#theoriddlesmut

[slytherinslut0]

jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons

author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.

-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.

Draco Malfoy.

Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.

“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”

Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.

Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.

“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.

His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.

He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.

“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”

He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.

Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.

“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”

He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.

“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”

Blaise Zabini.

Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.

When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.

This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.

He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.

You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.

After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.

“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”

Lorenzo Berkshire.

Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.

Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.

Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.

His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.

You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.

He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.

“Who was that guy, darling?”

You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.

“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”

He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”

You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”

Mattheo Riddle.

“Who the fuck-“

Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.

You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.

You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.

Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.

You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,

“Is this fucker bothering you?”

Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.

“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“

He’d heard more than enough.

“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”

Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:

“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”

Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.

And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.

When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”

You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.

Theodore Nott.

He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.

Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-

Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.

Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.

Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.

His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.

He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.

“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”

As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.

Tom Riddle.

“AVADA KEDA-“

Lowkey kidding but not really.

No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.

[slytherinslut0]

Theodore Nott. | that’s what i said.

info: your boyfriend was telling you about his day, when he began speaking fluent Italian, knowing damn well you only knew select words. when you asked him to repeat it, he had you come sit on his lap and ended up doing a little more than just repeating it.

word count: 3k

tags: 18+, literally pure smut. pure lorenzo italian daddy type smut. lots of italian translation (apologies to all my italians out there if they’re a little off) lots of praise, riding, piv, dirty talk.

Reclining across from you, Theodore Nott your lovely boyfriend, exuded an air of relaxed confidence while seated comfortably on the expansive leather couch in his dorm room. His legs were stretched wide, one arm casually draped over the armrest--each of his current mannerisms acting as physical testaments to the ease with which he inhabited the space.

As he delved into the narrative of his day, you, nestled in the love seat opposite him, eagerly absorbed the symphony of his voice. It was a melody that effortlessly traversed between English and Italian, a linguistic dance that had always held a special place in your heart.

His words held an irresistible charm, each syllable cascading like liquid honey off his tongue. The profound rasp of his voice, entwined with his seductive Italian accent stirred something indescribable within your body. The prospect of listening to him like this every day for the rest of your life fueled your anticipation, a certainty that the allure would never lose its magic. It was a sensation you eagerly anticipated, knowing that the richness of his voice would forever remain a timeless delight.

Yet, within the fluidity of his storytelling, Theodore suddenly shifted into Italian, weaving complete sentences with a gaze that lingered through half-lidded eyes, as if this linguistic transformation were the most natural thing in the world. Ordinarily, you might have interrupted him, gently reminding him of your language limitations, but today, well, you just couldn't bring yourself to do so.

You were almost in awe, unable to deny that there was an enchanting quality to the way the words curled off his tongue. That, coupled with the intensity of his stare, seemingly compelled you to stay silent, as if under a trance. You found yourself captivated, clinging to every indecipherable syllable, a familiar heat beginning to kindle between your thighs.

It was as if he momentarily lost himself in the labyrinth of his thoughts, forgetting, if only for an instant, that your understanding of the language was confined solely to select phrases and words. This linguistic detour left you with a quizzical frown, a silent plea for translation in the midst of his enchanting monologue, and finally, noting your confusion after what felt like ages, he paused, cocking a charming eyebrow at you.

"Something on your mind, Bella?" he teased, leisurely spreading his legs further as his gaze meandered from your eyes to your lips, only to return, locking onto your gaze once more. "You appear a touch...lost."

"Theo, I must confess--I haven't the slightest idea what you just said," you admitted, a playful pout gracing your lips. Your eyes sparkled with a blend of curiosity and mischief. "And I know you're well aware that was far beyond my linguistic expertise."

"All this time, and you still haven't mastered my language, Bella Mia..." Theo, with a dramatic flair, feigned a hurt expression, his stormy eyes widening ever so slightly. "You're truly breaking my heart."

Smirking, you teased, "forgive me, amore..."  your fingers traced an absent pattern on the armrest, a subtle invitation. "Please, feel free to repeat it--I love the way it sounds..."

A mischievous glint sparked behind his irises, a playful confidence dancing in their depths. With a self-assured grin, he patted his lap invitingly, his messy brown locks falling effortlessly over his forehead.

"Why don't you come over here," he suggested, his tone velvety, "and I'll gladly repeat it for you?"

Your grin widened, a flicker of anticipation igniting within you as you slowly rose from the chair, not needing a second thought. His burning stare followed your every move as you veered closer to him, an intensity in his eyes that set your senses ablaze without effort. As you approached, a slow, deliberate stride, the air thickened with a tangible tension, your pulse thumping in your throat.

No matter the duration of your relationship with Theo, each touch remained an electric encounter, perpetually reminiscent of the initial spark. His reverence for your body endured, a devotion that unfolded afresh with every caress, as if every moment were a new discovery for his hands and eyes.

Stalling in front of him, you giddily pulled your lip between your teeth as his hands found yours, guiding them to his shoulders as he pulled you down to straddle his lap. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, his hands finding a natural place on your hips.

"Mm," he purred, burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling a sharp breath as his fingers dug into your skin. "So beautiful, Bella..."

You stifled a mewl as he pressed careless kisses along your neck, the playful banter giving way to a charged silence as his teeth softly grazed your pulse--the unspoken language between you both pulsating with desire and connection. The messy brown waves of his hair framed a face now tinged with a sultry charm, and the mischievous glint in his eyes promised a shared secret in the language only you two understood.

As if completely instinctively, you rolled your hips against his crotch, head falling back as his hands slid around to your ass, groaning against your neck as he aided your movements, guiding you back and forth against his growing bulge. You could already feel him throbbing beneath you, your cunt clenching in need for his touch as the only thing separating your heat from his groin was your thin layer of underwear, rubbing against his trousers.

"Ho voluto scoparti tutto il giorno..." he murmured, the same phrase he'd said earlier, the one in which you didn't understand. "...sei tutto ciò a cui riesco a pensare."

Your brows furrowed, about to question him, but exasperation quickly took over as he sank his teeth into your neck. He left vivid, possessive marks on your skin, his hands sliding up and under your skirt, tracing the supple contours of your ass. As you continued to move against him, a whirlwind of desire engulfed you, and you quickly lost yourself in the intoxicating rush.

"You're so fucking sexy," he breathed, his voice a low, deep murmur, reverberating a shudder of desire down your spine, his tongue trailing a flat stripe up the side of your throat. "Ho bisogno di te, mia bellissima piccola troia." (I need you, my beautiful little slut.)

"Theo..." you whimpered, your hands entwining in his hair, fingers weaving through his tousled auburn locks. His mouth ascended, planting tender, moist kisses along the ridge of your jawline. "Please-please-"

"Mm, you like that don't you, principessa?" His voice was a seductive purr, the words wrapping around you like silk as he pulled back a hand and gave you a sharp smack on your ass, eliciting an immediate squeal from your throat. "Tu ami grinding that dolce piccola figa on me like this, hm?..." (you love)(sweet little pussy)

In response to his words, an unabashed moan escaped your lips, louder than you had initially intended. Theo responded with a low growl, his free hand moving to your jaw, cradling it delicately as he guided your lips to his. The ensuing kiss spoke a language of its own--one of desire, need, and an unfiltered passion that surpassed any linguistic expression.

Your hold on his hair intensified as you pressed against him more urgently, the rhythm quickening. His tongue boldly slipped past your teeth, exploring your mouth with fervor. Simultaneously, his hands glided to the hem of your blouse, lifting it along your stomach. The kiss briefly broke as he encouraged your arms upward, swiftly pulling your shirt over your head and discarding it on the floor.

"Così bella..." he praised, his eyes fixated on your chest adorned by the delicate, lacy fabric of your white bralette. The intensity in his gaze felt scorching, as if it could sear your skin to ash. "Così, così bella, amore mio..." (So beautiful)(so, so beautiful, my love...)

