#sub!tomriddle

[psychomentillidie]

Dress

Part 1 🐍 Part 2

Pairing: virgin!tom riddle x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: english isn’t my first language, heavy sexual contact, p in v, fingering, teasing, unprotected sex, subby!tom, experienced!reader.

Summery: after a little talk with his brother, Tom decides to ask his best friend to take his virginity.

“𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟”

"Are you going to the Slytherin party tonight?" Mattheo asked the second he walked into Tom's dorm room. It was a pretty stupid question, considering the fact that Tom had never been to a Hogwarts party, not even once in the seven years he'd been there.

"Yeah, y/n asked me to come this time. She said it's important to 'have fun' since it's our last year here."

That answer genuinely shocked Mattheo. It was almost unbelievable how much influence y/n had over his brother.

"Wait, are you serious? I can't believe the Tom Riddle is actually going to a party. I'm going to make sure it's the best fucking party in Hogwarts history," he said excitedly. "I'll get alcohol for everyone and—oh, I know! I'll steal veritaserum from Snape so we can play truth or dare. It's going to be bloody awesome."

Tom was still trying to understand what was so "bloody awesome" about a bunch of teenagers drinking and playing games. He was dreading going, but y/n had begged him to come, and for some reason, he just couldn't say no to her. Which was odd, considering he never had trouble saying no to anyone else.

"What's so exciting about truth or dare? It's a stupid game," Tom rolled his eyes.

Mattheo gave him a look like he'd just said the dumbest thing in the world. "What's so exciting about truth or dare?! Mate, it's the best part! That's when all the tea gets spilled. Last time we played, it came out that Pansy had sex with Adrian's girlfriend, and Adrian's actually a virgin! Truth or dare is elite when everyone drinks veritaserum before answering because then no one can lie."

"I just don't get why anyone would want to admit what they've done or what they haven't."

Tom had never really thought much about sex. He didn't see the point. Why would anyone want to be that vulnerable with someone else? He didn't care for any of the girls at Hogwarts, even though he knew he could easily have a different one in his bed every night if he wanted. But he didn't want to. He just... wasn't interested.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, bro. People just want to know how many girls you've shagged. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. It's not like you're a virgin," Mattheo said with a teasing laugh.

The room suddenly went silent when Tom didn't laugh back. Mattheo stared at him.

"You're a virgin?!"

"Yes. What's the problem with that?"

"There's no problem actually," Mattheo said, holding back a grin. "You just absolutely cannot let the whole school know."

If Tom thought teenagers were stupid before, now he thought they were extra stupid. But the longer he thought about it, the more that small knot of embarrassment twisted in his chest.

"Okay, then I just won't play," Tom said, shrugging. Problem solved, or so he thought.

"Absolutely not, my guy. If you don't play, people will assume something even worse. Like that you're into getting pegged or something."

Tom groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Mattheo leaned back with a smug grin. "Easy. Go to y/n's dorm and ask her to have sex with you."

Tom blinked. "What?!"

"Oh come on, you know you've been dying to sleep with her. And don't even try to deny it. I heard you last night, jerking off and moaning her name in the bathroom."

"What the fuck?! Why were you in my dorm last night?"

It was rare to see Tom Riddle blush, but this time, his entire face was red as a tomato.

"Let's not change the subject, alright?" Mattheo said, smirking. "Just go to her dorm and tell her you want to have sex, as simple as that. You know she'll want to. I'm shocked you guys haven't done it together before, considering all that tension that's always around you two whenever you're together."

"Fine. I'll think about it. Now get out, and don't ever come into my room late at night again without announcing yourself first."

The second the door closed behind Mattheo, silence settled over the dorm like a fog. Tom sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the floor.

"Just go to Y/N's dorm and ask her to have sex with you."

Mattheo's words echoed in his mind like a challenge.

It sounded ridiculous. Crude, even. But was it? He clenched his jaw, hands tightening.

It wasn't about the sex. Not really.

It was about her.

Y/N.

The way she laughed like she knew things he didn't. The way she touched him so casually and yet left him breathless. The way she saw through his every mask, every carefully calculated expression, and looked at him.

The real him.

He'd trusted her with everything else; his secrets, his temper, his walls.

Could he trust her with this, too?

The idea of losing control in front of anyone else made his stomach twist. But with her... the thought didn't terrify him. It thrilled him. It made his skin feel too tight and his thoughts feel too loud.

Was it foolish to want more? Was it dangerous?

Maybe. But wasn't it more dangerous to want her and never touch her?

He swallowed hard. Could he ask her? Should he? And if he did... would she say yes?

Would she want him like that? And if she did, would she still see him the same way after?

He wasn't sure. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty;

He didn't want anyone else.

And maybe it was time he finally stopped making excuses for himself and actually tried being intimate with her. Not for the game or the people around him, for his own cravings and wishes.

That was the moment Tom realised, he's ready to lose his virginity to his person, the only person in the world he wasn't scared to be himself around.

It was currently 8:32 p.m. 28 minutes before the Slytherin party was set to begin. You were in your dorm, getting ready alone. Your annoyingly loud roommates had gone to their friend's room to do their makeup together.

You were in the middle of putting on your short, dark blue dress, struggling to zip it up, when you heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" you called out, still fiddling with the zipper.

"It's Tom."

You smiled. "Oh, it's you. Come in, Tommy."

He opened the door and stepped inside, standing stiffly like a statue as his eyes scanned you, but he said nothing.

"Well don't you look really handsome, Mr. Riddle," you said, your tone teasing. The flirtation in your friendship was always there, but you weren't lying, he really did look good tonight.

You turned around. "Could you help me zip my dress? I can't reach it."

"No," he said flatly.

You turned back around to face him, confused. "What do you mean no?"

"I'd rather take that dress off than zip it up."

Your eyes widened, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing across your face. A smirk crept in as you looked at him. You almost lost the hope that Tom Riddle will take this friendship he had with you to the next level.

It has been obvious there's something not platonic in the slightest going on between the two of you, but it took Tom years to accept it. Who would have guessed tonight would be the night Tom actually took action and fucked you.

"Oh yeah?" you asked, voice dropping into something lower, silkier.

"Yeah," he said, stepping closer, closing the space between you. You were almost touching now, his proximity making your heart race, but he looked surprisingly calm. Little did you know his insides have been burning with anxiety.

"What are you waiting for, then?" you whispered. "Fucking take it off."

That was all he needed to hear.

He moved forward like he was under a spell. His hands found the zipper and tugged it down slowly, reverently, as if undressing you was a sacred act. The dress slipped from your shoulders and pooled at your feet. You stood before him in only your underwear and bra, entirely unbothered by his stare.

You stepped close and tangled your fingers into his collar, tugging him into a kiss that made his knees weak.

He kissed back like he'd been waiting his entire life for this, like he was afraid it would end too soon. It was messy and eager, his hands trembling as they explored the soft curve of your waist, your back, your breasts.

You pushed him down onto the bed with a gentle shove, straddling him and rolling your hips slowly against his lap. He let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into your thighs like he didn't know what else to hold onto.

"Y/N," he whispered, almost like a warning. "I've never—"

"I know," you purred, grinding on him again. "You're doing so good already, darling."

His eyes fluttered shut as you kissed down his neck, tongue teasing his skin, marking him. You could feel how hard he was already, twitching beneath his trousers. He looked dazed, breathless, wrecked, and you hadn't even taken his clothes off yet.

You climbed off him just long enough to strip him down, also taking down your remaining undergarments, taking your time as you tugged at his belt, his shirt, finally his trousers and briefs, until he was bare beneath you. His cock was flushed and hard, resting against his stomach.

You let your eyes drag down his body, slow and deliberate. "Fuck, you're so pretty, Tom."

He blushed at the compliment, but the way his cock twitched made it obvious how much he liked it.

"Lie back," you whispered.

He obeyed instantly. Tom wasn't one to obey orders from anyone. But with you, it was a different story.

You crawled over him, settling between his legs and kissing a path up his inner thigh, ignoring his whimpers as you teased him everywhere but where he wanted.

"Y/N," he groaned. "Please, please, I need—"

You pressed your fingers to his lips. "Shh. I'm going to take care of you."

You kissed him deeply, slowly grinding your bare hips against his, letting him feel how wet you already were.

You guided his hand between your thighs. "Feel that? That's all for you."

He swallowed hard, fingers exploring tentatively.

You smiled. "Let me show you."

You moved his hand where you wanted it—two fingers brushing your clit, stroking slowly. He watched you in awe as you moaned from his touch, your hips rocking against his hand.

"Curl your fingers inside me," you whispered. "There. Right there. Fuck Tommy, you're a natural."

His confidence grew as you moaned his name, his fingers moving faster, slick with your arousal. The way he looked at you—like you were something holy, made heat coil in your stomach.

You stopped him just before you tipped over the edge.

"I need you inside me," you whispered against his mouth. "Do you want that?”

His answer was immediate. "Yes. Please. I want—I need you so bad, Y/N."

You reached down and lined him up with your entrance, teasing him by dragging the tip through your folds before sinking down slowly.

His head fell back, mouth open in a silent moan as you took him inch by inch.

"Fucking hell," he gasped. "You feel—fuck Y/N."

You rode him slowly at first, letting him adjust, watching his reactions. Every time you shifted your hips, he twitched helplessly inside you, moaning your name like a prayer.

You leaned down to kiss him softly. "You okay, baby?"

He nodded frantically. "Yes. I'm okay. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

You smiled against his lips. "I wasn't planning to."

You picked up the pace, grinding your hips harder, riding him like you were claiming him. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his head rolling back as he struggled to hold on.

"Y/N—fuck—I'm not gonna last—I can't—"

"Come for me, baby," you whispered, dragging your nails down his chest. "Let me feel you."

That was all it took. He cried out as he spilled inside you, cock twitching, breath ragged. You kept moving, chasing your own high, and just as his orgasm was fading, you came with a moan of his name, collapsing forward onto his chest.

You both stayed there, sweaty and breathless, your fingers stroking through his hair as his arms wrapped tightly around you.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then finally, you whispered, "So... how was that for your first time?"

He let out a breathless laugh, still catching his breath. "I think you just ruined me for anyone else."

You grinned against his chest. "Good. That was the plan."

He kissed your hair, and his voice softened. "Thank you."

You looked up at him. "For what?"

"For not treating me like I'm fragile. For not making me feel ashamed for being so vulnerable. For..." he hesitated, then said softly, "for being you."

Your teasing smile faded into something warmer, more intimate. You cupped his face and kissed him slow and sweet. "You're mine now, Riddle."

He nodded. "I've always been".

Part 2 is out<3

[lenoraslament]

Can you do one whee it's a threesome with mattheo, Tom and y/n and it is bdsm for the first time and they go ruff

Careful What You Wish For

Reader x threesome with Mattheo Riddle and Tom Riddle

Warnings: smut, 18+ Minors DNI!, bdsm, rough, oral (m receiving), fingering, dp, spanking, degradation, piv, anal, creampie.

Idk what demon possessed me when I wrote this but it’s pretty dirty so…beware? lol. Also I’m a little drunk. Also I’m sorry I forgot to do word count but it is long

“I want you both or not at all,” you said. Mattheo’s brows knitted together, his face was a wince. He had been infatuated with you for so long . Pined for you, maybe not your personality but certainly your body. Your mouth, your breasts. He couldn’t remember a day where he didn’t see you walking down the hall and try to imagine what was under the skirt that was always flirting with your thighs.

