𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after your heart being broken by Mattheo, you decide to erase him from your memory
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1k+
“Are you sure you want to do this?” your friend asked you “Once it starts, you can't stop it”.
“I just want to forget about him” was your reply.
She took a deep breath, getting ready to say the spell out loud, but she couldn’t──it was like as if she cared more about it than you did.
“I can’t let you do this to yourself” she told you, concerned running all over her face.
“It’s okay, don’t worry” you said as your lips curled into a small smile (which looked more like a grimace) that didn’t reach your eyes, and your voice kept the exact sad tone you’ve had for the past 4 months “I’ll do it”.
After a while of hesitations, your friend left the room, she knew that no matter how hard she tried to stop you from doing this, you would do it anyway.
Once she exit the room and closed the door behind her, you sat on the floor of your room, looking at the almost empty space that reflected the way your heart felt at the moment.
You crawled to your bed, grabbing a box that was filled with things that you didn't dare to throw away like the rest. It was filled with notes he gave you and pictures of the both of you.
Suddenly, all the memories came back as you passed each photo.
There was one of you holding a teddy, the one he gifted you (the one you threw away alongside the rest of stuff that reminded you of Mattheo) and, with just looking at it, it took you back to that day.
Your bedroom was quiet, the flickering light from the ceiling casting warm shadows on the walls. Mattheo had been uncharacteristically secretive lately, a sly grin tugging at his lips whenever you asked what he was up to. Tonight, he finally revealed his surprise.
“Close your eyes” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, as he stood before you. You obliged, the corners of your mouth twitching in anticipation.
“Alright, you can open them” Mattheo said, his tone softer now—a rare vulnerability hidden beneath his usual confident facade.
When you opened your eyes, a small, plush teddy bear was waiting in his outstretched hands. Its fur was the color of caramel, and a tiny green ribbon around its neck matched the hue of Mattheo's slytherin ribbon.
“For you” he said, his gaze locking onto yours.
Your heart swelled at the gesture. Mattheo, who often masked his feelings with wit and sarcasm, had opened up in the most endearing way. You took the teddy bear into your arms, its softness adding an extra layer of comfort to the warmth spreading in your chest.
“I love it” you whispered, your smile radiant. “And I love you”.
You felt your heart shrink at the memory, so you quicky passed to the next photo, despite knowing the feeling would be the exact same or worse.
The second picture showed both of your initials on the snow inside of a heart.
You remembered that day as if it has just happened.
The first snow of the season had turned the Hogwarts grounds into a winter wonderland. You and Mattheo wandered hand in hand, your breath mingling in the crisp, cool air as the snow crunched beneath your boots. The world felt still, save for the faint sound of laughter in the distance and the occasional flurry of snowflakes brushing against your faces.
Suddenly, Mattheo stopped, pulling you gently to a clearing near the edge of the forbidden forest. The ground was untouched, a pristine canvas of white stretching before you. Without a word, he knelt down, his black gloves dusted with snow as he started to trace something on the surface.
“Mattheo” you began, tilting your head in curiosity “what are you doing?”
He looked up at you with a mischievous grin, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Patience, love” he murmured, returning his attention to his work.
When he finally stood up, you saw it—a heart carefully outlined in the snow. Inside, your initial and his were written together, intertwined as if they belonged to one another.
Your heart skipped a beat as you took it in, a warmth blossoming in your chest that rivaled the chill of the air. Mattheo turned to you, his smirk softening into something more sincere.
“Figured I'd mark my territory” he teased lightly, though his voice held a quiet vulnerability. “You and me... forever”
You couldn't help but smile, bending down to trace a little snowflake beside the heart. “Forever” you echoed, as your gaze met his and the snow continued to fall around you.
You traced your fingers over the picture, looking at it with a sad smile and a look of nostalgia. You wished every day could be like that one, just the both of you together again.
Switching images, you found the third picture, it was one where you couldn't see your face, you just saw your chest and a bit of your neck.
You were wearing one of his coats, and then you saw it──the necklace, the one that had his initial craved, the one he gave you as a gift for your anniversary.
You tossed the pictures aside and started to look for the necklace on the box. Once you found it, your eyes started to glisten from tears, as they roll down your face.
As you tied the necklace on your neck, you remembered how he did it that day he gave it to you.
The room was dimly lit, the soft golden glow from the candles casting warm pools of light over the stone walls. Mattheo stood before you, a small box cradled in his hands, his usually confident demeanor tinged with a rare sense of nervousness.
“Here” he said, voice quieter than usual as he handed the box to you. His dark eyes held yours for a moment before flickering away, as if unsure of how you would react.
Curiosity bubbled within you as you lifted the lid of the box. Nestled inside was a delicate silver necklace, its pendant shaped into a small, elegant charm—his initial, M, carved into the smooth surface. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the letter catching the light like a tiny star.
“Mattheo…” you whispered, your fingers gently brushing over the charm. “It’s beautiful”.
He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I just thought… you know… if you’re going to put up with me, you might as well have something to show for it”.
A soft laugh escaped your lips as you reached out and pulled him into a hug. “I love it” you said, your voice full of sincerity. “And I love you”.
His arms wrapped around you tightly, and he leaned down to murmur in your ear, “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go, ever”.
As he fastened the necklace around your neck, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that it wasn’t just a piece of jewelry—it was a symbol of the bond you shared with the boy who had stolen your heart.
Your fingers wrapped around the letter in the necklace, as tears kept flowing down your cheeks.
Your vision was blurry, but you still recognized the green and silver material at the very end of the box of memories; it was a slytherin sweater, one of the many piece of clothes that belong to him yet he let you wear and keep. You forgot you even still had it.
The cold wind howled through the corridors of Hogwarts, making you shiver despite the layers you wore. You rubbed your arms, trying to shake off the chill, as Mattheo noticed your discomfort. Without a word, he began pulling off his slytherin sweater, the dark green fabric adorned with the house crest.
“Here” he said simply, holding it out to you. His expression was a mix of nonchalance and something softer, something that betrayed how much he cared. “Take it. You’ll freeze otherwise”.
You hesitated for a moment, staring at him. “But won’t you get cold?”
He smirked, shaking his head. “I’ll manage. Besides, I’m not the one shivering like a leaf”.
Reluctantly, you accepted the sweater, the warmth of the fabric—and the gesture—wrapping around you like a hug. The scent of pine and a hint of his cologne clung to it, making you feel a comforting sense of closeness.
“Better?” he asked, his dark eyes watching you intently.
You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Much better. Thank you, Mattheo”.
“Good” he said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Now you can’t say I never do anything nice for you”.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the warmth spreading through your chest. As the two of you continued down the corridor, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders, the slytherin sweater felt like more than just a way to keep warm—it was a reminder of how much he cared, even if he didn’t always say it outright.
As you slide down the material down your body, you hugged yourself as you kept crying that, at this point, it was more of a sobbing. It was like as if you had no more tears left to cry.
You cleaned the tears stained in your cheeks, taking deep breaths to calm down and, as you did, you saw the last picture.
The image showed Mattheo blowing the candles of the cake you made for him on his birthday and, even if it was for the last time, you let yourself travel to that day.
The clock struck midnight, and the quiet stillness of the common room was broken by the faint flicker of candlelight. Mattheo walked in, his brows furrowed in curiosity as he spotted you standing by the fireplace, a mischievous smile lighting up your face.
“What’s all this?” he asked, his usual confidence laced with genuine surprise.
You stepped aside to reveal a small cake sitting on the table, the glow of a single candle casting a warm light over the icing. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was made with care—your care. The words ‘Happy Birthday’ were carefully scrawled on top, slightly uneven but utterly charming.
“It’s your birthday” you said simply, a touch of nervousness creeping into your voice. “And I wanted to be the first to celebrate with you”.
For a moment, Mattheo just stood there, his dark eyes scanning the cake before moving to your face. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across his lips—the kind that made your heart skip a beat.
“You made this?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.
You nodded. “I may or may not have snuck into the kitchen earlier… And no, I’m not telling you how many times I almost dropped it”.
A chuckle escaped him as he stepped closer, pulling you into a hug. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.
“Well, go on” you urged, gesturing to the cake. “Make a wish”.
He leaned over, his face illuminated by the tiny flame, and closed his eyes for a brief moment before blowing out the candle. When he straightened, his gaze locked onto yours, and a smirk danced on his lips.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble” he said, though his tone betrayed just how touched he really was.
“Of course I did” you replied, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “You deserve to feel special”.
Mattheo shook his head, his smirk softening into something far more tender. “I already do. Because of you”.
The night continued with quiet laughter, shared stories, and a slice—or two—of cake. It wasn’t grand or loud, but it was perfect in its own way. And for Mattheo, it was a birthday he wouldn’t forget.
As you got up from the floor, you took off the sweater and tossed it to your bed, and you did the same with the necklace, breaking it.
You didn’t wanna feel this pain anymore.
That’s why you searched for your wand and pointed it to yourself, murmuring ‘obliviate’ as you closed your eyes.
Soon enough, you opened your eyes with fear. Looking around the room, you found yourself questioning why you were in an almost empty room.
Your gaze moved to the floor and found the pictures that used to be filled with painful memories, now weren't.
You saw that there was one of you with a teddy bear with your house’s color ribbon, another one that showed a heart written in the snow, a third one that had your neck with your name in it (that lied broken on the bed), and a last one of you wearing your house’s sweater, which also was on your bed.
You wondered what happened for your room to be like that, but didn't dig too deep into it as you started to clean the room.
You might've not know it now, but the spelled definitely worked.
it's jamie's birthday! the day is filled with laughter, cake and a surprise he's been begging you for (for a long, long time)*. ⋆2.5k words
cw: smut. fem!reader. recording during sex. making out. dry humping. piv. unprotected sex. 69ing. doggy style. face down, ass up. missionary. face slapping. spitting. choking. overstimulation. bit of manhandling. dirty talk. praise and degradation. pet names ("angel", "sweetheart", "slut"). creampie. lmk if i missed something!
a/n: i wish i had thought of this months ago, for his actual birthday😔anyway, remember english isn't my first language!
it’s james’ birthday, and the flat you call home feels charged from the second you wake up.
he’s been dropping hints for weeks, his ridiculous grin giving him away every time he says something like, “merlin, you know what’d be the hottest thing ever?” and then trailing off dramatically until you roll your eyes.
you know exactly what he wants—he’s begged, pleaded, pouted. and tonight, you’re finally giving in.
“love,” he breathes when he walks into the bedroom after his shower, hair damp and curling against his forehead, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. his eyes dart immediately to the tripod you’ve set up at the end of the bed. the little red recording light blinks steadily in the dim room. “you didn’t— bloody hell, you actually—”
“happy birthday, jamie” you say softly, suddenly shy under his stunned gaze.
james doesn’t move at first. he just stares, glasses sliding down his nose, his mouth parted like he can’t quite catch up with the moment. then he’s crossing the room in three long strides, crashing his lips to yours.
the kiss is messy, grateful, desperate. his tongue pushes into your mouth before you can even breathe, tasting of mint from his toothpaste, and you whimper into it, grabbing at his damp shirt. james groans like you’ve just handed him the world.
“best bloody gift i’ve ever got,” he pants against your mouth, already pressing you back onto the bed. “fuck, angel, you’re perfect. gonna make the hottest film anyone’s ever seen.”
you laugh breathlessly, though it melts into another moan when his knee wedges between your thighs, grinding up against your center. the camera’s little light winks at you both from the foot of the bed, but all you can focus on is james’ weight pinning you down, his mouth sucking at your bottom lip until you gasp.
his hand finds your jaw, tilting you so he can kiss you deeper, wetter. his tongue slides against yours, sloppy and filthy, spit shining your lips as he pulls back to look at you. “open a bit wider, angel— yeah, like that.” he leans down again, groaning when you let him devour your mouth, the slick sounds surely being caught by the camera.
you whimper when he rolls his hips, cock already hard under the thin fabric of his sweats. the friction makes your head spin.
“james—” you gasp when his fingers slide up your stomach, under the hem of your shirt. “the camera—”
“let it watch,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw, down your throat. “want us both to see how good you look coming apart for me.”
he sucks a bruise against your pulse point and grinds down harder, the drag of his cock against your clothed pussy making your thighs tremble. you cling to his shoulders, rolling up against him.
“merlin, feel that? that’s all you, baby,” he groans, rutting up with no shame. “dry humping like bloody teenagers, yeah? but better. so much better.”
your laugh cuts off into a gasp when his hand slips into your panties, fingers finding your slit and sliding through the wetness. “already soaked for me,” he grins, voice wrecked. “god, the camera’s gonna love this.”
you buck into his hand, moaning when his thumb circles your clit. his tongue is back in your mouth before you can answer, swallowing every sound you make. the kiss is sloppy, hot, spit running down your chin as his fingers tease you, never quite giving enough pressure.
“james,” you whimper, hips jerking up.
“shh, angel, not yet.” he kisses you again, then pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “wanna take my time— want the tape to show how needy you get for me.”
your cheeks burn, but your body thrums with arousal, slick coating his fingers even as he just rubs lightly at your folds. james moans into your mouth, clearly as turned on by your desperation as you are by his teasing.
when he finally slides one finger inside you, curling just right, you cry out, your back arching off the bed. the camera catches everything—the way your lips part, the way james grins like the cat that got the cream, the way you rut against his hand like you’d let him do this forever.
and he kisses you through it all, tongue fucking your mouth just as his finger fucks your cunt, his other hand gripping your hip to keep you pressed tight against him.
“gonna make you beg before i fuck you,” he murmurs against your spit-slick lips.
james pulls his hand from your panties slowly, deliberately, smearing your wetness over your inner thigh before licking his fingers clean right in front of the camera. his eyes go half-lidded as he sucks them into his mouth, moaning low in his chest.
“christ, baby,” he groans, popping his fingers free with a lewd sound. “you always taste so sweet”
you squirm under his gaze, chest rising and falling too fast. “jamie—”
“shh,” he says, grinning, “birthday boy’s turn now.”
before you can answer, he’s tugging your panties down your legs and tossing them to the floor. he nudges your thighs apart, lowering himself between them like he’s worshiping. his big hands press your knees wider until you’re spread open for him, pussy glistening in the warm light of the bedroom.
the camera’s red light blinks at the foot of the bed, and you realize it has the perfect angle: james’ messy hair buried between your legs, your cunt on full display. the thought makes you clench around nothing.
“fuck, you’re so pretty,” james murmurs, his breath hot against your folds. then his tongue is on you, long and flat, licking a stripe up your slit until it flicks against your clit. you cry out, fisting the sheets, your back arching.
he moans into you like it’s the best meal he’s ever had, slurping shamelessly, loud enough that the camera surely catches every wet sound. he licks into you, nose nudging your clit, then drags his tongue back up to circle it, flicking fast until your hips are jerking against his face.
“james— fuck—”
“that’s it, angel,” he growls into your cunt, his tongue pressing deep again. he eats you like he’s starving, like he could live here between your thighs. he doesn’t care how messy it is; spit and slick drip down his chin as he groans against you, rutting into the mattress just from the taste of you.
your thighs tremble, hands clutching at his curls, tugging hard enough to make him groan. he slides one hand up to squeeze your breast through your shirt, the other pinning your hip so you can’t move away from his mouth. he sucks your clit into his mouth suddenly, hard, and your vision whites out.
“james— oh my god.”
you’re shaking, right on the edge, but before you can tip over he pulls back, face wet, pupils blown. “not yet. want to try something for the camera.”
you blink down at him, breathless, as he climbs back up the bed. he strips his shirt off in one motion, muscles flexing, before tugging down his sweats and boxers. his cock springs free, flushed and leaking, and your mouth waters.
“c’mon, love,” he says, already maneuvering you. “birthday boy wants a sixty-nine.”
you let him guide you, climbing on top of him until you’re straddling his chest, your knees on either side of his head. the camera has the perfect view now: your ass in the air, james’ cock thick and hard against his stomach, your lips stretching around the head as you lean down.
“fuck yes,” he groans when you take him in your mouth. “god, that looks so fucking hot.”
you moan around him when his tongue licks up your slit again, the vibration making him buck into your throat. you swallow him deeper, your spit dripping down his shaft as you bob your head.
he groans into your pussy, the sounds half-choked by your weight on his face.
the camera records every filthy detail: your drool running down his cock, the obscene squelch of his tongue inside you, the way your thighs shake as he sucks your clit hard.
you gag when his hips buck, but instead of pulling back, you moan, your throat working around him. he nearly sobs into your cunt, hips jerking again.
“bloody hell, baby, gonna cum if you keep doing that.” he pants, but his tongue never slows. he’s relentless, eating you like a man obsessed.
your orgasm hits fast and hard, your thighs clamping around his head as you cry out around his cock. he groans against you, drinking down every drop, until you collapse forward, chest heaving.
james pulls his mouth from your dripping cunt with a gasp. “you look like a fucking wet dream right now”
he helps you off him gently, laying you flat before flipping you onto your stomach.
“need to fuck you now, angel,” he growls, climbing behind you.
he props a pillow under your hips, spreading your knees wide until your ass is arched perfectly for the camera. his cock slides through your slick folds, teasing, before he pushes in all the way with one hard thrust.
you scream into the sheets, your walls clenching around him.
“look at that,” james groans, grabbing your hips, fucking into you with deep, heavy thrusts. “camera’s catching the way your cunt sucks me in— fuck, baby, you’re dripping all over me.”
the angle is obscene: your ass bouncing with every thrust, his cock splitting you open, wetness shining on his length as he slams into you. he groans loudly, one hand sliding up your back until it presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest flat to the mattress.
“yeah, that’s it,” he pants, fucking harder. “just like that, perfect little whore for me.”
you moan into the sheets, tears pricking your eyes from how good it feels. his grip on your hips is bruising, pulling you back onto his cock each time he drives in. the bed creaks, the headboard slamming against the wall, the camera catching every filthy sound.
“jamie— fuck.” you sob, your cunt clenching around him.
“say it for the camera,” he groans, slapping your ass so hard it stings. “say you love being fucked like this.”
“i love it!” you cry out, voice breaking. “love it when you fuck me like this, oh my god—”
james moans like he’s possessed, rutting into you harder, his cock hitting deep, wet slaps filling the room.
“gonna make you cum all over me, love, right here for the camera.” he growls.
and when his fingers find your clit, rubbing fast, you do—screaming into the bed as your whole body convulses, cunt gripping him so tight he nearly loses it.
james doesn’t stop even after you collapse from your orgasm, cheek pressed into the sheets, sweat cooling on your skin. his thrusts keep coming, deep and ruthless, cock dragging through your fluttering cunt.
you whimper, muffled into the mattress. “j-james, i—”
he leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his hand gripping the side of your throat just enough to tilt your face toward the camera. “look at that, sweetheart,” he pants, fucking into you hard enough to make the headboard slam. “already shaking, and i’m nowhere near done. gotta make this tape long enough, don’t we?”
the camera light blinks, recording every ragged sob that leaves your mouth, every slap of his hips against your ass. he grinds his cock into you on each thrust, pulling moans from you that sound obscene.
“face down,” he orders, pressing your cheek fully into the mattress. his hand slides to the back of your neck, pinning you there. the angle makes him feel impossibly deep, the weight of his body holding you in place as he pounds into you.
“james— oh god.” you sob, muffled.
“fuck, you sound wrecked,” he groans, leaning down to bite at your shoulder, sweat dripping onto your skin. “gonna watch this back and stroke my cock to the sound of you crying on my dick.”
the words make you clench around him, a choked scream muffled by the sheets.
he laughs, breathless. “yeah, you love it. my filthy little slut, letting me record you like this. christ, your cunt’s milking me—”
he pulls out suddenly, leaving you gaping and dripping, before flipping you onto your back in one rough motion. you gasp at the sudden exposure, thighs still trembling.
james doesn’t give you time to breathe. he hooks your knees over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half as he lines himself up and slams back into you. the wet sound makes both of you groan.
the camera has the perfect shot now: your tits bouncing, your cunt swallowing his cock, his abs flexing as he fucks you hard.
“open your mouth,” he pants. you do, dazed, and he spits right onto your tongue. “swallow it.”
you obey instantly, whining as you do, and he moans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
“fuck yes! such a good girl.”
his hand wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly as his thrusts grow faster.
your head tips back, eyes rolling, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. he slaps your cheek with his free hand, not hard, just enough to make you moan.
“stay awake for me, sweetheart. wanna see those pretty eyes while i fuck the soul out of you.”
you sob, nails clawing at his back, your body jerking with every thrust. “too much— jamie, it’s too much—”
“shhh,” he growls, tightening his hand on your throat just enough to make your head swim. “you can take it. my perfect slut can always take it.”
his thumb rubs your clit suddenly, viciously, and you scream, cumming so hard your vision whites out. your cunt clamps down on his cock, gushing around him, soaking his thighs.
“fuck, baby” james’ hips stutter, but he doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. “you’re dripping everywhere, christ, it’s all over me.”
you’re shaking, whimpering, but he just grins down at you, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest. “not done yet.”
he pulls out again, your slick glistening on his cock, before shoving back in with a groan. his rhythm turns punishing, desperate.
you’re overstimulated, tears streaking your face, but the pressure builds again anyway, unbearable.
“james— fuck— i can’t—”
“yes, you can,” he growls, slapping your tit hard enough to make you jolt. “gonna cum for me again. gonna do it on camera so i can watch you fall apart anytime i want.”
your nails dig into his arms, body shaking, as he slams into you, the wet sounds echoing in the room. he squeezes your throat tighter, his pace erratic now.