His words took your breath away, slamming your chest like a fifty pound brick, the worship in his tone enough to render you speechless. You writhed in his lap, seeking friction, more friction that what you were currently experiencing--wanting him; needing him in every possible way. You captured his lips again, rolling your hips harder, the deep moan that escaped him found itself muffled by your mouth as you worked at the buttons on his shirt, fervently popping them free as quickly as you could.

The second his chest was exposed, you scoured it like a starved animal, the skin-on-skin contact sending a desperate clench to your cunt. You mapped his muscles to your memory as though it was the first time you'd ever seen them--the strength of his biceps, his strong, powerful abdomen, all of it hot and vibrating with need--you were breathless at the sight of his beauty under your palms, a feeling that had never once even partially faltered, no matter how many times you fucked him.

"Are you going to tell me what you said, Teddy..." you murmured, a playful smile dancing on your lips as your fingers skillfully moved to his belt, assisting in its release. "That was the whole reason I came over here, was it not?"

"Words can wait, amore," Theo muttered, his voice husky with desire, his gaze locked onto yours as he undid the zipper on your skirt, watching with blaring eyes as you tugged it off, along with your panties and tossed them to the floor. "Actions speak louder, don't they?"

"Mmfh," you moaned as he pulled you back against his mouth, his tongue running along your teeth as your bodies rocked together, his fingers gripping and caressing and squeezing every bit of your body that they could.

Pulling away, he met your eyes, heavily panting for breath as he gazed at you with a hunger that matched your own. His hands shifted, urging you to back up for a moment as he pulled his pants and boxers midway down his thighs--growling low in his chest as his thick, throbbing length sprung free, glistening with precum as it smacked against his chiseled stomach. You clenched.

He pulled you back against him, gliding you in slicking your soaked cunt along the length of his cock, his eyes burning wounds into your flesh as he watched you, lost in pleasure, lost in your need for him.

"Lo vuoi, amore mio?" (You want it, my love?) His voice barely rose above a whisper as he posed the question to which he damn well knew the answer. "You want this fucking cock inside that pretty little cunt?"

You shuddered, clenching hard in anticipation, nodding as you leaned closer, grazing your lips against his, panting heavily into his mouth.

"I want to hear you say it," he growled, one hand sliding up beyond your shoulders to grip the back of your neck, locking your gaze onto his. "Beg me to fuck you."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, entire body vibrating. "Please-Theo, please fuck me..."

"No, no," he playfully clucked his tongue, delivering a sharp smack to your ass with his free hand. You instinctively clenched again, the sensation electrifying. "In Italian."

"Gods," you groaned, his ceaseless teasing consistently pushing you to the brink of physical exhilaration in all the most delightful ways. Fortunately, this was a phrase he had taught you from the very beginning, a linguistic lesson that lingered since day one. "Per favore-per favore...ho bisogno di te..." (please-please…I need you.)

He exhaled, grunting. "Good girl."

It was a combined effort--he fisted his length, angling it at your core, your hands clutching his shoulders as you sank onto him, his thick girth stretching you wide with ease. You both collectively groaned, your walls pulsing and clenching around him as you took a second to adjust to his length, before rocking your hips in a slow, erotic rhythm; working yourself open on his cock.

Theo's eyes were glued to yours, watching your every movement as though he was afraid he'd miss something if he looked away. With a grunt, his big hands found your tits, palming and groping at the soft flesh with primal urgency, brushing his thumbs against your nipples, teasing them with soft circles. Your eyes rolled, your head falling back on your shoulders as you increased your pace, soft moans slipping past your lips.

"Esatto, piccola angioletta...così perfetta..." (That's right, little angel... so perfect) he murmured, his voice low, torn with husk. "You're so goddamn tight...squeezing me so good...così buono."

"Gods, Theo..." you whimpered, relishing in how deep he was, how big. "You're so fucking big."

Your boyfriend's hands shifted again, finding your hips, sharp fingernails digging into your skin as he thrust upward to match your movements, his cock hitting all the right spots. Your own fingers burrowed into his shoulders while you throbbed around him, lungs desperate for air, and he snarled, increasing his movements, setting a brutal pace that you couldn't match.

Cries fled you, pushed from your lungs by the carnal force of his hips, and Theodore consumed you--lips sucking at your neck, hands bearing bruises into your ass. His dick stretched you wide, fucked you deep, wracking your body with its punishment, breasts bouncing, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your skin.

You tilted your head back, his fervent mouth tracing down to your collarbone, claiming his territory across as much of your skin as possible. His cock pumped into you, beckoning an orgasm from the bottom of your brain--and as if sensing your clit screaming for attention, his hand snaked between your legs, fingers smoothly gliding over it. In response, you squealed, digging your nails into his shoulders with enough force to shatter the skin, body awash with pleasure.

"That's it, amore..." he groaned, breathless, teeth nipping at your earlobe, free hand gripping your ass with enough force to batter the skin. "Ride me like the good little whore you are."

"Fuck-fuck yes," you cried, your hips moving faster, chasing your orgasm as Theo's fingers rubbed tighter circles against your clit, increasing their relentless pursuit in bringing you over the edge. "Don't stop, Theo-fuck, please don't stop..."

"I won't, my love," he murmured, lips pressed against your ear, breathing the words into your eardrums. "Wouldn't fucking dream of it."

Theo's fingers worked magic on your clit as he thrust up into your cunt faster, harder--his cock hitting your g-spot with each aggressive movement. You could feel the pressure building inside your core, your body coiling like a tightly wound spring as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"Theo-" you gasped, your voice practically a scream. "I'm going to-I'm going-"

"Going to what, principessa...hm?" He implored, his voice a low, husky whisper escaping through his teeth; your entire essence pulsating, trembling amid his passionate pursuit. "Verrai per me? That tight little pussy going to cum on my cock?"

You wailed, head falling back, chest swelling for air. "Yes!...Theo-please!"

"Fallo. Cum for me." He graced your ass with another harsh smack, placing wet, sloppy kisses against your jawline. "Let me feel you."

With only a few more strokes, you came undone, cunt clamping around his cock, your whole body shaking as your orgasm washed over your entirety, blazing through every nerve ending and every fucking cell. Theo's fingers continued to rub you through it, prolonging the pleasure until you were left gasping for breath, nothing more than babbling nonsensical moans and pleas leaving your lips in the aftermath of his wrath.

Theo grunted, finally peeling his hand off your clit once you were whimpering and squirming against him, gripping the back of your head and drawing your mouth to his, meeting your lips in a sloppy wet kiss, each of you sucking in sharp breaths through your nostrils as you continued to ride him, your walls tingling in post orgasmic rapture.

"Brava ragazza," he moaned into your mouth, his body shaking with the force of his impending release. "So fucking good, bambina."

His movements grew erratic, hips bucking hard as he struggled to hold off his own orgasm, the force of his pace bordering on violent. You gasped, squealed, held onto him for dear life as you rode him, attempting to match his pace, but he was possessed, starved, breaking the kiss to lean back, both hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

"You want my cum, little slut? Hm?" He gritted out, forehead glistening with sweat, his pupils blown wide with lust. "You want me to fill up this tight little cunt?"

You gasped, nodding frantically. "Yes! Please-please!"

"fuck...I'm gonna cum..." his lids fluttered, dark eyebrows pinching in concentration, his face contorting into a scowl of effort. "Cristo-you feel così buono-shit.."

With a final thrust, he growled, groaned--his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times--all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you as he drained his hot cum deep into your pussy. Sweat beaded each of your foreheads, bliss buzzing between your bodies as you kissed him softly, panting into his mouth as you each worked silently to come back down to earth, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm.

Spent and fully sated, Theo cradled the back of your head, pulling you into him, his free arm snaking around your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him inside you as you two stayed like that for a moment, relishing in the intimacy between your bodies as he softened, his lips placing tender kisses on your shoulder.

"Ho voluto scoparti tutto il giorno..." he murmured softly, a hint of amusement in his tone as he repeated the words he knew you had no idea of their meaning. "sei tutto ciò a cui riesco a pensare."

"Stop teasing me." You huffed, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "It's not very nice of you, Theo..."