So he tried, and tried to get you to hook up with him. He approached you in the great hall, after quidditch games, in the library. Sure, you’d flirt back but always left him wanting. He wasn’t used to not getting his way and your resistance left him even more feral for a night with you.

Just another Saturday night of debauchery in the Slytherin common room. You were just drunk enough to give him a knowing grin when Mattheo sauntered his way over to you.

“God, you don’t know how badly I want you,” Mattheo muttered. His eyes slipping from your lips to your body. But his gaze wasn’t exactly what you were after. Thats not to say you weren’t attracted to Mattheo, I mean you had eyes. It was his big brother who made his way into your fantasies.

Tom riddle, godly handsome, aloof, cold. The only boy who wouldn’t give you the time of day if you begged. You watched him in the library, in his own world. What you wouldn’t give for a taste of what swam under his still waters.

So when Mattheo made his millionth pass at you, you were drunk enough to ask for the impossible

“I want you both or not at all”.

“Both?” Mattheo nearly choked on his drink, “my…Tom….at the same” he was about to say no. Hell no. But then you leaned forward and pressed your body against his. Your lips brushed up his neck to his ear.

“At the same time. However you want me,” your breathy voice tickled his ear, “however rough you like it”.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

Mattheo didn’t need anymore convincing. His rational thought was blinded by the throbbing need in his pants. He nearly growled, his hand on your waist as he sighed and finally said, “okay..,”.

With that he wasted no time to go to Tom. Tom was perched on a chair near the end of the party, he was sipping whiskey. Playing chess with Blaise. Tom appraised the anxious look on Mattheo’s face, the way he stood next to their game chewing on his lip trying to figure out how to approach it.

“What?” Tom asked curtly. When his usual obnoxiously confident brother began to stammer; Tom rolled his eyes.

Legilimens

That’s all it took. Tom’s dive into Mattheo’s mind, was intrusive. Months of Mattheo’s obsession. Tom knew who you were of course, he noticed you staring at him. He found you attractive enough but knowing his brothers obsession with you amused him. Both? You wanted both? Tom smirked at this. He would have never given you the credit to be such a little slut.

Tom dropped the spell as Mattheo winced and cursed.

“Ow fuck asshole,” Mattheo said rubbing the pinprick he felt in his temple. Tom was chuckling and finished his whiskey with a swig.

“Y/N huh?” Tom asked coolly as if he didn’t just see the whole thing played out inside of Mattheo’s mind. He nodded for a moment.

“Fine. Two conditions. I want her sober and you both listen to what I say,” Tom said not even looking up at him as he checked Blaise knocking another piece off the board.

Mattheo felt sheepish, he knew what he was asking for. He knew how Tom loved to torture him generally and how much knowing the girl he wanted, wanted his brother would play to Tom’s ego.

“Fine” he grumbled. Tom only nodded as Blaise groaned when Tom finished the game

“Tomorrow night. Go tell her”.

————————————————

You couldn’t believe Mattheo went for it. Or more surprisingly that Tom agreed. In the harsh light of morning, you felt nervous; nearly ashamed. When Mattheo had found you later that night at the party and told you the terms you were excited. Now there was a hot coal in your stomach.

Tom wanted you sober. Obedient.

It made you swallow and flush. All day you turned over the idea in your head like a stone. It was eight PM, when Mattheo knocked on your door.

“Ready?” He asked, he looked as nervous as you felt. Suddenly it got real and you nearly backed down. It felt like a dream as he led you down the hall to Tom’s private prefect room.

You had showered ahead of time and did you hair and makeup. You wore a sundress. When Tom answered the door he smirked appraising you. It was not lost on you that this may have been the first time you had his full attention.

He didn’t say hi, “you don’t look so brave now” he immediately mocked making your cheeks burn red. Mattheo walked in the room looking fidgety and sat on the bed.

“I…I’m fine…I’m ready” you muttered trying to muster a smile. Tom only kept smirking, his hand slowly cupped your jaw as he studied your face.

“What’s your safe word?” He asked, his eyes burning into yours. Eyebrow quirked with interest, you nearly trembled.

“I don’t need one” your attempt to be flirty.

Tom laughed as this, “nice try but believe me you will.” He squeezed your jaw a little.

“Don’t make me ask again,” his voice was still light and full of levity.

“Um…episky?” You nervously asked instead of stated. Tom nodded and walked over to Mattheo standing over him. His face dropped back into the usual stoic demeanor.

“You good?” Tom asked him, Mattheo looked over at you. How perfect and sexy you looked.

“Yea…good..”Mattheo said his nervousness was still there but he kept his eyes on the prize.

Tom patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to you. Like a switch was flicked his voice dropped, he was nearly sneering at you,

“So you’re the girl who’s got my little brother all keyed up?” Tom asked in a smooth voice. You opened your mouth to answer but nothing would come out. Five seconds later Tom’s hand landed on your cheek.

You gasped, the sting took you by surprise and if you had to be honest no one had ever hit you in your life. The startled whine only made Tom grin.

“I asked you a question.” He said in a warning tone. Once again you were stunned into silence as another heavy hand met the other side of your face in a firm slap.

“Ah, not so mouthy now. Apparently you only know how to use your words when asking for cock” Tom chuckled as he held your jaw now roughly.

Your eyes were tearing up, your mouth open slightly parted in surprise.

“Such a greedy little slut, Mattheo wasn’t enough to satisfy your needs?” He asked making Mattheo grimace in his seat as he watched the exchange. Tom’s hand slid down to pull you in by your throat. His lips moved to your ear so he could whisper out of earshot.

“Think you can handle me doll? You’re not even worthy to suck my dick. So why don’t you prove me you can be a good slut and maybe I’ll consider touching you” he hissed in your ear.

If you were flustered before, you were shocked now. You could barely speak as you struggled to keep from crying. His words hurt, his firm was grip and worst of all he was making you absolutely fucking soaked.

“What did I say about answering me?” He muttered as he pulled you back harshly to look at your face.

“Yes…yes sir,” you managed to squeak out. Tom nodded and shoved you away making you stumble.

“Get on your knees…crawl” Tom said gesturing over to wear Mattheo is sitting. Like a puppet on strings you dropped down to the floor. Mattheo’s nerves were morphed into lust as he watched you crawl over to him slowly. When you reached him, you sat up on the floor. He was sitting on the chair at Tom’s desk, your hands on his knees.

Suddenly you understood that Tom was in charge, you turned back to him. Tom nodded in approval noticing your submission.

“Suck his cock” Tom said. Mattheo sighed softly feeling your fingers working at this pants. He helped you until they were pooled at his feet. His cock was impossibly hard, dripping already.

Mattheo’s hand was gently stroking your red cheek as you licked the tip. Slowly you enveloped the head, letting him fill your mouth. He moaned loudly, eyes fluttering back as you bobbed you head halfway down. Tom stood watching with mild interest.

Tom made his way over, hand threaded in your hair softly at first. Then it balled into a fist and you could feel his tug guiding your movements.

“Surely you can do better than that Y/N” Tom said as he pushed your head down on Mattheo’s cock. You gagged loudly, the thickness filling your mouth and hitting your throat. Mattheo moaned louder as you deepthroated him.

Tom was unrelenting as tears ran down your face, mixing with your saliva. Mattheo began to reach for Tom’s wrist to take it easy on you but Tom gave him a warning look. It didn’t take much else for him to began to move his hips to match your movements, he could help it. Your warm mouth felt so good. As his moans increased, you gagged harder; Tom noticed Mattheo begin to get too close and pulled you off by hair.

You felt your back hit the floor. Mattheo was breathless, gasping in the chair. You looked up to see Tom standing over you, same smirk. It was humiliating, your lips were swollen, back of your head sore from hair pulling and cheeks red. You had the urge to say your safe word until Tom stooped down and held your cheek.

“Good girl,” he said and kissed you roughly. The kiss made you feel light headed, aroused. He bit your lip softly and flicked his tongue against yours. Then he stood leaving you wanting on the floor. Mattheo was undressing.

“Come stand in front of the bed,” Tom said. You got to your feet still in a daze and fully clothed.

“Undress her,” Tom said to Mattheo. Mattheo took no time at all. As soon as he reached you, his hands found purchase on your waist. His kiss was hungrier than Tom’s, needier. You let yourself get lost in it as he slid your dress down to the floor. Hands searching, stroking. He cupped your breasts softly before unlatching your bra. His lips went for your neck but Tom cut in.

“I said undress her. Stop touching her she hasn’t earned it,” he said. Mattheo groaned but backed off. His eyes hungry on you as he knelt and pulled down your panties.

“Move.” Tom said as Mattheo sat on the bed frustrated. Tom didn’t wasn’t any time to cup your pussy. Two fingers sliding into your folds so quickly it made you moan loudly.

“Mm dripping wet and we’ve barely even touched you,” he said as he slid them inside of you. They crooked and found that spongy area making your eyes instantly roll back.

“Pathetic,” he said and pulled them out. You whined and looked up at him, “please” you muttered. Tom only chuckled and shook his head at you.

“How many times has my brother asked you out in the past month?” Tom asked. The question struck you as funny but the look on his face was clearly not joking.

“Um….i don’t know…” you began but the movement of Tom’s hand made you quickly change your tune, “eight….eight times..sir”.

Tom nodded and undid his tie. He placed it around your wrists binding them together. He spun you around and making you face Mattheo were he still sat on the bed. Tom positioned you like a doll. Your tied hands looped around Mattheo’s neck and resting on his shoulders. Slightly bent over as you and Mattheo made eye contact. He leaned over and brushed your lips reassuringly with his, earning a soft smile from you

“Count.” Tom said before you felt his hand land on your ass hard. You cried out, the sting leaving you breathless. Your eyes met Mattheo’s, the pain made your head spin. When his eyes met yours, you felt lust overtake you. His lips found yours in a sloppy kiss.

“One.”

Tom’s hand caressed your ass before another rang out making you whine.

“Two.”

Mattheo’s breath shuddered. His face nuzzled against yours as you winced from another slap.

“Three”.

Tom groaned softly, your obedience making him show his first signarousal of the evening. His hand slid between your legs. Two fingers sliding inside you making you whimper softly. Tom’s voice was low and soft, it barely registered but the words still made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Such a good girl” he said as he delivered another firm spank.

“Four!” Your voice was louder and higher. Full of desperation.

Tom’s eyes rose from your reddened bottom to meet Mattheo’s heavy lidded glare that had been locked on your face.

“You can touch her now,” Tom said to him. Mattheo’s hands moved immediately to your breasts to softly cup and flick your nipples. You gasped and whined. His mouth greedily licking and sucking your neck.

“I still want to hear her count,” Tom commanded as he delivered another blow.

“Fi-five,” you found Mattheo’s mouth to kiss him back tongues fighting for dominance. His hand slid down your stomach to softly stroke your clit. The touch was lost from the vibration of another hit making your hips jump forward.

You pulled away from Mattheo’s mouth quickly, “Six”.

As you braced for another slap, Mattheo’s fingers thrummed over your clit again. The sensitive bundle of nerves feeling puffy and swollen from need. Another hit barely registered as the pleasure overtook your body.

“Seven” you whispered. Tom suddenly jerked your head back by your hair, “don’t get greedy”. He said sternly.