“cum with me, angel,” he groans, voice wrecked. “one more, wanna see you fucking lose it.”
the words tip you over. you convulse around him, screaming his name, your cunt gripping his cock like a vice. james throws his head back, moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear, as he empties himself inside you, thick and hot.
he fucks his cum into you, hips grinding, until both of you are shaking, sweat-soaked, the sheets ruined beneath you.
finally, he collapses onto your chest, panting, kissing your throat lazily. the camera light still blinks, catching your ruined bodies, the mess between your thighs, the dazed look in your eyes.
james lifts his head just enough to grin at the camera. “best birthday present ever.”
synopsis. best friends don’t fuck — unless your name is lorenzo berkshire and your girl asks for a creampie on camera.
pairing. childhood best friend! lorenzo berkshire x reader
content/mdni. fem!reader, cheeky!enzo, flirty!enzo, protective!enzo, kind of sub!enzo, allusions to mutual pinning, handjob, voice kink, riding, consensual filming/sex tape, unsolicited dicc pic (NOT from enzo), teasing, dirty talk, slight degradation, praise, pet name (babe, my girl), p in v, raw sex, creampie
word count. 4k
a/n. this is so tame compared to the other stuff i posted recently! also, first enzo fic!! sorry for the wait, my sweet @belovedenzo! fyi, the creep is named after a weirdo that bothered me in real life, so yeah! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
“hmmm, hm, hmmm.”
the soft hum of enzo’s deep voice nicely matched the tame whirling of the electric fan, growing louder when the head was pointing at him, and going quieter when the spinning blades turned towards you.
it was summer. and as much as you wanted to catch up and play around with your childhood best friend enzo, the heat discouraged the two of you from staying close to one another. so there you were now, spread on the l-shaped couch in your living room, on the two extremities, with a god-sent fan in the middle.
it danced towards enzo first, blessing his shirtless, boxer-clad form with a cool gust of air, then it panned over to you, drenched in sweat in your sports bra and panties.
thank god you were living alone, otherwise you wouldn’t hear the end of it from your mother about how it is not proper to stay like that with a man around bla bla bla.
it was enzo. the guy you knew since you were in diapers. the guy with whom you shared countless of baths when you two were kids. the guy who was there through every embarrassing stage of your puberty.
staying in your underwear around one another was nothing.
“it’s the highest setting, right?” you mumbled after locking your phone and dropping it to the side, displeased by the little breeze of the electric fan.
“yeah…” he muttered back, slight disappointment latched onto the brief confirmation. he didn’t even bother to raise from his horizontal position, already recalling the desperation he had while smashing the plus button on the fan.
“ugh, i wanna peel my skin off my face.”
it was evening already, yet the heat was as persistent as ever. maybe you should get some ice from the freezer and just… dump it on you? yeah, maybe even sneak some pieces in your bra to cool off bett–
bing.
…
“oh, fuck off.”
checking your phone after the notification pierced the peaceful ambiance of the room, you immediately lock it back, infuriated by what you saw.
“again?”
enzo had a hunch about the source of your sudden rage, and by his short question and your audible huffs of annoyance, he knew he was right.
“is that michael guy still pestering you? didn’t you block him?”
“it looks like he made another account. ugh, why doesn’t he take the hint?”
you raised your upper half off the couch, leaning on the pads of your palms just for a few seconds, before diving head first between the scattered pillows next to you.
you groaned into them, and enzo could hear your agony even through the plush material.
“you told him you have a boyfr–?”
“multiple times. i even sent a picture of you to convince him.”
you did not have a boyfriend. you have been single for months now, but michael doesn’t need to know that. your sweet best friend enzo offered to play boyfriend to scare off the creep, but it seems like even that wasn’t enough.
“aaaand?”
“he knew we’re not together.”
you should’ve expected the number one stalker to recognize lorenzo from the pictures you have on your account.
“damn. i am sorry, babe.”
“ahh, it’s fine. i will just block him aga–”
bing.
“is that him again?”
enzo reacted more energic this time, jumping from his seat, abandoning his own phone, all to crawl towards your part of the couch. to see for himself what that weirdo does in your dms.
“wait, let me chec– oh my god, ewwwwwwwwwwww.”
if last time you dropped your phone on the couch, now you straight up threw it away from you. you shriek into a ball, clutching one of the pillows close to your chest and hiding in it. the heat no longer mattered as you were now dominated by disgust, captured by the need to be hidden.
“what? what?”
lorenzo panicked, eyes almost flaring out of his sockets at your unusual reaction. you were so affected by whatever you saw on your phone, you were almost shaking.
“that bastard sent me a dick pic. it looked like a bald rat, i feel like puking.”
enzo stilled for a second.
then he blinked.
“a bald rat?”
“yes.” you wailed, face still buried in the pillow. “a naked mole rat. pink and sickly and shiny. i’m traumatized.”
he snorted at your description. then choked on it trying to suppress his laugh, realizing it is not an appropriate reaction. “i’m sorry, i’m not laughing at you, babe, it’s just– god, that’s disgusting.” he reached for your shoulder carefully, hand warm and grounding as he gave you a gentle stroke.
“you okay?”
“no.” you mumbled pathetically, burying your face deeper into the softness. “i was just trying to exist. and now i’ve seen that. i need to bleach my brain. i need to send something back to scar him for life.”
enzo hummed, rubbing lazy circles into your shoulder. “like a revenge dick pic?”
“yeah. but…” you peeked at him from your pillow, lips pouting. “i don’t have a dick.”
he blinked again. and then his lips curled. slowly.
“so use mine.”
you raised your head so fast you nearly knocked foreheads with lorenzo. in that moment you realized just how close he was to you.
how close and naked he was.
“enzo–”
“what?” he grinned, boyish and infuriatingly calm, as if he hadn’t just offered to donate his cock for the cause. “he values dicks so much, i’ll give him one. free of charge. beautifully lit. no filters. let him compare.”
you gaped at him, blood boiling beneath your skin with every word of his, flushing your face with embarrassment.
he was just messing with you, right?
“you’re not serious.”
enzo moved his body closer, until your bare knees touched, and his palms spread over your naked thighs, keeping you still on the couch. with such proposals on his lips, enzo had a feeling you’d run away from him.
so he didn’t give you the opportunity at all.
“i’m dead serious. let me help you. he sends you a shitty unsolicited dick? you send back mine. i guarantee he’ll never message you again.”
you choked on a nervous laugh, trying to calm down your nerves and not read too much into it. lorenzo had no ulterior motives with such a suggestion, so why was your mind fostering unholy thoughts all of a sudden?
the nakedness of your two bodies didn’t help, especially now with his skin touching yours. his hands were firmly planted on your thighs, resting mainly on the top — only his fingers, fidgety and restless, tapped against your inner section.
making your head spin and forcing your legs to close up.
“you’re insane.” you whispered back at him, averting your gaze from his piercing ones and opting to stare at your abandoned phone.
he squeezed your thighs, fingers digging in the fat of your legs — bringing your eyes back on his.
“and you’re suffering. babe, come on. you know i’d do anything for you.”
your mouth went dry, spit refusing to further pool in. yet something else pooled... in your underwear.
his voice dropped just a little lower, his face dragging just a tad closer to your ear.
“i don’t want anyone making you feel unsafe. or disgusted. especially not some pathetic little creep who thinks his dick deserves attention.”
you swallowed, keeping focus on his gorgeous face; that mischievous glint in his eyes, the devious curl on his wet lips. he was still smiling, but there was something else in his expression now — sharp. protective. hungry.
and when you didn’t answer, enzo gently tugged you closer by your thighs, tilting his head.
“unless you’re too shy to see it?”
your lips parted, words rushing to get out in a short protest. “i’m not.”
“you sure?” he whispered, thumbs rubbing up your inner thigh now, almost brushing the edge of your panties. “because you can. if you want. i’ll even let you take the picture. show him what a real one looks like.”
your thighs squeezed together, trapping his digits briefly in between. your skin was warm, warmer than before, and where his hands stood — the patches burnt with unspoken desire. the heat licked up your spine too, spreading arousal all over your body like a raging fire.
you stared at him.
you’d known lorenzo your whole life.
and yet… right now, you couldn’t stop picturing what he would look like bare.
hard.
just for you.
your voice came out small, just a flimsy string of sanity keeping you away from his plan. “he won’t believe it’s real.”
enzo shrugged, eyes dark, whispering yet another possibility. “then we’ll take another. with your hand on it this time.”
“enzo!” you gasped, outraged by his proposition, going as far as pushing the pillow into his face.
but he only grinned wider, accepting your attacks with open arms and letting the pillow crash into his face. he immediately removed it, throwing it out of the way, and took back his position next to your blushing face.
“say the word, babe. i’ll even get it hard for you.”
you swallowed again.
you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your stomach, in the places where his thumbs were still drawing lazy little circles against your inner thighs.
the summer heat had nothing on the burn spreading beneath your skin now. and the look on his face — steady, teasing, inviting — wasn't helping.
“okay.” you murmured, almost like you were afraid to break the moment, finally giving in. “okay… let's do it.”
“yeah?” enzo’s brows lifted just a bit — surprised… or thrilled.
you nodded, lips parted, your tongue already poking out and wetting your lips.
“but… only if you get hard first. i’m not sending him a softie.”
enzo barked out a laugh, loud and wicked. “god, you’re fucking perfect.”
his hands slid from your thighs to his lap, lazily adjusting himself in his boxers. he was already half-hard, just from the idea of you seeing him. he didn’t even try to hide the way his cock twitched when you looked down, just once, then looked away quickly like you hadn’t meant to.
“c’mere.” he said, voice a little rougher now. “closer. talk to me.”
“talk to you?”
he hummed, stroking himself through the thin cotton, tentatively gripping his cock with his long fingers. he didn’t take it out yet — afraid to scare you — but you could still see the shape of him swelling beneath the fabric, thick and eager.
“yeah. want you to talk me through it.”
“enzo…” his name bloomed on your tongue with a whiny tinge, barely escaping from between your lips.
but he heard it clearly. he let out a low, throaty groan as a result, his head slightly lolling back on the couch.
“fuck. say it again.”
“what?”
“my name. with that voice…” he breathed, slowly dragging his palm up and down the length of his cock, the fabric now visibly wet at the tip, clinging to his mushroomy tip.
“goddamn, babe. didn’t know you could sound like that when you say it.”
you swallowed hard, thighs pressing together, your own panties now marked by dripping need. he looked beautiful like this — messy hair damp from sweat, chest rising and falling with each breath, mouth parted as he stared at you like he could eat you alive.
“enzo.” you whispered, unsure if you were trying to calm him down or make it worse. “you’re… getting really hard.”
“because of you.” he groaned again, accentuating it with a harsher tug on his cock. “your voice. your fucking voice, babe — talk to me.”
your cheeks flamed, but something in you cracked open; some hungry, curious part of you that liked the way his hips bucked into his hand at the mere sounds of your voice. liked the way his lashes fluttered, how his eyes rolled back.
liked how needy he looked.
“you’re doing so good.” you whispered seductively, barely able to believe the words were coming from your own mouth. “look at you…”
enzo whined, pressing harder against his boxers. fuck, this was really happening!
“look at how hard you are.” you said, braver now, watching his cock twitch under his touch. “shit… all for me?”
“yes, yes, fuck, yes–” he was panting now, jerking himself faster, his head tipped back completely, throat taut. “keep going, please– your voice, i– fuck, i’ve never gotten this hard this fast–”
“you’re gonna make a mess in your boxers…” you tutted, more to yourself, pressing your thighs together — now shamelessly.
“you want me to help? want me to pull them down and stroke you for real?”
enzo whimpered, and this time he shuddered — hips lifting, breath stuttering, a thick wet patch forming all over his cock.
“babe–” he gasped, looking at you like you’d just offered him the most amazing offer in the world. “please. please touch me.”
your palm was hot against his abs before he even finished the sentence.
and when your fingers slid under the waistband of his boxers — slow, sweet, teasing — lorenzo’s breath caught in his throat like you’d just sucked the life out of him.
his cock sprang free, flushed and twitching, curved thick and dripping precum towards his belly.
and fuck, he really was big. more than you imagined. heavy and sticky in your hand when you finally curled your fingers around him.
“fuck, enzo.” you whispered.
he groaned, head tilting to the side to see your hand work around him.
“say that again.” he rasped, eyes glued to your fingers wrapping around his shaft, getting all wet and nasty with his arousal. “say my name. say anything. just… don’t stop.”
you leaned in closer, breath feathering over his cock as you began to stroke him close to your face — slow, gentle pulls from base to tip, gathering the leaking precum with your thumb and swirling it over the flushed tip. he jerked at the touch, hips bucking, one hand gripping the couch for dear life.
“you’re so sensitive…” you murmured, tilting your head, studying him. “does it feel good, enzo?”
“yes– fuck, yes. your hands– god, your hands are so soft!”
you smiled, slow and sly. your other hand joined in, cupping his balls, stroking in rhythm with the other, until he was panting again, hips faltering, lashes fluttering with every twist of your wrist.
“you’re so pretty like this.” you breathed, voice all syrup and sugar, so close to his cock, yet so far away. “flushed and messy. moaning just from my hands.”
enzo bit his lip, the sound that escaped him something halfway between a sob and a growl.
“fuck, keep going– don’t stop– say more–”
you leaned in, lips brushing the muscles of his abdomen, voice like velvet.
“you gonna cum for me, babe? just from my voice and my hands? poor thing, you’re so pent up…”
“holy shit–”
his stomach jumped, his thighs trembled, and his hand suddenly darted for your phone, unlocking it with shaking fingers.
“what are you doing?” you asked, still stroking him, but slower now, more curious than anything.
“picture.” he panted. “fuck– we need to send that creep a real dick pic. one he’ll never forget.”
oh, that’s right. you were supposed to get him hard for a picture…
“you’re gonna send him this?” you laughed, light and breathless, watching as he snapped a photo of your delicate hand wrapped around his flushed cock. “you’re actually so cruel.”
that michael guy will fucking die.
“you’re the one stroking me like this.” he said with a grin, snapping another picture from a lower angle, your other hand on his balls now visible. “and your voice– fuck, your voice is even hotter than your hand.”
you squeezed him, just to make him shut up and focus on you.
he gasped at your ministration, nearly dropping the phone on you.
“enzo.” you whispered against his ear, your thumb brushing under the head. “focus on me, babe. cum for me.”
he did.
with a strangled moan and a whimper of your name, he spilled all over your hand and his stomach, cock twitching in your grip. he finally released the phone somewhere beside him, both hands flying to your hand as he rode it out, chanting your name like a prayer.
“fuck. fuck, babe–” he panted, pulling you in closer, resting his head on your shoulder, still shaking a little. “you’re unreal.”
before either of you could say a word, the notification pinged.
michael had already replied.
lol that’s a stock image :)
enzo stared at the message. blinked. stared again.
and then, very softly, almost in disbelief. “stock image?”
you snorted, and then started to laugh — loud and breathless, your forehead falling against his shoulder as your dirty fingers absently toyed with his still-softening cock, now wet and twitching in your palm.
“enzo.” you gasped between laughs. “he thinks… he thinks that is a stock image?”
“my dick is not a stock image.” he mumbled, borderline offended, his voice cracking with the way you were still feather-dancing across him. “what stock photo site has your hand in it?”
you grinned, turning your head just enough to catch the pink flush blooming on his cheeks.
“you want to prove it to him?” you asked, wickedly sweet, now concocting a plan of your own.
“…how?” enzo glanced at you, heart in his throat, his whole body buzzing with expectation.
you leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. “fuck me. right now. raw. and take a video.”
he froze.
and then–
“w–what?”
“you heard me.” you whispered. “he doesn’t think you’re real? let’s give him something real.”
enzo’s cock twitched again in your hand — just barely — but enough to signal he was hardening again.
“please.” you breathed, nosing at his neck, voice breaking into something soft and whiny. exactly how he likes it. “fuck me, enzo. i need it. want you so bad–”
your voice cracked with desperation, half faux, half real.
“need you inside me. need you to fill me up. make me yours.”
enzo whimpered, eyes rolling back once more, the mere image of you impaled on his cock making his pulse spike. he was still sensitive, still dazed, but you begging like that?
he grabbed your waist, almost clumsily, and guided you into his lap — your soaked panties rubbing against his cock, already stiff beneath you.
“you don’t know what you’re asking for.” he whispered, trembling. “i won’t be able to stop.”
you cupped his face, squishing his cheeks together and making his lips into a pout. barely touching them, you whispered one final request.
“good. i don’t want you to.”
he didn’t waste another second.
his hands gripped your hips like he owned them — like he always had — and with one swift motion, he pulled your soaked panties aside, guiding his thick cock to your dripping slit. the blunt head bumped your folds, sticky and aching, and your body clenched before he even pushed in.
“hold the phone.” you whispered, breathless, reaching for it where he’d dropped it on the cushion. you tilted it up just as you sank onto him, but he couldn’t comply.
lorenzo groaned, deep and broken. his head slammed back against the couch and his hands tightened, digging into your waist as you slid down his cock — inch by thick inch — stretching, aching.
taking him raw.
“fuck. babe.” his voice cracked. “you feel insane. so fucking wet. you’re dripping down my balls– fuck–”
you whimpered, clutching his shoulders for balance, camera still rolling in your other hand. the way he filled you up was nothing short of divine — so thick and deep. he curved just right, making your pussy clench around him like it was made for him.
you bounced once.
enzo yelled.
hand flew to your ass, spreading you wider, keeping you flush against him as you began to ride — sloppy, wet, desperate. his cock dragged along your walls perfectly, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the space between you, your breaths quick and needy.
the slight flash of the phone still capturing everything.
“y–you’re gonna–” he whined, eyes fluttering as he stared between your bodies. “god, i’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”
you laughed softly against his neck, still bouncing, nails digging into his shoulders as you went deeper and deeper with every move. “yeah? you’ve been imagining this?”
“every night.” he admitted, voice breaking. “every fucking night, since we were teenagers.”
you moaned his name, pleased with his answer, rocking your hips faster. and enzo shuddered, grabbing the base of his cock as you rode him, watching it disappear again and again into your soaked cunt.
“you want proof?” you panted, angling the camera down even more, catching the perfect image of your pussy fluttering around enzo’s cock. for the creep in your dms. “tell him, babe. tell him this is real.”
lorenzo looked at the phone — flushed, panting, eyes nearly wild, watching himself disappear in your greedy tight hole on film.
it was so hot, shit–
“this is my girl. my fucking pussy. you wish you had her voice in your ear while you came. but guess what?”
he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you down until your forehead flushed against his, hips snapping up hard–
“she’s riding me.”
you moaned when he thrust up again — rough, relentless, so deep you could barely catch your breath. the head of his cock dragged right over that spot that made your thighs shake, your body clenching around him in helpless pulses.
enzo grunted, hips stuttering, the wet slap of your bodies echoing through the apartment.
“you hear that?” he breathed, voice hoarse with awe, sweat beading along his temple as he watched you bounce. “fuck, it’s so loud — that’s your pussy, babe. sucking me in.”
“enzo…” you whimpered, nails clawing at his shoulder. “you’re so deep– too good–”
he angled his hips just right, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix, and your body jerked. your walls clamping down so tight that his eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped back again.
“you’re close, huh?” he rasped. “feels like you’re about to fucking milk me.”
you nodded, frantic, desperate.
“tell me what you want.” he panted, breath shallow, also close to climax. “tell me how you want it.”
your voice broke. you were already trembling.
“inside.” you gasped, not even ashamed now. “please, enzo– want you to cum in me. fill me up. make it messy.”
he growled like an animal, finally catching his prey.
“fuck– fuck, babe” he slammed up into you so hard you saw stars, one hand clutching at your ass, the other gripping your hip so tight it would bruise. “say that again. say it.”
you pulled the phone back up, aiming the camera down at where you were connected once more — where his cock was glistening, coated in you, buried all the way to the hilt.
“i want your cum.” you whispered close to your phone, with eyes locked on his own blown-out orbs. “deep inside me. i want you to ruin me, enzo.”
his hips jerked. a broken moan punched out of him.
“you’re so– fuck, you’re gonna make me–”
“do it.” you moaned, hand scratching down his chest and leaving marks all over his skin. “fill me up, babe. i want it all.”
he came with a cry — full-body shudder, cock twitching inside you as he emptied himself in thick, hot spurts. you felt the heat of it coat your insides, your cunt fluttering around him in aftershock. he clung to you like he’d fall apart if he didn’t, hips still rutting weakly, desperate to stay inside you, to push it all in deeper.
you collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, his cock still sheathed inside you — warm and twitching and still dripping cum.
the camera caught it all.
his fingers found the curve of your thighs, spreading you slightly, just enough to let the phone capture your folds stretched wide around him, cum already beginning to leak.
“damn right.” he muttered, flushed and breathless, voice hoarse with pride. “real enough for you now, michael?”
Oneshots:
(all x Reader)
- I've Never Seen Brown Eyes Look So Blue : post-break up angst
- My Hero : A certain stranger defends your honour in the park
- Crowded Room, Empty Heart : The Marauders had a great time at school, but what was it like if you weren't truly one of them?
MDNI;
-Late Night In The Common Room : You can ride James any time
- Some Help : Sirius joins in
- What Are Friends For? : Remus and Sirius help out
- A Sunny Afternoon : James tries his best, no thanks to Sirius
- Remus' Friend First : You and Remus are study partners, but James takes an instant liking to you
- Hurts So Good : James bought a vibrator for you
- Business Partners : You give James a job opportunity to work with you on your OnlyFans
Series
(x Reader)
Not Boyfriend Material : James Potter is not a suitable boyfriend, is he?
My Secret Life : sub!James
Heartbreaker : James and Sirius have a little bet going, with you in the middle of it
POLY!MARAUDERS
Series
(x reader)
Three Bodies Are Better Than One : You've been sleeping with each of the Marauders without the others knowing, but what happens when you get caught?
sirius would always take the teasing shy!reader too far, till she’s slammed the door behind her and he’s on the other side like a little puppy
yeah 😭 he riles you up and then gets all pouty when you hide from him. I hate him (no I don’t)
shy!fem!reader 0.6k words
“Darling,” Sirius whines, fist banging on the door. “Open up.”
You don’t say anything. You’re annoyed at him. He’s been teasing you all afternoon and maybe it’s your fault for getting so flustered but he just wouldn’t stop. It was all too much and now you’ve locked yourself in his bedroom.
“Y/N, please,” Sirius begs, taking your silence in his stride. “I promise I’ll stop now, really.”
Somehow you don’t think that’s true. Somehow you think he’ll leave you be for the rest of the day and then go right back to his teasing self tomorrow.
“No,” you say quietly, not sure he can ever hear you through the door. “Leave me alone.”
Sirius groans dramatically and you think you hear his forehead thump on the door. You try not to smile at his dramatics. You fail and end up smiling anyway. You’re lucky he can’t see you, he’d poke fun for sure.
It’s not that you don’t like the teasing. It’s that you do like it. A bit too much. It makes your skin all tingly and your heart go berserk and you can’t stand him, you swear. You’d let him do it more if you thought you could handle it. You want him to do it more but you can’t handle it.