He chuckled, a low hum from deep in his chest, smirking against your skin as he tightened his grip around you, brushing loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“I wanted to fuck you all day...” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “You’re all I can think about..."

You pulled back, meeting his stormy eyes. "Is that-"

"Yes." He interrupted you with a gentle kiss, smiling against your lips. "That's what I said."

[slytherinslut0]

Mattheo Riddle. | We Are Done

Info: Mattheo calls things off during a nasty fight where you were only expressing your concern for his safety, putting an end to your months-long complicated fling. When he inevitably gets hurt and finds himself in the hospital wing as a result of his recklessness, you pay him a little visit, eager to get your revenge.

Word count: 5k

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Toxic Behaviours, Sadism, Masochism, Intense Bloodplay, Restraint, Dom!Reader, Sub!Mattheo, Begging, PIV, Sexual Punishment, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation.

A/N: went all the way to the depths of hell for this one☠️

The journey from the bustling opulence of the Great Hall to the clinical confines of the hospital wing unfolded like a protracted soul-search, nearly forty minutes of introspection that could have singlehandedly redefined the word regret.

A seething turmoil churned within, its intensity drawn solely from the arid kindling of memories involving your ex fling, Mattheo Riddle. Despite the passing week of newfound solitude, the inner maelstrom showed no fucking signs of abating.

The recollection of your fleeting intimate moments swarmed you, a ceaseless loop that played out in the theater of your mind--like an unresolved holodrama with seemingly no fucking end.

His imprint stained every fragment of your life; in the solitude of the shower, mental echoes followed the course of water, little rivers reminding you of the ones tracing intricate paths down his sculpted physique. Within the shared space of the common room, the mental tableau featured his fingers engaging in an intimate ballet, leaving the taste of his lips lingering in your mouth as they ever-so-dominantly stifled your lusty sounds.

And somehow, that wasn't even the worst of it. Oh, not even close. It was during the nocturnal realm that the memories unfolded their cruelest chapters.

In the shroud of night, it transcended beyond the mere visual replay of his figure dominating yours, or the sensory exploration of his hands traversing the curves of your body. It wasn't just the recollection of his teeth sinking into your neck that lingered. No, the intricacies of your mind wove a far, far more nuanced tapestry.

Nighttime summoned forth the vivid recollection of the encompassing warmth emanating from his broad chest, the haven discovered within the embrace of his strong arms, and the fragrant allure of his messy hair, intertwining with the visceral memories of each intimate encounter. His burning gaze that had seared into your consciousness was more than a mere look; it was an indelible mark, haunting the very core of your thoughts with the echoes of shared passion.

These were the nocturnal specters that besieged you behind closed lids, engaging in an unwelcome dance as you wrestled with the elusive embrace of sleep. These very memories, like a relentless blacksmith, stoked the inferno within, leaving behind the most acrid, bitter residue on your tongue--a taste of anguish and betrayal.

The haunting question echoed through the corridors of your thoughts: why had he subjected you to this intimate claiming, an emotional prison woven with shared intensity, only to abruptly extinguish it with the cold finality of three, sad little words.

"We are done."

And thus, even after the amount of passing time, all it took was a single sideways glance exchanged between Pansy and Draco during their spirited debate over impending assignments to inspire the catalyst for your abrupt departure. With a forceful clatter, you slammed down your fork and pushed up from the table, commencing a determined march into the unknown.

Their speculative gazes undoubtedly trailed your abrupt exit, but you paid no heed. The entire school was privy to the fact that you and Mattheo were done, seemingly officially this time--terminated by a colossal spat prior to one of his ludicrous nighttime escapades in the forbidden forest. Mattheo's hospitalization, a testament to the recklessness that marked him and his band of fools, left him nursing scratches, cuts, bruises, and a sizable gash on his lower abdomen.

Pansy's calls faded into the periphery as you strode away, your indifference resonating louder than any response could convey. The world around you blurred into inconsequential background noise, drowned out by the burgeoning tangle of spite that commandeered your thoughts. Initially relegated to the forefront, this resentment had now metastasized, occupying every crevice of your headspace.

The recollection of his outburst haunted you, a violent reaction triggered by your attempt to dissuade him from venturing into the forbidden forest. Advising caution, you found yourself confronted with accusations of control and a stifling of his fucking freedom. Hurtful words cascaded from his lips during that argument, culminating before he recklessly endangered himself in the perilous forest. All the moments of vulnerability you shared with him, surrendering yourself without reservation, only to be met with his callousness when you were simply trying to safeguard him.

And as the embers of revenge blazed within, so did the deafening roar for closure. The need to settle the score and the yearning for resolution thrived in the wake of an emotional maelstrom.

‘We are done’ felt insufficient—it couldn't conclude there. You wouldn't fucking allow it.

Approaching the hospital wing doors, a surprising fortitude replaced any expectation of your confidence wilting under the imposing pressure. Strangely, a heightened anger welled within you, as though Mattheo Riddle were the sun, each step forward intensifying the scorching heat enveloping you. With a decisive gesture, you flung the door open, your breath held in suspense as your eyes canvassed the beds. Yet, he remained conspicuously absent, amplifying the frenetic flutter in your heart into an unrestrained whirlwind.

"Miss? May I help you with something?"

You pivoted sharply, eyes ablaze, as if embers sparked from your gaze. "Mr. Riddle. Mattheo. Where is he?"

The nurse swallowed, brows furrowed in confusion, but she cautiously gestured toward the hall, taking a step forward. "We moved him into a private room yesterday. His father requested it. Third door to the left."

Your eyes rolled involuntarily as you turned away,  a silent commentary on the absurdity before you. Suppressing the impulse to scoff required a fucking Herculean effort--of course, his father would demand a private room for him. The bloody entitlement was as predictable as Mattheo's suffocating arrogance.

As your determined march neared its end, you found yourself standing before the designated door, caught in a tumult of fear and fury. Fingers trembled, folding in waves in a futile attempt to expel the excess energy coursing through your veins. This ritual had proved futile throughout the previous week, and it yielded no different results now. A frustrated exhale escaped through your nose as you charged through the doorway, propelled by a relentless surge of emotion.

Mattheo Riddle's vulnerability exceeded all expectations as he lay in his opulent private chamber. Shirtless, his body displayed a cruel artwork of black and blue hues, stretching beyond the healing gash on his abdomen. A chaotic tapestry of scratches adorned his shoulders, arms, neck, and the once flawless canvas of his face, now disrupted by a thin, blistering line over the bridge of his nose. A swallow lodged in your throat as you beheld him, a striking portrait of agony that rendered him almost unrecognizable.

"Why the hell are you here?" He stared at you, expression vacant. "Can't you comprehend simple instructions?"

With a cool, unwavering gaze, you shot back, "And miss the chance to witness your glorious downfall? Not a fucking chance, Riddle."

Mattheo clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply as he adjusted against the sheets. "You're insufferable."

You sneered, advancing with measured steps. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

Advancing, you scrutinized his form, taking in the mosaic of fresh scars that adorned his skin. Arriving at the bedside, your gaze drifted downward, noting that beneath his waist, he was clad only in boxers. A scant, white sheet was the sole guardian of whatever remained of his dignity.

Mattheo's snarl reverberated in the room. "If you're here to extend your fucking pity, please, spare me."

A sharp retort escaped your lips, your eyes dancing with a hint of amusement. "Oh, I'm not offering pity...though you do present quite the pitiable fucking sight, I'll give you that."

"Then what the fuck do you want?" Mattheo's voice carried an edge, his eyes narrowing with impatience. “I told you, we are done.”

A pregnant pause filled the room as you let his question linger, a mental reel replaying the relentless week of torment he had unleashed upon you. Your gaze lingered on his tousled chocolate curls and once-enticing plush lips, forcing yourself to traverse the memories of months marked by a tumultuous dance between pain and pleasure. The realization hit like a sledgehammer--all those moments, the highs and lows, seemed to have led to an abyss of pure fucking nothingness.

A furrow etched your brow as you looked down at him. "It's unbelievable that I let myself get ensnared into feeling something for you."