The last spank was so hard you groaned, but you made sure he could hear you. Mattheo’s fingers were moving over your nub slick with arousal.

“EIGHT,” you cried. Tom’s fingers slid into your cunt from behind. He immediately found the spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. Relentlessly he punched his digits into it. Mattheo’s fingers worked in union, making you nearly drool onto his lap. Your hips were keening against the movement, your moans were loud and rhythmic.

Tom pulled your head back roughly, “don’t even think about coming without asking”.

“Can I come sir please?”

“Don’t ask me, ask Mattheo” Tom said as his free hand wrapped around your neck.

“Matty, can I come? Please oh fuck can I come?” You were so close your legs were shaking.

Mattheo kept working his fingers over your clit, Tom’s slender fingers deep inside of you as he choked you roughly. Mattheo kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding over yours as your eyes rolled back.

“Come for me pretty girl.” Mattheo said. You let out a nearly guttural noise, your moans rhythmic and heavy. You could feel your cunt squeezing Tom’s fingers making him hum in approval.

“There we go, good slut. Come for us” Tom growled as his fingers didn’t show any sign of slowing. Mattheo’s fingers stilled so he wouldn’t overstimulate you.

“So pretty, so good for me, let go beautiful” Mattheo said as his lips brushed over your whiney cries. Of course, Tom wasn’t easy on you, his fingers relentless moving even faster making the coil in your snap even harder. You squirted onto his fingers as you let out a breathy scream.

“Look how you’re soaking me, what a needy girl, so sensitive” Tom mocked you as Mattheo only caressed your face watching your slack jawed expression with a mix of adoration and amusement.

Tom’s fingers left you, if it wasn’t for your still bound wrists around Mattheo’s neck you would have crumbled to the floor. Mattheo helped steady you, he kissed your neck softly and pulled you close.

“Doing okay?” He whispered in your ear with a smile. You were still gasping trying to come down from your high but you managed a soft yes.

Tom’s hand wrapped around the tie pulling you by your bound wrists off of Mattheo and onto the bed.

“I think you finally earned the right to be used”, Tom said condescendingly as he unbuttoned his shirt.

You watched as Tom began to slowly undress beside the bed. Mattheo was feral, no longer concerned about Tom’s directions or commands. He was on you in bed, pulling your thighs to wrap around his waist. Hitching you into position, his hand moved to pull your face away from watching Tom.

“Ready?” Mattheo asked softly, your face was smeary with bliss as you nodded. You felt the binds on your wrist being attached to the bed post as Mattheo thrusted in bottoming you out immediately. You mewled and arched your back, his hungry movements in time with his loud moans.

“Ah fuck you feel so good princess, look at you taking my cock so well,” he praised you as he thrusted slowly but deeply. Your breasts jiggled and his fingers dug into your waist.

Tom finished securing your binds, his hand finding you jaw pulling it away from Mattheo’s mouth.

“Open,” he said in a husky voice. You eagerly made room for him to stuff his cock into your throat. He was slightly bigger than Mattheo and immediately your eyes water. Tom thrusted into your mouth, at an untethered pace. Your gags and whines mixed as he clung onto your hair guiding the movements.

Mattheo kept rocking his hips into yours, eager to finish after being interrupted earlier. Tom’s head was thrown back, he looked lost in the moment for once. The pleasure abundant, but still Tom managed to choke out, “Not yet,” to Mattheo. Who groaned and cursed reluctantly pulling out of you leaving you on the precipice of a ruined orgasm.

Both of them pulled away from your body twitching with need, you gasped in the air that was now available to you.

“Knees,” Tom said his own panting breath cutting into his usual stern tone. It was hard to do with tied wrists but you managed to get on your knees in the bed. Tom slid himself under you until you were straddling him.

He wasted no time to fill you, pushing your hips down. Mattheo watched with a burn of jealousy as you bounced on Tom’s cock eagerly. Tom kept one hand on your throat as he let out a string of words.

“That’s right, ride my cock like the slut you are. So fucking needy for it, stupid whore.” He muttered as he cursed, his hips snapping to meet yours. You felt the heady lightness fill you as he cut off your airway. You could hear Tom say something to Mattheo but it was garbled to you.

Had you been in a more present state of mind you would have heard Tom say to Mattheo.

“What are you waiting for? She has two holes,” Tom said vulgarly. Mattheo climbed onto the bed, lining up. This time he didn’t completely listen to Tom, he reached over to move his wrist away from your throat so you could pay attention to his question.

“Is this okay?” Mattheo asked you in your ear as he hovered at your tight pink hole. You nodded eagerly, still needing release. Never in a million years would you have thought you wanted something like this but all of your inhibitions flew out the window long ago.

Mattheo spit on his hand lubricating himself before sliding in slowly. The feeling of being filled by both of them overwhelmed you. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your body stretch. Your mouth dropped open and you let out a high pitch whine.

Tom groaned feeling you get tighter, Mattheo was whimpering into your shoulder as he thrusted into your tight ass. Both of them muttering praise to you as they moved inside of you.

“Fucking good girl”

“Taking us so well”.

“So pretty when we use you like this”.

You could barely register who said what as they both rocked into you. The tightness in your hips and cunt spasmed and your entire body stiffened as you came. Hard. They both moaned in approval as they felt your contractions squeezing both of them.

“Let go, let go come on”

“There you go, fuck, so sexy when you come”

“Take it, take it beautiful”.

Then you felt heat. Both of them filling you as a chorus of pants and moans filled the room. You collapsed onto the bed breathless. Mattheo’s strong arms pulling you close. You shuddered and held onto him tight while he whispered praises and sweet nothings. Tom took a moment to compose himself before sitting up and getting dressed leaving you and Mattheo the privacy to do aftercare.

When you finally reached the ground, Mattheo grinned at you.

“How do you feel?” He asked softly stroking a hair from your face.

“Wrecked but amazing” you giggle and bury your face in his chest.

“Be careful what you wish for” he said grinning.

[iniquitousyearning]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Six-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Angst, Violence, Aggression, Blood, TomRiddle, Slapping.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Emily, are you sure I look okay?" You said, your voice a mix of stress and anxiety. "Did you get my baby hairs? The ones in the-"

"Yes, I got them." Emily said, cutting you off as she took a few steps back, focusing her attention on your uniform now. "You look perfect. Beyond perfect."

In the soft glow of your dormitory's lamplight, you moved toward the mirror, your reflection illuminated with a warm, golden hue. You released a long, tension filled breath as you eyed your appearance, your Ravenclaw uniform clinging to your form with tailored precision, the royal blue fabric complementing your complexion and accentuating your confidence. The pleats of your skirt fell in perfect symmetry, and your tie was knotted with care, each fold a testament to your attention to detail.

As you met your own eyes in the mirror, your irises sparkled with determination and purpose. Your makeup, subtle yet enhancing, highlighted your features without overshadowing your natural beauty. With a final, approving nod at your reflection, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the meeting ahead. You wanted to make sure that every element of your appearance spoke volumes about your professionalism and attention to detail. Confident and composed, you spun back around, meeting your blonde-haired friend  with a subtle smile.

"Emily, I can't express my gratitude enough," you sighed, your voice tinged with a mix of appreciation and unease. "I can't fathom why I'm so terribly nervous about this."

"It's Tom bloody Riddle; anyone would be nervous," Emily replied, her tone holding a touch of amusement as she lounged on her bed, her eyes fixed on you. "You know, he could be really good for you."

Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying," she continued, sensing the growing tension in the room. "It's astonishing how you've spent seven years at Hogwarts without really getting to know him. You and he, you're like kindred spirits--both quiet, effortlessly brilliant...I could see you two hitting it off."

You felt a shiver race down your spine at the very idea, yet you quickly dismissed it with a forced, light-hearted chuckle. "Now, that's quite a leap, my friend."

"Make sure to remind me of my prediction when it comes true," she teased, a smirk dancing on her lips as she stifled her giggles. "Off you go now, don't keep Tom Riddle waiting.”

With a grumble of a goodbye, you took a steadying breath before pushing open the door of your dorm room and entering out into the bustling corridor. The familiar buzz of students filled the air, everyone seemingly lost in their own little world as you briskly made your way down to the library, your stride full of a tense determination. As you finally entered, your eyes scanned the room in search of Tom, and when you spotted him--engrossed in books, his demeanour calm and composed at a table in the far corner; your heart rate involuntarily increased.

But then, you spotted movement out of the corner of your eye--and when you shifted your gaze toward it, your pulse plummeted, heart stopping dead in your chest.

Mattheo Riddle, the man who, in his entire seven years at this school, had ventured into the library fewer times than he could count on one fucking hand--was surrounded by his friends on the far couches, a bright-eyed brunette girl seated dangerously close, her eyes glued to him as if he held the universe in his hands. The scene sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through you--creating a visceral reaction that made you want to retch.

You blinked, unable to believe your eyes, witnessing the source of both your irritation and inexplicable attraction, appearing utterly untroubled amidst his social circle. The sight should have been inconsequential--a mere blip on your radar, considering your vehement dislike for him and everything he's put you through.

Yet, as he met your eyes from across the room, that familiar, breath-stealing, devilish smirk teasing the corners of his perfect fucking lips, it felt like a punch to the gut, a twisting turmoil in your chest that you couldn't quite comprehend.

You knew you shouldn't care about who he was with or what he was doing. After all, you despised him, his arrogance, and the way he seemed to effortlessly entangle you in his web. But the inexplicable pang of jealousy clawed at your insides, leaving you both irritated with yourself and unsettled by the intensity of your emotions.

Trying to shake off the feeling, you clenched your fists, reminding yourself of your purpose here--to meet with Tom Riddle and discuss the mentorship guild. Despite your internal turmoil, you focused on the task at hand, determined to ignore the distractions and maintain your composure, and began to make your way across the room toward Tom.

Straightening your posture, you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. As you approached him, you cleared your throat to announce your presence.

"Mr. Riddle," you greeted, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I've heard great things about the mentorship guild, it's been a longtime goal of mine to be a part of it."

Tom's eyes, a sharp contrast to his brother's, held a depth of intellect that seemed to penetrate your very soul. His appearance was the polar opposite of Mattheo's--clean kept, professional; gelled hair and fresh robes--all attributes you'd never find on his messy haired, couldn't-care-less sibling. Tom regarded you with an assessing gaze, nodding appreciatively.

"I'm pleased you're interested," he replied, his voice smooth and composed. "Let's find a quiet spot to talk, and please, call me Tom."

With those words, you gave him a small smile before  following him through the isles of shelves and towards the back of the room, reserved only for quiet studies, leaving the unsettling sight of Mattheo and his entourage behind, unable to ignore the heat of his eyes on you from across the room as you moved. In the hushed confines of the library's quiet study area, you settled into a seat across from Tom, the anticipation of the conversation ahead mingling with a sense of relief.

Away from the prying eyes and distracting presence of Mattheo, you felt a newfound confidence building within you.

"Thank you again for considering me, Tom, you have no idea what this opportunity means to me," you said, your voice steady as you met Tom's gaze. "I've always admired your achievements and your approach to academics. I believe I can learn a great deal under your guidance."

His eyes, a captivating shade of deep brown, held yours in an unwavering gaze. "Please, the pleasure is all mine," he replied, his tone dipped in charm. "I've heard remarkable things about your intellect and dedication, Dumbledore spoke very highly of you. I anticipate our collaboration to be mutually beneficial…I have high hopes for what you can achieve."