“Honeybee,” comes Sirius voice again, much quieter this time. Softer. “I’m really sorry.”
He’s buttering you up, you know, and it’s working. The pet names, the soft tone he only ever uses with you. The apology that really, he shouldn’t have to give. It makes you want to wrench the door open and kiss him on his pretty mouth.
Instead you turn the lock and open the door very slowly. Sirius straightens where he’d been moping with his forehead on the door. You open it just wide enough so he can see you.
“Sweetheart,” he says, looking one part sorry and two parts relieved. You’d think he’d kicked your dog, the way he’s looking at you. “I’m sorry.”
You shake your head. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I, um. I’m sorry. I just got …” Flustered. Shy. Sick with love.
Sirius nods vigorously. You know he can hear the words you’re not saying. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
You smile despite yourself. “Stop saying sorry. S’not your fault.”
“No, but it is,” Sirius says, insistent. “I know I take it too far sometimes. It’s mean.”
He’s undoing you with his gentle apology. So, really, it’s his fault when you blurt, “Who says I don’t like mean?”
Sirius’ eyes go wide as saucers. “What?”
Now you’ve really put your foot in it. You duck your head and stare at the floor so you don’t have to look at him. Wishing it would swallow you up. “Um,” you say.
Sirius laughs, loud and startling. “Darling,” he says through his ridiculously delighted fit of laughter, his tone near chiding.
You grumble at the floor, refusing to look at him because you know he’ll make you smile as soon as you do. You don’t want to smile. You’re embarrassed.
It takes him a while to stop laughing. It fills your ears and creeps into your chest and vibrates around your heart. You enjoy it more than you should. Especially since he’s totally laughing at you. When he’s finally done he steps into your space and hooks a finger under your chin.
“Look at me, will you?” He asks softly, smile evident in his voice. It’s more of a plea than a question. You really can’t not do what he’s asking.
You look up. Sirius beams.
“There’s my lovely girl,” he says, dripping in a fondness that almost has you shutting the door in his face again. “My lovely shy girl.”
You want to duck your head again but he’s got his fingers around your jaw, stopping you from moving.
“Can I have a hug?” He asks softly, all puppy eyes and pouting lips, and you hate him, you swear.
Summary: Desperate to get a persistent girl off his back, Enzo and reader kiss. But when the kiss unexpectedly turns heated, Theo loses it.
Word Count: 4184
Warnings: Jealousy, a bit of possessiveness, reader kisses both Enzo and Theo (separately), and language. Let me know if there’s anything else!
A/N 💌 This idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile! Thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me pointers as always <3
The common room buzzes with the familiar hum of conversation, groups of students either buried in classwork or indulging in gossip. Outside, snow is falling, making it all the more comforting to be curled up by the fire in your favorite armchair. Your knees are tucked tightly to your chest, and your book is balanced on top, though you haven’t turned a page in what feels like forever.
Your mind keeps wandering to Theo, who sits across from you on the couch, his attention seemingly on Enzo’s animated storytelling. But despite the lively chatter around you, your focus is entirely on him. For the past hour, you’ve found yourself sneaking glances in his direction, unable to tear your thoughts away.
His laugh rings out, warm and infectious, pulling your gaze to him as if by instinct. The sound is so captivating that it seems to fill the entire room, making it impossible not to look. As his laughter fades into soft, lingering chuckles, his eyes suddenly meet yours, and your stomach flips at the unexpected eye contact, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place.
He raises his eyebrow at you, his expression a hint of curiosity mixed with amusement. He finally breaks the silence, his voice low. “You know, you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”
“And where would I sit instead?” You ask, your voice lightly tinged with amusement. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Blaise arch an amused brow at your tone, clearly picking up on the flirty undertone.
The other boys don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in their conversation. Whatever they’re discussing has them completely engrossed, their voices animated and intense. Normally, you’d eavesdrop, but today, you’re too distracted by how undeniably good Theo looks to focus on anything else.
Theo’s lips curve into a small, almost gentle smile, one that’s reserved just for you. He pats the empty space beside him on the couch, “With me, dolcezza.”
You sigh, feigning annoyance at the thought of moving, but in reality, you’re trying to suppress the flutter in your stomach as you stand and make your way over to Theo. He greets you with a grin, and you roll your eyes in response, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your bottom lip, which you quickly bite down on.
You aim to sit a reasonable distance away from him, but before you can settle in, Theo surprises you by reaching out and pulling you closer, so close that you’re practically sitting on his lap. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, catching you completely off guard.
His name slips past your lips in a breathless gasp, drawing Blaise’s attention from across the room. He looks over, his grin widening with amusement as he takes in the scene. You’re nestled closely against Theo, your body practically molded to his, with one leg draped over his lap. His arm is securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while his fingers lazily toy with the hem of your skirt, tracing light patterns that send shivers up your spine.
You’re so focused on steadying the nerves fluttering in your stomach that you don’t even notice the girl approaching your group. She lingers just a few feet away from Enzo, but he’s too engrossed in his conversation to see her. It isn’t until Mattheo nods in her direction with a smirk and makes a remark about the “pretty little visitor” that Enzo finally catches on.
He swivels around in his armchair, and you notice his smile falter ever so slightly before he quickly recovers, masking his reaction, “Oh, hi.” He doesn’t even bother to conceal the disappointment in his voice.
You close your eyes, wincing in disappointment as you hear Theo chuckle softly.
“I wanted to know if you wanted to read our project before I turned it in.” The bundle of parchment crinkles in her grasp, the edges slightly rumpled from handling. Enzo’s eyes drop to the papers, his expression shifting as he takes in the sight.
“I’m good. Thanks, though.” Enzo starts to turn back to the boys, his tone polite but firm, signaling the conversation’s end. But before he can fully disengage, she takes a step forward, determination in her eyes.
“That’s fine! Maybe you’d like to do something together outside of class?” Her voice is laced with hope, almost too eager, as she tries to bridge the gap between them.
Enzo hesitates, his discomfort evident. “Uh, I don’t think so,” he says, wincing as a flush creeps up his neck, his cheeks turning pink. He glances around, clearly uneasy with the situation. “Like I said last time, I’m just not interested.” His voice softens, an attempt to let her down gently, but the awkwardness hangs in the air, making the rejection all the more painful.
“It doesn’t have to be a date.” She persists, her voice tinged with a hopeful edge. You glance over at Draco and Mattheo, who are laughing to themselves, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. She doesn’t seem to notice; her focus is entirely on Enzo, and her determination is ruthless.
“You know what? Let’s just talk about this tomorrow.” Enzo sighs, trying to find an easy out. Her face lights up at the mere mention of tomorrow, a hopeful smile spreading across her lips. She eagerly agrees, practically spinning on her heel to leave. As she walks away, Enzo lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Salazar, mate! That was pathetic.” Mattheo laughs.
Draco smirks, leaning back casually, “Honestly, Enzo, you’re being too fucking nice. She’ll keep coming back if you don’t tell her to fuck off.”
“I’ve tried!” Enzo protests, sending him an exacerbated look.
“Enzo, you can just say no directly.” You chime in, your tone light but pointed.
Enzo looks over at you, shaking his head, “Sweetheart, I’ve tried.” Theo’s eyes narrow in annoyance at the pet name, but Enzo doesn’t notice.
“Grab a girl and make out in front of her. She’ll get the hint then,” Mattheo suggests nonchalantly, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious solution. He leans back in his chair, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “It’s worked for me plenty of times.”
“Are you hearing my problem? I don’t need another girl becoming attached.” Enzo snaps. Draco immediately scoffs at the mention of Enzo’s popularity with the girls of Hogwarts—it’s clearly always bothered him.
“Merlin, Enzo. Just ask one of the girls, then.” Draco huffs, his impatience evident in his tone. He rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated with the ongoing discussion. Sitting beside you, Theo tenses up slightly, his posture stiffening as he shifts uncomfortably.
“What the fuck, mate? Pans and I are together.” Blaise says, sending him an annoyed look. Draco just shrugs indifferently.
“She’d probably say yes.” Draco mumbles. He dismisses the glare Blaise throws his way.
Mattheo’s gaze drifts to you, and a sly, amused smile spreads across his face, carrying a hint of something darker in his eyes. “Well, love,” he drawls, his tone teasing, “looks like you’re the one who’ll be kissing Enzo.”
“No,” Theo grits out, his voice strained with protectiveness. His fingers spread out as he firmly grasps your hip, his fingertips creating dimples in your skin. His eyes lock onto Mattheo with a stern glare. “She isn’t.”
Theo’s reaction doesn’t catch you off guard. He’d always been protective of you. In the beginning, you chalked it up to his feelings for you, but as the years passed without anything more, you let that theory slip away.
“Unfortunately,” Draco drawls with a smirk, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, “that isn’t really up to you, mate.”
“You don’t have to,” Enzo says, his tone soft and reassuring. “That’s a lot to ask.” His words carry a gentle understanding, and Theo visibly relaxes.
Your gaze shifts to Theo, who is watching you with a furrowed brow and a trace of irritation in his eyes. You’ve been absorbed in your feelings for Theo for so long that you’ve avoided pursuing anything with anyone else. You’ve had a few kisses here and there, but they were disappointing. Kissing Enzo wouldn’t be awful. Probably the exact opposite. You’ve heard the giggles and whispers around school about how good it is to kiss Enzo. Much more than just that, actually.
Maybe things with Theo would never work out, and you’d always just be his best friend. You could accept that. But if that’s how it was going to be, he didn’t have the right to tell you not to kiss Enzo.
“I’ll let you kiss me.” You say, your voice firm. The boys exchange stunned and uneasy glances, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo, who stares at you in wide-eyed disbelief.
The room feels charged with tension as Theo’s expression darkens, “Dolcezza—”
“It’s not up for debate, Theo. If Enzo wants to kiss me, he can,” You assert, pulling away from Theo and turning so you’re directly facing Enzo. Theo’s frown deepens, his hands clenching slightly as he struggles to suppress the urge to haul you back onto his lap. The tension is palpable as he watches you with frustration and reluctance. You glance back at Enzo, your voice softening as you add, “I don’t mind, Enz.”
“Are you sure?” Enzo asks softly, his voice barely audible. Theo shoots him a sharp, warning glare. Enzo casts an uneasy glance at Theo before turning his attention back to you.
“I trust you.” You say with a soft smile, your eyes meeting his. Enzo’s tension eases a tad as he returns the smile.
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
You arrive at your usual spot in the Great Hall well before the rest of your friends, hoping to settle in for a quiet breakfast and then head straight to class. Just as you begin to relax, Pansy slides into the seat next to you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she catches your eye.
“I just heard the most scandalous thing.” Pansy says with a sly smile, leaning in as if sharing a secret.
“Did you?” You ask, taking a slow sip of your tea and watching her with a hint of amusement.
“I heard that Theo Nott’s girl will be making out with his best mate.” She hums thoughtfully, casting you a knowing glance as she carefully fills her plate.
“I don’t think Theo Nott has a girl.” You give her a pointed look as you speak. Pansy sighs, clearly tempted to launch into one of her usual lectures about how Theo feels the same way. But before she can say anything, the boys start to trickle in, their expressions groggy.
Theo’s mood is already sour and only worsens when he narrows his eyes at you, his gaze honing in on the subtle sheen on your lips. “Are you wearing lip gloss?” he asks, suspicion lacing his tone.
You hum in confirmation, a small, carefree sound that only makes Theo’s stomach churn harder. He feels a wave of nausea rise, the thought of you putting on lipgloss to kiss someone else—especially Enzo—causing an unsettling tightness in his chest. His jaw clenches as he struggles to keep it together. Mattheo and Draco watch him closely, clearly entertained as their eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.
His food sits forgotten as he stares at you incredulously, “Why?”
“What do you mean why? If I’m kissing Enzo, I want my lips to be soft for him.” Enzo flushes a deep red, and Theo stares at you in disbelief as the rest of your friends erupt in whistles and teasing comments, reacting to what you’ve just said.
Even though it seemed a bit unnecessary, you had applied some lip product and brushed your teeth for an unusually long time. The last thing you wanted was for him to think poorly of the kiss.
“Careful, Nott. After this kiss, she might not be your girl anymore.” Draco snarks with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement. You hold your breath, anticipating Theo’s reaction, but to your disappointment, he says nothing.
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
Theo’s mood simmered down throughout the day, and you guessed it was because you hadn’t needed to kiss Enzo. You spent the entire day without catching even a glimpse of the girl Enzo was avoiding. Throughout the day’s classes, you remained on edge, ready to put on a show with Enzo if necessary.
But as the hours passed and she failed to appear, it became increasingly clear that you might not need to kiss one of your best friends today. With hardly anyone in the halls, you hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with her again.
“How about a girls’ night tonight?” You ask, throwing a pointed glance at the boys trailing behind you. “I need a break from them.”
Pansy grinned, “Even Nott?”
“Oh, fuck off,” You laugh, playfully swatting at her arm with your free hand while balancing your book in the other. “Even Nott.”
“I would. But Blaise and I are hanging out.” Her tone is suggestive, and you respond with a knowing glance.
“Make sure you—” Your words are abruptly silenced as a firm grip pulls you backward. Enzo’s arm wraps securely around your waist, hauling you against his chest. The sudden, intimate contact leaves you breathless and disoriented. Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. The sheer intensity of the kiss makes your heart race wildly, and a startled moan escapes from deep within you.
Your hand, momentarily frozen, then moves with a mind of its own, sliding into his hair. Your fingers bury themselves in the soft, silky strands, feeling the slight tremor of his breaths against your skin as the kiss deepens. Enzo’s other hand finds its way to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing along your throat. The tender, intimate touch sends a jolt of desire through you, making you gasp softly. Your book slips from your grasp, thudding heavily on the floor, but you’re too absorbed in the moment to notice. With your other hand now free, it instinctively reaches up to clutch his bicep, using him to hold yourself up.
Enzo’s lips trail a heated path from the corner of your mouth, inching toward the sensitive spot just below your ear. Each kiss sends a shiver through you, leaving your body feeling as though it’s melting into his touch. The intensity of the moment is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and you find yourself lost, feeling his lips on you.
Clearly, you hadn’t picked the right guys to kiss before.
“Theo is going to beat my ass for touching you.” Enzo’s breathy whisper grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine before he begins to pull back. To his surprise, you instinctively lean forward, your eyes fluttering closed as you chase after his retreating lips, your breath mingling with his in a shared moment of longing. Just as he’s about to close the gap and kiss you again, Theo’s hand shoots out, gripping the collar of Enzo’s shirt with a firm hold. He yanks Enzo away with a decisive tug, his eyes blazing.
He’s absolutely furious.
“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m letting you kiss her again. She ran off the second you grabbed Y/n.” Theo snaps, his tone icy and edged with contempt.
It takes a moment for you to register that Theo is talking about Enzo’s relentless former class partner.
His gaze locks onto the lip gloss smeared across Enzo’s lips, and a dangerous glint flares in his eyes. The flicker of anger in his gaze sharpens as he takes a deliberate step forward, his posture radiating barely contained tension. His fingers twitch at his sides, visibly itching to confront his best friend, the promise of retribution clear in his stance.
Enzo remains silent, but his eyes shift to you, conveying a mixture of regret and concern. Theo’s gaze follows, landing on you. Your lips are swollen from the intensity of the kiss, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Your eyes, still wide and slightly glassy, remain fixed on Enzo.
You look wrecked, and Theo despises it.
Without a second thought, Theo takes a decisive step forward, his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers digging into his palms. The sudden movement is charged with barely contained anger, his eyes locked onto Enzo with a fierce intensity.
“Nott!” Blaise barks, clapping a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “It was just a kiss.”
“Quite the kiss, though.” Draco adds with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Mattheo lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. Theo responds with a withering glare, his expression darkening.
Blaise shoves Theo back forcefully, his voice cutting through the tension. “Take your girl and go cool off.” He commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Theo fixes Blaise with a scathing glare, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shoves past him, grabs your hand with a firm grip, and pulls you down the hall toward his dorm, his movements fueled by anger and jealousy.
You protest, urging him to slow down, but he disregards your words, muttering curses in Italian under his breath. With a fierce shove, he throws open the door to his dorm. You trail after him, and as soon as you step inside, he slams the door shut behind you. As you watch, he paces the room, his hands running through his hair in frustration.
You’ve never seen him like this before—raw and seething.
He spins around to face you, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and distress, “What the fuck was that, dolcezza?’
There’s a moment of silence before you murmur, “A kiss,” as you lean against the door. Theo’s eyes follow your hand as it gently touches your swollen lips, and he sees the distant, reflective look in your eyes.
A flash of something dark and possessive ignites in his gaze. He clenches his jaw, the flicker of jealousy sharp and stinging. The sight of you lingering on the memory of Enzo’s kiss twists in his gut, fueling an intense surge of anger. He can’t stand seeing you so absorbed in someone else’s touch.
“That wasn’t just a kiss.” Theo snaps, his voice clipped.
“It was a bit much,” You reply with a resigned sigh, your gaze meeting his. “But it felt good—”
“Kissing him felt good?” Theo interrupts, his voice dropping to a strained, dangerous whisper. Each word cuts through the space between you with an intensity that makes your heart pound. He steps closer, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. You falter, your words catching in your throat as you watch him. “Is that really what you think I want to hear?”
“I don’t know what you want to hear.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You meet his gaze with a defiant look, trying to hold your ground even as your heart races.
Theo’s eyes darken, and he takes another step closer, his face inches from yours. His breath is warm against your skin, mingling with your uneven gasps.
“I want to hear that it meant absolutely nothing to you.” Theo says.
“It didn’t.” You confirm, eyes fixed on his, your breath catching in your throat. This is the closest you’ve ever been, the closest you’ve ever allowed yourself to imagine that he might actually kiss you.
“It didn’t?” He repeats, his voice low and dangerously soft. “Because it sure looked like it did.” The intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming, and you can almost feel the heat of frustration radiating off him.
“It was just a kiss, Theo. It wasn’t real.” You say, looking away, a slight hint of exasperation to your tone.
“Are you sure he felt that way?”
“Enzo?” Your eyes snap back to him in disbelief. Theo stares blankly at you. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” He retorts, his voice shifting from anger to something softer, almost vulnerable. “Because the girl I love is standing in front of me, talking about how kissing my best friend felt good.”
The words hang in the air, and your heart stutters as you struggle to take it all in. The anger that once fueled his every move is now mingled with something else—something that feels like hope. The intensity of his confession leaves you momentarily stunned, your mind reeling as you try to make sense of it. Theo’s eyes hold yours, a storm of anger, hurt, and vulnerability brewing just beneath the surface.
“Theo…” You begin, but your voice falters, and you struggle to formulate a sentence. All you had ever wanted was for him to confess, and now that he had, you found yourself at a loss. The moment you’d imagined so many times was finally here, yet the reality of it left you frozen, uncertain of how to respond.
He steps closer, his hand lifting to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. The space between you is almost gone now. His gaze flickers to your lips, and you can see the conflict in his eyes—the tension between the desire to hold you close and the hurt of picturing you with someone else.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you, dolcezza?” Theo’s voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion, as he gently traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The delicate touch sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching in response. His gaze flickers from your eyes, filled with desire and uncertainty, down to your parted lips, lingering there as if trying to memorize every curve and tremble. “Years,” he breathes, the word heavy with longing, his thumb still grazing your lip as if he’s afraid to let go.
The air between you feels charged, thick with emotions that have been kept buried for far too long. Theo’s confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, one that could break with a single wrong move. His thumb continues its gentle path along your lip, the contact sending a rush of warmth through your body.
“Years?” You echo, your voice wrecked as the realization sinks in. The word feels foreign on your tongue, like something you’ve never quite understood until now.
Theo nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I tried to push it away,” he admits, his voice low and raw. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real, that it was just some stupid crush I’d get over. But it wasn’t. It isn’t.”
You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His thumb stills against your lip, and his expression darkens with regret. “Because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I didn’t want to risk losing you. But now…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips again, his resolve wavering. “But I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you, kissing you, when I’ve been waiting all this time.”
“Theo…” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach up to cup his face. Your fingers brush against the rough stubble on his jaw, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.
When he opens them again, they’re filled with a desperate kind of hope, one that makes your heartache. You whisper, “Will you please just kiss me?”
He moves with an intense determination, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your head, fingers curling possessively just beneath your ear. The raw intensity in his gaze overwhelms you, a mix of longing and vulnerability that feels both foreign and intimately familiar. The depth of emotion in his eyes constricts your chest, an unexpected surge of feeling threatening to make you tremble.
His thumb trails a fiery path along your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a wave of sensation. As he leans in, the air between you becomes electrified with tension. When his lips finally connect with yours, the kiss is a fierce collision of need and tenderness—a deliberate press that lingers.
Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responds by pressing you firmly against the door. The proximity makes you draw a sharp, shuddering breath, a sound that mingles with the deeper kiss as he intensifies the connection. His lips are urgent and demanding, yet tender, each movement sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand braces against the door next to your head, anchoring you both in this intimate, electrifying moment.
The space between you disappears, replaced by the searing heat of his body against yours, drawing you irresistibly into him. Breathless, you’re lost in him, more exhilarated than you’ve ever been. His lips against yours send your mind reeling, and you know that if you weren’t pinned against the door, you’d cling to him just to stay upright.
When you finally pull back, breathless and dizzy, Theo’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed as he savors the moment. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
You smile softly, your heart swelling as your throat constricts with emotion. “I’ve loved you for just as long.”
please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌
At the same damn time! [ James Potter x Reader x Sirius Black]
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: oral (f), oral (m), p in v, anal, dom!sirius, switch!james, switch!reader, threesome, overstim, friends w benefits
note: oh wow this was filthy
The three of you had fallen into the same rhythm long ago: James lounging back on his bed with a lazy grin, Sirius sprawled sideways in the chair like he owned it, and you tucked cross-legged between them, trading stories and laughter. Their room always smelled faintly of smoke, leather, and boyish cologne—the kind of mix that clung to your skin when you stayed too long.
Sirius was mid-story, gesturing with a bottle in hand, sharp grin flashing.
“—And then he swore he could hex the lock open, but ended up blasting the entire bloody door off its hinges. You should’ve seen his face, Prongs.”