"Your feelings were your own choice," he quipped, his head falling back with an air of indifference, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Don't blame me for your poor judgment."

Your frown etched deeper lines on your face, the surge of anger unmistakable. "Regardless, you still manipulated me like a fucking puppet."

"Amusing how complaints disappeared when you were screaming for more every damn night," he retorted, lids fluttering with evident irritation. "Your anger's just a cover for the fact that you'll have to find a new playmate now...have fun chasing those highs, princess, but I promise you'll only end up disappointed."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, gaze narrowing into a potent mix of anger and hurt. "You're a real fucking prick, you know that?"

Mattheo regarded you with eyes that seemed to hold nothing but emptiness. His silent response coaxed your hands to curl into tight fists, and your chin to tremble with the pressure of boiling blood. You hadn't come here for him to treat you like a mere specter, to act as if you were invisible, as if you were nothing--something you knew you had never been. And still weren't.

"Answer me," you hissed, your voice shaking with a blend of frustration and desperation.

He remained silent, his gaze an unyielding anchor in the stormy sea of your emotions. The void in his pupils became increasingly maddening, an inscrutable abyss that left you grappling with the uncertainty of what the fuck he was even thinking right now.

"Answer me, Riddle." Your demand sliced through the air, a fervent plea for any sign of acknowledgment.

But he remained stubbornly mute.

Your chest surged with frustration, the world momentarily blurring in your escalating anger. "Say something, damn it!"

It was only when the sting of his skin met the back of your hand, and red streaks of blood marked your knuckles, that you realized you had slapped him, reopening the scab on his cheek. Yet, that wasn't the shocking part--though it certainly played a role--what truly stunned you was the quiet, wanton moan that escaped Mattheo's lips, his lids fluttering while his body tensed against the bed. In awe, you gulped.

And then, a peculiar, wicked force stirred within, a voracious entity feeding on the months of torment he had subjected you to. Something that hungered for more.

So, succumbing to its dark allure, you withdrew your hand and unleashed another sharp, resounding slap across his cheek. Blood painted his face, and Mattheo groaned, fingers clutching at the sheets as his hips thrust into the air, his arousal blatantly revealed beneath the fabric. Spellbound, you observed as he collapsed back onto the mattress, his eyes fluttering open, holding a gaze that teetered between vulnerability and desperation.

Between the conflicted expression in his eyes and the pulsating bulge between his legs, the sinister impulse within you deepened, intertwining with a more primal sensation. One unmistakably identified as pure, unbridled lust.

"You fucking like that, don't you?" You breathed, your lips twisting into a sadistic grin.

"Are you trying to hurt me, princess?" Mattheo's intense gaze focused on you, alternating between his increasing arousal and your exasperated expressions. "You'll have to put in more fucking effort than that..."

"Hm." You hummed, grin widening. "If you insist."

You locked on to Mattheo's gaze, feeling empowered by the way his normally stoic expression was now clouded with a burning need. With a coy smile, you swung your knee onto the hospital bed, letting your skirt ride up around your hips and exposing your panties. His brown eyes lingered between your legs, and you could feel the heat of his gaze against your skin as you climbed over him, straddling his strong thighs. He tensed as his eager cock twitched beneath you, silently begging for more.

The power dynamic between you had shifted so drastically in this moment. Mattheo Riddle, famed for his cunning and ruthlessness, was now completely at your fucking mercy. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing that you had the power to make him feel truly vulnerable.

"So weak," you spat, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you dipped your hips just enough to skim the head of his cock. The sight of his full-body convulsion was mesmerizing, and the shaky breath that left his lips told you everything you needed to know.

You could tell he was still in pain, but there was something else there too--desperation.

"Poor boy," you murmured, running your fingers down the curves of your own figure, taking pleasure in the sensation of your own heat as you slipped your hand between your thighs, caressing yourself. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Mattheo's eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open in a low groan. It was clear he was entranced by the sight of you touching yourself, and the way your words dripped with sinful seduction only added to his lust.

"Yes," he gritted out through clenched teeth, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "This is what I want."

"Look at you...so fucking needy..." you clucked your tongue and chuckled, extending out your free hand and running it along the wounded flesh of his chest, digging in with a little more force than you'd intended, judging by the groan that left his lips and the blood that split through the scab. "You're such a pathetic mess, Matty...it's almost too easy to control you like this..."

"Go to hell." His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing in his temple as he recognized the truth in your words. "You don't control fuck all."

"Oh, is that right?" you snarled, leaning forward and pushing your hands into his stomach, pressing down on his wound with added force, now. His face twisted in pain, and he let out a strained grunt. "How about now?"

Your heart was thundering with adrenaline, and while you had undoubtedly expected him to be furious at you for causing him harm, as he met your gaze, you saw something else entirely. There was a desperate need in his eyes, a yearning for more of the pain and pleasure that only you could provide. His lips were parted, his breaths coming in short gasps as he struggled to contain the sensations coursing through him. Despite the pain, there was a sense of longing that tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with a powerful desire for more of this intoxicating mixture.

"More," he whispered, his voice low and husky with need, barely above a breath. "Do it again."

"Oh, I don't fucking think so..." you sneered, your cunt clenching involuntarily at his request. But you were determined to make this man suffer. To humiliate him just as bad as he'd humiliated you, time and time again. "If you want something, you’ll have to ask for it nicely…I want to hear you beg for me."

Mattheo grunted again, bucking his hips, trying to grind back despite the pain of his injuries. Finding that impossible, his hands went to your waist, gliding up and down your thighs as he attempted to move you faster along his member, craning his head forward to get a better view. You scowled and smacked him away.

"I don't recall extending an invitation for your touch," you asserted, a glacial edge to your voice. "Why would I want your hands on me? After everything you've fucking done?"

His fingers balled into fists, exhaling when his head fell back against the pillow. You could feel him aching below you, already entirely fucking anxious to get inside of you. But then, he was still, hungry eyes trained on yours as he waited for your prompt.

"That's better," you purred, and found the next words coming out before you'd even thought them. "Good boy."

Your hips moved sinuously against his, a deliberate motion that left him breathless, his fists tensing against the desire to seize hold of your flesh. The surge of power was intoxicating, a heady blend with the fervor of your overwhelming desire and simmering rage. More than ever, your yearning for him to suffer consumed you. With a wicked grin, you lifted your hand to your lips, sensually running your tongue along the length of your crimson-stained fingers, sucking off the remnants of his blood. The sharp note of copper lit up your palate, sending a delightful shiver through your being.

"Mmm...you taste so good." You met his gaze between the long licks of your digits, his taste coating your mouth. "Wanna try?"

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze tracing the movement of your tongue as he moistened his lower lip. You enveloped one of your fingers with your lips, emitting a soft hum as you sensually cleaned it, gliding it in and out with deliberate slowness. Finally, you withdrew it with a wet pop, eyes rolling in dramatic effect.

Mattheo's jaw constricted, the sinews in his forearms taut from the tension in his fists. "Please..."

But you, unfazed, dipped your fingers back into the trail of blood leaking from his gash, adorning your skin with a bold red hue before returning them to your mouth.

"Mm, not good enough, I’m afraid..." you murmured, eyes twinkling with sadistic satisfaction. "You'll have to do much better than that, big boy..."

A growl echoed in Mattheo's throat while he gripped your thighs, pushing you down onto his swollen cock. His own hips thrust up against you, seeking any friction, any pressure at all from your heat. Frowning, you slapped his hand--and to your amazement, he pulled back, averting his gaze.

"These hands of yours are growing quite fucking insolent," you observed with a sly smile. "It's high time we addressed their rude misbehaviour."

A sinister grin etched across your lips as you shifted, smoothly extracting your wand from its thigh strap. With a deft flick, you summoned restraints, securing Mattheo's wrists to the metal headboard. His lips parted, eyes smouldering with desire, pulsating beneath you as the tightness closed around his wrists. Once finished, another few flicks ensured the door was locked, and the room was cloaked in a silencing charm.