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you offered a grateful smile. Encouraged by his words, you felt a surge of motivation. "I'm eager to contribute in any way I can."

Tom's eyes glinted with approval. "That's precisely the attitude we value. With your potential and determination, I have no doubt you'll find your place within our guild."

As the conversation progressed, you found yourself immersed in discussions about your academic aspirations, the guild's objectives, and the various projects they were involved in. With every word, you felt a sense of belonging, as if you had finally found a community where your intellect was not only recognized but celebrated.

As you observed Tom while he spoke, it was clear that he was someone you could relate to on a profound level. Like you, he poured his heart and soul into his studies, the pursuit of knowledge a shared passion. His quiet confidence mirrored your own determination, and his dedication to academic pursuits resonated deeply with your own values.

In Tom, you discovered a like-minded soul, someone who, like you, appreciated the sanctity of the library's quietude and the solace found in the pages of a well-worn book. While Mattheo's antics might overshadow his brother's achievements, you recognized Tom's brilliance as a beacon of inspiration, a reminder that there were others in Hogwarts who shared your unwavering dedication to intellectual pursuits.

As the discussions came to a close, Tom straightened his posture in his chair, adjusting his pristine Slytherin robes.

"It's truly refreshing to meet someone as passionate and driven as you," Tom said, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "I believe you have a lot to offer, and I truly look forward to seeing your potential unfold."

You offered a grateful smile, though his lingering gaze left a trail of warmth beneath your skin. "Thank you, Tom. I'm admittedly quite antsy to prove my dedication."

With a charming smile, Tom leaned over the table toward you slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"I must admit, I'm not only intrigued by your dedication to intellect," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "There's something else...something undeniably alluring about you."

"Is that so?" You murmured, head tilting.

His words sparked something inside you that made your pulse increase. You weren't sure what the fuck you were doing right now, but admittedly, you couldn't help yourself. If the Riddle brothers had anything in common outside of their devastating good-looks, it was their effortless bloody charm.

"Indeed, it is," he matched your playful tone, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I'd relish the opportunity to delve deeper into your thoughts...outside of the Thursday evening guild meetings, of course," he said, his eyes glinting with intellectual curiosity. "How about we make it a habit, meeting one-on-one regularly? Tuesday evenings sound splendid, don't you think?"

Internally, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions stirred within you. The idea of regular one-on-one meetings with Tom was undeniably enticing, and would do wonders for your reputation, yet the fear of Mattheo's reaction held you back. As you hesitated, an unsettling vision of Mattheo's disapproving expression flashed in your mind, causing your response to stall.

"I...I appreciate the offer, Tom," you finally managed to say, your voice slightly shaky. "Tuesday evenings should work. I look forward to our discussions."

Your response came out a bit stilted, your internal turmoil seeping into your words, and Tom, ever perceptive, noted your apprehension with a slight eyebrow raise, but clearly chose to dismiss it.

"Wonderful. I look forward to it as well." He said, pushing up from the table and shooting you one last professional nod, "enjoy the rest of your night."

You smiled. "You too, Tom. Thank you.”

And with that, he spun, making his way down the dimly lit isle of the library, your gaze fixated on him until he was entirely out of sight. And once he was, you slumped back in your chair, releasing a stifled breath, acknowledging that his flirtation added a new layer of complexity to the already intricate web of your emotions--but, considering the fact that Mattheo was nothing more than selfish asshole who was currently cuddled up with another girl at this very moment, you refused to wallow in the thought of him any further.

You pushed up from your seat and delved deeper into the library's hushed corridors--the muted ambiance and the scent of old parchment surrounding you as you moved. With purposeful steps, you maneuvered through the labyrinth of bookshelves, gliding down the dim aisle of your choice, your eyes scanning the titles, seeking the specific astronomy book essential for your upcoming exam.

Finally, you came to a halt in front of the S category, your fingers gently tracing the spines as you read their titles, lost in the tranquility of the moment when out of nowhere, a vice-like grip clamped over your mouth, stifling any sound, and you were forcibly pulled backward--your body colliding with a strong, powerful chest, the abrupt impact momentarily jarring your senses.

As the initial shock faded, and the lingering smell of cigarettes and firewhiskey filled your nostrils, calloused palm tightening its hold over your lips, you knew there was only one fucking man that this could be. Mattheo Riddle's unyielding hand muffled any protest, and the fingers on his free hand dug into the wooden shelf beside your head, his silent strength radiating a chilling intensity that left you frozen in fear.

"Playing with fire, aren't you, Raven?" His hot breath danced on your ear as he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "You know, playing too many little games might get you in trouble, princess..."

Pinned against the shelf, your fingers clung desperately to its edge, seeking stability as your body pressed firmly against the unforgiving wood. Mattheo's presence enveloped you, a low growl escaping him as he tugged your face to the side, pressing your temple against the row of books, his lips grazing your ear--holding you captive like a fragile little bird, ensnared in the coils of the big bad serpent.

"Tuesday nights, huh?" His voice was deeper than you'd ever heard it, your heart pounding in your throat as you realized he'd must have heard your conversation with Tom--and clearly, wasn't very happy about it. "I knew you'd fall for his fucking bullshit, Raven...you seem to have a knack for falling into traps, don't you?"

Rage coursed through your veins, a primal growl building up in your throat as you pressed against his restraining hand, your thoughts ablaze with a multitude of scathing comebacks. The fervent desire to unleash your fury clashed with the harsh reality that he had more to say, leaving you seething in silence.

"You're delusional if you think he's actually fucking interested in you..." he breathed, pressing his lips directly to your ear now. "You're just his new prey...his new little protégé...take you in and make you feel special, just to discard you once he's done with you..."

A chill crawled down your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach like a lead weight. His words stung, and you struggled against his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, reminiscent of a snake coiling around its prey. Despite your attempts to break free, his hold tightened like a serpent constricting its victim, leaving you feeling trapped and vulnerable--involuntarily eliciting a sensation between your thighs you wished to ignore.

"Maybe that's what you want though, huh?" He taunted, voice dripping with disdain. "Maybe I've already ruined you...maybe you like being a little slut so much now that you're willing to throw yourself at anyone who offers..."

Your groan of frustration mingled with a futile attempt to break free, but his grip on your mouth remained unyielding. The hand that had been braced against the shelf now shifted to your hip, anchoring you firmly in place, his touch possessive, commanding--sending shivers down your spine, even in the face of his despicable words. The sheer force of his hold had an intoxicating allure, leaving you trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, unable to fully resist despite your burning anger.

"Do you want to fuck him, Raven?" His voice tightened, twisting your head back further to meet his eyes, the painful angle making you wince, your lids fluttering shut as a result. "No, no. Open those eyes. Look at me."

Your stomach churned with unease, and you reluctantly complied, his fingernails digging into your cheek as he forced you to meet his dark, possessed gaze, the smell of alcohol radiating off his breath.

You swallowed. It was a bloody Thursday--why was he drunk on a fucking Thursday?

"Is that what you want?" He muttered, his voice softening, though his grip remained firm. "Because he's going to try...believe me, he's going to fucking try."

In the vice-like grip of his fingers, you growled low, a surge of irritation coursing through your veins like molten lava. How dare he presume to control your actions, as if he held any genuine concern for your well-being? His selfish motives were as transparent as glass, his only interest lying in your submission to his sexual desires. Meanwhile, he shamelessly paraded his affections for other girls, a cruel reminder of his callousness. There was no way you would yield to his manipulative tactics, your determination burning brighter than ever amidst the storm of his toxic influence.

And with a surge of sheer madness, you bared your teeth beneath his palm, sinking them into his rough flesh with a viciousness that mirrored the intensity of your anger, determined to inflict any pain you could in your struggle for freedom--and as your teeth dug into his skin, he recoiled, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you tried your hardest to draw blood.

His grip momentarily loosened, allowing you a gasp of precious air before he tightened his hold once more--his eyes, ablaze with a mix of fury and surprise, bore into yours, capturing your defiance and turning it into a challenge. With brutal force, he spun you around, your back colliding with the unforgiving shelf; the impact sending shivers of pain racing through your spine, and the back of your head met the harsh wood with a sickening thud--your vision momentarily blurring, your heartbeat echoing in your ears like a war drum, punctuating the silence of the library with the harsh reminder of your vulnerability in his grip.

Your eyelids flickered, blinking rapidly to clear the haze, unveiling his intoxicated form, a menacing silhouette against the dim light. His eyes, blacker than the midnight sky, bore into your face with predatory focus, dissecting every flicker of emotion that crossed your features. Your eyes widened in sheer shock, somehow just now fixating on the new cut over his nose, dried blood trickling down from his nostrils and staining his chin, throat and uniform like macabre tears.

"Yeah, that's right..." he muttered, grin crawling over his lips, "take a good fucking look, princess."

Trapped beneath his unrelenting palm, you pleaded, your voice barely audible amidst the fear that gripped your throat. Desperately, you tried to shake your head, your eyes widening in horror as the sinking, sickening sensation in your chest deepened.

Your heart raced with dread, praying vehemently that the blood staining him had nothing to do with Tom.

"I warned you," he sneered, his head tilting as he leaned closer, his palm pressing your head back against the shelf with savage force, as if he was anticipating your impending reaction. "I told you exactly what I'd do to him if he fucking tried anything..."

Your heart fell, shattered, and scattered into a million shards on the cold library floor. Anguish surged through you, transforming into a fierce, unyielding determination, and without hesitation, your hand left your side, a trembling force of defiance as it harshly connected with his cheek--sending his face whipping to the side, his messy hair bouncing against his forehead with the impact.

The sharp sound reverberated through the silence of the library, and his grip on your lips faltered just enough to allow you to break free. Before he had a chance to do anything else, you gripped his wrist, holding it in place, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions.

Your voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and anger, words escaping your lips in a choked whisper. "I can't...I can't fucking believe you," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest like a frantic drum. "Mattheo, do you even realize what you've done?"

He blinked, his cheek tinged with a rosy hue from the impact of your slap. "Do you?"

"What the fuck do you mean?" Your lungs seized, anger threatening to collapse them. "How the fuck am I supposed to explain why you fought your own brother over me? How the fuck am I going to justify that in any way? We aren't supposed to...we aren't-"

Your words cut through the air, heavy with incredulity and a profound sense of betrayal. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, leaving you at a loss for words as you struggled to comprehend the tangled mess he had created.

"He doesn't know it was over you," he muttered, ripping his wrist from your hold. "It's not the first time I've fought my brother, Raven."

"Oh, so it's just one big coincidence that you suddenly pick a fight with him after he meets with the girl who's been tutoring you one-on-one for the last few months, right Mattheo?" You snapped, your words laced with bitterness and frustration, the tension between you hanging in the air like a storm waiting to unleash its fury. "Do you understand that if anyone fucking finds out about us...literally anyone...my post graduate career is fucking ruined, and all of this has been for absolutely nothing? Do you understand how many rules I've broken, how much I've risked, just to allow you to use me however you’d like? And this is how you repay me?"

With a sudden movement, you brought a hand to his chin--your fingernails biting into the skin of his jaw, the sharp edges of your frustration cutting into him as you held him firmly in place. The intensity of your grip mirrored the storm brewing inside you, the forceful pressure a physical manifestation of your raging emotions.