James threw his head back and laughed, hair falling into his eyes. “Bet he shat himself. Absolute twat.”
You laughed too, though your focus lingered on James a moment longer than it should have. His shirt had ridden up, exposing a lean stretch of stomach, and the easy way he sprawled back against the headboard made heat curl in your belly. You shifted slightly, hoping neither of them noticed.
Of course, Sirius noticed everything. His grey eyes cut to you, then back to James, and his grin only widened. “You’re staring, love.”
Your cheeks warmed instantly. “I am not.”
James leaned forward, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh? Staring at me, were you?”
It was ridiculous how casual they could be about it, how they teased without shame. But the air had shifted—charged, heavy. Sirius leaned in, voice low and playful.
“Can’t blame you. He does look good, doesn’t he? Bet he tastes even better.”
James chuckled, shaking his head, though color had risen high on his cheeks. He looked at you, then at Sirius, then back again—testing, daring.
“Well then,” he said slowly, almost as if amused at himself for saying it, “maybe we should let her find out.”
The room went quiet except for the thrum of your heartbeat. Sirius raised a brow, reclining back like a king waiting to be entertained. “Go on, sweetheart. Show us how bad you want it.”
James smirked at you like he already knew your answer. His long fingers toyed absently with the hem of his shirt, waiting. You swallowed hard, then slid off the bed and onto your knees between his legs. The carpet scratched faintly under your skin, but the heat of the moment drowned it out.
James spread his thighs, lazy and inviting. “That’s it, love. Always so good for us.”
You glanced up at him, breath catching when his hand brushed over your hair—guiding, not forcing. Sirius shifted in the chair, smirking like this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all week.
“Don’t be shy now,” Sirius drawled, swirling the bottle in his hand. “You’ve had your eyes on his cock all night. Might as well make yourself useful.”
Heat rushed through you, shame tangled deliciously with want. James unbuttoned his jeans with an easy flick, pushing them down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, flushed, already half-hard from the teasing.
You licked your lips. James caught it, chuckling low in his chest. “Merlin, you’re eager. Go on, then.”
You leaned forward, taking him into your mouth, warm weight filling your tongue as you slid down slowly. James groaned, hand threading into your hair as he tipped his head back against the wall.
Sirius laughed under his breath, eyes glittering. “Look at you, Prongs. All red in the face already, and she’s barely started.”
James let out a shaky breath, trying and failing to sound casual. “Yeah, well—” His words broke off into a grunt as you sank deeper, hollowing your cheeks. “—She’s bloody good at it, isn’t she?”
You glanced up through your lashes, and the sight made James’ hips twitch. He tried to reply to something Sirius said, but every shift of your mouth, every swirl of your tongue, dragged another curse out of him.
“Not going to last long with that mouth,” Sirius teased, lounging back. “Bet she could make you beg in under five minutes.”
James’ laugh came ragged now, cut off by another groan as you sucked harder. His hand tightened in your hair, guiding your rhythm, and he looked down at you with glassy eyes. “Fuck, sweetheart… you hear him? He’s jealous.”
“Jealous?” Sirius grinned lazily. “Hardly. Just waiting my turn.”
Your lips stretched around him, the heavy heat of James’ cock filling your mouth as you slid down slowly. The taste of him coated your tongue—salty, warm, intoxicating. His thighs tensed under your hands, and when you swallowed around him, his head hit the wall with a dull thud.
“Fuck—” James hissed, chest heaving. His fingers tangled deeper in your hair, not pushing, just keeping you close. “You’re too good at this.”
You hummed around him, the vibration making him curse again. His cock twitched against your tongue, precome slicking your lips as you pulled back to lick a long stripe up his shaft before sinking down again.
From the chair, Sirius whistled low. “Listen to him—already falling apart. You’d think he’d never had his dick sucked before.”
James shot him a glare through heavy-lidded eyes. “Shut it, Pads.” His words faltered when you bobbed faster, cheeks hollowing, saliva slipping down your chin. “Bloody hell—she’s… Merlin—”
Sirius’ grin widened. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching the way your head moved in James’ lap like it was the only show that mattered. “Careful, love. Keep going like that and he’ll be spilling down your throat before I get a taste.”
Your cheeks burned hotter, but you didn’t stop—you wanted James trembling. You wanted Sirius watching. So you wrapped your hand around the base of James’ cock, stroking what your mouth couldn’t take, while your tongue traced circles under the head.
James bucked helplessly, a strangled laugh escaping him. “She’s trying to kill me, Pads—fuck—look at her.”
“I am looking.” Sirius’ voice had dropped lower now, darker. “Look at those pretty lips stretched around you. She’s perfect like this, isn’t she?”
James’ hand flexed in your hair, tugging just enough to make you whimper. His gaze dropped to your wet, swollen mouth working over him. “Yeah,” he groaned, “she’s perfect.”
Sirius shifted in his chair, and when you glanced sideways, you caught the unmistakable outline straining in his trousers. His grin was wolfish.
James gave a breathless laugh, thrusting shallowly into your mouth as his eyes flicked to Sirius. “Told you you’d get jealous.”
Sirius stood at last, lazy like a predator who’d been patient too long. He set his bottle down with a clink and crossed the room, boots heavy against the floorboards.
“Shift up,” he murmured to James, though his eyes were on you.
James, dazed with pleasure, obeyed—leaning back against the headboard, legs spread wider to give Sirius room. You pulled off James’ cock with a wet pop, lips swollen, chin slick. Before you could catch your breath, Sirius crouched in front of you, thumb sweeping across your lower lip to smear the shine.
“Messy little thing,” he said with a grin. “You like it, don’t you? On your knees, mouth full of cock, both of us watching.”
Heat rushed through you, but you didn’t answer—just parted your lips, tongue darting to chase his thumb. Sirius chuckled, dark and approving.
James groaned above you, fisting the sheets. “Pads, stop teasing. She’s driving me mad.”
“Oh, I’m not the one teasing,” Sirius replied smoothly. Then his hands caught your waist, strong and unyielding, and he hauled you up onto the bed.
You landed on your back across the sheets, breathless, as Sirius sprawled down beside you, clothes taken off. His lips brushed your ear, voice low and deliberate. “Here’s how we’re going to play this: I want you on my face, sweetheart. James on my cock. Both of you giving me something to feel.”
The words alone made you ache. James’ eyes went wide, his chest heaving. “You—you want me—”
Sirius laughed and smacked his thigh. “Yeah, Prongs. Don’t act shy now. You’ve been eyeing me up for years.” His grin softened into something filthier. “And I’ve been waiting to fuck you.”
The tension snapped like a whip. James stared for a beat too long, then dragged a hand down his face and muttered, “Fuck it.”
He moved fast, shoving his jeans the rest of the way off and climbing over Sirius with a mixture of nerves and hunger. Sirius lay back, cock already hard against his stomach, watching James with a smug little smirk.
“Good boy,” Sirius teased, voice vibrating with satisfaction. Then his hand slid up to beckon you closer. “And you, darling—up here. Sit that pretty cunt on my mouth.”
Your pulse thundered. James’ cock gleamed with spit, his body tense above Sirius, and you knew exactly what Sirius wanted: both of you tangled, grinding, desperate, with him caught in the middle.
And God, you wanted it too.
James froze above Sirius, straddling his thighs but not lowering down yet. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, fingers twitching like he didn’t know where to put them. His cock was flushed and dripping, so obviously aching, but his face was caught between disbelief and arousal. “Merlin’s sake, Pads, are you sure about this?”
Sirius tilted his head back against the pillow, hair spilling wild around him. He looked like sin incarnate, stretched out and waiting, grin lazy and wicked. “Look at me, Prongs. Do I look unsure?”
James’ gaze flicked down, taking in the hard length pressed against Sirius’ stomach, the way he lounged like a man utterly in control. James swallowed hard. “Bloody hell…”
“Relax.” Sirius reached up, brushing his hand along James’ thigh, the touch casual but electric. “You’ve trusted me with everything else. Trust me with this too.”
You knelt nearby, watching the push and pull between them, your own skin prickling with want. James glanced at you, and your breath caught at the raw uncertainty in his eyes.
“You really want this?” he asked, voice rough.
“Yeah,” you whispered, throat dry. “More than anything.”
That seemed to tip him. James let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his messy hair before bracing himself over Sirius again. “You’re a fucking menace, Padfoot.”
Sirius smirked, eyes glinting. “And you love me for it.”
He guided James’ hips down with a firm grip, lining him up. James gasped when the blunt head of Sirius’ cock pressed against him—his whole body shuddering, torn between tension and need.
“Easy,” Sirius murmured, stroking his thigh soothingly. “Breathe, Prongs. Take it slow. I’ve got you.”
James let out a hiss, half-frustrated, half-desperate. “Fuck…”
“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Sirius went on, his voice soft but soaked with hunger. “Easy, love.”
You bit your lip, thighs rubbing together. James’ breath came faster, his cock twitching hard in front of you as Sirius coaxed him down inch by inch. The stretch had him trembling, his hands fisting the sheets on either side of Sirius’ head.
“Good boy,” Sirius praised, voice ragged now. “That’s it, ride me slow. Feels better than you thought, doesn’t it?”
James groaned low in his chest, nodding but not trusting himself to speak. His whole body arched, caught between pain and pleasure, while Sirius’ grin turned feral.
Then Sirius looked past James—straight at you. His tone dropped, dark and commanding. “Now, darling. Get up here and let me taste you. Let him watch while you ride my face.”
Your whole body buzzed as you crawled up the bed. Sirius’ hands caught your hips, guiding you over his chest and facing James until your knees planted on either side of his shoulders. He looked up at you with that wolfish grin, lips already parted.
“Sit,” he ordered.
You lowered slowly, heart hammering, until his mouth pressed hot and eager against you. The first swipe of his tongue made your thighs tremble, and then you were sinking fully down onto him, his tongue pushed deep.
“Oh—fuck—” You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his abs for balance, body rocking helplessly against his mouth.
Before you, James let out a strangled moan. You blinked up, dizzy with sensation, and nearly lost yourself at the sight: James straddling Sirius’ hips, head tipped back, his cock hard and dripping while Sirius filled him inch by inch.
His chest heaved, muscles straining as he rode down, and Sirius groaned into your cunt at the same time, the vibration shooting straight through you.
James looked down at you then, face flushed, hair sticking damp to his forehead. His voice broke on a laugh. “Fucking hell—we’re really doing this—”
You reached forward, wrapping your hand around his cock. The slick heat of him pulsed against your palm, and his whole body shuddered.
“Don’t stop,” he gasped, eyes locked on yours. “Please—don’t stop.”
You leaned forward, lips wrapping around the swollen head, sucking him deep while Sirius devoured you from below. James nearly collapsed, a guttural noise tearing from his throat as his hips jerked between your mouth and Sirius’ cock inside him.
“Christ—she’s—fuck—” His words cut off, replaced by gasps and curses. He fisted your hair tight, guiding you down his length, eyes glassy with pleasure.
Beneath it all, Sirius groaned against you, his tongue relentless, his cock buried in James. Every thrust of James’ hips pushed him deeper into both of you, the whole bed shaking with the rhythm.
“Look at us,” Sirius rasped between licks, his voice muffled against your cunt. “My two favorite people, falling apart on me.” He sucked your clit hard, making you cry out, before adding, “Ride me, Prongs. Make her choke on it while she soaks my face.”
James obeyed with a desperate sound, bouncing harder on Sirius’ cock. His moans grew louder, rougher, as he fucked himself down while you swallowed him greedily, drool slicking your chin.
The room was filled with the wet sounds of your mouth, Sirius’ tongue, the slap of James’ thighs. You were a mess together, tangled and hungry, each movement setting off the next until it felt like all three of you would break at once.
James’ rhythm grew frantic, thighs trembling as he fucked himself down on Sirius’ cock. Every drop of slick made the thrusts smoother, every bounce driving a groan out of him. His head lolled back, neck flushed red, chest gleaming with sweat.
“Fuck, Pads—” James gasped, voice wrecked. “You’re—too big—”
Sirius growled into your cunt, the sound vibrating through you. He dragged his mouth up your slit and nipped lightly at your clit, making your hips buck against his face. Then he pulled back just long enough to rasp, “You can take it, Prongs. You’re taking it so fucking well. Look at you—riding me like you were made for it.”
James’ answering moan was strangled, desperate. His grip tightened in your hair as you swallowed him down again, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. He couldn’t decide which sensation to chase—your mouth milking him or Sirius splitting him apart from below.
Drool and spit ran down your chin, dripping onto Sirius’ chest. Your eyes watered, but you stayed on him, loving the way James’ whole body shuddered when you gagged around him.
“Bloody hell,” James groaned, thrusting shallowly into your mouth, each movement desperate but shaky. “She’s—shit, Pads, she’s going to make me—”
Sirius cut him off by sucking your clit hard, tongue circling, his hands pinning your hips down to his face. You screamed around James’ cock, the vibration sending him into a frenzy.
“Good girl,” Sirius praised against your cunt, his voice muffled, drenched in filth. “Drown me, sweetheart. Fuck my mouth while he fucks himself on me.”
You rocked harder against him, smearing your slick over his sharp cheekbones as his tongue worked mercilessly. Your thighs trembled, nails scratching at James’ hips for balance.
James’ eyes dropped to you, wild and glazed. The sight of you grinding on Sirius’ face while his cock stretched your throat made his hips stutter violently. “I can’t—fuck—I’m gonna—”
“Don’t you dare pull out,” Sirius snapped, still lapping at you. His free hand smacked James’ arse sharply, making him jolt. “Give it to her. Down her throat. Make her swallow every drop.”
James cursed loud, hips slamming forward. You gagged and moaned at once, tears slipping free, and the raw sound of your devotion made him groan deep from his chest.
The three of you moved like a machine now—James bouncing helplessly, Sirius grinding into him while tonguing you open, you choking and drooling as you sucked James with everything you had. Every thrust, every lick, every swallow wound the tension tighter and tighter.
It felt dangerous, overwhelming, inevitable.
James was unraveling fast. His thighs shook where they straddled Sirius, every downward drop forcing a guttural moan from his throat. You could feel it in the way his cock pulsed against your tongue, swollen and throbbing, begging for release.
But Sirius wasn’t about to let either of you finish just yet.
He tore his mouth from your cunt for a moment, lips shiny with slick, and snarled up at James. “Slow the fuck down, Prongs.”
You whimpered—actually whimpered—at the sudden loss of Sirius’ tongue beneath you. James’ hips jerked like he couldn’t help himself. “Pads, I—please, I can’t—”
“You can,” Sirius snapped, grip tightening on your thighs. James moaned helplessly, eyes fluttering. “You’re going to take it at my pace. Not yours. Mine.”
His hand slid from your hip to James’, gripping so tight his knuckles whitened. Sirius guided him, forcing a slower grind down his cock, deeper and more deliberate, until James was keening with every inch.
“Look at him,” Sirius growled, eyes flicking to you. “Fucking gorgeous like this. Can’t decide if he wants to fuck your throat raw or beg me to split him open.”
Your lips slid off James with a wet pop, saliva stringing between your mouth and his cock. You stroked him slowly, deliberately cruel, watching the way his stomach clenched. “He looks like he wants both.”
James cursed, shoving into your fist, but Sirius wrenched his hips back down with a brutal snap.
“Don’t let him off easy, sweetheart,” Sirius ordered, voice low. “Tease the fuck out of him. Make him work for it.”
So you did—kitten licks along the tip, a shallow suck, your tongue tracing just under the head while your hand gripped the base tight. James nearly sobbed, torn between grinding down on Sirius and begging you for more.
“Fuck—fuck, you’re both evil—” James gasped, sweat dripping down his temples. “I can’t—don’t stop—oh, bloody hell—”
Sirius’ lips were back on you then, tongue stabbing deep, pulling out and tracing circles around your clit. You cried out, clutching James tighter as your hips ground helplessly against Sirius’ face. His growl vibrated through you, sending shocks up your spine.
James stared down at the sight of you writhing above Sirius, your thighs trembling as he devoured you. His cock twitched violently in your hand. “She’s gonna—she’s gonna come, Pads, look at her—”
“Not yet,” Sirius rasped against your cunt. “I want her dripping all over me before I let any of us finish.” His tongue circled mercilessly, his hands clamping your thighs so hard you’d bruise.
You were shaking, pleasure boiling over but never tipping, because every time you got close, Sirius shifted his rhythm—slowing, dragging it out, making you beg.
Your voice broke. “Please—Sirius, please, I need—”
He laughed darkly, slick dripping down his chin. “That’s it, darling. Beg. The more you beg, the sweeter it’ll taste.”
James was no better, reduced to a trembling mess above him, biting his lip so hard it bled. His cock was iron-hard in your hand, veins throbbing. He tried to fuck your fist but Sirius forced him down slower, stretching him deeper until James cried out, eyes rolling back.
“Christ,” Sirius groaned. “I could keep you both on the edge all fucking night.”
And it felt true—none of you had come yet, but every nerve was lit up, strung tight, wracked with too much sensation to handle. The air smelled of sweat, spit, and sex, every breath heavy with it.
You were drowning together, and Sirius held all the strings.
Sirius’ grip on James’ hips was merciless, holding him down even as James writhed, desperate for more friction, more speed, more anything. His cock leaked freely in your fist, smearing slick down your fingers as you teased the head with feather-light licks.
“Pads,” James whined, voice cracking, “Please, let me—fuck, I’m gonna—”
“Not yet,” Sirius cut him off sharply, biting at your inner thigh hard enough to make you gasp. His tongue licked over the sting immediately after, smug. “Neither of you are coming until I say so.”
You shivered, every muscle strung tight, hips jerking against his mouth. His tongue dragged slowly, lazily, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. Every time you thought he’d let you tip, he changed pace, pulling back to blow cool air across your soaked folds until you were sobbing with need.
James was no better, trembling, eyes squeezed shut. His thighs quivered where they straddled Sirius, sweat dripping down his flushed chest. He tried to chase your hand with shallow thrusts, but you slowed your movements cruelly, matching Sirius’ rhythm. Every stroke of your fist stopped just before the head, making him choke on a moan of frustration.
“Fuck, fuck, I can’t—” James babbled, his head dropping forward until his sweaty curls brushed your cheek. His voice was wrecked, ragged. “I need to come, I’m begging you, please—”
Sirius only smirked up at him from between your thighs, lips glistening, chin slick with your wetness. “Look at you,” he rasped, tongue flicking your clit just long enough to make you cry out. “Both of you—already fucked out and you haven’t even given me what I want yet.”
“What—what do you want?” You gasped, clutching at James’ biceps for balance.
He moaned, sucking your clit hard until your vision sparked, then pulled back just long enough to snap, “I want you to break. I want Prongs to break. I want to drag you both through it so many times you forget how to breathe.”
James’ cock twitched violently in your fist at those words, his whole body shuddering. He buried his face against your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. “He’s gonna kill me,” James groaned, voice muffled. “Fuck, Pads, you’re gonna kill me.”
Sirius laughed low, dangerous, and pulled you down harder against his face, burying his tongue inside you until you screamed. At the same time, he thrust up into James with a brutal snap of his hips, forcing a strangled sob out of him.
It was too much. Too slow, too deep, too relentless. You were both teetering on the edge, writhing, begging, broken open under Sirius’ hands.
Your thighs were shaking so violently you thought they might give out, but Sirius’ grip was iron. Every flick of his tongue had your whole body jerking, and every sharp grind of his hips beneath James made the bed creak. You could hear James’ desperate little whimpers right in your ear, breath hot against your skin as he tried and failed to hold himself together.
“Pads,” he croaked, voice gone raw. “I—I can’t hold it—”
Sirius growled against your cunt, sending another shudder ripping through you. He pulled back just enough to speak, lips wet and swollen. “Both of you. Together. Don’t come until I tell you. When I say, you let go. Understand?”
You nodded frantically, tears streaking down your cheeks, while James gave a broken, “Y-yeah—” though his cock twitched violently in your hand, dripping all over your knuckles.
Sirius’ grin was wicked. “Good little pets.”
Then he stopped teasing. His tongue moved with brutal precision, sucking your clit like he meant to rip the orgasm out of you, while his hips slammed up hard into James. The sudden change tore screams from both of you—James’ moans ragged against your ear, your cries muffled against his shoulder.
“Now,” Sirius snarled, voice guttural, command vibrating through both of you. “Fucking come for me.”
The words were a detonator.
You shattered with a scream, your thighs locking around his head as wave after wave of release broke you open. His tongue never stopped, devouring everything you gave, dragging your orgasm out until you thought you’d pass out.
At the same time, James fell apart in your hand, his cock pulsing violently as he spilled hot down your wrist and Sirius’ abs. He sobbed against your neck, muffling his cries in your skin as his whole body convulsed.
Sirius groaned, hips bucking up into James, the sound nearly lost beneath both of your cries. The tight heat around his cock finally dragged him over the edge, and he spilled deep inside James with a guttural snarl, holding both of you locked against him while he shook with it.
The room spun, thick with panting breaths and the smell of sex.
You collapsed forward, forehead pressed against James’ shoulder, your body boneless. James trembled above Sirius, chest heaving, his curls damp with sweat as he clung to you.
Beneath you both, Sirius lay sprawled like a satisfied king, hair wild, lips glistening, eyes heavy-lidded but smug.
“Well,” he drawled after a long, shaky silence, his voice rough with use. “That… was bloody brilliant.”
James let out a laugh that cracked halfway through, muffled against your skin. “You’re—insufferable.”
“And yet,” Sirius smirked, giving James’ arse a lazy squeeze, “you’ll both be begging me for more tomorrow.”
You couldn’t muster a reply—James hadn’t even finished trembling when Sirius shifted under the both of you. His hands, firm on your thighs, slid down to squeeze your hips before shoving you off his face until you were pressed chest-to-chest with James. The movement forced James to stay seated on Sirius’ cock, every inch still buried deep inside him.
James whimpered, his whole body flinching. “Pads—wait—I can’t—”
“Oh, you can.” Sirius’ voice was low and dangerous, his grin all teeth. “You’re still hard. Look at you—dripping all over my stomach and twitching like you want more.”
You felt James shudder against you, caught between overstimulation and want. His cock was flushed, swollen, smeared with his own release—but Sirius wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t softened at all.
Sirius tilted his head, catching your dazed eyes. “Sweetheart. Don’t think you’re off the hook either. I want you on him—ride his cock while I fuck him open. Let’s see how much our precious Prongs can take.”