"Much better," you said, tossing your wand aside. The gleam in your eye was almost maniacal as you reveled in the exquisite agony you were causing him, feeling a sense of power and control that you had never experienced before. "How's that feel, hm? Ready to utter those pleas for me, Riddle?"

"You're going to regret this, little witch..."  he spat out through gritted teeth, his gaze locked onto yours. "Nothing you could do to me is worse than the fate that awaits you when I get out of here…your days are fucking numbered."

Involuntarily, you clenched at his threat, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you dipped your fingers back into the pool of blood emanating from his wound--and with a decisive move, you seized his jaw with your free hand, thrusting your bloodied fingers past his teeth before he could voice a protest.

"Now isn't the time for your futile threats, Mattheo," you husked, tilting your head. Your fingers pushed forcefully into his throat, emphasizing your point. "Look how fucking pathetic you are...if only your friends could see you now...big tough guy, bound and gagged by his own bitch…it’s beautiful, really."

Abruptly, you withdrew your fingers, leaning back to assess your handiwork. His wrists were securely bound, a vivid red imprint gracing his skin, while his mouth shimmered with the subtle traces of his own blood. It was a tableau of perfection--humiliating yet exquisitely so. The image of him squirming against the taut restraints, his chest rising and falling with each desperate breath, compelled your hand between your legs. Sliding up your skirt, you explored through the delicate lace of your panties, skimming eagerly over your clit.

"Fuck," you murmured, glimpsing his mouth, “you look perfect like this."

This was retribution, and as you teased yourself while admiring the pathetic sight of him, thoughts buzzed with the torment he'd inflicted--the scalding intensity of his erratic behavior, the icy indifference he wielded, treating you with disdain, unfounded accusations of infidelity, and the frigid distance he maintained. The searing resentment flared as you recollected the havoc he'd wreaked upon your life.

It was months of emotional manipulation. A pattern that was impossible to acclimate to. His cycle of hot and cold, the relentless mistreatment, the baseless accusations, and the moments of aloofness, all preceding his inevitable return, pleading for your affection--this was the culmination of his deeds. More than anything, this was the reckoning he deserved.

"Come on, princess..." he muttered, eyes wide and pleading. "For Godrics sake, please...fucking please..."

A grin creeped across your lips, your heart leaping with excitement. You'd finally fucking broke him.

"There we go, Matty...that wasn't so hard, was it?" You purred, inching backwards along the length of his thighs, reaching out to pull the cover from his waist in an excruciatingly slow fashion, exposing his black briefs. "I love hearing you beg for me...you're being such a good boy..."

Mattheo's response came in the form of an exaggerated huff, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently pleading for your touch to alleviate the burning desire between his legs. Your grin expanded, reveling in the palpable tension.

"You want me to fuck you, Matty? Do you think you fucking deserve that?" You cooed as you caressed his erection through the fabric, glaring at him while he jerked and shook from your touch. It was incredible, watching him trying to thrust into your fist, whimpering, head lolling while you sped your ministrations. "Do you think you fucking deserve me?"

His groan reverberated, his body twitching beneath the firm clasp of your fingers. His lids fluttered, and his head arched back in a nearly imperceptible shake of denial.

"You never fucking deserved me, did you?" Your frustration at his silence echoed in the air as you delivered a sharp crack across his face, prompting a gasp from him. "Fucking answer me, Mattheo!"

"No!" he finally hissed, his knuckles whitening as his entire frame tensed. "Fuck! No! I didn’t…”

"That's right, you didn't…” you laughed, shaking your head. The sinful delight coursing through you at his torment was undeniable. "At least you can finally fucking admit it...a tiny step towards what might pass as progress, I suppose."

As Mattheo huffed, not daring to meet your eyes, you sighed, finally feeling as though some of your anger had dissipated. Not by much, but by enough. Granting him the smallest percentage of mercy, you wrapped your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, freeing his needy, throbbing cock--the length of his smooth heat springing back and slapping against his belly, a low groan leaving the depths of his throat as it did.

You clenched at the sight, the pool of heat in your abdomen expanding throughout your entire body now, your mouth practically watering at the mere vision of him. Just when you thought this whole thing couldn't get anymore perfect. Gods, he was undeniably fucking delicious.

"Tell me what you want, Mattheo..." you said, wrapping your fingers around his cock, slicking the bead of precum around the head, twisting your wrist as you stroked him. "Tell me what you need."

His eyelids pressed together in bliss as he panted, the rhythmic movement of his throat visible with each swallow. In the throes of pleasure, he surrendered himself to the intensity of your touch, the heat enveloping him in a cocoon of sensation.

"You..." was his only reply, head snapping back and forth, thighs tensing, cock twitching. "Please-fuck-"

"You like that?" you purred, biting your lip. "You like when I jerk your cock like this? Hm?"

Mattheo's jaw was slack with desire, his voice laced with breathy need, "yes..."

"Yeah?" You purred, tightening your grip, increasing your pace as you stroked him, leaning down slightly to spit on the tip, slicking your saliva along his shaft. "Who else could make you beg, huh? Who the fuck else can make you this fucking hard?"

"Fuck-" he choked, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, you could tell he was close. "No one-princess-fucking no one..."

"Mhm...that's fucking right, Riddle..." smiling, you threw your head back, your other hand resuming its motion on your clit, teasing yourself as you continued stroking him. "You know you can't fucking live without this...I don't know why you have to make things so goddamn complicated..."

"Fuck," he hissed, sputtering your name, "please, fuck me, please. I fucking need you."

"Shit...you're just spoiling me now," you mewled, your pussy clenching undoubtedly at his words. "Such a good boy...so eager to please me, hm?"

Mattheo released a long, exasperated sigh as you released him, shifting yourself closer. With a swift motion, you shimmied your panties to the side before you aligned his cock with your dripping core--the moan that escaped your throat was deep and lengthy as you sank onto him, feeling every inch of his hard, aching cock stretching you wide, filling you up with ease. Mattheo's body lifted from the bed in response, a sound somewhere between a sob and a scream escaping his chest as you enveloped him to the hilt. Leaning forward, you placed your palms on his stomach, shifting your weight to the heels of your hands as you began to slide up and down his shaft.

"Fuck," you breathed, lids fluttering. "I missed this cock...shit, you feel so good..."

Mattheo's only response was a string of shameless, guttural moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he surrendered to the potent mix of pleasure and pain. His body writhed beneath yours, his abdominals tightening in response to your movements. You panted heavily, bouncing up and down on his cock, taking pleasure in every inch of him slamming deep into your wet, eager pussy.

With each movement, you drove Mattheo wild with desire, listening to his moans grow louder and more intense with each passing moment.

Having control was entirely different--you were able to drag him into you, squeeze him tight with your walls while you slowed your pace, slam down onto him and make him howl. You watched him struggle below you, realizing he was trapped at his peak--and you were happy about it. This. This was close to what he deserved.

"I fucking hate you," you growled, the depth of your emotion evident in every word. "You embedded yourself into every part of my life and now you want to just fucking end things? Just go back to being fucking strangers? Over nothing?" Your voice cracked, the words flowing from your lips without restraint as you continued to ride him, hips moving in an untamed rhythm. "Why do you always fucking do this to me? Fuck-why?..."

Between his deep groans, his shuddering gasps as his wrists fighting their resistance, he managed to shake his head, his noises only growing louder the harder your rode him.

"I...I'm..." the words were forced through barred teeth, his eyes pleading for mercy. "I'm fucking sorry."

"Are you mine, Mattheo?" Your voice was strained with exertion, sweat growing on your forehead. "Were you ever fucking mine? Or was it all just a big game to you?"

"No,” he stammered, almost wincing. "No!"

Unable to resist the intense sensations coursing through you any longer, you brought your fingers back to your clit, setting a frenzied pace as you massaged the stiff nub with the pads of your fingers. You could feel Mattheo pulsing inside you, could feel his overly urgent need to cum, but right now, all that mattered was your own pleasure. As you worked yourself toward climax, your breaths grew ragged, soft moans escaping your lips as your body responded to your own touch. The pressure inside of you was building with each passing moment, urgent and insistent, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer.