"You have absolutely no fucking right interfering in on my life like this...not while you're cuddled up with another girl on the couch...not when you've made it clear as day that I'm your fucking toy and nothing more." You seethed, your voice cutting through the air like a knife. "You have no right to paint him as though he's some demon when you haven't once dared to look at your own fucking reflection."

Mattheo's eyes met yours, his usual confidence flickering for just a moment as the weight of your accusation settled upon him. "You have no idea what he's like...you can't-"

"I know what you're like." You hissed, dropping your hand from his jaw. "And not many can be worse than you."

"That's where you're wrong." He retorted, spitting the words through barred teeth. "That's where you're absolutely fucking wrong."

"Admit it, right now, Mattheo." You snarled, words like venom as you spat them off your tongue. "Admit that I'm nothing but your fucking toy, nothing but a naive little slut for you to manipulate...admit that I'm-"

Your words hung in the air, abruptly silenced as Mattheo's vice-like grip clamped onto your jaw, the intensity of his hold promising to leave marks on your skin. He pressed your head back against the shelf, your body stiffening in response to his overpowering force. The heat radiating from his frame enveloped you, intensifying the sense of confinement as his free hand slammed onto the shelf beside your head, adding to the mockery of your helplessness.

"No," he growled, his voice low and intense, the frustration palpable in the air. His grip on your jaw tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, and you winced, the pain jolting through you. "You're fucking not."

"Bullshit," you hissed back, your defiance flaring despite the pressure of his hold.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze locked onto yours with a fiery determination. "If you were just some conquest, just some notch on my bedpost, why the fuck wouldn't I have fucked you already, huh?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, the intensity making your stomach twist in knots. "I've had countless chances, Raven...and Merlin knows I fucking want to."

Your voice trembled, the vulnerability seeping through your words like a crack in a dam holding back a tidal wave of emotions. "Want...to...what?"

"Fuck you," he admitted, his grip on your jaw loosening, his confession dripping with both desire and frustration. "I want to fucking rail you, Raven, what the fuck else would I be talking about?"

"But?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest, desperate for an answer you already fucking knew. "What's stopping you?"

He exhaled, his jaw tensing. "You're a fucking virgin...I've never...I wouldn't feel right if I-"

"Exactly my fucking point," you said, cutting him off, your words slicing through the tension between you. "It wouldn't feel right because I'm just a fucking toy, Mattheo...I'm just a means for you to get your release and then throw away when you're done, what you said just fucking confirms it..please don't stand here and try to pretend otherwise..."

The truth hung in the air, heavy and raw, the silence that followed echoing with the weight of your unspoken feelings, leaving both of you engulfed in a suffocating sense of reality.

"You said you had no interest in taking my virginity." You whispered, reluctantly meeting his eyes. "You fucking said that, before any of this started."

"I know," his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I know what I fucking said.”

"So, let me get this straight." You spat, eyebrow cocked. "You want me to continue being your toy, breaking every rule in the book in exchange for your tutoring cooperation and improved grades in order to help me impress Dumbledore, while you continue to be with other girls, but get controlling and fucking crazy when your own brother comes near me, even though you know we could never be together and you have zero intentions of making that happen away...yeah?"

As he blinked, remaining silent, you huffed, releasing a frustrated breath. "Can you at least do me one little fucking favour and explain that hypocrisy to me, Riddle? Or-"

Cutting you off, Mattheo's fingers gripped your jaw for what had to be the hundredth time in ten minutes, pulling you into a kiss that felt like an explosion of chaos and passion--the taste of blood, firewhiskey, and the lingering scent of cigarettes filling your senses; a potent mix that somehow pulled a low moan from your throat. His tongue brushed past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless, your entire body reeling from the raw desperation in his touch. The world around you faded into oblivion as his hands slid into your hair, anchoring you to him, pressing you against the shelf with an irresistible force, neither of you willing to separate despite your urgent need for breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo's lips reluctantly left yours, trailing a path of fire down to your jawline. His hot breath, laced with the taste of whiskey and desire, washed over your skin as he panted, and the room seemed to pulse with the aftermath of the passionate exchange. The two of you stood there, heaving, as if trying to fill your lungs with enough air to regain composure--the intensity of the moment lingering, leaving you both breathless and yearning for more, even though you both knew it was a stupid, idiotic, dangerous game you were playing.

"How is it, that the one woman I can never get enough of, is the one I can't have..." he whispered, his voice so low you swore there was no fucking way you heard him correctly. "When I think about it, I guess it's a fitting punishment, for a monster like me..." his hands fell to your hips, softly holding you against him. "To hold something in my hands and know beyond a bloody fucking doubt that I'll never deserve it."

Your lungs stalled, your heart stopped, oxygen fleeing you as though it was running from a fucking fire. He took a step back, releasing you fully.

"You're right, I had no right doing what I did." The words slammed your chest like a fifty pound brick. You couldn’t do anything except blink. "But I couldn't control myself, and it's not your fault, it's mine. I can’t get over myself. Just be my tutor, and let’s forget anything ever happened between us…I hope my brother makes you fucking happy.”

Without giving you a chance to respond he shifted, making his way down the isle and disappearing around the corner before you even had a singular chance to decipher what the fuck had just happened.

————-

Chapter Seven->

[iniquitousyearning]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Four- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, TomRiddle, weaponizing!Tom (slightly?), Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Outstanding, naturally," you said, your voice laced with confidence and your grin so wide it seemed to stretch beyond the boundaries of your face. "Must you even ask?"

The morning sunlight filtered through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting a warm glow over the room as you and your friends gathered for breakfast. Emily, your blonde-haired friend that you've known since your very first day here, couldn't help but to snicker at your bluntness, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

It’d been almost two weeks since you’d last met with Mattheo, since there was no tutor session last week due to your exam in Advanced Magical Studies. Admittedly, you were thankful for the break.

"Is there any subject where you don't get perfect  grades?" Your other friend Michael said, widened eyes glancing at your marked exam in your hands. "You're a natural born Ravenclaw prodigy...I don't know how you do it, I simply can't wrap my head around it."

Emily, in between bites, nodded vigorously, her admiration evident. "It's true, you seem to effortlessly ace every bloody class. Meanwhile, I'm literally up to my neck in notes, struggling away in hopes of achieving a Meets Expectations."

"Come on, Emily," you said, sitting up a bit taller in your seat. "You earned an Outstanding on the exam too. Your intelligence and dedication are remarkable. You give yourself far too little credit."

She shrugged, taking a moment to chew her food thoughtfully. "Maybe," she conceded, her eyes briefly meeting yours. "But your brilliance seems innate, effortless. It's both inspiring and, I must admit, a tad infuriating."

The corners of her lips twitched into a half-smile, acknowledging the mix of admiration and friendly jealousy in her words. You couldn't help but to blush at her compliments, feeling proud of just how much your intense studies over the years have paid off. Your friends know just how much of your life you've dedicated to your education, and that by this point--after grinding away for years and years, the knowledge was just seamless to you. It just came naturally.

"Good morning, my dear students," came a gentle yet resonant voice from directly behind you, shattering the comfortable silence. "And how might you find yourselves on this delightful, sun-filled morning?"

As you turned, you were met with the twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore, his warm presence enveloping the room with ease.

You rose from your seat, your hands clasped together in front of you. "Good morning, Professor; it's always a pleasure to see you. I'm wonderful, how about yourself?"

Your friends gave similar responses, each earning an attentive nod.

"Very good, very good," Dumbledore's voice resonated warmly, his eyes crinkling with a kind smile. "Thank you all."

His gaze shifted to you, a mix of gentleness and concern in his eyes. "I would be grateful for a moment of your time in my office, if you could spare it. It concerns your peer tutoring sessions. Would you be able to join me before the day's lessons commence?”

A sickening twist gripped your stomach, causing your once radiant smile to shatter into fragments. You battled to shield your fear, but it threatened to consume you--every horrifying possibility flooding your mind in a torrent.

Your eyes were drawn involuntarily across the room, zeroing in on the Slytherin table, only to find the devil himself, Mattheo Riddle, the harbinger of your academic ruin--was already fucking staring, smug arrogance practically radiating off of him as he relished your clear discomfort. His calculating gaze felt like a vulture circling its prey, keenly observing every nuance of your nervous demeanour--and you were certain you were about to collapse to the floor. 

Snapping yourself from your trance, you returned your eyes to your Professor, mustering up the best fake smile you possibly could. "Absolutely, Professor--it's no trouble at all."

"Wonderful," he smiled, nodding. "Shall we?"

With a subtle nod, he gracefully guided you out of the Great Hall, your fingers tightly clutching the strap of your bag after bidding your friends goodbye. Your heart raced in your chest, the anticipation of the impending conversation tightening its grip on your every nerve. You trailed closely behind Dumbledore, the echo of your footsteps blending with the murmur of distant conversations.

As you approached the Hall's exit, Dumbledore's movements came to an abrupt halt. He spun around with a swift grace, his piercing eyes sweeping across the tables like a lighthouse beam cutting through the fog, searching for someone specific amidst the bustling sea of students.

And when his searching gaze finally landed on the person he sought, he outstretched his arm, a subtle wave beckoning them to follow. Your eyes widened in complete horror as Riddle stood up, tossing his bag over his shoulder with an air of arrogant nonchalance. Slowly, he began making his way toward you, his every step seemingly echoing off the walls of your mind.

The lot of you moved briskly, following Dumbledore to his office, Mattheo not deigning to acknowledge your existence except for the few brief, unsettling glances he kept throwing your way, a knowing smirk plastered across his face, practically casting a shadow of impending doom over your academic future.

As you entered Dumbledore's office, your heart continued to race with fear, the heavy weight of impending disaster hanging over you like a storm cloud. Dumbledore gestured for you and Riddle to sit down, the creaking of the chairs adding to the palpable tension in the room. You could hardly bear to look at Riddle, certain that his presence here meant he had failed the exam. Your post-graduate career seemed destined to crumble before it even began.

Your mind spun with catastrophic thoughts, the urge to throw up from nerves clawing at your throat. Just as you prepared yourself for the devastating news, Dumbledore's voice cut through the suffocating silence like a lifeline.

"Well, I must be frank, and I hope you won't take offense, Mister Riddle," his tone was incisive, his words carrying a weight of honesty. "I didn't harbor high hopes for substantial improvement in your academic pursuits when you commenced this new tutoring arrangement. Considering your history and the difficulty you faced in finding a suitable mentor, my expectations were rather restrained."

Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning, nerves screaming in fear as Dumbledore spoke. His gaze was penetrating, his words hanging heavily in the air. He straightened in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"However, it is entirely safe to say that I was beyond pleased when I found out that you had achieved an 'Exceeds Expectations,' on your recent exam--which, if I may point out, is your highest grade thus far."

Your mind reeled, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. Dumbledore's words echoed in your ears, and your jaw dropped in utter shock.

"Exceeds expectations," you repeated, your eyes wider than the sun and just as blaring. "Exceeds expectations! Mattheo, that's amazing!"

When you glanced at Mattheo, his eyes practically glimmered with a peculiar mix of pride and smug arrogance. His confident smirk persisted, etched on his features as he reclined casually in the chair beside you, choosing to remain silent; but you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with approval as he continued. "Your efforts in guiding Mister Riddle have not only benefited him but also showcased your exceptional skills as a tutor. It's a rare talent to break through someone's barriers, especially someone as formidable as he...I encourage both of you to continue this fruitful collaboration, nurturing each other's potential to the fullest."