Your stomach clenched, a hot bolt of desire sparking through you even though you were still trembling from your orgasm. “Sirius—he’ll break—”
“That’s the point.” Sirius shoved his hips up sharply, making James cry out with a strangled sob. “I want him ruined.”
James clung to you desperately, face buried in your neck, but the noise he made wasn’t protest—it was wrecked, needy, desperate. His cock twitched against your stomach like it was begging.
Sirius grinned like a wolf who’d cornered his prey. “Hear that, sweetheart? He’s begging without even speaking. Come on. Sit pretty on him for me.”
Your hands shook as you reached between your bodies, guiding James to your entrance. He was slick with spit and come, sliding easily against you. James whined when the head nudged your folds, trembling like he’d come again just from that.
“Easy,” Sirius coaxed from below, though his tone dripped with dark amusement. “Let her sink down slow, Prongs. Feel every inch of her while I split you wider.”
You braced yourself on James’ shoulders and lowered. The stretch of him filling you was almost unbearable with how sensitive you still were, but the look on James’ face made it worth it—his head thrown back, lips parted, a moan torn straight from his chest as you sank down around him.
“Fuck—fuck—she’s—Merlin, Pads, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” Sirius’ hands tightened bruisingly on James’ hips, dragging him down harder onto his cock just as you bottomed out. The three of you groaned together at the sensation—James trapped between you both, cock buried in your cunt, Sirius buried in him.
You clenched around James involuntarily, and his whole body shook. “Too much,” he gasped, though his hips jerked helplessly up into you. “It’s—it’s too much—”
Sirius laughed darkly, snapping his hips up in a brutal thrust that made James choke on a scream. “Too much is exactly what you need.”
You caught James’ face in your hands, forcing him to look at you through tear-bright eyes. “Breathe, love. Just breathe.” You rolled your hips slowly, grinding on his cock while Sirius fucked him from below.
James’ moan broke, high and shattered. “Bloody hell—she’s—tight—fuck, Pads, I’m—”
Sirius smirked up at both of you, sweat dripping down his temples, eyes feral. “That’s it, Prongs. Take it like a good boy. Her cunt squeezing you, my cock wrecking you. You’re ours now.”
James’ nails dug into your back as he sobbed against your shoulder, hips moving despite himself. You could feel every brutal thrust of Sirius through him, every twitch of his cock inside you, every ragged breath against your neck.
And Sirius wasn’t letting up. He set a relentless pace, using James like a toy, forcing his body to fuck into you even when James thought he couldn’t take any more.
Your own pleasure built again shockingly fast, nerves fried but desperate, every movement setting your clit against James’ v-line. You moaned into his mouth, kissing him through the mess of it, and his answering whimper was almost broken.
“She’s—she’s squeezing me—Pads, I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t stop—”
Sirius chuckled dark and sharp, fucking up into him harder. “Don’t stop. Spill inside her while I fuck it deeper into you. Make a mess of her cunt for me.”
James screamed against your lips, and you knew neither of you would last.
James’ cry tore through the room, desperate and helpless, his cock jerking inside you as he spilled hot and thick, pulse after pulse painting your walls. His whole body convulsed between you and Sirius, but Sirius didn’t stop—not for a second.
“That’s it, Prongs,” Sirius growled, snapping his hips harder, driving himself deeper into James’ trembling body. “Come for her, and I’ll fuck every drop back into you.”
You felt it—felt James still pulsing inside you, even as he whimpered brokenly against your lips. He was gone, already past the edge, but his hips kept moving anyway, helplessly rutting into you as Sirius forced him into a brutal rhythm.
“Sirius—” you gasped, overwhelmed yourself, your cunt fluttering wildly around James. “He—he’s not stopping—”
“Good.” Sirius’ voice was feral, sweat dripping from his hairline, eyes wild as he pounded up into James with vicious precision. “He’s not allowed to stop. Not until he breaks.”
James sobbed, high and wrecked, his nails raking down your back as another orgasm tore through him too soon, his cock twitching violently inside you. His whole body shook with it, a strangled noise caught in his throat as he gave in, spilling again despite the tears streaking his flushed face.
You moaned at the feeling, at the sight of him unraveling so completely. “He’s—Merlin, he’s still coming—”
“Because he’s mine,” Sirius snarled, dragging James down harder onto his cock, fucking up so hard the bedframe rattled. “Ours. He’ll come until there’s nothing left in him.”
James’ head lolled against your shoulder, his eyes glassy and unfocused, but his body kept giving—every sharp thrust from Sirius forced another ragged sound, another twitch, another helpless spurt inside you until you were shaking on him, pushed over the edge yourself with a scream.
You clamped down around James’ cock, dragging him deeper into your orgasm, and he convulsed beneath you, completely undone. Sirius groaned at the way James tightened around him, slamming up one last brutal time before burying himself to the hilt, spilling hot into him.
For a moment, the only sound was the wet slap of skin, the ragged chorus of moans and cries, and then the collapse—James finally going boneless, trembling violently, his body utterly spent.
He sagged into you, barely conscious, his breaths shallow little gasps against your skin. Sirius held him in place with a possessive grip, chest heaving, a wolfish grin still plastered across his face.
“Look at him,” Sirius panted, eyes glittering as he stroked his hands down James’ sweat-slick sides. “Ruined. Beautiful. Could fuck him for days like this.”
James let out the faintest whimper, incoherent, and his lashes fluttered as if he couldn’t even hold his eyes open.
You brushed damp curls from his forehead, kissing his temple softly even as your own body shook. “He’s done, Pads,” you whispered, voice gentle where Sirius’ was cruel. “You’ve broken him.”
Sirius only smirked, leaning up to nip at your throat. “Exactly what I wanted.”
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:Your boyfriend tells you about an agreement you signed when you were kids - This came to me last night and couldn't help but write it.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the cozy bedroom as Y/N and Theodore Nott lay wrapped up in each other's arms.
The room was filled with a serene quiet, broken only by the occasional rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic beating of their hearts.
The pair found solace in the warmth of their cuddle, content and at ease.
Y/N shifted in Theo's arms, her head nestled against his chest. A playful smile danced on her lips as she traced circles on his forearm.
"You know, Teddy," she teased, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "you kiss me, like, a hundred times a day. Are you keeping count or something?"
Theo, his eyes half-closed with drowsiness, let out a tired chuckle. "It's in our contract," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against her ear.
Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. "Our contract? I don't remember signing any contract."
Theo shifted, turning slightly to open the top drawer of his bedside table. From within, he pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and handed it to Y/N. "Take a look, love," he said, nuzzling back into her warmth.
As she unfolded the paper, Y/N's eyes widened. "Teddy? I signed this in second year?" she exclaimed, a mix of surprise and amusement in her voice.
A smirk played on Theo's lips as he snuggled into her as she continued. "You said to draw a heart and sign the bottom,"
"and you did. Now read it, baby." he reminded her,
Y/N couldn't help but blush as she scanned the content.
The title at the top read, "The Boyfriend Agreement."
"Must hold Y/N's hand," she read aloud, feeling Theo gently grabbing her hand to intertwine it with his.
"Must tell Y/N how beautiful she is," she continued, and Theo whispered, "sei bella," against her.
The anticipated part came, "Kiss Y/N at least 100 times a day" and Theo showered her with kisses, fulfilling the agreement's requirement.
Y/N giggled, "Aww, Teddy."
She continued to read, "Tell Y/N that I love her," and Theo whispered, "You're the only woman I love, amore," sealing the words with a kiss on her shoulder still against her.
As Y/N reached the last line, she froze. "Propose to Y/N when we're 21," she read quietly, turning to face Theo.
He gazed at her with a loving expression, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"I have my mother's engagement ring ready," he confessed, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I've had it even way before I wrote this agreement."
"Since we were ten," Y/N whispered, mirroring his loving gaze.
Theo pecked her nose and confessed, "You're everything."
Then Theo smirks gently placing a hand onto Y/Ns face.
“Now come here, I haven’t filled my quota” and kisses all over Y/Ns face.
Sealing the unspoken promise written in the old agreement that had now found its way into their present and future.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -Feeling a pang of jealousy over Y/N’s admiration for her fictional crush, Theo takes matters into his own hands, reenacting her favorite book scene in the Great Hall.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Officially back on Devils Night tiktok this is 100% based on the Scene with Will Grayson III singing on a tabletop.
The Great Hall buzzed with its usual morning energy, but Y/N was oblivious, fully engrossed in her book, Nightfall by Penelope Douglas.
She sat at the Slytherin table, head tilted, brow furrowed, lost in her own little world as she mumbled about her favourite character.
“Oh, my god, Teddy, Will Grayson III is amazing. There's this one scene where he just… dances on the cafeteria table to ‘My Prerogative,’ completely shameless,”
She gushed, her eyes lighting up as she turned to her boyfriend, Theo Nott, who sat beside her, glancing down at his own book with faint annoyance.
“Yeah?” he replied, trying to sound neutral, though his jaw tensed. He hadn’t met this Will Grayson, but he was increasingly beginning to dislike him.
“Yes!” she sighed, pressing the book to her chest.
“He’s just so confident, doing whatever he wants without caring what people think. It’s… kind of hot, honestly.”
Theo's eyebrow shot up, and his book snapped shut. She was talking about a fictional character, he reminded himself, but her flushed cheeks and dreamy expression were hard to ignore.
Later that night, when Y/N drifted off to sleep, Theo found himself picking up her book.
He rifled through the pages, searching until he found it the scene she’d been obsessing over. Will Grayson III dances on the table… everyone staring, shameless, confident…
A mischievous idea sparked.
The next morning, Y/N made her way to the Great Hall, still feeling the glow of the story as she opened the book again to reread that same scene.
She sat down at the Slytherin table, chatting idly with her friends until the sound of a familiar beat filled the hall.
The opening chords of My Prerogative by Bobby Brown echoed through the room.
Her eyes flew up, searching for the source of the music.
Then she saw him—Theo Nott, standing on top of the Slytherin table.
Everyone fell silent, watching as Theo smirked, his dark eyes locked on her as he moved with surprising rhythm, lip-syncing along to the words,
“They say I'm crazy… I really don’t care… that’s my prerogative.”
Theo rolled his shoulders with a confidence she’d never quite seen him wear so boldly before.
Her heart raced, her mouth falling open in shock as he danced, swaying and spinning, his gaze never leaving hers.
Her face flushed pink as he sauntered down the length of the table, his moves bold and a little goofy, but somehow perfectly, uniquely him.
When he reached her, he grinned, leaning down and offering his hand. “Dance with me, bella?”
Not quite trusting her voice, Y/N nodded, slipping her hand into his.
She climbed up onto the table with him, laughter bubbling up as he spun her gently, both of them laughing as they danced.
Soon they were singing along, totally caught up in the moment, even as their friends cheered them on.
By the time the song ended, they were both breathless, standing close, cheeks flushed from laughing.
Y/N could hardly contain her grin as they hopped back down to the floor, Theo’s hand lingering in hers.
He scratched the back of his neck, his usual calm demeanor breaking as he looked down, cheeks turning red.
“Bella… what’s ‘prerogative’?”
She chuckled, reaching up to kiss his warm, reddening cheek.
“It means you get to do whatever you want, even if no one else gets it. It’s your choice, your way.”
His smile softened as he looked at her.
“So… like dancing on tables because it makes you smile?”
Omg omgomg okay im using your corrected ask to write the actual fic but i woke up at 5:26am in a blind panic(y’all ever have texting dreams? Fuck that shit. Theyre so disorienting) anyways!!!! This was such a treat to wake up to! Youre a beautiful genius and i love you and im so excited to write this
Because enzo and theo both treating you like a princess during foreplay. Youre so shy and sweet and theyre buttering you up and you have NO idea how rough theyre about to get. Just imagine Theo muttering sweet words in Italian while he feels all over your body, and Enzo is kissing down your neck and tracing his name into uour skin. Theyre soooo gentle and so sweet
I mean until youre on your hands and knees. Then theyre not as sweet anymore. In fact theyre really mean :( theyre so rough with you and they’re making fun of you for crying when youre overstimulated and its a complete 180° from 20 minutes ago!!! Like!!! They spent so long easing you into a pretty little sub for them and now they’re just using you like a toy?? What the freak guys.
I stand by asshole lorenzo for all my days, and I think hes so much meaner than Theo. He has your mouth and hes making fun of the sounds uou make and the way your eyes roll back-youre absolutely stunning but let a man have a bit of fun.
Theo… still not super nice but def more likely to talk you through it. “Oh Enzo is just mad its not him inside this pretty pussy…” “oh thats right, keep on moaning my name around his dick, it makes him so angry.”
Anyways! Will have an actual fic uploaded aaaaaaaa by the beginning of next week for sure. I have a busy weekend give me some grace pls my love 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
There's definitely mutual feelings if there gonna help you buy a vibrator 😝
IM SO SORRY BABES I HAVE HAD THE WORST WRITING BLOCK
So obvs theres some crushing and its like apparently to everyone but the two of you.
Draco doesn’t even know what hit him, hes out here spoiling you into loving him, and hes just such a great friend! Look at him go! He doesnt even care when you pull him into a store with blacked out windows. I mean. He sure as fuck notices when his eyes land upon copious amounts of dildos and panties. He doesnt even know where to look. He wants to direct you to the lingerie but you lead him to a wall full of vibrators. And hes fucking sweating okay? Man is losing his cool. Pulling on his shirt collar and puffing slightly. “I cant decide between these two” as you present two veey large and complex toys to him. He cant even look you in the eyes when he grabs the boxes for you. He doesnt look at the cashier either while checking out.
Blaise is a bit more cool about it, having actually had a conversation about it before. “Hey, weird question, Pans bailed on me, so do you want to help me pick out a new vibe?” And while his eyes go wide and he has to take a second, he does verbally agree. So there you stand in the sex shop, comparing different shapes and sizes, cordless and remote controlled. He’s really insightful actually. “Look at this one, if you turn it around it doubles as a dildo.” He offers to but the most expensive, ridiculous looking vibrator in the shop. While it becomes an inside joke amongst you two, he wants nothing more than to watch you use it.
Mattheo, that little shit, he actually dragged you into the store. He needed more lube(you didnt ask why, and didnt want to know) so to entertain yourself, you browsed the various dildos and vibes. Naturally this dickwad comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, peering over your shoulder. “I didnt know you were…” “sexually active?” “A whore.” He leaves the store with a bruise and you leave it with a smile and new toy to play with.(trust he shamelessly asks for a video later)
Theodore accidentally found your laptop open on a site, and he sat there for a few mimosas scrolling through your cart. He gave you a disappointed look when you came back into the room. “Look at the reviews on these before you even consider them. Who even online shops for dick?” You just roll your eyes at him as he continues hounding you, offering instead to show you what he would recommend. Online shopping takes about 2 hours with him before you even hit purchase.
Lorenzo and you were playing one on one truth or dare out in the common room. Everyone else was busy, but boredom strikes when least expected. After a few rounds, each getting more risqué than the last, Lorenzo finally asks you what yiur favorite way to pleasure yourself is. And you can only imagine the pure shock on his face when you get out a blushy “I dont really like… use any toys.” And hes taking you out on the town immediately, despite your flustered protests.
summary: fed up with the way the slytherin boys create chaos without consequence, someone seeks to bring them down a notch by going after the one thing their strongest loves most: you.
warnings: this is relatively dark (for me anyway!) reader is attacked + kissed/touched against their will. mentions of blood, knives and violence.
word count: 6.6k 🫣
soundtrack: heathens - twenty one pilots
a/n: i promise this isn't deranged, there is ample flangst and a mattheo that would burn the world to the ground for you ♡
If you'd heard it once, you'd heard it a thousand times.
Be careful.
He's dangerous.
You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
As if you weren't an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions, of reading people, of caring for your own heart.
On paper, you and Mattheo Riddle made no sense. You were quiet and calm, friendly and compassionate, quick with a warm smile and a hug. You were light and laughter and goodness.
By contrast, Mattheo was rough and edgy, quick to anger with a firecracker temper and a biting sarcasm like a venomous snake that kept everyone but his closest friends at an arm's length. But around you? He melted.
It was like you held the key that unlocked his defenses, allowing you to walk straight into the dark center of his heart. He would have mocked any guy who fell for a girl the way he fell for you: immediately, irrevocably and hard. And once he had his mind made up about you, there was little you could say in the matter (not that you were arguing).
He showered you with a depth of affection that was rare for anyone, let along the brooding bad boy of Hogwarts.
Suddenly, he was just there, beside you in class, next to you at meals, and keeping you company in the library as you studied. Before long you began to crave the feeling of his presence, of his warmth next to you, of the low rumble of his voice meant only for you to hear as he shared an inside joke or complimented you. He'd eagerly watch your face light up in return, the twinkle in your eyes, the lift of your lips and your happiness became a high for him that he wouldn't stop chasing; making you happy and keeping you happy became his mission, one that he succeeded at in every way.
Then late one night in the library you were huddled close together as a storm racked the castle outside, sending wind and rain against the large windows. Your heads were close together as you spoke in whispers. You looked at him and smiled and for just the breath of a second your eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips, and that was all the invitation he needed. He leaned in slowly, winding his hand to cup the side of your face as he pressed his lips to yours and he kissed you with tenderness and hunger, the combination of which pulled you out of your seat and onto his lap. And once he realized how bright you shined after he kissed you? He was a goner. And so were you.
There wasn't a thing anyone could say to you about Mattheo after that that you would have listened to, because he had you, heart and soul. He treated you like royalty, he protected you like treasure and he loved you with everything he had in him. What more could a girl possibly ask for?
You fell in step with Mattheo's long strides on your walk to breakfast, the early morning light beaming through the stained glass windows.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, right where he always wanted you, as close to him as possible. You nuzzled into his neck and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
As usual, the sea of students in the corridor dipped and dodged out of your way, leaving a wide berth for your group out of deference and intimidation. It was odd for you at first joining the group that held the rest of the school in such rapt fear because it was immediately obvious that they were just like everyone else, they just didn't care to show that side of themselves to the world; they were fun-loving, goofy, affable and caring and they quickly adopted you as one of their own.
You rounded the corner to the Great Hall and Mattheo went crashing into a figure that hadn't had the wherewithal to get out of his way. He tightened his grasp on you out of instinct and narrowed his eyes towards Seamus Finnegan who had dropped the entire stack of books he'd been holding and looked ready to argue about it until he saw who he was confronting. He bit his tongue instead, averted his eyes, and stepped out of your way.
Mattheo moved by him without a word, the slight already forgotten, but you glanced back with the smallest ounce of pity in your eyes as Seamus knelt to the floor to gather his books and a few Gryffindors came to help him.
"M'fuckin' sick of it" Seamus said quietly once you were out of earshot. "Him, them, walkin' around like they own the school" he shot a nasty glare in the direction of the Slytherin table.
"Good luck doing anything about it" Ron sighed, resigned. "Nasty temper, that one" he added, eyes shifting warily towards Mattheo like he might actually have the ability to hear him from the other side of the loud hall.
"It's cruel is what it is! Neville is still trying to recover from Nott hexing him. He claimed it was an 'accident', but we all know the truth. He should be expelled!" Hermione added hotly, her cheeks flushing at the idea of anyone breaking the rules and getting away with it.
Seamus grimaced as he stared at your group, at the ease with which you had all carried on with your morning, laughing and joking, boisterous, without a care in the world because you knew you were all completely untouchable, above reproach or reprimand.
He knew there wasn't a thing he could do in retaliation without ending up in the infirmary or worse he thought solemly.
What I wouldn't give to take them down a notch his mind whirled, to make them feel something, to feel vulnerable, on edge, afraid like the rest of us.
His eyes narrowed.
Surely there was a weakness, a vulnerability he could find, something something to level the playing field. His eyes skated over Draco and Blaise, over Theo's large frame and Lorenzo's tall figure before they landed back on Mattheo, and finally on you.
You.
He watched the way Mattheo kept his arm around you, as he always did, keeping you close to his side like you were two parts of one whole and Seamus thought about the way he'd seen Mattheo pull you even closer when he'd run into him. He watched, really watched him turn to look at you when you talked and saw a surprising softness in his normally cold, dark eyes.
It was no secret that you two were together, Mattheo loved kissing you openly, unabashedly, anywhere and everywhere he pleased: in between classes, after quidditch matches, at meals, even in class from time to time with a complete disregard to anything the professors said about it.
If there was one thing anyone knew or had learned the hard way it was that you were one hundred percent off limits and to think otherwise was a death wish.
Seamus remembered the transfer student several months ago that had unknowingly asked you out, and how Mattheo had broken his nose over it. Twice. Never mind the time Mattheo happened to overhear a Ravenclaw compliment your outfit, and he ended up puking slugs for weeks.
Seamus shuddered.
Mattheo had an appetite for violence and a temper that never burned hotter than when it came to you, sending him into a fitful spiral.
She's his weakness he realized.
"I have an idea" he said to the group around him.
Weeks later, your feet carried you quickly down the winding stone staircase from Divination. You were first out the door, eager to spend every second of the short break you had between classes with Mattheo as you always did at this time in the neighboring stairwell of the North Tower.
You turned the corner to see him leaning against the wall, waiting for you and your face lit up as you strode toward him in the small, empty space. He stood up straighter as he took you in and he fidgeted with his hands in an unusually nervous way that had you laughing as you approached him and pressed into him, winding your arms around his neck.
"Hi handsome" you breathed against his lips before you kissed him.
But it was like kissing a statue.
His lips sat unmoving against yours, his hands awkwardly at his side.
"Matty?" you asked, pulling back to look at him to see the same look of genuine nerves on his face, his cheeks flushed.
You laughed again, totally confused at his reaction.
"Are you okay?—"
"—Y-yeah" he mumbled before running his hands slowly up your sides. "Yeah, m'so good" he confirmed before tugging you into him.
His lips met yours but something was still off, he was stiff and awkward. You moved to pull away from him again but his grip on you tightened, holding you in place until he swung you around and pushed you against the stone wall so quick and so hard your head knocked against the surface painfully.
Mattheo was a lot of things.
But careless with you was not one of them.
Your heart raced in your chest as your head throbbed. You pushed against him, but he was unwavering as he deepened his kiss aggressively, sloppily, despite your growing protests. And then he bit your bottom lip. Hard. And you tasted blood.