"Say it," you panted, eyes rolling and body trembling as you slammed down on him again and again. "Tell me who you fucking belong to."

"Fuck-fuck..." he grunted, teeth bared, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "Please, princess...you keep squeezing me like that and I'm going to fucking cum-"

"If you want to cum, you'll fucking say it, Mattheo-" you practically moaned, entire body quivering with excitement. "Fuck-say it..."

A string of whimpers slipped past Mattheo's lips, his fists balled so tight it looked almost painful. "Fuck--you! I'm yours, fuck..."

Every word leaving you was a curse, and between every word was a strangled moan, resonating through your throat as you worked your clit fasting, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

"Gods, Matty, I'm going to cum," you moaned. "I'm going to cum on this thick fucking cock-fuck..."

Without being able to hold off any longer, you shattered, your hips jerking and twitching in an erratic rhythm, free hand digging into the flesh of his chest as you clenched and pulsed around him, forcing another onslaught of pleasured whimpers to leave his throat before he too reached his high--the tight heat of your orgasm sending him over the edge, twitching and thrashing beneath you as you continued riding him through your collective highs, not beginning to slow until the aftershocks began to rumble through you.

And after you stalled, you allowed yourself a moment to regain composure before you wearily eased yourself off him, releasing a prolonged breath--with a cautious movement, you reached over and gathered a sampling of your intertwined cum on the pads of your fingers, briskly bringing them up to his lips.

"Taste what I did to you," you murmured with a smirk, relishing in his groan against your flesh. Methodically, you glided your fingers against his bottom teeth, leisurely pulling them from his mouth. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

His breaths lingered in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of his silence, his eyes seemingly unable to leave your form. With deliberate movements, you leaned over, deftly undoing the restraints that bound him. As you meticulously adjusted your appearance back to its usual state, a mask of calm control, your gaze shifted towards the door, a calculated glance.

"May your recovery be swift, Riddle," you uttered with a tone that held a hint of farewell. "Until next time."

[slytherinslut0]

enemies w/ tension. | slytherin boy headcanons

author's note: feralism inside. readers be advised. eighteen plus.

- your enemies reaction to you bending over in front of them.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy, as your enemy, was an absolute arsehat.

He’d purposely go out of his way to make your life a living hell whenever he bloody could.

The teasing and pranking was relentless; from accidentally spilling a particular shimmering potion on your white uniform blouse, rendering it perfectly see-through and exposing your bra to everyone in potions class, to pulling out your seat when you weren’t looking; he’d done it all.

He was an absolute menace, but you also knew there was something more to it than that, something possessive, something obsessive.

And you thought this for a multitude of reasons, but the main one being that he admitted he was into you while drunk at a common room party. which of course he denied the next day, and every other day since, choosing instead to be as annoying as ever.

but on this particular late evening, assigned as partners for a class project, you found yourselves alone together; the tension high and the banter relentless.

“Draco, please stop acting like a bloody child for five seconds.”

He’d roll his eyes, fighting a smirk. “Pleading for mercy are you? How adorable.”

You’d huff, staring at him with your arms crossed out of frustration as he held your quill above his head, just out of your reach.

“No, I’m pleading for you to stop being so goddamn insufferable. Give me my quill.” You’d hiss, entirely irritated.

Of course he’d just laugh, wetting his lips as he analyzed your frustration, revelling in the fact he’s so clearly gotten you going.

“Here.” He’d sneer, all before tossing it half-way across the room. “Go fetch.”

by this point, your blood was boiling, but you wouldn’t miss the glint in his eyes, the one that told you he was enjoying this a little more than he should be.

With a frustrated sigh, you pivoted sharply, seizing the perfect opportunity. As you closed in on your quill, a deliberate hair flip cascaded over your shoulder. Slow and sensuous, you bent at the hips, hands trailing down your sides, tracing the subtle sway of your body reaching for the quill. Picking it up achingly slow, on the ascent, you locked eyes with Draco over your shoulder, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

Draco’s typically poised demeanor faltered as he watched, an involuntary pause freezing his features. His steely gaze, usually cloaked in arrogance, softened into a momentary bewilderment.

The realization hit him like a revelation, and before you could even process it, he was up and out of his seat, one hand gripping the back of your head as he loomed over you.

“What the fuck was that?” His voice was torn, shredded. “Quite the fucking tease, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You blinked, grinning. “I simply picked up my quill.”

His grip on the back of your head tightened, his pupils blown wide with lust. All his restraint was gone.

“You’re a fucking filthy little thing “ he leaned in closer, wetting his lips as he glimpsed yours. “Do that again and I’ll fuck you right here, right over this desk.”

Blaise Zabini.

Blaise fucking Zabini. Your enemy? You guessed you could call him that.

Mainly because all the guy ever did was sabotage your bloody love life. Every single damn chance he got.

And not even in a traditional asshole type of way, like by scaring dudes off or threatening their livelihoods--oh, no.

he scared them off by just being himself.

You’d known Blaise since first year, being that the two of you are from the same house and share the same friend group,

but, all the two of you have ever done, since day bloody one, was banter and bicker like a pair of fucking first years.

But as you matured, that friendly banter slowly transitioned into something more, something that neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge.

Something that you knew was about to boil over, at any given moment. and perhaps, that moment was today.

you sighed in frustration, watching as the guy you’d been talking to all night began to make his way through the crowd, finally taking the hint and excusing himself after Blaise had just ever-so-kindly invited himself into your conversation.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?” You took a sip of your drink, glancing at a smirking Zabini through narrowed lids. “Do you not want me to find love? Do you truly hate me that much?”

“I did you a favour, trust me,” he’d quip, flashing those perfect pearly teeth at you. “Dude would have bored you death.”

“The great Zabini, doing me a favour?” Your eyes widened, and you’d stifle an amused scoff. “Sure you’re feeling okay?”

As Blaise was poised to respond, you fumbled with your wand, inadvertently dropping it onto the wooden floor of the common room. Acting on instinct, you bent down to retrieve it, sensing Blaise's eyes lingering on your backside for an unnecessarily long moment as you slowly straightened up.

And when you finally looked over, you watched as he brought a hand up to his mouth, attempting to hide his grin as he shot you a knowing, wide-eyed glance, his body tensed as though he was fighting to restrain himself.

but after only a few seconds, he’d step closer, his hand grazing your arm as he leaned in.

“Excuse me miss, but I think you’ve made me drop something,” he’d pause, watching your eyes as you met his.

“I’m sorry?” You snorted. “what are you-“

he’d pull you closer, bringing his mouth toward your ear. “you made me drop my fucking jaw…”

you’d blink, caught off guard. “Blaise-“

“That ass is fucking perfect,” he murmured, wetting his lips. “cant hide it anymore, princess…i want you bad.”

Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Enzo-earth to bloody Enzo,” you emitted an audible groan, sinking back down into the chair beside him.. “can you please at least fucking attempt to help me?”

Enzo was uninterested in your pleas, truthfully, he was uninterested in anything you had to say. Paying no heed, he sat slouched, head nestled in his arms on the desk, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

you sighed. this was going to be a long damn class.

“Enzo, please? you can sleep after class-“

He grumbled softly under his breath, neglecting to raise his head from the desk. However, he pivoted it towards you, his bleary brown eyes meeting yours.

“can you knock it off?” his voice was a shredded rasp. it was clear he was exhausted. “don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?”

You scoffed, irritation evident on your face. This was the typical Enzo conversational experience--a constant exchange of snark and jabs. It baffled you how a man so fucking attractive could also be so damn daft at times.

“i don’t, actually,” you huffed, trying to keep your composure. “but i certainly get tired of your ignorant attitude.”

that managed to get at least a chuckle out of him, even if it was a half-assed one.

“spicy today, i see.” his lids fluttered back closed as he muttered, “bite me, darling.”

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you teased, your voice taking on an arrogant tone. “masochist.”