You were gleaming. Screaming. On the verge of tears. This felt like a miracle, like music to your ears. The surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm you; you wanted to run until your legs gave out, to kiss Mattheo's stupidly infuriating face until it was raw. This was all you had ever wanted, more than anything else in the world.

"Thank you so much Professor," you beamed, your voice filled with excitement. "Your encouragement means more to me than you could ever begin to imagine."

"No, thank you, dear," Dumbledore said, a benevolent smile gracing his features. "Oh, and since I have you here, I was actually wondering if you'd be interested in joining the Hogwarts Mentorship Guild. Currently, it's coincidentally being overseen by Mister Riddle's brother, Tom...I do believe it would be an immensely beneficial experience for you. It's quite selective, but with my personal recommendation, your entry would be assured. You'd have weekly meetings with Tom and the other members-"

Every word that fell from Dumbledore's lips ignited an exhilarating flutter in your chest, a surge of excitement threatening to crack your ribcage open and pierce through your heart. The prospect of joining the prestigious club had been a cherished dream for years, and now, the reality of it was overwhelming. You basked in the euphoria, savoring the moment, until Mattheo's voice abruptly shattered the joy that had filled your soul.

"Professor, if I may," Mattheo spoke up, his tone surprisingly earnest as he straightened in his chair; his jaw tensed and his eyes dark. "I was actually wondering if she could tutor me in Potions as well...I could definitely use the help...it's been rough, to say the least."

His request hung in the air, creating a pause charged with unexpected tension. The elation that had filled you moments ago now mingled with apprehension as Dumbledores gaze darted between the two of you, his demeanour shifting as he leaned back in his chair.

"That would be up to her, Mister Riddle...I would imagine you'd struggle with doing all three, my dear witch...how about you think on it, and get back to me in a weeks time with what you'd prefer to do, yes?"

With anger simmering beneath your skin, you nodded and mustered a fake smile as you stood up. You extended your hand, shaking Dumbledore's firmly, concealing the turmoil within you. After exchanging polite goodbyes, assuring him of your prompt response, you spun on your heels with a sense of urgency that left Mattheo in your dust. Ignoring his calls that faded into the distance, you marched toward your dorm room, determined to shut out the world and the infuriating presence of Mattheo Riddle.

Right now, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him--nothing at all. But of course, he wasn't having that.

The heavy, urgent pounding on your door reverberated through the room, rattling your bones and intensifying your annoyance. Mattheo's relentless assault on the door seemed never-ending, refusing to halt for even a moment. Fearing the spectacle he might create in the hallway and the questions it would spark among your peers, you reluctantly decided to put an end to the commotion.

With a surge of anger-fueled determination, you swung the door open, gripping a fistful of his tie between your infuriated fingers as you pulled him inside. The door slammed shut behind him, the noise echoing your frustration, and you kept your grasp on his tie, shoving his back up against the wood of your door.

"Potions?" you hissed, your voice laced with seething anger as you pressed against him. "In the name of the four fucking founders, Riddle, potions?"

He blinked, clearly startled by the intensity of your rage. "What-"

"You're about to shatter one of my lifelong dreams just because you can't handle a cauldron and some bloody ingredients?" you spat through gritted teeth, eyes burning with fury. "Are you genuinely that hopelessly inept?"

Your response was met with a suffocating silence, his lips parting as if searching for words that never materialized. His jaw clenched, his eyes darting away briefly, a clear sign of his inner turmoil. The weight of his silence only fueled the blaze of your anger.

"Haven't you taken enough from me?" you hissed, the emotion in your tone nearly tangible. "Haven't you wreaked sufficient havoc on my life?"

Mattheo's eyes darkened, his irises smoldering with unspoken fury as he silently wrestled with his words. His fists clenched at his sides, the intensity of his emotions evident, yet the silence persisted. You could practically feel the weight of his suppressed anger hanging heavily in the air.

"You really have nothing to fucking say, do you?" you spat, your voice sharp with disappointment. "The arrogant Slytherin prince, always ready with a cutting remark, suddenly struck dumb when he's called out...how utterly predictable."

You scoffed, your frustration mounting as his inability to respond only fueled the fire of your own indignation.

"You're unbelievable." You said, finally releasing his tie and spinning away from him, moving across the room with deliberate pace before you spun back around, meeting his dark eyes from against the opposite wall. "I'm happy that your grades are improving under my guidance but I think you'll have to find someone else to tutor you in potions...I'm sorry, Mattheo."

Riddle blinked, stepping forward. "I don't need help in potions."

You paused. You weren't sure if you'd even heard him correctly. "What?"

"I don't need help in potions." He repeated, taking another step.

"You don't-" your brows pinched, your words falling short as Mattheo veered closer. "But you-"

"My grades are bad, yeah," he said, voice low and hoarse. "But I'm not failing. And I certainly don't need a tutor."

Your chest constricted. You weren't following him. "Then why? Why'd you say that to Dumbledore?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw locking with tension. Swallowing hard, his throat worked as he landed himself roughly an arms length away from you, his eyes darker than the midnight sky and twice as intense.

"Because," he said, taking a singular step closer. "I don't want you anywhere near him."

His words slammed your chest so hard you almost fell over. "Excuse me?"

"My brother," he said, his tone flat and unwavering. "I don't want you anywhere fucking near my brother."

Your jaw dropped, the air catching in your lungs. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions engulfed you, each one sparking a fire in your core that you desperately wished to ignore. Your head spun, torn between the lingering anger and the new surge of shock and disbelief at his words.

"You're not serious..." you spat, peering up at him as he loomed over you, hastily taking a step back to create some distance between you. "Riddle, please tell me you're fucking joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he replied, his expression carved from stone, taking another step closer and erasing the space you had just tried to create. "Huh, Raven? Do I?"

Anger swelled inside you, clouding your vision. "You've lost your fucking mind," you said, your voice dropping so low you weren't even sure if he'd heard you. "You're being controlling, Mattheo. That's...you can't just..."

Mattheo tilted his head, backing you up against the wall, a predatory glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "I can't, what?"

Your throat went dry, his hands pressing against the wood on either side of your head. "You can't just-"

Your words were cut short as Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. "Can't what, Raven?" he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Go on, spit it out."

Gods, curse him. Curse him to bloody hell.

"You can't just control my life like you own it, Mattheo," you whispered against his lips, ignoring the fiery desire that flared within you, something you fought fiercely to suppress. "Outside of that classroom, you don't hold any power over me."

Mattheo's lips curled into a sly, taunting smile, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Oh, Raven," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper, "you have no idea how wrong you are...inside that classroom or out, you're mine to control...I believe I've proven that today--you'd have never gotten the offer to join that fucking club if it wasn't for my improved grades."

You scowled, your back pressing firmly against the wall as his lips trailed down to your jawline. Frustration mingled with desire, a dangerous combination that sent your senses reeling.

You cursed yourself inwardly, loathing the way your resolve seemed to crumble under his touch. Why did a boy this bad have to look so fucking sweet? Why did a boy this bad for you have to taste so fucking good?

"No...you're wrong, Mattheo..." you whispered, your voice trembling, trying to inject conviction into your words despite the turmoil inside you. "You're so fucking wrong."

"Am I, Raven?" He teased, his voice smug, one hand shifting to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. "So you're saying, that if I told you to get on your knees for me, right now in the middle of your dorm room like my good little whore, you wouldn't do it?" His lips grazed your ear, your lids fluttering involuntarily. "Or...if I told you to take off your shirt so I could cum all over those beautiful fucking tits of yours, you'd say no...hm?"

Your breath caught in your throat, his touch and words igniting a fierce battle within you. As much as you knew the next words form your lips were an entire fucking lie, you simply couldn't help yourself. Merlin knows your body and mind were betraying you, all you had left was your mouth--which was never known to go down without a fight.

"That's right, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, betraying the tremor in your resolve. "I'd say no...one million times over I'd say no..."

Mattheo groaned, the noise reverberating down your spine as he breathed it directly into your eardrum. Your thighs screamed in need at the sound--your stomach flipping as his hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your neck.

"And if I asked you to kiss me?" He murmured, his intense gaze locking onto yours. "Would you still say no then?"

Your heart was beating so hard you were certain he could hear it. "I...I would..."

"Yeah?" He said, his voice a sultry whisper, wetting his lips as he glimpsed yours. "You sure about that, Raven?"

Your lungs sputtered, trying your best to keep your composure as you nodded, glimpsing his lips now. "I'm sure, Mattheo..."

His nails dug into your neck, every inch of your body ablaze as your gaze darted between his dark, intoxicated eyes and his plush, inviting lips. You cursed yourself, the internal struggle fierce and unrelenting. You cursed yourself so intensely, you could almost taste the bitterness of your own self-reproach.

"Mm." He hummed, grazing his lips over yours with feather like precision, before he pulled back. "And what would I have to do to change your mind, huh? Do you want me to fucking beg, princess?"

A low, desperate sound escaped your lips, a primal mewl reverberating in your chest. "That might help..." you breathed. "Maybe if you got on your knees while you did, it'd be far more effective..."

"Fuck...I've created a monster, haven't I..." he huffed, smirk teasing his perfect fucking lips, both hands falling to your hips as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. "A beautiful, slutty little monster..."

You were speechless, body blazed with desire, torn between the intense pull in his eyes and the irresistible temptation of his lips. Holy fucking hell you wanted to kiss him so unbelievably bad, you weren't sure how much longer you could continue playing this little game; the desire only strengthening as he ran his hands along your curves, rough palms smoothing down your thighs as he peered up at you--chocolate curls sitting messy over his forehead, his dark eyes burning wounds into your flesh.

"Kiss me, Raven..." he whispered, holding your sight, voice strained weigh desire so intense it was palpable. "Please, fucking kiss me."

That did it. That absolutely did it.

Without a second thought, you bent at the waist, seizing his tie and directing his mouth to yours, your lips crashing onto his in a feverish, desperate kiss. At the passionate connection, a low moan slid past your teeth, your fingers entwining in his hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue sought entrance, and you willingly granted it, eliciting a low, primal growl from him. His hands tightened around the backs of your thighs, anchoring you in place, not daring to move an inch higher.

Mattheo nipped your bottom lip, smirking as he tugged on it gently before releasing it, blinking as he met your eyes. "I love the way you moan for me, Raven..." he purred, hands slowly moving up, slipping under your skirt. "You have no idea what I could fucking do to you."

You whimpered as his hands slid higher, gripping your ass under your skirt, his face dangerously close to your sex. Your fingers curled tightly into his hair, gripping the strands within your palms as your entire body quivered. His lips left a trail of hot, fervent kisses along your outer thigh, igniting a path of tingling sensations in their wake.

"Gods..." you moaned, unable to form any other coherent word as his hands explored and caressed places on your body that no one else had ever touched before. "Mattheo..."

"Fucking hell..." he groaned, his grip tightening. "If you do that again I might not be able to stop myself Raven...I might have to rip this fucking skirt off and make you moan my name over and over until it's the only word you remember..."

Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning in a whirlpool of desire at his words. Every fiber of your being trembled, quivering under his touch. Mattheo pulled himself up to his feet, his hands still firmly gripping your ass as he pressed himself against you, the strength of his grip pulling your crotch against his. Even through the fabric of his trousers, you could feel his aggressive erection pressing against you.

Involuntarily, you moaned again.

"Mhm, that’s right...” Mattheo hummed, wet lips grazing your ear. "…and you say I don't have control over you..." he purred, licking a slow line up the side of your throat. "You're fucking melting for me and I've barely touched you, Raven..."

His mention of control snapped you back to your senses, not wanting your earlier anger to be neutered so easily, despite the lake pooling between your thighs for this cunning enigma of a man.

"I'm still mad at you, Mattheo..." you managed to croak out, head falling back as he pressed his lips to your neck. "You can't keep doing this...you can't keep sweet-talking me out of my anger for you.”

"Is that what you think I'm doing here?" He huffed, one hand leaving your ass and gripping your hip with enough force to shatter your bones. "Maybe I just can't keep my fucking hands off of you...maybe I like knowing I'm the only one who's ever touched you like this, the only one who's ever fucked your throat and seen those perfect tits of yours...maybe I don't like sharing...maybe I don't like the thought of my brother getting you alone and trying to take what's mine..."

You whimpered, chest constricting. "And you told me not to get attached?" You said, ignoring the burning, screaming flames that ignited at his admission. "You're utterly delusional...I'm not your fucking toy-"

“Yes you are.” He huffed, a deviant grin crawling over his lips. "And believe me, I'm not attached, princess..." he said. "I'm possessive, and there's a fucking difference. I know my brother...I know exactly how he operates."

"If it's anything like how you do, then I can understand your concern." You scoffed, not even attempting to hide your smirk. "But I'm not a child, I don't need protection. And believe me when I tell you, one irritating Riddle man in my life is more than enough."

His jaw tensed at your words, and he loosened his grip, almost fully releasing you, but not quite. "You can do all three."

You paused, lips parting, but he cut you off, sensing your incoming confusion. "Tutoring me in advanced magical studies and potions…plus the stupid club. You can do all three."

"What?" You were dumbfounded, nearly speechless. "I-I can't, Riddle...Dumbledore said-"

"He's only saying that because he thinks you'd actually have to tutor me in potions...we can just make him think you are...imagine how impressed he'll be when you tell him-"

"Oh, Mattheo! That's brilliant!" You beamed, excitement filling your eyes, all of your earlier anger and concern and disappointment seemingly flowing from your flesh, dissipating into the charged air. You gripped his face, giving him a kiss on the cheek, smirking as you pulled back. "You really changed your mind rather quickly."

"I see how much it upset you." He shrugged, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't want to interfere with your goals, Raven. I just want you to know that even though he's my brother, I won't refrain from kicking his fucking ass if he tries anything."

Your jaw fell open like you wanted to reply, but words would fail you, and he smirked. “Tell Dumbledore you’ll do it. And I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Without giving you the chance to respond, he spun around, briskly making his way out of your dorm without another bloody word--leaving you entirely at a loss, unable to comprehend what the hell just happened.

————

CHAPTER FIVE->

[iniquitousyearning]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twelve-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Sexual Aggression, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, (slight) Knife!Play, Teasing, Alcoholism, DubCon, CNC, TomRiddle.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Under the veil of night, Saturday descended, and despite the persistent sickness that weighed you down, you refused to succumb to the confines of your bed for even a second longer. The piercing ache in your head and the relentless runny nose served as mere whispers against your willpower. Ignoring the protests of your body, you ventured out, guided by a flickering determination.

The castle, shrouded in darkness, seemed to echo with your footsteps as you moved. A hushed, mysterious atmosphere enveloped you as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors. Your steps were purposeful, leading you to the heart of intellectual refuge: the library.

As you entered, the soft glow of the lamplights revealed a haven of knowledge, where ancient tomes and modern texts stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting to divulge their wisdom. The familiar scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air, soothing your senses.

Amidst the quietude, you found a secluded alcove, a sanctuary within a sanctuary. The soft light bathed you as you settled into the embrace of an overstuffed armchair, its fabric worn by countless readers before you. The weight of the books in your hands felt both grounding and exhilarating, as if the knowledge contained within could lift you from the heaviness of your illness.

The hours slipped away, the silence broken only by the occasional shuffle of pages and the distant ticking of an ancient clock. Lost in the world of words, you found solace, momentarily escaping not only the physical discomfort but also the emotional turmoil that had plagued you since your clandestine encounters with Mattheo.

Gods, why the fuck were you always thinking about him? Regardless of what you did, that man was in your head--there was no escaping his ghost. Every thought of him wrapped around your mind like a suffocating vine, an inescapable plague that refused to release its hold. His touch, a lingering memory etched into your skin, haunted your senses--the way his hands roamed your body, the warmth of his breath against your neck.

His eyes, a deep, intoxicating brown, transformed in the sunlight, creating ripples of amber like liquid chocolate. The memory of his lips, plush and knowing, ignited a storm of conflicting emotions within you, a potent blend of desire and resentment. Your stomach churned with a strange concoction of yearning and frustration, especially when you recalled the sensation of his messy, curly hair brushing against the sensitive skin between your thighs.

Damn him, you thought--the intensity of your emotions amplifying with each passing moment. You loathed him with a passion that had become entangled with an inexplicable longing. The line between hatred and desire blurred, leaving you entwined in a web of conflicting emotions, unable to escape his ghostly presence in your thoughts. You knew you hated him, you just couldn't really remember the reason why anymore.

Deciding to finally call it a night, you pushed up from the chair, moving back into the shadows of the library as you meticulously returned the book back to its designated shelf, the profound words of the author echoing in your mind. Just as you were about to spin around, a sudden shift in the library's atmosphere sent a shiver down your spine, and an all-too-familiar presence seemed to materialize behind you.

The scent of whiskey filled the air, its subtle aroma enveloping your surroundings, and before you could react, a pair of unsteady arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into an unexpected embrace. The touch was rough, not a huge departure from the usual Mattheo, but enough to be entirely noticeable--and his warm breath brushed against your ear as he spoke, his words slightly slurred but not entirely incoherent.

"Raven," he purred, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "What a delightful surprise to find you here at this hour...how utterly unexpected."

You inhaled sharply, his hands snaking around your waist, pulling you back against him with surprising force. Instinctively, your fingers gripped the edge of the bookshelf in front of you, the polished wood cool against your skin. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you breathless and lightheaded, the overwhelming scent of Mattheo's cologne mingled with a hint of alcohol surrounding you.

Your voice trembled as you tried to keep it steady. "Mattheo...what the hell are you doing here..."

"Why so shocked, princess?" He breathed, his warm breath sending goosebumps cascading down your neck. His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending an electric jolt through your body. "Can't a man of my caliber simply grace this library with his presence whenever he pleases, without arousing suspicion?"

His voice dripped with a mix of confidence and mischief, his hands tightening their hold on you, making it clear that he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. A familiar knot tightened in your stomach, signaling the imminent loss of control. If you didn't gather your composure swiftly, you knew he would once again reduce you to powerlessness, just as he always did.

"Oh, pardon my ignorance..." you responded, your voice thick with sarcasm. "I just never thought I'd witness such a rare event...it's not every day we see a man of your 'caliber' roaming the library, never mind past midnight on a Saturday..."

Mattheo's deep, rumbling groan resonated in the narrow space between you, his hands abandoning your sides to pin you against the shelf. His lips, warm and demanding, brushed your ear with a possessive hunger.

"There's that mouth," he growled, his voice laced with raw need. "Fuck, I've missed that mouth...”

"Matt-" a soft, involuntary whimper escaped your throat, but your protest was abruptly stifled by an unfamiliar sensation. "What-"

Something cold, unyielding, and metal pressed against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. Panic clawed at your senses, urging you to gasp for air, but his palm closed around your throat, silencing you with a ruthless grip. Desperation flickered in your eyes as you tried to make sense of the situation, your gaze fixated on the glint of the blade he was dragging up your arm.

"Mattheo-" you managed to croak, fear and disbelief mingling in your voice. "Is that...a fucking knife?"

Mattheo's silence hung heavy in the air, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he loomed over you, pinning you forcefully against the shelf. Your hands clung desperately to the wooden edges, the pressure turning your knuckles a pale, ghostly white. With deliberate intent, Mattheo tugged you back against his chest, only slightly, as he directed the switchblade toward your bust and pressed the sharp edge against the fabric of your shirt--the metal biting into the soft material as he cut a precise horizontal line just above your breasts.

"Fuck," the word was almost a guttural moan as it left his inebriated lips. "I've definitely missed those more..."

"Mattheo-" you stammered, your voice catching in your throat. There were a thousand questions swirling in your mind, but the words refused to escape. "What on earth...what's gotten into you? This...this is sick, even for you."

Mattheo's movements were swift, almost serpentine, as he seized your shoulders and spun you around. Before you could react, he pressed you back against the shelf, your hands instinctively finding his chest for support until he captured both your wrists with one hand and pinned them firmly above your head. Speechless and utterly bewildered, you were paralyzed, unsure of how to process the situation.

He smirked, the expression predatory, leaning in closer. With deliberate slowness, he placed the flat edge of the knife beneath your chin, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. The cold steel against your skin sent a chill down your spine, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, trapped in his intense gaze and the menacing glint of the blade.

"I thought you were the sick one, Raven..."  he purred, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and intensity as he observed your reactions, his grip on your wrists tightening. "Isn't that why you bailed on me last night, hm?"

Any semblance of control you had tried to maintain had now entirely crumbled, dissipating like smoke in the wind. Pinned against the shelf, your hands held captive above your head, and a cold blade pressed against your jaw, you felt a surge of exhilarating helplessness wash over you. You knew, at this moment, your sanity was hanging by the thinnest thread, and you questioned your choices more profoundly than you ever had in your entire life.

If you allowed him do this to you, what else will you allow? Anything?

Anything...

Speechless, you nodded in compliance, unable to form any coherent words. Mattheo's huff of satisfaction sent a shiver down your spine, and his sadistic tone remained as sharp as ever.

"Yeah?" he purred, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Poor thing...let me take a look, hm? Stick out your tongue."

Before you could fully comprehend the situation, your lips parted involuntarily, and Mattheo deftly slid the cool blade between them, tugging down your jaw with a chilling precision. An electric surge coursed through your entire body, every nerve ending tingling under the intensity of his gaze. His eyes darkened, and his lips parted, both of you suspended in the charged atmosphere.

He pulled the knife away, and as if in a trance, you slowly extended your tongue, the tension between you crackling like static in the air.

Mattheo's jaw tightened, his eyes locked onto your face with a relentless focus, not a blink daring to interrupt his scrutiny. With a steady hand, he pressed the blade against your tongue, his gaze piercing, as if he were a meticulous doctor inspecting a patient, peering down your throat with unsettling precision.

"Seems fine to me, Raven..." he murmured, a flicker of something unsettling dancing in his eyes, sending a twist of unease to your stomach. "But perhaps you're right...perhaps I am sick..."

With deliberate slowness, he lifted the metal off your tongue, tracing it along your jaw before withdrawing it entirely. The blade disappeared into his back pocket, his unwavering gaze never leaving yours, leaving you with a lingering sense of dread and confusion.