"Ah! Mattheo - what the fuck!" you said, shoving him hard this time as your hand flew to your bleeding lip.
He looked completely disheveled, flushed, his eyes glazed as he stared at you. Your stomach roiled.
And then you earnestly began to panic because for the first time in the year you'd been together you were keenly aware of how tall and how big he was, and how helpless you were in comparison.
Your heart began to race and your breaths came fast and shallow as you searched his face for any sign of the boy you loved and every cautionary word you'd been told came racing back to you: Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
Those fears mixed with how fiercely you loved him in a cocktail of confusion that left tears burning in your eyes as you tried to hold back a sob.
At the sight of that he smirked and a chill ran down your spine.
You tried to run.
He grabbed you.
"C'mon dove" he said, caging you in with his arms against the wall despite how you squirmed. "I know you like it like this" he muttered as lips attached to your neck and he began to suck and bite you.
Dove?
He'd never once called you that.
You scraped against his chest. You tried to shout until he put a hand over your mouth and it was like he was intentionally trying to mark you, sucking your skin so hard you could feel the bruising as you pushed and punched him to no avail. He reached for the top of your shirt and yanked, tearing it as buttons flew off.
You were crying hard now as you fought his hands when suddenly voices echoed in a nearby corridor and he pulled away from you.
His grip loosened and his eyes flashed with fear, and then he left, taking off down the corridor without a word.
You sunk to the floor in disbelief, gasping to catch your breath as cries ripped from you and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your brain a mottled mess as you tried to comprehend what the fuck had happened to your boyfriend.
As soon as you could steady yourself, you grasped your torn shirt with shaking hands and made your way as quickly as you could to the common room through a series of passageways and abandoned corridors to avoid running into anyone.
You snuck into the dungeons, head down, desperate to get to your room, when you heard your friends' voices.
"There she is. Hey! YN!" Blaise shouted.
Shit.
You tried to ignore him, to act like you didn't hear anything.
"YN!" Theo called after you, louder. "Hang on, I'll get her" he said, standing to come after you.
You tried to walk faster, doubling your pace.
"Hey, hey!" Theo said, catching up with you easily with his long strides. "Have you seen Mattheo? He—"
He reached for you and you pulled out of his grasp, turning to face him and he stopped in his tracks, the words dying on his lips as his eyes widened and the color drained from his face.
"YN" he said quietly, intently. "What the fuck happened to you? Holy shit."
He reached for your face, taking your chin in his warm hand, his touch so soft and gentle, so completely opposite of everything you'd just experienced that you immediately began to cry.
"Bella, your lip" he said, panic slipping into his tone both at your reaction and the sight of the blood there. "Who the fuck did this?"
You closed your eyes and shook your head and he slowly wrapped his arms around you. Your head fell to his chest as you grasped him, soaking his jumper with your tears.
By now, Draco, Lorenzo and Blaise had come over and were muttering softly.
"Bloody hell."
"This is fucking mental, mate."
"Matty is going to kill them."
And at just the mention of his name, you pushed further into Theo's chest, burrowing there like you could hide from the world.
"Bella, you're going to have to tell him, you can't protect whoever did this" he said, misreading your reaction.
"Well, we'll have to find him first. He'd better hear this from us" Blaise said.
Find him?
"W-what do you mean find him?" you muttered against Theo's chest.
"Haven't seen him since breakfast. Wasn't in class this morning and didn't come for our smoke" Draco replied.
Your head ached as much from your tears as it did from where he'd pushed you into the wall as you tried to process that. What had he been doing all day? And what the hell had gotten into him?
A burst of laughter, shouts and a loud wolf whistle echoed from behind you and pulled the group's attention to the door. You peeked from the comfort of Theo's arms to see Mattheo walking in... in his underwear.
"Thank you, thank you" he smirked, bowing cockily to the group of onlookers who cheered and gawked at his half-naked body, moving to make his way towards his room until he saw your group.
"There you fuckers are" he said as he approached. "I have had a fucking day - someone's getting their face rearranged—" but he stopped midsentence when he got close enough to see you in Theo's arms.
"What's going on? What's wrong?" he asked, stepping towards you immediately.
Theo moved to let you go but you gripped him tighter, hiding yourself, refusing to move.
Mattheo stopped, startled by your reaction like he'd run into a brick wall. He stood at a distance from you, completely unmoored by the sight of you grasping onto someone else for comfort. His heart began to thump heavily and angrily in his chest and his cheeks flushed in irritation and embarrassment.
He let out a steadying breath, his jaw clenched as his eyes slid to Theo, the decided object of the brewing anger he felt.
"What. The fuck. Is going on?" he asked again, his fury palpable.
"It's not—I don't—" Theo stumbled.
"—She hasn't said anything, mate" Enzo clarified.
You could feel yourself begin to shake and a dam of pressure welled up behind your eyes at how angry Mattheo was, at how afraid you were to be near him, at what he might do or say next and yet at the same time, how much you craved his comfort, how you knew he was the only person who could truly make you feel better.
Your tears came hot and wet down your cheeks as you cried into Theo's chest and Mattheo felt something crack inside of him. He'd never once seen you like this and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, sick over how upset you were, sick that you were in pain, sick that you didn't seem to want him or to be anywhere near him, sick that he didn't know what to do or how to help.
"B-baby, please?" he said, nearly begging as he tried to move closer.
The tone in his voice and the affectionate nickname tugged at your heart.
You swallowed and turned your head to look at him, gently, tentatively letting Theo go.
Mattheo's eyes met yours before they wandered over your face.
His face fell.
And he stopped breathing.
A cold sensation like the ooze of a cracked egg ran down his body as he looked at you.
Your mascara was smeared, caught in the tears that were running down your face. Your cheeks were red and flushed and your lip was swollen and bleeding. He catalogued the bruises down your neck and marks that looked an awful lot like bites there too that led to your ripped and tattered shirt.
Mattheo had been angry plenty of times in his life, and for good reason. But this was the first time he felt it. He could have told you where and how quickly the rage pulsed in his veins, blooming hot in his chest, pumping into his arms, into his hands that curled into fists and ached to hit something, into his stomach, his legs that wanted to run, to cause chaos and destruction until he fixed this.
But he didn't expect the next emotion that hit him like a dark wave in a stormy ocean, all consuming, nearly bowling him over: deep and overwhelming sadness.
"N-no, no no no who-who did this? Baby" his voice ached with pain as he moved to step towards you again, desperate to hold you, to make it better as quickly as he could.
You took a small, hesitant step back and looked at him with confusion, with trepidation.
And you said the next words so quietly he was certain he'd heard you wrong.
"You" you whispered.
His face scrunched in confusion.
"It was you" you said louder and all the boys turned to look at you and then back to Mattheo.
"In the stairwell? Our spot?" you said pointedly, trying to get him to remember.
"You were there, waiting for me, but you were... off. Different. And then y-you..." you gestured to yourself as you tried to keep from coming undone again at the memory.
Theo took a protective step closer to you.
Mattheo carded his hands through his hair in exasperation where they rested atop his head as he paced a step back and forth before stopping in front of you. It was taking his entire willpower not to lose his composure, and not to launch at his best friend.
"I got jumped this morning" he said patiently, evenly, though his underlying anger was still very much there. "I woke up in a broom closet ten minutes ago with no fucking clothes."
"B-broom closet?" you muttered, confused.
"Yeah, it was maddening, had to break the door down and— look, that doesn't matter. Please please tell me you believe me."
Your mind was reeling. You opened your mouth hesitantly to reply, but you couldn't find your words, your emotions, your fear, everything you felt far too raw.
He let out another deep breath and then crouched in front of you, making himself smaller, less threatening as he met your gaze directly.
"You are the most important person in my world. You know that, right? You are everything to me. Everything that is precious and perfect and right. And I would never ever hurt you."
You met his dark brown eyes that were shining intently up at you, unflinching in their truth and you nodded despite your tears and sniffles. Of course you knew that, which was why everything that happened this morning was so fucked up.
He slowly extended his hand to you, palm up, wordlessly asking you to believe him, to trust him.
"You're okay now, you're safe. No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here, okay?"
And gods you'd needed to hear that. You nodded again, more strongly now.
"We're going to figure this out. And I'm going to fix this, I can promise you I will fix this. Hey, can you look at me?"
Your eyes met his and more hot tears fell down your cheeks at the gentleness and patience in his expression, the way he was nearly on his knees begging for you to trust him, to believe that the boy in front of you in no way could have been the boy from this morning and you pursed your lips.
"I love you" he whispered.
And those words alone healed a significant part of your hurt.
You slowly placed your shaking hand in his and it was like your body immediately registered the difference in his touch, how he tenderly ran a thumb over your knuckles as he continued to speak softly to you as he stood up.
"I've got you, you're going to be okay. It's me, I'm here" he said as he slowly pulled you toward him.
You took one step, and then another, and then you curled yourself against his warm chest and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding as you grasped him. He held you tightly to him, squeezing hard, and his hand held the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your temple.
You sniffed and let out a few more shaky breaths, letting him consume you, trying to replace every memory from this morning with his touch like it could pull the fear from you as you listened to his heartbeat and took in his familiar smell.
Theo cleared his throat as politely as possible.
"Really hate to break up the moment, but if you spent the morning in a broom closet, then how the fuck were you also walking around the North Tower?—"
"—Polyjuice potion" Draco said, without missing a beat, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's the only logical explanation, would also explain why they had to take your clothes" he gestured to Mattheo's half-naked body.
"What?!" Blaise exhaled in disbelief.
"So you mean to say someone planned all of this? Went through all of this effort just to get to her?" Theo asked, and you could hear the fury rising with his tone.
Mattheo's arms squeezed around you, a subconscious reaction to the thought.
"What kind of sick fuck?—"
"—I'm going to kill them" Mattheo said flatly.
And it wasn't a turn of phrase.
He'd said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly that you nearly believed him and hugged him back a little tighter.
"Do you have any idea who it was?" Lorenzo asked.
"No you dipshit, don't you think if she knew it wasn't him this wouldn't have happened?" Draco replied, smacking him in the back of the head.
Theo and Blaise chimed in, arguing the point with one another.
"He did say something weird" you mused quietly, silencing them all as they turned to look at you. "He called me dove" you said, shaking your head at the memory, like you could make yourself forget it.
Mattheo held you that night in a way that made you wonder if he'd ever let you go again. Every minute you spent back with the real him seemed to stitch you together again, to heal and comfort you as you snuggled further into his arms.
He'd apologized no less than a thousand times by now, the guilt steadily eating away at him, even though he had nothing to be sorry for, which you continually reminded him.
"You're a fucking angel" he sighed, unable to stop thinking about it as he traced a thumb over your cheek, his expression sorrowful and raw. "Someone did this to you because of me."
"Matty, that's not—"
"—I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been there."
"It's okay, it's not your fault. I'm okay now" you said, smiling, feeling the words as you said them, tracing a finger down the bridge of his nose.
You tried to reassure him the rest of the night, managing to coax a few smiles out of him, but his eyes never left you, like he feared looking away for a single blink would leave you in danger. And although a spell had mended your lip and healed your bruises, he continued to trace his fingers over where each mark on your skin had been, like he was reminding himself, committing them to memory.
Nothing could have prepared you for the tension of the days that followed.
The whole group was on edge, like a pack of rabid dogs, ready to snap at anyone that got too close to you. One if not all of them walked you to every class, to every meal, to every event, to Hogsmeade and back again; Mattheo even insisted on showering with you and sleeping with you every night, much to you sincere enjoyment.
The boys spent their days eyeing everyone with suspicion and their nights trying to plot out who might have attacked you. Five guys were walking around the castle with black eyes, but no one had come clean and it was slowly driving them mad; the lack of answers was taking the situation from a serious problem to a personal vendetta.
Two weeks passed. And though the tension remained, you were settling into the heightened level of protection, finding a sense of calm in the way the boys surrounded you like a security blanket. You had every confidence that they would figure this out and until then all you could do was seek a return to normalcy, to focus on the present.
You grounded yourself with the task at hand, potting bundles of dittany during Herbology class shoulder to shoulder with your friends at a long table in the warm greenhouse, the boys acting as a veritable wall between you and the Gryffindors.
Your eyes caught Mattheo's across the narrow table from you and you watched the way the spring sun caught his dark locks. He sent you one of his signature smirks and a quick wink that made you blush and smile.
Your classmates chattered back and forth quietly until a phrase wafted down the table as Seamus Finnegan leaned over to Hermione Granger.
"C'mon dove, help me out?"
And it was like someone sucked the air out of the room. The warmth in the greenhouse suddenly felt stiflingly hot and you could hear the blood rushing to your head as it whooshed in your ears.
Time slowed to seconds like the tick of a broken time-turner.
Five.
Your eyes lifted and met Mattheo's whose had lost all warmth and peace in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. They were devoid of color, clouded, jet black. His jaw ticked as he looked at you, asking you wordlessly to confirm what he'd just heard.
The trill of Finnegan's voice, the accent was all too familiar, it was undeniable and it sent you spiraling back to that morning in the stairwell in a way that had you woozy on your feet. You nodded, small and quick back to him.
Confirming what you'd thought so many times before, that there was an inexplicable bond that linked the boys together, four sets of eyes wordlessly confirmed the same.
And then chaos erupted.
Four.
Lorenzo ran for Finnegan and Theo dropped the plant in his hands, sending shattered pottery and dirt flying in his rage, hot on Enzo's heels.
Three.
Your eyes followed them both but fell to Draco who had started moving in the opposite direction, frantically pushing past classmates who were looking around in panic as he tried to reach Mattheo.
Two.
You glanced at your boyfriend.
He hadn't moved.
He wasn't making a scene, but he'd pulled out his wand, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember a time when he'd favored his magic over his fists.
Oh no you thought as you began to move towards him yourself.
One.
Mattheo stood straight and tall, brandishing his wand with unflinching confidence and surety as he pointed it directly at Finnegan's head.
"AVADA KE—" his voice boomed.
"—Not like this, mate!!" Draco shouted, grabbing his arm at the last possible second.
"Get the fuck off of me!" Mattheo roared, the contact breaking him out of his stupor as he thrashed in Draco's arms.
By now the others had wrangled Finnegan whose face was as green as the detail on their robes; he knew he was utterly and hopelessly fucked, and if you weren't sure before you were certain now that it had been him, the guilt so clear on his face it might as well have been written on his forehead. Your skin crawled.
The rest of your classmates were running and screaming, tearing by you to flee the room as your feet kept you cemented to the floor.
"You're dead! You're fucking dead!" Mattheo's voice echoed, as he screamed and thrashed in Draco's arms.
"You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it, Finnegan! How dare you, how fucking dare you!!!"
Draco was barely holding onto him as they all walked quickly towards the back of the greenhouse.
You moved to follow until Blaise came up beside you and gently reached for you, pulling you into the throng of people fleeing.
"C'mon" he said, softly but firmly guiding you the other way, back towards the castle. "They've got this, you don't need to be here for this—"
"—But this is because of me, Blaise" you urged, pulling back, frantically looking between him and the disappearing figures of Mattheo and your friends, his raging threats echoing off the glass walls in a way that amplified them.
"No, this is because of Finnegan" he said coldly, following your gaze. "And he'll get what's coming to him."
Blaise guided you quickly back to the castle, back to the common room and he tried his best to keep you company, to keep you occupied, though neither of you could properly focus on anything else.
"It'll be alright, right?" you asked quietly, for the hundredth time.
He nodded steadily. "It'll be alright, YN" he reassured you.
You sighed.
"This is just... a lot" you admitted.
"Babe, if you wanted someone to be level-headed and normal about you, you're with the wrong guy" he said in attempt to make you smile.
You smiled weakly and toyed with the fringe of the blanket that you pulled into your lap.
An hour passed.
And then four more.
You skipped dinner and sat in the secluded corner of the common room with Blaise until it emptied and the embers in the fireplace burned low, nearly out. You had sat quietly together now for hours. You were exhausted of conversation and exhausted from the wash of emotions from the day, a mix of relief, of pain in reliving the memories upon hearing Finnegan's voice, of worry about what exactly was going on.
You'd never seen Mattheo like that; he had been completely unhinged and you recalled his words the day it all happened. "I'm going to kill them" spoken like a vow, an oath.
It was beyond late before the door snicked open quietly and the four boys walked in without a sound. You and Blaise stood and they met Blaise's eyes first, nodding at one another before your friends departed, leaving you with somber smiles to be with Mattheo.
You navigated around the couches to him, your footsteps quickening to close the distance and you pulled him into your arms. His body was stiff with tension, but you felt it begin to melt away the second you touched him; he nuzzled into you and you could feel the tired on him, mixed with a burdened sense of relief.
"Come on" you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.
He sat down on the corner of the bed in the dim light and let out a sigh like he was trying to unload the weight he'd been carrying, his shoulders slumped as he ran his fingers through his hair. You stepped between his legs and reached for his hands the way you always did, ready to tend to them.
"They're fine" he croaked, his voice hoarse as he met your gaze, smiling softly at you, taking you in. You could tell he was trying to distract you and when he rested his hands on your hips and moved to pull you into him, he almost succeeded.
You pressed a quick, searing kiss to his lips and then reached to pull his hands off of your hips and he relented, sighing again.
His knuckles were badly bruised and bloodied, at least two of them looked to be broken from what you could tell and a frown crested your lips to know that the same hands that were so gentle with you could be capable of such violence.
But it was the crimson blood that stained his palms, that gathered under each fingernail that made you pause. That was new.
"Mattheo" you whispered, the question lingering in the air unspoken. What did you do?
"He's gonna be gone for awhile" he said plainly in response before his eyes met yours straight on, intense.
"And he is never, ever going to touch you again."
You pursed your lips and nodded, acknowledging that this was his way of apologizing, of making things right, of balancing the scales of justice as judge, jury and executioner.
He brought his bloody hands to your face, cupped it gently and kissed you.
Seamus didn't come back until well after spring solstice, weeks later.
Despite the rampant rumors and speculation, he didn't say a single word about what happened, like the boys had taken his very voice from him.
His face was still mottled with multicolored bruises, one eye swollen shut, evidence that even magic couldn't heal the extent of the damage they'd caused.
But even despite that, something you'd learned about your friends is that they were not quick to forgive and they never, ever forgot...
You were lounging by the Black Lake on an unusually warm afternoon, sprawled on a large blanket with your friends, your shoes and socks forgone and your skirt and shirtsleeves rolled up in an effort to catch a tan.
Mattheo himself was shirtless beside you, his eyes closed against the warm rays as you rested your head on his bicep. Theo, Enzo and Draco were sitting next to you playing exploding snap while Blaise flipped through a book, and you sighed, reveling in the rare moment of peace, which didn't last longer than fifteen minutes.
"Bit warm for a jumper, isn't if Finnegan?" Draco shouted.
Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to see a group of Gryffindors nearby.
Sure enough, the group was dressed like you, short sleeves, bare feet, but for Finnegan who was covered head to toe and was visibly dripping sweat. His faced flushed even redder at the comment as he averted his eyes, immediately shrinking in pure terror.
"Should take it off, mate" Lorenzo chimed in cheekily. "Enjoy the sun, no?"
Seamus swallowed but wouldn't meet their eyes.
You turned to look at Mattheo but he hadn't moved. His eyes remained closed though you could see a muscle tic in his clenched jaw.
"C'mon then" Theo said, sitting up like he meant to move. "Need our help? We'll come lend a hand."
Seamus looked like he was about to cry as his face crumpled.
You didn't know what they were playing at, but you could tell it was torturing him, and for the briefest moment you pitied him, until your memories came wading back, threatening to overwhelm you with the feeling of sickening fear and betrayal.
And it was like Mattheo could sense it, his eyes fluttering open to look at you as he tried to tug you back into his arms.
"Just ignore them" he said, his voice still scratchy.
But you saw Seamus pull his sweater over his head out of the corner of your eye and as it came away from his body you noticed the crimson lines covering his arms. Even at your distance you could feel the sickness of them, the curse of dark magic in the air and several people gasped and scrambled away from him.
You sat up and stared closer as you realized the lines spelled something.
On his left arm, MUDBLOOD in deep angry jagged letters, in wounds carved into his skin.
On his right, RAPIST.
He took one fateful look at your group and then got up and nearly tripped over himself as he ran back to the castle.
"Aww, was it something I said?" Draco cried after him.
"Bye!" Lorenzo waved cheerfully.
Blaise blew him a kiss.
And Theo watched his every move under dark lidded eyes.
But Mattheo was looking solely at you, trying to gauge your reaction, your understanding. He reached for your hand and twined his fingers in yours, pulling you back to lay down with him as he looked at you with vulnerability and caressed your cheek. Now you knew the truth. You knew just how dangerous he could be, just what lengths he would go to for you.
Your heart thumped wildly in your chest and your mind raced and for a moment it occurred to you to be scared.
Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
You thought about broken knuckles and black eyes, of blood-stained palms and the lingering feeling of dark magic in the air. You heard his voice rattling the panes of the greenhouse with his rage, 'You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it!'
And then that same voice, from the same boy, sweetly, softly ‘No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here. I love you, YN.'
And you thought about the caress of his lips against yours on a stormy night, of his warm arms around you, of the feeling of his calloused hands on your bare skin, and the rumble of his voice in his chest as your head lay on his heart.
"It'll never heal" he said quietly, bringing you back to the present moment. "No magic can fix it. He'll wear that reminder on his skin for the rest of his life."
His chocolate eyes warmed as they looked at you, asking you, one more time, to trust him, to tell him that you understood.
You smiled softly, and traced a finger over his lips and a calm comfort settled over you, a reassurance that no matter what life threw your way, this boy would be standing by your side, that he might burn the world to the ground but would never let a flame touch you, that this was simply how he loved: deep, sincere, serious and unrelenting.
“I love you” you whispered in reassurance before leaning in to press the sweetest kiss to his lips that melted his heart and proved to him that every sin he committed along the way would always be worth it, for you.
Your house had won against the Slytherin team in a quidditch match. And Mattheo was seething. He was always so short tempered. Everyone knew that.
But only you knew that he took it out on you. His head between your thighs, lapping at your poor cunt. He had you completely stripped but he was still fully clothed, just eager to get his tongue on your sweet pussy. But he was even more aggressive than usual.
