each drag of your hips brushed against taught muscle.
Mattheo groaned, kissing his way up the side of your throat, “That’s it…” he encouraged, teeth nibbling at your earlobe, “Show me how desperate you are… for both of us.”
“Ma-Matty!” You whimpered, eyes still squeezed shut. The filth he was whispering in your ear only serving to push you closer to the edge, chasing your orgasm as you rocked against Theo in sloppy thrusts.
Mattheo’s chest was a furnace at your back, his hand searing against your hip as he forced you to grind harder against Theo’s thigh. The guttural sound he let out vibrated through you, making your whole body jolt.
Theo tipped his head back with a smug little grin, eyes locking with Mattheo’s over your shoulder, “Fuck, she’s so wet…” he groaned.
You could only bite down harder on your bruised lip, as Mattheo laughed darkly.
His teeth grazed your ear as he bent closer, making a point of whispering in your ear as he replied, “Don’t act like you’re not enjoying it, Nott.”
Theo’s grip on you tightened as he huffed an amused sigh, groaning, “Salazar knows I am.” into the room.
The words seemed to snap something in Mattheo. His cock pressed harder against your ass, the sharp roll of his hips chasing friction while his hand slid up your body, cupping your breasts roughly.
Your whine was drowned out by Mattheo’s grunts as he thrust against you. His fingers brushed against your side, sneaking underneath your top and sliding against your nipples through your bra. Which only made you whine louder.
“She’s mine,” Mattheo bit out, the claim edged with a growl as he looked straight at Theo. “Don’t forget that while you’ve got her squirming in your lap.”
Theo only smirked, rocking your hips down against his thigh until you cried out. “Mine, yours— doesn’t change how fucking sweet she feels right now.” Theo retorted, his jaw tightening as he shifted, growing hand just watching you writhe.
The heat between the three of you spiked, molten and consuming. One of Mattheo’s hands slid up to your throat, pushing your head back onto his shoulder, forcing you open, forcing you to feel everything.
The hard muscle of Theo beneath you, the insistent rut of Mattheo behind you, two sets of hands claiming and guiding you like you were the rope in a game neither planned on losing.
Mattheo groaned into your skin, breath hot. “Fuck, angel… look at you. Falling apart between us.”
And when your body arched, grinding helplessly against them both, Theo answered with a low, wicked chuckle, his lips brushing your jaw: “Helpless little thing. You don’t even know who you want more, do you?”
A broken whimper tore from your throat, everything about this felt wrong, so filthy, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to put a stop to it. You hips rutted with a mind of their own, even without the added guidance from their hands, you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop even if you wanted to.
Part of you should feel ashamed, dirty even, yet the delicious drag of your slick across muscle distracted you from the guilt. Your hands jolting forward to grasp onto Theo’s shoulders to steady yourself.
Mattheo was whispering praise in your ear, his voice deep and gritty as he watched your face contort in pleasure through his own half lidded eyes.
Theo’s thigh flexed again, hard, and the friction stole the air right out of your lungs. Your body jolted forward, then back against Mattheo’s cock, trapped in an unrelenting rhythm that left you clawing at Theo’s shoulders.
“F-fuck, Matty—” you gasped, head falling back onto his shoulder.
“Shhh, that’s it, angel,” Mattheo rasped, his hand tightening around your throat as he ground himself against you from behind. His lips dragged over your ear, teeth catching your lobe. “Such a good girl.”
Theo’s smirk curved sharper, his eyes fixed on your face as you trembled. “She’s close,” he drawled, rocking you faster against his leg, your soaked panties leaving a wet smear over his jeans. “You feel that, Riddle? Your girl’s about to come apart on me.”
Mattheo growled low, the sound vibrating through your back. “On us,” he corrected, his hand sliding down to your clit, pressing harsh circles that made you choke on a cry. “Say it, angel. Say who you’re coming for.”
The words tangled on your tongue, pleasure surging too high, too fast. Your hips stuttered helplessly, every nerve drawn tight like a bowstring.
“I—Matty—Theo—please, s’too much—” Your voice broke into a moan, your whole body convulsing as release hit. The orgasm tore through you in waves, clenching around nothing, your thighs shaking as you rode it out against Theo’s thigh while Mattheo’s fingers dragged you higher still.
Theo groaned at your words, his hands gripping you tighter to steady your spasms, a smug smirk plastered across his face as he exhaled.
Mattheo’s forehead pressed to your temple, his breath ragged. He didn’t stop touching you, coaxing every last tremor out of your body until you collapsed against Theo’s chest, boneless and panting.
For a long moment, the only sound was your desperate breathing, broken up by Mattheo’s guttural curses under his breath. His hand finally stilled against you, gripping your hip so hard it bordered on bruising.
Theo chuckled, low and satisfied, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “Told you, mate,” he murmured, gaze still fixed on Mattheo, “she just needed a bit of freedom.”