Enzo emitted a snort, a hearty chuckle escaping from his chest in response to your suggestive jab. Progress was evident, and you sensed the need to elevate things to the next level if you intended to secure his assistance.

Making sure his eyes remained closed, you slyly nudged your quill, sending it tumbling off the table and onto the floor. A mischievous smirk played on your lips as it hit the ground, and Enzo's eyes snapped open, fixing on you.

Maintaining the intense eye contact, you slowly leaned over in the chair, letting the seductive sway of your movements accompany your reach for the fallen quill.

you could feel Enzo's gaze following your every movement as you retrieved the quill with a lingering touch--all while a subtle, suggestive smile danced on your lips.

the second you straightened out, Enzo sat up straight, clearing his throat, tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he fought to collect himself.

“what’s the matter, Enz?” you quipped, unable to control yourself. “thought you were tired?”

“don’t play with me, angel.” he muttered, leaning closer. “please, Merlin, don’t fucking play with me.”

you’d snicker. “help me with this assignment and i’ll let you touch it.”

“deal.”

Mattheo Riddle.

you and Mattheo were enemies for one reason, and one reason only--his suffocating arrogance.

perhaps you were the only girl in the school who called him out on his bullshit, perhaps you were the only girl in the school who didn’t fall flat at his feet anytime he simply breathed.

and Mattheo, well, he wasn’t used to this type of treatment. and he certainly wasn’t keen on the fact he couldn’t get you in his bed with a mere second long glance.

of course, you were fully conscious of the fact he was hot as fuck, but your self-respect and dignity outweighed your sexual desires, which in turn, created fiery spats every-time the two of you were near each other.

And so, here you were, paired with him for a research assignment; the two of you alone in the library on a Sunday night, while he was totally hungover. And as insufferable as ever.

“Mattheo, give my fucking textbook back.”

He’d groan, rolling his eyes as he tucked the book under his arm, hugging it to his chest while seated sluggishly.

“Come and get it back, then.” He’d utter, smirking. “I promise I don’t bite…hard.”

You fought back a scoff. “You won’t be able to bite at all if you don’t cut it the fuck out…it’s almost ten o’clock we need to start this.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, again, his tongue piercing the inside of his cheek as he pulled the book out from under his arm, and stood up, moving over to the bookshelf behind your chair.

With suffocating snark, he knelt down, shoving the book onto one of the shelves lowest to the ground, all before turning back around and smirking at you, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging casually as he cocked an eyebrow.

“You told me to give it back.” The arrogance in his tone was nauseating. “You didn’t specify where.”

“First of all, that’s the wrong shelf,” you’d mutter, watching his eyes follow you as you pushed up from the chair, veering closer. “And second of all, you’re not funny.”

Mattheo poised for a sharp retort, ready to counter with his usual biting wit. However, his words stumbled into silence as he observed you drawing near.

With a swift, almost calculated movement, you bent at the hips to retrieve your book beside him. The fabric of your skirt dared to venture higher up your thighs than convention allowed, leaving Mattheo momentarily entranced and rendering his intended response obsolete.

But the second you straightened out, meeting his eyes, lips teasing a knowing smirk, he was on you.

Your back slammed against the shelf as he grappled your hips, shoving you back. he towered over you, his lips pressed directly against your ear as he growled;

“You shouldn’t be bending over like that in front of me,” his voice was torn, shredded, and he finished the sentence off with a sharp “ever.”

your heart was hammering. “Why not, Matty? Didn’t enjoy the show?”

“You have no idea what that ass of yours does to me,” he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. “Every fucking day I imagine railing it--I imagine fucking the attitude right out of you…you should know better than to tempt me.”

Theodore Nott.

“Look at that,” Theodore quipped, his snarky grin practically evident in his tone of voice. “top of the class again. how does that L feel, huh?”

you grumbled, rolling your eyes so far into the back of your skull that you were seeing white.

“don’t get cocky, Nott.” you nearly snarled, the frustration seeping from your lips like breath. “it’s not a good look on you,”

theodore merely chuckled, knowing that was a complete fucking lie.

cockiness was an infuriatingly good look on him, and that was solely due to the fact that the objects of his arrogance were damn impressive achievements that could make anyone green with envy.

the man was unfathomably smart for an arrogant jock whose life was dedicated to being the best quidditch player to ever exist.

clucking his tongue, he’d shoot you a knowing glance. “you sound jealous, bella. what’s your grade?”

as he tried to lean over to glimpse your mark, you pulled your paper away from him, scowling. “how about mind your own business, hm?”

he’d chuckle. “never been known for that, have i?”

Before you could formulate a response, Theodore snatched the paper from your hands, leaning away to sneak a glance at your mark. Your groan of irritation resonated, signaling your exasperation with his antics.

Annoyed, you reached over to grab your paper back, your low-cut blouse exposing more of your chest than you’d intended.

As soon as Theodore’s eyes fixed on your chest, noting your breasts practically spilling out of your shirt, he paused; his fingers involuntarily releasing the paper without further fight, his lips parting and eyes darkening.

“merlin,” he’d breathe, his voice torn. “you trying to give a lad a fucking heart attack, wearing a shirt like that?”

your cheeks grew warm, his eyes not once breaking from your chest as you straightened back out in your chair, adjusting yourself.

“it’s rude to stare, Nott.” you’d say, fighting a grin. “didn’t your mommy ever teach you that?”

Theodore let out a low groan, edging his body closer to yours. His lips dangerously neared your ear, and he couldn't resist sneakily glancing down your shirt, unable to control his wandering gaze.

“it’s rude to tease, Bella,” he’d purr, his voice a dark murmur. “and truth be told, i can’t quite help myself…”

you huffed, unable to stifle your smirk. “sounds like you need a refresher in manners.”

“Oh, principessa,” he’d retort, his voice laced with need. “you can refresh me in anything you want as long as i can see more of those perfect tits of yours.”

Tom Riddle.

Tom Riddle was an absolute brilliant genius;

a good man. a private, by-the book type of student.

and if you were being completely honest with yourself, this was precisely why the two of you didn’t quite get along.

it seemed as though Tom had it out for you, as though he had some sort of personal vendetta to make your life a living hell.

At every opportunity, he wielded his prefect powers to land you in trouble for something. Perhaps, in all fairness, you should have known better than to sneak into the restricted section of the library or prowl around the castle late at night,

but, gods. couldn’t he just cut you some bloody slack for once?

Admittedly, you were afraid to cross Tom. You weren't eager to be on his bad side, but at the same time, you weren't prepared to entirely abandon breaking the rules and having fun just because you were aware he could catch you.

so instead, you learned his schedule, where he’d be and at what times, knowing how to effectively avoid him.

the man was a cunning genius, you knew he could effectively destroy you if he so pleased.

but, on this particular night, he was set to be patrolling the dungeons for at least another two hours, giving you plenty of time to sneak into the library and do a little research.

and everything was going extremely well, hidden in the restricted section, blanketed by the nights encompassing darkness, when you noticed your shoelace was untied.

Bending down to address the matter, a peculiar sensation tingled through your senses as you completed the task. A subtle shift in the atmosphere hinted at an approaching presence, and just as you straightened up, the hushed cadence of footsteps drew closer.

Before you could pivot to face the intruder, their looming silhouette materialized behind you.

A towering figure, their breath, warm and palpable, brushed over your ear as they leaned in, setting your nerves on edge.

“you shouldn’t be bending over like that in public,” the voice was a deep, dark rasp in your ear, the arrogance in the tone unmistakable. “some people might think you’re a little slut.”

heat rushed you, your thighs clenched. “and what if i want some people to think that?”

immediately understanding your suggestive remark, Tom wasted no time before grappling your hips and spinning you around to face him, one hand slithering around your lower back and grasping a palmful of your ass.

“filthy whore,” he’d growl, his voice shredded now, barely restrained. “breaking the rules and showing off that perfect ass for anyone to see…calls for punishment i’d say.”

his teeth found your neck and you whimpered, clutching onto him. “i’m-“

Tom pulled back, meeting your eyes. “bend over the desk, now.”