“Please, Matty.” You whined as he denied your orgasm. You were laying on the edge of the bed, propped up on your elbows as you watched him kneeling on the ground in front of you, your thighs over his shoulders.
“Stop being fucking greedy.” He said as he looked into your eyes now. “Be grateful for what I’m giving you.” He said before pushing two fingers into you.
“Please, Matty, need to cum so bad.” You plea, feeling that orgasm build again, hoping he doesn’t deny you again.
“Oh, you need it?” He said as he watched his fingers pumping in and out of you.
“So bad. Please, Matty.” You beg, your hips moving to meet his fingers.
“Do you remember how many times your house scored on us?” He asked, looking back in your eyes again, thumb moving to play with your clit.
“Uh…” You couldn’t remember. You barely remember anything but his fingers and tongue on you at the moment as you watch his hand playing with you.
“Five.” He answered. “So, I’m gonna deny you five times before you can cum. If you complain again, I’ll keep adding to it. Do you understand that?” He asked, using his other hand to tilt your head to look at him.
“Yes.” You say shakily. You were so close again already. He could tell as he felt your walls tighten around him.
He pulled his fingers out as soon as he felt you about to cum, eliciting a whine, but you bit your tongue to keep from saying anything. “How many has that been so far? Count them for me, or did you already get fucked stupid by me?” He asked, a bit condescendingly.
“Two. Two times.” You say, as you watch him.
“So smart. Count them for me.” He said before pushing his fingers back into you, bringing his mouth back on you. He used his free hand to hold you down so you couldn’t move from him. One of your hands went to his hair, gripping it tightly and that made him groan. He pushed you back to that edge quickly before stopping again. You nearly cried at the sudden loss. “How many?” He asked.
“Three.” You said in a near whine, breathing hard.
“You’re almost done. Keep being a good girl and I’ll give you what you want.” He said before starting up again, pushing his fingers against that spot that made your eyes roll back. Your legs were shaking so hard around his head at this point. He watched your face, every reaction, every small movement. His hand holding you down moved up to pinch at your nipples and that almost sent you over the edge and he stopped everything again.
This time, there were desperate tears in your eyes. “Four.”
“You learn so well, princess. One more. Be good.” He said, rubbing over your stomach to soothe you. He started up again, lapping at your sensitive clit and pumping his fingers in you. He played with your nipples again, pinch and pulling slightly. He groaned as you gripped tighter at his hair, watching you as you squirm under his touches, trying your hardest to stay still. Your orgasm was building much faster than before. He could hear your whines getting louder, more desperate and he knew you were right at the edge again before he completely removed himself from you. You whined, practically sobbing, as he stood up and quickly shed his clothes.
“You wanna cum this time, princess?” He asked as he settled between your legs, teasing your folds with his tip.
“Yes, please, Matty, please.” You begged, not even caring how pathetic it might have sounded anymore.
He watched you for a moment before pushing inside of you, earning a relieved moan from you and his own soft moan as he felt your walls wrapping tightly around his cock. He was thrusting relentlessly into you, wanting to see you fall apart on his dick.
“You’re so good for me, baby.” He said as he leaned down to get closer to you, grabbing the hair on the back of your head to pull your head back, biting and sucking at your neck. You tried responding, but couldn’t form a sentence, too fucked out by finally getting his cock in you. He leaned back up and moved his hand from your hair to your throat. His other hand rubbed circled on your clit. “Come on. You whined and begged for this. Cum on my fucking dick.” He said.
“So close, so close, please don’t stop, please.” Your eyes rolled back, his grip on your throat making you all the more sensitive to his touch.
“I won’t. I got you, princess. Let go.” He said, this time more reassuring and you finally came, crying out his name like a prayer as your body trembled beneath him. “You’re so fucking perfect, darling. Gonna fill you up, yeah?” He said more to himself than you as his thrusts became more erratic. His hips stilled as you felt him cum inside you, threatening to spill out of you.
After a moment of catching your breaths, you finally spoke up. “Feel better?”
He looked back into your eyes when you said that. “Absolutely.” He said as he pulled out slowly, making you hiss at the movement. “Sorry.” He muttered quietly. “Let’s clean you up, yeah?” He said softly, moving his hands to help you up gently.
Summary: Mattheo Riddle has never confessed to anyone, which is why his first attempt went so badly
credits to @/saradika-graphics for the divider!
Mattheo Riddle wasn’t exactly known for his considerate nature. In fact, he was notoriously lacking in it.
He was well aware that nothing at Hogwarts stayed a secret—honestly, he was part of the reason why.
In second year, the moment he caught wind of Lorenzo’s crush on that Ravenclaw, he practically sang it up and down every corridor, playing matchmaker with the subtlety of a drunken Hippogriff.
In fourth year, when Draco admitted—in passing—that Granger was “sort of hot in a terrifying way,” Mattheo nearly hexed him into the next era. Still, he whistled and hummed the Wedding March every time they passed each other, just to make Draco suffer.
And just last year, he’d personally tortured Theo over his crush on that Hufflepuff—publicly, relentlessly—until she finally caved and started dating him.
So yeah. Now that he had a crush, there was no way in hell he was letting anyone find out. Especially not Theo.
Because if there was one thing Mattheo had earned in life, it was karma. And this? This would be brutal.
Well… that.
And—
“Fratellone~” (big brother~)
Mattheo’s entire nervous system short-circuited.
Your voice floated into the common room like smoke and sugar, playful and sweet—and there you were, head poking in, eyes wide and sparkly, looking right at Theo.
He sat lazily on the sofa with Mattheo beside him, but Mattheo would’ve been lying if he said the sight of your big, pleading doe eyes didn’t make him swoon just a little.
He also tried not to react to the way you were fluttering your lashes like you were auditioning for a Veela commercial.
Theo chuckled, rolling his eyes, "What do you want?"
"Will you promise to say yes first?" You asked sweetly, lips pursed in a pout, rocking on your heels with your eyes wide like a tragic fairytale character.
Theo scowled at you—but there was no real malice in it, "Like hell. What do you want?"
"Some allowance." You replied, tilting your head just slightly—and Merlin help him, Mattheo almost pulled out his wallet for you.
Theo, however, was unmoved. He scoffed, "Yeah, right. What happened to all your allowance? I’m not giving you a single knut."
You didn’t flinch. Instead, you flopped right between the two of them, your shoulder brushing Mattheo’s as your scent flooded his brain.
He stared straight ahead.
He did not inhale.
He definitely did not imagine himself burying his nose into the crook of your neck and taking in your scent.
"Theoooo," You whined, stretching his name like syrup, "I want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend with my friends. Pleeeease?"
He narrowed his eyes, grimacing again, and you let out another pitiful whine.
A beat passed before he finally sighed, "Fine. Go get my wallet from my dorm."
You grinned, victorious, as you pulled the wallet straight out of your robe pocket.
Theo let out a scoff of disbelief, "Unbelievable."
You merely gave him a smile.
"You know," He grumbled as you pocketed the money, "when I ran out of allowance, I didn’t have anyone to scam with big eyes and fake innocence. You’re lucky you’ve got such a good big brother."
You huffed, smug, "That’s your job as my big brother. If you wanted the special treatment, you should’ve been born second."
Mattheo very calmly decided that if Theo ever found out about the state of his crush, he would simply have to fake his own death and transfer to Durmstrang under a new identity.
After a couple weeks of hopeless, spiraling, late-night-scribbling-his-name-next-to-yours-on-scrap-parchment kind of pining, Mattheo had finally made up his mind.
He was going to tell you.
Actually confess. Like a proper idiot in love.
It was stupid, really—how nervous he felt. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what was worse: the actual feelings, or the fact that he was handling them like a fourth year with his first crush.
Honestly, he felt like he was in over his head—and Mattheo Riddle never felt that way. His comfort zone was massive. He wasn’t the type to second-guess himself, or get shy, or blush when someone looked at him a second too long. If anything, he was usually the one making other people uncomfortable with how confident and shameless he was.
He had always been the type to take charge of any situation. If he wanted something, he said so. Gave the time and place. No hesitation. No second-guessing. No vulnerability.
But with you?
With you, it was different.
You made him feel like the floor might disappear from under him at any second. Like rejection from you wouldn’t just sting—it would wreck him.
And maybe that was dramatic, maybe even pathetic, but he’d take pathetic over regret any day. At least if he confessed, he could say he’d tried. Even if it went horribly. Even if you laughed in his face.
(Which he was only mildly worried about. Okay, more than mildly. He’d had an actual dream where that happened. Twice.)
Still, he figured he had to try. At least this way, if it all fell apart, he’d know he hadn’t kept his mouth shut like a coward. And, of course, he owed Theo the basic respect of asking you out properly.
So he waited. Bided his time.
And when he saw you one night alone in the library—half-asleep over your Charms essay, ink smudged across your fingers—he figured this was it.
Game time.
You looked up at the sound of his footsteps, eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“Mattheo Riddle?” You teased, “In the library? Are you lost?”
He tried to fire something back. Something snarky or clever or Mattheo-ish.
Instead, all he managed was a breathless smile.
Your teasing faded instantly. You sat up straighter, “Are you okay?”
He exhaled through his nose, nodded once, “Yeah. I just… I need to tell you something.”
Your expression softened, open and patient, “Okay. Go ahead. I’m all ears.”
He blinked. Swallowed.
Then immediately began spiraling.
“It’s just that—I think you’re a—no, wait. That’s not how I wanted to start. I’ve been feeling like this for a couple months—shit, no, that sounds stalkerish—”
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in concern. Mattheo Riddle, Hogwarts’ most sarcastic menace, was stammering like a first year. You’d never seen him like this.
“Mattheo?” You asked gently, “Just say it. I promise I won’t judge you.”
He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a breath.
“It’s not you judging me that I’m afraid of,” He muttered, “It’s just… I’ve never had these feelings before. Not like this. And it’s been driving me insane, not saying anything. I’ve wanted to for weeks. But there’s Theo—you know he’s my best mate—and I didn’t want to make things weird or screw it all up. But honestly, I don’t think I care anymore. Not when it feels like this.”
He looked up at you finally, eyes wide and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen on him before.
You looked upset. Maybe even heartbroken. Mattheo felt his stomach drop.
A beat passed.
Then you smiled. Slowly. Brightly.
“I think I understand what you’re saying, Mattheo.”
His heart nearly stopped, “Y-You do?”
You nodded eagerly, eyes shining, “Yeah. And—wow. I mean—this is amazing news.”
A smile bloomed on his face, stunned and almost disbelieving, “Wait. Really? You think so?”
“Of course I do!” You laughed, standing to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, “This is great. I’m so happy for you.”
He froze for a second, then melted into it, arms winding around you with relief pouring through his chest. He tucked his face into your hair and breathed in the scent of your shampoo.
Finally.
He’d done it. He’d told you. And you—Merlin, you felt the same. You really—
You pulled back, still smiling, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His brain short-circuited.
“Listen, I should get to bed,” You said, gathering your books in your arms with a small smile, “But we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”
Mattheo nodded, eyes wide and glassy, like he wasn’t entirely sure what dimension he was in, “Y-Yeah. Okay.”
You gave him a wink—light, teasing, completely unaware of the emotional earthquake you’d just caused—and turned, heading down the corridor toward the dorms. Your footsteps echoed gently, fading into the stillness of the night.
The second you turned the corner and were safely out of sight, you bolted into the nearest empty hallway, nearly tripping over your own feet as you pressed your back to the wall, books clutched to your chest, heart pounding.
Your thoughts were a blur.
Mattheo Riddle.
The guy you'd been lowkey—okay, not so lowkey—crushing on for weeks. The one who made your stomach flip every time he so much as looked at you. The same boy who’d just opened up to you with flushed cheeks and fumbled words and a nervousness you never thought you’d see on him.
You blinked rapidly, breath caught in your throat, replaying the entire conversation in our head.
You groaned, sliding down the wall until you were sitting on the cold stone floor, completely humiliated.
“I can’t believe this,” You whispered, “I was this close to asking him to Hogsmeade.”
The next morning was a blur.
You hadn’t slept.
How could you, after what happened in the library? After Mattheo Riddle—a boy you’d been quietly losing your mind over for weeks—had looked you in the eye and told you, with a trembling voice, and broke your heart.
You were the main character in an absolute tragedy.
You spent all of night thinking it through, picturing the next couple years in your future. You'd undoubtedly be around Mattheo for a lot of those years because of his closeness to Theo. Could you really survive that?
I mean, you had to, didn't you?
Just as the morning rays of sunshine began to flitter through your curtains you had attempted to strengthen your already flimsy resolve.
You were happy.
Really.
You were.
Fucking hell.
So when Mattheo found you in the Great Hall that morning and slid into the seat beside you with the most relaxed, pleased-with-himself smile you’d ever seen on his face, your heart sank.
“Morning,” He said, nudging you playfully, “Sleep okay?”
You blinked, “Um. Yeah. You?”
“Best night of my life.” He said, completely sincere.
You stared at him.
God, he must really be happy.
You cleared your throat and focused very, very hard on your scrambled eggs.
Mattheo, meanwhile, was thriving. You were a little quiet, sure, but he figured that was just nerves. Shyness. Maybe you were still processing the fact that he liked you. Really liked you. That he’d finally said it out loud.
He nudged you again, dropping his voice slightly.
“So, uh… when do you think we should tell Theo?”
Your soul left your body.
Tell Theo.
Tell Theo?!
He wanted you to witness him breaking your heart in person?!
You slowly lowered your fork, “You want me to be there when you... tell him?”
Mattheo’s smile widened like your reaction was exactly what he was hoping for, “Yeah, I mean, obviously he’s gonna be weird about it at first—but he’ll come around.”
You stared at him, a strange buzzing in your ears, “Right. Um. I don’t think I should be there for that.”
His brows lifted, “Oh?”
“I just… I think it’s something you should do on your own. You know? One-on-one. No distractions.”
Mattheo nodded slowly, lips pressed together in thought, “Yeah. I get that. ”
“I just don’t think my presence would help.”
He chuckled softly, “You’re seriously adorable when you’re anxious.”
You blinked.
Mattheo tilted his head, confused for a split second… then smiled.
“Alright,” He said, nodding seriously, “I’ll talk to him later.”
You nodded back, forcing a smile, while internally screaming into the void.
There was a sharp knock on the door to your dorm room.
You sat up in bed, startled, textbook sliding from your lap. Your roommates all told you they were staying out late to finish their joined project in the library. You had been expecting to have the dorm empty for at least another hour.
“Who the hell—?”
The door creaked open, and Mattheo slipped inside, curls a little messy, eyes shadowed and stormy, shoulders slumped.
He gave you a little smile when he entered though it did little to betray his crestfallen expression as he trudged over to your spot on the bed before he threw himself on the mattress beside you. His arms immediately went around your waist in a hug as he hid his face into the side of your thigh.
Your heart jumped into your throat.
“Mattheo?” You whispered, brushing his curls away from his eyes, “What—what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
He looked up at you like he wasn’t sure whether to speak or just collapse into your lap and stay there forever. A part of him didn’t want to say anything. He knew how much you adored your older brother. If you found out Theo wasn’t supportive of your relationship, it would wreck you.
But the way you were looking at him, gentle and concerned and so you, cracked him wide open.
“I told him.”
You blinked, “You told Theo?”
He nodded slowly. There was something behind his eyes—hurt, confusion, frustration. And something else too. Shame.
“How did he take it?” You asked, already knowing the answer.
Mattheo let out a bitter breath and ran a hand down his face, “Not well. He looked at me like I’d lost my fucking mind. Told me I was sick. Said I needed to back off before things got weird.”
Your chest caved in. Horror filling every pore and vein, inching itself into your bones. Yesterday, you had kind of hoped for this. But today? You were utterly mortified by your brother's actions.
“He said that to you?”
Mattheo sighed, closing his eyes and just enjoying the way you carded through his hair, “Yeah. I mean, I guess I get it. I didn’t exactly ask for permission before anything happened—”
“Permission?” You echoed, getting increasingly angry.
He kept talking, “I just thought he’d at least be annoyed, you know? Or at least not act like I committed a sin. I mean, I don't really give a shit about what he thinks but he's my best mate.”
You stood, furious, “I can’t believe him. That’s so unfair.”
Mattheo looked up, slightly startled.
You were pacing now, barefoot, fury radiating off you like heat.
“I mean, what century are we living in? If you like someone, you like someone. He doesn’t get to make you feel wrong for that.”
Mattheo blinked, “Wait—what?”
“I’m gonna go yell at him,” You snapped, already marching toward the door, “He doesn’t get to treat you like that. He should be grateful you were honest. Gods, I’m so mad right now—”
“Wait, (Y/N), wait—” Mattheo followed, hands raised like he was trying to calm a charging dragon, “Sweetheart, it’s really not that big a deal. He’ll cool off, and I’ll talk to him again—”
“That’s not good enough!” You snapped, throwing open the door, “God, if Mama saw what a heartless bastard he turned into—ugh! I’m gonna hex his balls off!”
You stormed out, slamming the door behind you so hard it rattled on its hinges.
Mattheo stood in the silence that followed, staring at the now-closed door, stunned.
A long pause.
Then, very quietly:
“…I fear for my safety when we have our first fight.”
You stormed through the Slytherin common room like a woman possessed, your footsteps echoing furiously through the stone corridors.
People scattered. Literally scattered.
You weren’t sure where Theo was, but your rage must’ve acted as some kind of tracking charm, because the moment you shoved open the boys’ dorm door, there he was—lounging at his desk, reading some smug little book with his legs kicked up like he owned the castle.
“Theodore. Fucking. Nott.”
Theo looked up, startled—just in time for you to march over and yank him up by the ear.
“OW—WHAT THE BLOODY HELL—!”
“Don’t ‘what the bloody hell’ me, you absolute tosser,” You snapped, dragging him upright like a furious mother catching her child vandalizing a sacred artifact, “Mattheo tells you how he feels—he opens up to you—and you call him sick?! Are you completely deranged?!”
Theo flailed dramatically, “Let go of my ear! Have you lost your mind?!”
“Have you?! You’re supposed to be his best friend! Do you have any idea how hard that must’ve been for him?! He came to you vulnerable—and you rejected him like he was diseased!”
Theo stopped struggling. His face twisted in confusion.
“Okay, what the actual hell are you talking about?!”
You jabbed a finger into his chest with your free hand, “Don’t play dumb. Mattheo told me he has feelings for someone, and yesterday he went to confess. Then he shows up to my dorm crushed because you turned him away like he didn't mean anything to you!"
There was a heavy pause.
Theo blinked.
“…He told you he had feelings for someone?”
“Yes!” You snapped.
“And you thought he meant…” Theo trailed off, narrowing his eyes.
You squinted right back, “…You?”
Theo stared at you. You stared at him.
Then he grabbed your ear.
“OW—HEY—WHAT THE HELL—!”
“You utter moron!” He hissed, twisting slightly, “You thought Mattheo was confessing to me?!”
“I WAS TRYING TO BE SUPPORTIVE!”
“SUPPORTIVE?! OF ME DATING MATTHEO?! ARE YOU HIGH?!”
“STOP TWISTING, YOU GOBLIN!”
You both stood there like absolute lunatics, yanking on each other’s ears, realization dawning in slow-motion horror.
And then—
The dorm door burst open. And Mattheo came in.
His eyes landed on Theo gripping your ear.
His entire face shifted.
“Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Mattheo barked, “I don’t care if she’s your sister, Nott—get your hands off my girlfriend!”
You froze.
Mattheo took a step forward, jaw clenched, “Seriously. Let go.”
You blinked, “…Girlfriend?”
Silence.
A very heavy silence.
Mattheo turned to you, suddenly uncertain, “Yeah? I mean—you don’t mind, do you?”
You gawked at him, “Wait, hold on. I must’ve missed a few chapters—since when am I your girlfriend?”
Mattheo’s brows drew together, “Well… we didn’t officially say anything, but I thought… I mean, yesterday—”
“Yesterday?!”
“Yeah! You said it was amazing news. I thought that meant you liked the idea!”
“I did think it was a good idea! I mean—at the time I did! But then today happened—”
Mattheo stiffened, voice dropping, “So you don’t want to date me because Theo doesn’t like it?”
You stared at him, completely flabbergasted, “Mattheo… aren’t you gay?”
Theo, who had been suspiciously quiet up until this point, snorted.
Then he wheeze-laughed.
Then he bent over, dying, gasping for air like the world’s most dramatic mime.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” He cackled, “You two deserve each other. You're both idiots. I can't breathe.”
Mattheo’s face went red, “What?! What on earth gave you that impression?!”
“You said it yourself!” You shouted defensively, “You went on and on about your feelings—how hard it was to express, how you were scared, how it could ruin your friendship—with Theo! I thought you were coming out and telling me you were in love with him!”
Mattheo looked absolutely offended, “YES—because I didn’t know how to tell my best friend that I was in love with his baby sister!”
You blinked, “You never said my name! Not ONCE in that entire meltdown did the words ‘(Y/N), I like you’ come out of your mouth!”
“I thought it was implied! You kissed me on the cheek!”
“I’M ITALIAN, WE KISS EVERYBODY!”
Mattheo cleared his throat, “Okay. Um… let me try this again.”
You looked up at him, still a little dazed, “Please do.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking far too nervous for someone who once set a broom closet on fire in third year because, in his words, it was “for shits and giggles"
“I like you,” He said, voice low but steady, “You, Y/N Nott. Not your brother—despite his sparkling personality.”
From the bed, Theo flipped him off, “I hope you choke.”
Mattheo took a step closer, his tone softening as his eyes searched yours, “I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks. But I didn’t want to ruin things with Theo, and then I panicked—and started rambling—and then you kissed me and walked off, and I thought that meant yes. So I spent the last twenty-four hours floating around like a smug idiot thinking I had the girl of my dreams.”
You flushed, smiling despite yourself.
“I’m not gay,” Mattheo added quickly, glancing sideways at Theo, “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, obviously. I just—look, I probably shouldn’t say anything else. Every time I open my mouth, you come up with a new wild theory and I nearly get accused of seducing your brother.”
You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.
Mattheo stepped closer again, “So now that we’ve established I’m not secretly in love with Theo… would you want to be my girlfriend?"
He looked so earnest. Like he’d hand you his heart and a backup heart just in case something happened to the first one.
Your own heart skipped. “I’d love to,” You said softly. Then, with a sly smile, “I’d kiss you right now if my brother weren’t staring.”