"I'm sick and the only cure for my illness are those sweet fucking lips of yours..." he confessed, his free hand caressing the side of your face, the other maintaining a firm grip on your wrists. He drew closer, his eyes fixated on your mouth. "And I'm not talking about these ones..."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart thundering so fiercely it echoed through your entire body. Your thighs ached with a desperate longing.

"Although..." Mattheo leaned in further, his thumb brushing gently over your bottom lip. "They could certainly help..."

With an excruciating slowness that felt like torture, Mattheo leaned in, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. The lingering aroma of whiskey swirled around you, intoxicating your senses and making your head spin. Despite your attempts to resist, an involuntary whimper escaped your throat, the sound echoing your helplessness in the face of Mattheo's relentless seduction.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the rhythm almost deafening in your ears, as Mattheo's lips finally met yours. His hand slithered under your jaw, his touch both possessive and electrifying. His lips moved over yours with a devouring hunger, as though he aimed to consume not just your mouth but every ounce of your being, leaving you breathless and utterly ensnared in his kiss.

When he drew back, just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze glinted with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Your entire body thrummed with anticipation, yearning for his touch.

He blinked. "You still want to call this off, Raven?"

"We really fucking should," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the charged atmosphere. Your heart raced, the tumultuous conflict within you mirrored in your eyes. "But...I..."

Your words trailed off, swallowed by the intensity of his gaze, his eyes resembling swirling depths that threatened to drown your resolve. A smug smirk played on his lips, his arrogance palpable as he anticipated your next words, relishing the moment. He leaned in closer, releasing his grip on your wrists and bracing his hand against the wood next to your head. You hesitated, caught in the mesmerizing pull of his gaze, a fleeting battle of wills that seemed impossible to win.

"You...?" he prodded, his tone dripping with confidence and challenge, as though he knew he had already won.

"But...I can't," you admitted, your voice a fragile whisper, barely audible against the backdrop of your thudding heart.

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your desires and the weight of what you knew was right.His smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing with amusement.

"Can't, or won't?" he challenged, his tone teasing and infuriatingly confident.

His hand on the wood beside your head tightened slightly, a subtle reminder of his strength, his dominance. The proximity between you crackled with tension, the air thick with the unspoken, the moment hanging in the balance like a fragile thread stretched to its limit.

"What we're doing is sick, Mattheo..." you murmured, glimpsing his lips. "I...I never thought we'd be this close...I still smell you on my clothes..."

His eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and desire, his lips curving into a devilish smile. "Sick, perhaps," he admitted, his voice a low, seductive purr. "But you know it's pointless to try and fight it..."

Your eyes involuntarily dropped to his chest, tracing the outline of his shirt straining against his powerful shoulders. A shuddering breath escaped you as you felt the undeniable pull, the magnetic force that seemed to bind you to him. With a huff, he gently lifted your chin, forcing your gaze back to meet his intense eyes. The proximity was suffocating, electric, and he leaned in slightly closer, his warm breath mingling with yours, until your lips brushed in a tantalizing whisper.

"Every time you meet my eyes...we both know that you're mine..." he murmured against your mouth, hand falling from your chin and trailing down the front of your chest, slipping through the cut in your shirt he'd made just a few minutes earlier. "I think it's about time you admitted it, princess..."

You gasped at the skin on skin contact, goosebumps raising on your skin, and Mattheo hummed, lips trailing toward your jawline and softly nipping at it.

"Am I all that you think about, Raven?" He whispered, and you could tell that his question wasn't really a question, more of a rhetorical statement. "Did it get too loud, and that's why you tried to shut me out?"

You winced in wake of his words. You wouldn’t be surprised if this man could read your mind at this point.

"You're a constant thought," you whispered, your words hanging in the charged air between you. "It’s fucking overwhelming, Mattheo...I can't keep allowing myself to be consumed by this..."

"Just let go, Raven..." he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. "I've got you..."

Your mind buzzed with irritation, his seductive tones grating against your patience. The audacity to believe he could ever truly possess you sparked a simmering anger within. He didn't have you, he couldn't, and his delusions only served to fray your nerves to the brink.

"No, you don't...you can't..." your voice trembled, a fragile protest as his breath caressed your ear, your fingers clinging to the fabric of his shirt. "Stop manipulating me with your pretty fucking words, Mattheo...you're only making everything more difficult for both of us."

Mattheo's demeanor shifted, tension hardening his features. His hand found your jaw, gripping it tightly as he pulled back, locking eyes with you.

"Do you want me to stop, Raven?" he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Tell me to stop right fucking now, and I'll walk away, won't bother you until Wednesday's session." He drew you closer, his jaw clenched. "Just one fucking word, princess...that's all you need to say."

Your silence hung in the charged air, a battleground where your desires and your convictions clashed. Every fiber of your being screamed for his touch, the magnetic pull between you undeniable, yet your mind raged against the chaos, yearning for simplicity and an end to the torment.

Mattheo's eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. He held your gaze, his grip on your jaw tightening imperceptibly. The unspoken tension hung heavy, the weight of your unspoken words suffocating in the charged space between you. The choice, the power to end this dangerous dance, rested on the tip of your tongue, yet you found yourself unable to utter the one word that could bring it all crashing down.

"And that's what I fucking thought..." he husked, the words flowing from his lips with a dangerous poison, one that you wanted, more than anything, to get a taste of. "Don't pretend like you're some meek, innocent little girl when I see that vicious mind working behind your eyes, Raven...you've never been afraid to use that mouth before..."

"You're right," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm not meek, and certainly no longer innocent...I left my fucking innocence on your stupid lips..."

"And my hands...my cock..." he purred, his voice low and husky, Mattheo's lips curled into a wicked grin, his eyes ablaze with desire and triumph. "...let's not forget my tongue..."

That tongue--infuriatingly adept and unforgettable. How could such a maddeningly skilled tongue ever escape your memory? Curse him, you thought, curse him to the depths of hell.

"All I have left is my virginity, Mattheo..." you said, fingers tightening their hold on his shirt, tremors rumbling through your limbs. "If I give you that, too...I'm scared of-"

"I don't want it, Raven..." he cut you off, leaning closer, his voice holding a rare gentleness, the smallest flicker of humanity under his suffocating power and arrogance. "Don't feel like you need to give it to me."

Your pulse leapt, throat constricting. "Then what do you want?" You struggled to keep your gaze on his eyes, resisting the pull of his delicious lips. "What do you fucking want from me?"

"I want you to need me like I need you." The answer was quick, almost involuntary, as though he needed absolutely no time to think about it.

Your brows pinched, your lungs hitching, oxygen fleeing you. "Like you need-"

"Wet, breathless, and moaning my name..." he murmured, his lips tracing a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His free hand mapped your curves, finding solace on your hip. "That's how I need you."

Your eyelids fluttered uncontrollably as his wet lips trailed down to your neck, assaulting the sensitive skin. His tousled curls brushed against your cheek, setting your flesh ablaze, an uncontrollable fire sparked by his touch. Gods, he was fucking infuriating, in the best way possible. This man possessed a way with words that felt unparalleled, a skill that left you defenseless against his magnetic pull.

His hand started to inch lower, tracing a path down your thigh, and a surge of panic shot through you.

"Not here, Matty..." you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, urgency coloring your words.

"Who's around, princess?" he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting over your neck, finding the hem of your skirt. "Just be quiet for me, pretty girl..."

Your lungs sputtered, nails digging into his skin, his hand slowly trailing upwards on your inner thigh.

"Please, Mattheo...someone could-" you whispered urgently, your words catching in your throat as desire and fear collided within you.

"Walk me back to my dorm," he said sharply, a plan forming in his eyes. "I'll pretend I'm plastered, and you can sling me over your shoulder. If anyone sees, it'll just look like you're doing me a favour..."

Your jaw fell open in incredulity, but before you could utter a protest, Mattheo took charge. He let go of your waist, pulling you off the shelf with a swift motion. His arm encircled you, feigning a drunken stumble, as he leaned heavily against you, weaving a convincing facade of inebriation.

You took a second to button up your cardigan, hiding the cut in your blouse that Mattheo had made with his blade--and without waiting even a second more of time, he urged the two of you down the isle and into the heart of the library. Fear gripped you like a vice as you made your way through the silent library, Mattheo pretending to be completely intoxicated, his weight bearing down on you with every step.

Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening in the silence, and your heart raced with the dread of being caught in this reckless charade. With each step, you prayed that you would go unnoticed, your mind wrestling with the gravity of the situation and the potential consequences of your impulsive actions.

As you tiptoed out of the library and stepped into the silent corridor, the nighttime air flowed through the stone walls, cooling the fevered heat in your cheeks. The tension in your shoulders lessened, but the fire in your core raged on, fueled by Mattheo's intense proximity. His cologne, intertwined with the scent of alcohol and cigarettes on his tongue, seemed to possess a hypnotic allure, drawing you in with an inexplicable pull.

You shot your head around, ensuring no one was within earshot, before stealing a furtive glimpse at Mattheo. Your voice emerged as a mere breath, carried away by the night breeze as it left your lips.

"How did you know I'd be there?" You questioned. "In the library."

Persisting in his flawless portrayal of the world's most inebriated wizard, Mattheo barely cracked his eyes open at your question, his response delayed as though he were lost in his own haze. For a moment, it seemed like he might not answer at all, leaving you hanging on the edge of anticipation. Then, a sly smile tugged at his lips, and your stomach twisted with a mix of curiosity and unease.

"I asked your friend," he drawled, glimpsing you with the worlds most fleeting glance. "Emily."

Your heart stopped. "No you-"

You began, but your words were abruptly cut short as the sharp click of polished shoes echoed through the corridor. Your gaze shot to the source of the sound, and there, with an unsettling glint in his eyes, stood Tom Riddle himself, adorned in his pristine prefect attire. His darkened narrowed eyes bored into you, suspicion and sadistic amusement flickering in their depths.

"Evening my dear witch…Mattheo," he purred, his voice dripping with sinister charm as he advanced, each step deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey under the moonlit night. "What might be going on here, if you don't mind me asking..."

Your heart seemed to freeze, its rhythmic beats replaced by an echoing silence that engulfed you. Time slowed to a crawl, every second stretching into an eternity, giving you ample opportunity to feel the weight of the situation sinking in. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only Tom's penetrating gaze fixed upon you, like a raptor locking onto its target.

Under the burden of Mattheo's seemingly unconscious form against your shoulder, you let out an irritated grunt, trying to maintain an appearance of nonchalance. You met Tom's eyes with a forced composure, your every movement calculated to appear casual despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

"I found him passed out on a bench outside the library as I was leaving..." each word hung in the air, carrying the weight of a carefully constructed lie, a fragile facade concealing the complexity of the truth beneath. "He's bloody wasted, I couldn't just leave him there..."

Tom's eyes flickered with disappointment, his sharp scrutiny never wavering as he glanced over Mattheo's apparently intoxicated state. There was a subtle sigh of resignation, as if he had expected nothing less from his wayward brother.

"Very well," he said, his tone holding a hint of exasperation. "Take him back to his dormitory, I trust you can manage that. And do remind him that his actions won't go unnoticed, even in the cover of darkness..."

His gaze drilled into you, a silent warning echoing in his eyes, before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor. With a lingering sense of foreboding, you guided Mattheo toward his dorm, the weight of the night's events pressing down upon you like an invisible burden.

——————-

Chapter thirteen->