Mattheo’s jaw flexed. His hand shot to your chin, tilting your head back toward him, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his. His stare was molten, possessive, but laced with something else too—something dangerous and new.
“She’s mine,” Mattheo repeated, voice raw, his hand gripping your jaw as though Theo might try to steal you out from under him. His stare was all fire and iron, daring Theo to contradict him.
Theo only smirked, unbothered, his hand smoothing down your thigh like he was testing how far he could push.
Mattheo’s eyes flicked to his, sharp and burning. “Don’t get used to it.”
The threat hung heavy in the air, but with your body still trembling against Theo’s lap and Mattheo’s breath ragged at your ear, it sounded more like a promise than a warning.
Theo’s answer was only a crooked grin, slow and wicked, and the heat in Mattheo’s eyes made your stomach lurch, a sickening feeling that this was far from over.
What’s worse, you weren’t sure if you loved or hated that fact.
a/n: hi, I’m literally screaming at the fact I’m posting this, I’m terribly sorry for being so MIA lately. I’ve just started playing hogwarts legacy and it’s finally kickstarted my brain into writing something, more to follow I hope! I’m still a little rusty, but I can’t stop thinking about this ever since @sinsandlemonade and @voidofsunlight first got me thinking about mattheodore. Perhaps a part two with significantly less clothing is in order…
ghostfaces!mattheodore, predator x prey, eiffel tower position, degrading, chasing, reader is lost, mask kink, m receiving oral, throat fucking, unprotected piv (no!), mentions of killing, like 80% plot 20% smut (i apologize), all characters are 18+.
this is completely fiction. do not perform these acts in real life. i do not stand for when many acts in this fanfiction happen in real life, it is purely for your entertainment. in no way am i trying to romanticize killers or crime, just a silly piece of writing. i am not responsible for your media consumption.
wc… 1.5k
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the october leaves crunched beneath your heavy footsteps. “mariah! fuck, mariah this isn’t funny!” you screamed into the cold air.
your friend, mariah, invited you to a halloween party. the thing is, she ran off from the party with some dude. whoever’s party it was, their house was in the middle of nowhere.
you try to direct where you’re going with your nearly dead phone, taking wrong turns and trying to see without using your phone flashlight too much. the house was surrounded by a big forest, which you stupidly decided to go through.
you’re in no state to drive, having drank a lot at the party. although, getting lost pretty much sobered you up.
you groan, a bunch of branches almost hitting you in the face as you stop to look around. your phone couldn’t direct you back home, there was no signal out here. you slump down on a tree, head in your hands.
“what’s wrong, cara mia?” a low voice comes from somewhere. your head snaps up, eyes falling on a tall man with a mask. a ghostface mask. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
there had been reports about twin ghostface killers running around, meaning the other wasn’t far. you get up from the tree, tripping over your words as you try to run.
before you can make a full sentence, two hands are around you from the other side of the tree, pinning you there. you open your mouth to scream, but it doesn’t seem to work. is this how your life will end? tortured by two men in masks? “we’ll give you a head start, bellisima.”
“run.”
when the voice behind you speaks up, his hands let go of you, body nearly falling to the floor. it takes you a moment to process what’s going on; two killers, telling you to run in the middle of the woods.
your muscles go taut, you run like there’s no tomorrow. well, there probably won’t be. after about twenty seconds, you hear more heavy footsteps following behind you.
you try to make as many turns before stopping at a tree to rest. you slump against it, trying to catch your breath, when the footsteps speed up.
adrenaline surges through your body as you run the other way. you don’t watch where you’re going, foot catching on something. you catch yourself with your hands as your body hits the dirt, trying to get back up.
before you can even think, a strong hand is in your hair, pulling the locks back. “too slow, cara mia.” cara mia. this guy was italian, the other american, but you could’ve sworn you noticed a guy at the party had an italian accent.
at the party, you made a drunk confession to some boys that you’d love to be chased in the woods. it was dumb, just a simple impulsive though. the other one towers in front of you, clicking his tongue. “y’always wanted to be chased, yeah?” the american one kneels in front of your face. his dirty hand reaches to his face, pulling the mask off.
mattheo fucking riddle.
mattheo wasn’t your friend per se, but the only late night talks you can remember are with him. the other hand leaves your hair, letting your body slump down a bit as he kneels nearby your face. his mask is off, you could recognize him from a mile away.
theodore nott.
you didn’t know much about the guy, only that he was italian and mattheo’s best friend. also had some late night talks with you. “you two!” you say a bit louder than you should’ve.
“c’mon, quit pretending” mattheo smirks. “use your pretty head and remind y’self what you said at the party.”
“i-i… it was”
“that you loved to be chased, you loved the thrill” theo cuts off your stuttering. “how brave are ya? because—“ before his sentence leaves his lips, you’re off the muddy ground and sprinting away.
truth is, you loved the thrill. you loved the idea of getting chased in the woods for whatever reason, running from two handsome men. and boy, they knew you did.