“And for that, I’m eternally grateful,” Theo deadpanned, still sprawled on his bed, “Also grateful that as of today, you are officially his problem. You want money? You hit up your boyfriend. You set something on fire? Talk to your boyfriend. I am washing my hands clean of you.”
He dramatically mimed wiping his hands in the air.
He then added, “To think I was worried your pathetic, lovestruck, gay ass was going to break my baby sister’s heart.”
Mattheo groaned, “Not gay. Just want to emphasize again how not gay I am. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! Just—Merlin’s beard—I’m shutting up now.”
Theo smirked, “Smart move.”
Mattheo sighed and looked back at you, “...Still want to kiss me?”
You grinned, “I wouldn't be opposed.”
Theo froze, "Wait a second."
“Don’t wait up.” Mattheo said smugly to his roommate, taking your hand.
“Mattheo I swear to God—”
You pulled him toward the door, laughing, while Theo yelled curses behind the two of you.
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a collection of all the AU drabbles you can find on my blog. drabbles are organised from newest to oldest. want to read more about each AU? check out the AU collection!
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au moodboards . back to the nav
— NEW GIRL AU theo, mattheo and enzo ( more. )
teasing the boys
the boys secretly watching you masturbate
they give you a small towel after showering
shared spaces (FULL FIC)
the boys being annoying when you bring a guy home
asking them if they ever think about you during…
getting no sleep ‘cause the boys keep bringing girls over
— THE PURGE AU slytherin boys ( more. )
gunplay with mattheo after he breaks into your house
blood moon part 1. part 2. (SERIES)
— LOVE ISLAND AU slytherin boys ( more. )
theo taking you to the pool for some alone time
giving theo a lap dance for one of the challenges
theo fingering you while everyone’s sleeping
— TOXIC!THEO ( more. )
baddie!reader putting toxic!theo in his place
toxic!theo finally getting the girl he wants
forced breeding with toxic!theo
toxic ex!theo convincing you that he’s your bf when you’re drunk
knifeplay with toxic!theo
toxic!theo blackmailing you when you want to break up
toxic!theo and choking
corruption kink with toxic!theo
toxic ex-boyfriend!theo getting jealous
— BSF!THEO ( more. )
bsf!theo changing your bf’s contact name in your phone
jerking off bsf!theo
bsf!theo putting just the tip in
bsf!theo finding out no guys ever made you cum
sweet relief (FULL FIC)
people thinking you and bsf!theo are more than friends
bsf!theo admitting his feelings
— STALKER!THEO ( more. )
stalker!theo buying you the book you’ve been eyeing
stalker!theo drugging you so he can look around in your room
stalker!theo secretly watching you masturbate
stalker!theo using your clothes to jerk off
stalker!theo
— DEALER!THEO ( more. )
calling dealer!theo daddy
dealer!theo snorting coke off your tits
cleaning dealer!theo’s cuts after a fight
cockwarming dealer!theo in front of a client
dealer!theo’s favourite customer
dealer!theo fucking you with his gun
joining dealer!theo on a workday
— BROTHER’S BSF!THEO ( more. )
brother’s bsf!theo slapping your face when you’re too loud
brother’s bsf!theo taunting you for wearing a revealing outfit
brother’s bsf!theo bullying you into cockwarming him
brother’s bsf!theo catching you sneak out of the house
— STEPBRO!THEO ( more. )
stepbro!theo comforting you when your parents fight
stepbro!theo fucking you when you’re drunk
stepbro!theo fucking you when his girlfriend is away
stepbro!theo and reader’s first time
stepbro!theo convincing you to let him take care of you
— MILITARY!THEO ( more. )
watching military!theo shave
sex with military!theo when he comes back home
military!theo and ballerina!reader
— FRATBOY!THEO ( more. )
beer pong with fratboy!theo
drunk fratboy!theo and piss kink
— !READERS ( more. )
vampire!reader cutting mattheo’s abs and sucking him off
summary: tom’s been infiltrating your dreams, and you decide it’s time to call him out on it.
warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNIIII, coercion!!!!, dark!tom, mind manipulation, religious undertones, gryffindor!reader, enemies if you squint, fingering, squirting, begging, dream sex, tom riddle is his own warning, so much praise, dirty talk, verbal sparring.
You've never been a heavy sleeper. Even as a child, the smallest sound—a creak in the floorboards, a shift in the walls—would jolt you awake. For years, you chalked it up to some ingrained survival instinct, some form of trauma response to whatever part of your childhood still haunts you. You got used to it.
But lately, it isn't sound that’s been waking you. It isn't movement or foundation shifts, either. It's the dreams.
Dreams—strange, lucid, intense dreams of him. Always him. Dreams that make you feel like you're drowning, like you're flying, like you've found a new level of intoxication that you'd never imagined possible—and each time the dreams wake you up, the sheets (and whatever bottoms you may have been wearing) are always soaked, and your thighs are always shaking.
It's maddening.
They feel too real to be anything but a violation, his presence bleeding into your subconscious regardless of how much you try to fight it. You know it means something is wrong. You'd tried to rationalize yourself into going back to sleep, telling yourself it's just hormones or some form of stress, but you're too smart to believe your own excuses.
You know it's more than that.
He's haunting you in your sleep—in the most unexpected way. The dreams are always lucid enough that you can feel it—you can feel him—his mouth on yours, his hands on your hips, his dick bullying your fucking cervix and his magic on your clit—leaving behind nothing but hunger. Hunger that's so intense it makes you want him in a way it almost scares you.
You tell yourself you hate him, you've always hated him—but denial only lasts for so many days, as you realize you can't look at him or talk to him without the dreams forcing their way to the forefront of your mind, making you remember the feelings and the sensations and how much, despite hating him, you want them to be real.
You wanted to believe it would pass. That this was nothing but a phase, a trick of your overactive mind. But deep down, you knew the truth. Tom Riddle has wormed his way into your head, into your dreams—out of spite—and he's not letting go.
So after a hell of a week of this—with damn near zero hours of sleep—you decide to seek him out. To put an end to this madness. Once and for all.
It takes every ounce of courage and Gryffindor-like reckless bravery you can scrape together just to go through with it, but somehow you do. Somehow, you make it across the castle, make it to his door. You're in your pyjamas, for Merlin's sake. It's 1 a.m., and the slick still coating your thighs from what had to have been your tenth lucid orgasm in a matter of a week is a humiliating reminder of why you're even here at all.
And when the door opens, you have the strange feeling that he's been expecting you, even as he makes a great show of acting surprised to see you, looking you up and down with a lazy, smug glance that makes your pulse quicken so viscerally you lose the last shred of sanity you were pathetically clinging to—
"What the fuck—" you prowl forward without hesitation, forcing him a step back into the room. "—are you doing to me?"
Even if you're not imagining some form of surprise in that smug little smirk, he does his best not to let it show.
"Me?" He says, all pretend innocence, flicking his hand out to shut the door behind you with some spell you don't care to name. "You'll have to be more specific."
You glare at him, refusing to acknowledge how unfairly attractive he looks in just sweatpants and an oversized shirt—because of course, even casual looks like this are a weapon in his arsenal.
"Cut the bullshit, Riddle," you snap, and you're not sure if it's your lack of sleep or some form of desperation-fuelled bravery, but you're suddenly invading his personal space, poking an accusing finger into his shoulder. "You're fucking haunting me—"
He blinks. "I’m haunting you. And how am I doing that?”
There's a part of you that knows it's a trap—that this is probably exactly what the smug bastard in front of you has been wanting, but your brain is so deprived of sleep and your body is so starved of respite that you decide 'fuck it'—you want answers, and you're going to get them.
"You're in my dreams," you say, bluntly, forcing an exhale alongside it. "You've been in them every night for a week straight. I haven't slept a bloody minute."
That's when it happens—the tiniest flash of amusement in his eyes, so brief you might've missed it if you weren't ready to tear his fucking throat out.
"You're accusing me of giving you dreams?" He asks, in a tone that makes you want to grab him by the front of his shirt and make him cut the bullshit, and you can't tell how much of your own expression is irritation and how much is lust. "You think I've somehow managed to invade your mind?"
"Don't be condescending," you spit, trying to focus on the spot between his eyebrows that makes the heat in your core roar the least, "and don't act like you're incapable. As much as I can't bloody stand you, we both know damn well your mind magic is strong enough to do this to me—"
"Mind magic," he echoes with an amused snort, "you think I'm doing some kind of mind magic to invade your dreams, is that it?"
He's so damn good at this, you think—infuriatingly good. The way he's playing it off like the idea is absurd, completely laughable—
"Fucking precisely.” You can't hide the heat from your voice. You don't care to try. "These aren't just dreams. They're—they're strong. I feel you. Your hands, your tongue, your—"
Dick. You can't even bring yourself to say it.
And the bastard just smirks, like he's reading your mind anyway. Like he knows. That glimmer in his eyes—arrogant, insufferable—only confirms it.
"Hm," he says with something bored, running a hand through his hair. "Your subconscious—"
"It's not a bloody subconscious thing," you cut him off, uninterested in whatever bullshit he was about to feed you. "It's you. You're invading my dreams—I feel you—my body fucking feels you—"
He laughs at that. Like some sick, sadistic freak. He actually laughs—
"Listen to yourself." He says, with a mocking tone that makes you want to shove him. "Are you that desperate to hate me that you're pinning your dreams on me?"
"Hate doesn't even begin to cover it," you spit, stepping closer, your frustration boiling over. He shifts slightly, his back brushing the wall. "You've got a hell of an ego, but even you have to know this isn't something I'd want. I wouldn't put you in my dreams willingly if you paid me to do it—"
He hums, smirk never faltering, if anything it fucking grows at the tirade.
"You've been dreaming of me for a week," he points out, coolly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. "And now, here you are—standing in my dorm in the middle of the night, dressed like this." He takes a step toward you, now. "Do you know what that's called, sweetheart?"
Your lungs hitch at the pet name. Your mind is at war with your cunt and it's losing—
"Delirium?" You choke out, noticing another flash of something in his eyes as the gap between you closes. "Insomnia? Sleep deprivation?"
He gives you a mocking arch of the eyebrow.
"No," he says, in a tone that makes you seethe. "It's called obsession."
"Oh. The irony," you can't help but hiss at him, heart pounding because he's in your space and you're in his and this shouldn't be getting to you the way it is. "It's rich, coming from you, that you'd put that on me when—when you've been mindfucking me every goddamn night—"
"Mindfucking you?" He repeats, almost lazily, as his gaze drops, sweeping over you—your pyjamas, the clear lack of bra, the flush creeping up your neck. "Is that what you think I've been doing? You think—"
The way he doesn't even deny it—doesn't argue the accusation—makes your blood boil in a way you can't control.
"It's the only explanation. You've been—you've been—" you cut him off but your sentence falters because his gaze is moving so deliberately, dragging over you like he's cataloging your weaknesses, and the anger curdles into something raw and desperate. "God, Tom, I just need it to stop. I'm so fucking tense and tired. I'm so wound I can't even focus—I'm wet all the time—"
His eyes snap up to meet yours at that, and he gives you a look you can't even begin to interpret. You bite your tongue, realizing the words that left your mouth just a moment too late to pull them back, and you know you've lost the upper hand in this, somehow. You feel the ground slipping from under you and you hate the way your body shivers as he takes another slow, deliberate, step forward.
"Is that what you are?” He wets his lips. "You've come all the way here, in the dead of night, in your pyjamas, half out of your mind with exhaustion because you're wet. Isn't that right?"
You know better than to answer, though you feel yourself walking straight into the trap he's set.
"Piss off," you snap, but the bravado in your voice is paper-thin as he takes another step forward. He's so close now that his scent overwhelms you—leather and spice, something sharp and smoky that makes your head spin. You recognize it, of course you do; it's the same as in your dreams, and the familiarity makes your knees feel unsteady. "You're—"
"Don't act so offended," he leans closer, his voice a low murmur, quiet, almost silky as it wraps around you, and suddenly you barely remember what you were so pissed off about. "You can't even deny it. I made you cum tonight, didn't I? In your dreams."
Your teeth grit. "You know you did—"
He takes one more step and now you're backed right up against his desk—and gods, Tom's tall, so much taller than you—and it feels like he's looming over you, caging you in.
"Mhm." There's a flash of triumph in his eyes as you lose your words. He leans down, breath grazing your ear just as he brings two fingers to your temple, pressing the pads against it. "Let's watch, shall we?"
Watc—oh no.
A cold sense of dread washes over you as you catch on to what he's insinuating, merely a second too late—
"Tom—"
He whispers something, something that pulls you under, and the next thing you know—in a flash of consciousness you didn't even consider possible—you're staring at yourself inside a dream you remember all too well. A dream sequence where you're moaning and trembling beneath him, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in unabashed pleasure as he drives into you, hips snapping with thrust after thrust after thrust—
And it's one thing to have felt it in the safety of your dreams, in the dead of night when you woke slick and desperate, clenching around nothing. But this—this is visceral. You can't look away because it's projecting inside your mind: the flush blooming across your chest, the arch of your back, the way your lips part with every desperate breath. You hear the obscene sounds spilling from your mouth, mingling with his low, guttural grunts—and worst of all, you can feel it.
You can feel every ounce of pleasure he's giving you, as if he's giving it to you now.
"Mm," you hear him hum from infront of you—it's too much—you're lost in the memory, the dream, and it's a strange, voyeuristic, intimate experience to watch yourself and him like that. "You're worse off than I thought."
You’re gripping the wood of his desk so hard your fingertips are numb, heart flying out of the room as his hand slowly slides from your temple down to your jaw, holding you in place—
"Stop it." You manage to hiss at him, trying to force some semblance of control back into yourself—the last thing you need is to start melting against this bastard. "Tom—"
"You feel that?" He murmurs, breath brushing your neck, and you can't even focus on anything but the sensations he's forcing through your memory—seeing him above you, feeling him inside you. "You do, don't you? This is exactly what you've been feeling all week, isn't it?"
You want to snap at him, cuss him out, but oh god—
"Damn you," you hiss, even as his hands slide down to your hips—and it almost feels as if he's touching you twice, as if there are two sets of hands on your body. "Fuck, Tom—"
"Mm, you look good from this angle," he murmurs, and you fucking keen as you watch, in your mind, his hands slide over your stomach, pushing up your shirt and exposing your tits, groping as he fucks you. You keen as you feel it. "You love this, don't you? You want this."
"I—" you gasp, trying to convince him, or yourself, or goddamn anyone. Still fighting some invisible battle between resistance and submission because you hate that he's right. "I—god, what are you doing to me—"
"What am I doing to you?" He whispers, and you're not sure if the question is rhetorical, or if he's giving you permission to ask it. "I'm not doing anything that you aren't letting me do."
Your knees feel like they're about to buckle, and it's taking all your strength just to stay standing because the pleasure playing out in your mind is pouring into your veins and you can't even fathom how it's possible but you can't do anything to fight it—
"Oh, god—" you moan, unbridled, your physical body slumping back onto the desk as you feel the slick between your thighs, growing with every goddamn thrust. "Oh my god—"
He takes the opportunity of you slumped back against the desk and instantly leans down, bringing his lips to your ear—
"Not even god could keep your legs underneath you." His hand creeps up your thigh. "You're helpless."
"Helpless," you repeat, with a shaky gasp, and you hate how much the word turns you on. This is the first time you've ever been called helpless, and you're not even sure that you care. He's got you in his clutches, he's winning, and it's so infuriating and so goddamn perfect. “Tom—please, please touch me. I need to—fuck—"
You feel his lips brush the skin of your neck in a way that has you trembling with want, but—fucking hell, that's not what you need—you need his hands on you, you need him to just—
"What do you need?" He cooes, and there's a sly tone to his voice that makes you want to throw yourself at him all over again. "You need to cum?"
You moan, low and needy, writhing against the desk because this fucker—he knows exactly what he's doing. He’s got the upper hand here and you want it back. You want—
"Yes," you manage to gasp out. "I need you to—I fucking need you—inside me—"
As soon as that leaves your mouth, the dream fades from your vision and he's urging you to lay back. There's a soft thud as he places a hand on the desk next to your head, and he leans down, bringing his lips back to your ear, and you can't remember a time when you've ever wanted anyone else this bad.
"I'm touched," he murmurs, fingers slipping to the waist band of your pyjama pants, "that you want me that bad."
"I hate you," you manage to gasp out, but that's a lie, and you think he knows it. His fingers on your skin as he pulls your pants down make you ache for him, and you're struggling to not make another sound that will give him ammunition. "Why do you have to—"
"Why do I have to what?" He asks, and you know he's just trying to get a reaction out of you. "Tease you? Make you helpless?"
Your pants get hardly half way down your thighs before he decides it's enough and slides a finger through your soaked slit, and you can't hold back the moan that tears itself from your throat.
"Fuck, you're soaked.” He hisses through his teeth. “You've been sitting in your dorm for days, hm? Dreaming of me touching you, wishing you could touch yourself without thinking of me—do you want to cum, sweetheart?"
"Yes," you gasp out, and you're not above begging at this point. "Yes, god, please—I want to fucking cum—"
"There we go," he cooes, and he's enjoying this more than you'd like to acknowledge. "You know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that?"
"I'd say at least a week," you throw back, in a vain attempt to keep a shred of your dignity, but that's hard when he's circling his fingers around your clit and your body is jerking against the desk beneath you. God you really are helpless. "Because that's how long you've been plaguing my head, giving me wet dreams like some goddamn incubus—"
He chuckles at that, and you hate him a little less when he slips two fingers inside you, "You think I'm a demon?"
"You certainly act like one," you choke out, because he's crooking his fingers and your mind is going fuzzy and he's not going to let you get the upper hand back, even for a second. "Fuck—oh, yes, yes, yes."
"You've got me all wrong," he says, with a smile that would be boyish if it wasn't so sinister. "Demons come to punish you. I'm here helping you get that relief you've been needing so badly."
"Just want t-to help me," you moan as his long fingers work you open, thumb brushing your clit, "out of the kindness of your heart—"
"Out of the kindness of my heart,” he repeats, with a mocking tone, and it's the way he murmurs those words that's making your thighs clench around him until he grabs the fabric of your pjs bunched around them and pushes your legs up to your chest, working his fingers impossibly deeper. "Out of the goodness of my soul—it's what I do, darling, I'm known for my benevolence—"
"You're a good man," you know he can tell you're being sarcastic, but his fingers are filling you so fucking full you're nowhere near ready to start a fight again when you're this close to losing your goddamn mind on his desk. "You're such a good man, Tom—“
"Mhm," his breath tickles your ear. "What else am I?"
"So good with your fingers," you're moaning, and he's going to get a bigger ego than he already has. You're too far gone to care. "God, you're so good, I'm going to—"
"Yes, you are," he answers, and it takes you a second to realize that he's not correcting your words anymore. He's simply telling you that you are, in fact, about to fall apart for him. "Give it to me. You've earned it."
You almost want to snap back at him, you almost try to, but you're so far gone the words don't form on your tongue and you're not sure you'd be able to fight the fire pooling in your stomach.
"Oh, fuck—“
He doesn't even let you finish that, he just dips his hips down, bringing his hand that's not buried in your slick up to cover your mouth, muffling those strangled screams before they spill out and echo down the hall—
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. "Be a good girl. Let it all out for me."
And it's that; that stupid combination of cooing warmth and the phrase 'be a good girl' that sends you over the edge, and you're muffling your gasps and moans and screams against his palm because gods, what would happen if someone heard you? What would happen if people realized what Tom Riddle was doing to you—your house rival, your sworn enemy—
"There we go," you're falling apart and he's watching you as if he owns you, as if this is where you belong—writhing beneath him, release squirting out around his fingers. "Ride it out for me. Such a good girl, you needed this so bad, I can tell you were aching for this."
You're struggling to say anything back, the only thing that comes out is a strangled moan of his name, and you've always known how bad he was, heard from other girls how good he could be with his hands, but this—you've never had this, never been this before.
"Such a fucking mess," he's murmuring, his voice low and rough and so goddamn beautiful. “How'd that feel? Hm?"
"So—so good," it feels like the words are being forced out of your throat, and you're struggling to think with enough clarity to form anything that's not an embarrassing moan of how much you needed this. "Needed it, need more, I—"
"More?" He murmurs as he slips his fingers free, and he's bringing his other hand up to your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he brings his soaked fingers to your lips. "Greedy girl."
You're not thinking about the implication of him calling you that, you're not thinking about how you should fight back, you're not thinking about how much you hate him—you’re just thinking about the sinful taste of you on his fingers, when they press against your tongue. Without a second of hesitation you suck them clean, tasting yourself, and it's obscene. You're obscene. But you don't care, it just makes that ache in you grow worse—you need more, you need him.
Dear god, what happened to you.
“So good," he murmurs, the praise dripping like honey from his tongue. You hum and he exhales. "I'll find you tomorrow."
"You'll find me tomorrow?" You repeat, as he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, and you're struggling for air, your chest heaving beneath your rumpled shirt. "What are you going to do, come into my room?"
"I'll come into much more than your room," he says, with a laugh that dances with promises of sin. "Now go. Before someone finds you here."
You push yourself up on trembling arms, pulling your pants up your thighs, your heart hammering in your chest because—god, that was incredible, you want more of it, and you can hardly even believe it happened. With a breath, you force yourself to move.
You look back at him as you get to the door. Your legs are shaking and you're not going to hold it against yourself for needing the wall to support you as his eyes rake over you, the corners of those lips curled up his signature smirk, and you want to hit him so goddamn bad—but then he speaks, like he read your mind, and it snaps you out of it—
"No dreams tonight." He says. "Scouts honour."
"You're no boy scout," you throw back, and your voice is a little breathier than you'd like. "And this changes nothing."
He smiles, slow and languid and knowing. "Of course."
You want to roll your eyes at the condescension dripping off his tongue, but you're worried that if you stay here any longer the only words on your tongue will be 'do it again'.
"You just owe me." You say as you crack the door open.
"I owe you," he agrees, and you think that his smile is just a little too genuine—like he would give you anything you wanted, just for another taste of that. “I'm keeping score, darling. Sleep well."
You hate him for calling you that, you hate his stupid smile, you hate the way he knows he's got you.
What he doesn’t know, is that you’re going to make him pay.
"Good night," you mutter, and then you open the door and slip out into the hallway.
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