“fuck!” one of them cries from behind you, but you didn’t dare look back. running full force with whatever energy you had left, adrenaline surging through your body. your girls knew you had a crush on theodore, who knows if he did.
then, you reach an array of trees. there’s no way you could walk through them, much less run, you stop dead in your tracks when you see a figure in the corner of your eye. he approaches you, you’re frozen in fear as he walks slowly.
“tried to run, hm?” you’ve sobered up, the voice is much familiar now. mattheo riddle was a regret to you, a drunk one time fuck that shouldn’t have happened.
“mattheo” you barely whispered, turning to the boy. “what’s—“ you try to say something, when you feel another person behind you. theo’s hand covered your mouth as he towered over you.
“dumb of ya to go walking in the woods while two killers are on the loose, pretty.” mattheo says, coming closer towards you. a muffled grunt leaves your lips as theo leans towards your ear.
“mia bella ragazza, walking all alone at night.” theodore tuts in disapproval. “and here i thought you were some uptight virgin, ‘i can get shit done by myself’” the boy mocks previous drunk words you blabbed on and on about at the party; how you’d want to get chased in the woods and get fucked in the woods, but also how you didn’t need a man.
two truths and a lie. two wishes one lie. so, they made it come true.
mattheo’s and theo’s hands are all over you as they rid your deer costume. small skirt pushed up, shirt pulled up and over your head as they corner you between each other’s presences. mattheo reaches you first, locking his lips onto yours as theo removed his clothes behind you.
theo moves over in your line of vision, just in his boxers. he watched as mattheo basically chewed at your face, treating you like a damn lollipop.
“cazzo” theo murmured under his breath. “move mattheo” mattheo’s body was pushed off yours as theo moved to your face. his lips were almost where you needed them, almost. “theo please” you whisper as your legs start to shake beneath you.
“she fuckin’ needs it, she’s dripping for us” mattheo chuckles, reaching his fingers between your slick folds as your arms latch onto theo’s neck. “get down.” theo commands, watching as you slowly drop to your knees.
“hands and knees, c’mon now pretty.” mattheo says from behind you. embarrassment flushes your cheeks with a soft shade of pink as you move to your hands. ass perked up in the chilly air as mattheo’s hands trailed across your skin.
“such a pretty doll.” mattheo murmurs. theo’s hands tangle through your hair as he forced you to look up at him. he doesn’t say anything, just gives you a condescending half smile as he looks into your eyes.
“missed this pretty cunt.” mattheo mutters, fingers grazing your slick cunt. “don’t keep her waiting, mattheo. such a needy girl.” theo tells him, talking about you like you’re not even in the room. theo cups your cheeks as you feel the familiar mushroom tip prodding your wet entrance.
without warning, mattheo slides himself in about halfway. the feeling makes your body jolt forward a bit, only to be met with the already leaking tip of theo’s cock. he’s already freed from his boxers, his hand tangled in your hair.
within a second, his cock is down your throat while mattheo fucks into you. you’re a mess of gagging and moaning, holding onto theo’s thighs to ground you.
“y’fuckin’ love that, huh?” mattheo grunts through broken breaths. “mmph—“ you respond, well, try to. the pleasure was immense, theodore fucking your face while mattheo fucked your cunt.
you could never get used to mattheo’s length, he was fucking huge. theo wasn’t any smaller, his tip pushed past the thing in the back of your throat.
“makin’ me feel so good, yeah?” theo stated, free hand holding your cheek. theo’s pace wasn’t too quick, mattheo on the other hand was fucking you like an animal. his cock pounded against your cervix with every thrust, making your eyes roll back and your knees weak.
your pussy tightened around him, earning a groan as your orgasm neared. theo’s thrusts got sloppier and deeper as he fucked into your wet mouth.
when mattheo reached around your hips to rub your clit, that did it for you. the tight knot in your stomach broke as your orgasm dripped onto the dirt.
mattheo’s cum spurted into you, the sticky substance covering your walls. “dio mio” theo murmured, pushing your head all the way down until your nose poked his pelvis.
your eyes watered as you felt the warm liquid shoot down your throat, swallowing it without a second thought. theo pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick still.
your breath came out in pants as you sat on your knees. the two men are standing now, watching you as you come down from your high.
“y’fudged our plan, pretty girl.”
“leave her alone, we all know you liked this ending more mattheo.” theo says, flicking a cigarette ablaze.
tessa’s notes… kinktober is offically done :( it went by too fast (apologies for the late post !!)
and ykw theodore would forever be mattheo's best friend. no matter what blaise, lorenzo or even draco do that could win him, mattheo would always trust theodore the most — because the annoyance he saw in theodore's eyes when they were eleven wasn't about his surname, or appearance, or lack of status and good reputation. it wasn't weariness. it wasn't distrust. it was the kind of annoyance from someone that just wants you to shut up so he can read in peace. somehow, for mattheo that's the funniest and most precious thing about them: before theodore knew that mattheo would never be the monster people assume him to be, he already treated him like a normal kid.