#sorry #i got extremely carried away #18+ au.

[slytherinslut0]

Mattheo Riddle-Beg For Me

In the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, you, a brilliant Ravenclaw scholar known for your unwavering dedication to academics, found yourself in an unexpected battle of wits with the notorious bad boy of Slytherin, Mattheo Riddle.

Assigned as his tutor, you clashed fiercely due to his reckless attitude, a sharp contrast to your meticulous, by-the-book approach to life. Despite his smart remarks and arrogant charm, you stood your ground, unfazed by his attempts to break your resolve.

However, one day, during a particularly tense tutoring session, Mattheo had finally had enough, and nothing was ever the same.

Can this secret, toxic situationship blossom into something more? Or will you two forever be secret enemies turned lovers, destined to crash and burn.

CHAPTERS->

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Twenty Six

Twenty Seven

Twenty Eight

Twenty Nine

Thirty

Thank you to everyone who has followed along with this story so far. I’d never have dreamed it would be so popular, and that I’d meet some of the most amazing, supportive people ever while writing it. You all mean the world to me and I love you endlessly. Hopefully this makes it easier to find all the chapters:) xoxo

🩵Find my master list here.

[slytherinslut0]

mattheo riddle. let me fuck you.

PAIRING: Mattheo Riddle x Gryffindor!Reader

SUMMARY: worried that mattheo was just going to use you for sex and leave, you had him agree to courting you first until you felt you were ready to take it to the next level. after months of this, mattheo finally can’t take it anymore, and lands himself on his knees at your feet.

WORD COUNT: 4.1k.

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, Degradation, Praise, Absolute Feralism, Begging, Exhibitionism, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasm, PIV, Semi-Public Sex (implied cloaking charm), Dirty Talk, Swearing, Oral (f receiving), Body Worship, Slight Breeding Kink.

Courage. Bravery. Honesty--all traits that your house, Gryffindor, valued and honoured.

However, conspicuously absent from that list, was stupidity. A trait that you certainly seemed to posses a fucking abundance of these days.

To delve into the specifics, you possessed stupidity in the form of pure idiocy that took root when you began messing around with a certain curly haired Slytherin boy. This curly haired Slytherin boy just so happened to come from a group of assholes who seemingly detested your friends as well as your own bloody existence, having been nothing shy of full blown enemies for majority of your time spent at Hogwarts.

And yet, somehow, one thing led to another with this certain boy, and before you knew it you'd found yourself in a certain situation you'd never have imagined in a million damn years.

A courtship.

Securing Mattheo Riddle's commitment to court you exclusively, with a firm agreement to abstain from sex until you felt unequivocally ready, baffled your understanding. This arrangement was meticulously crafted out of a deep-seated concern that, left unchecked, he might merely try fuck you and then vanish without a trace.

He was known for doing that.

The rules of the courtship were a safeguard for your heart, a decision rooted in self-preservation, rather than any preoccupation with your virginity or lack thereof.

The harsh reality was simple – you desired Mattheo Riddle, despite every instinct screaming that you shouldn't. To shield your heart from potential wreckage, you implemented a set of rules governing the extent to which Mattheo could advance in your relationship. The decision to progress to the next level, if and when you deemed him deserving, rested solely in your hands.

It was a fool proof plan. No way for you to get hurt.

However, to absolutely no one's surprise, Mattheo wasn't a fan of this plan –not when he reluctantly agreed to it, and certainly not now. Not as you were seated across from him in a dimly lit corner of the library, the top buttons of your white button-up uniform shirt straining against the curve of your tits, your tie a loosened mess around your neck, and your burgundy pleated skirt way too fucking short for any bloody blokes sanity to remain intact.

Mattheo had counted the fucking days since the two of you started messing around, each instance of shared intimacy without crossing that final threshold chipping away at his restraint like relentless erosion. He wasn't fucking sure how much he had left in him.

"Did you finish this one, Matt?" Your voice rang out as a soft whisper, the hum of it snapping Mattheo from his wandering thoughts.

Forcing himself to meet your eyes and not linger on the buttons of your shirt just begging for fucking relief, he nodded. "Yeah. This one too."

Mattheo lifted a divination book, a testament to the exhaustive night the two of you had spent cramming for tomorrow's exam. Weary, you gave a nod, pushing up from the desk.

"Let's put these away, yeah?" you suggested gently.

Mattheo's throat parched as he observed you tugging down your skirt, a belated realization of how perilously high it had inched past your hips. With an innocent effort to conceal the expanse of those enticingly thick thighs – the same thighs he enthusiastically found himself nestled between every damn night – you fueled a growing heat within him. Mattheo cleared his throat awkwardly, giving a nod before pushing himself up as well.

As the two of you retreated into a dimmer, more secluded section of the library, you bent at the hips to return your book to its shelf. Unmindful of Mattheo's intense gaze, exhausted yet persistent, you began chattering. "I think there might be one more we can skim through, if you're still up for it-"

That thought abruptly dissolved as two sizable, calloused hands sought out your body, gripping anywhere and everywhere they could. An instinctive flinch involuntarily escaped you, but the sensation of those hands delicately tracing your thighs swiftly eased your tension. A trail of burning flames surged up your torso, and you instinctively straightened against him.

"For fucks sake." Mattheo's voice resonated as a low, deep growl in your ear, so intense you questioned whether he meant for you to hear it. His fingers clawed at the buttons of your shirt, nearly tearing it open in a frenzy. "What the fuck are you doing to me."

"Matt-" your hands came up, finding his. The two of you had certainly messed around in a lot of questionable places, but the library? At midnight on a weekday? "W-what are you-"

That sentence was abruptly cut short as Mattheo's lips attacked your neck at the same exact moment he slipped a hand through your now unbottoned shirt and roughly cupped one of your tits, twirling his thumb over your nipple. An entire body shudder rumbled through your limbs and the softest of moans escaped your lips, filling the charged air between you.

Music to Mattheo's fucking ears.

"Let me fuck you." It wasnt necessarily a demand but more of a plea. The desperation in his tone was fucking palpable. He sunk his teeth into the side of your neck as he pressed his hips against your ass, the entirety of his erection jabbing into your back. "Let me fucking fuck you."

You gasped, lids fluttering in an involuntary response as his hand switched to your other breast now, kneading and groping and squeezing with just as much fervour, more even. When you moaned again, he growled against your neck, pulling off you momentarily just to spin you around to face him.

His hands seized your hips, pressing you back against the shelf. "What is it, princess? What the fuck do you need from me?"

You scarcely had a moment to absorb the question, accompanied by the raw, desperate vulnerability in his tone, before he surged into action again. Long fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, while the other hand ascended to your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet his intense gaze.

"I've been so fucking good, have I not?" His fingers inched excruciatingly slow over your mound, taking his time to tease you for all he could, watching every subtle ministration of your face as he went. "I've stayed out of fights. Haven't partied. I've been so fucking loyal..."

You swallowed, acknowledging the sincerity in his words. Yes, all those things were undeniably true. Mattheo had transformed into a different man in recent times. While you were drawn to him for the chaotic soul he was, the fact that he willingly opted out of party nights to spend time with you hadn't escaped your notice in the slightest.

Mattheo noted your silence. "Was it the drugs? Because you know I quit those."

Long fingers crept toward your slit, one finger gliding along and coating itself in your slick. Gods, if you weren't already fucking dripping for him.

You tried to shake your head. "No, Matty..."

His hold on your jaw tightened as he felt how fucking wet you already were. He snuffed a groan in his throat. How a little fucking Gryffindor could manage to have him in such a chokehold was beyond his comprehension.

"Is it the smokes?" He tilted his head, watching your eyes. "Because, fuck--I'll light every last one into flames right here in this fucking isle. I'll use the ashes to sear your fucking name onto my skin--just give me the goddamn words."

As his finger connected with your clit, drawing quick frantic circles over it, you mewled, your hands squeezing his biceps as your brain could only muster the comprehension to say one fucking word.

"Mattheo-"

"Mhm." Mattheo groaned, pressing his lips to your temple, his hand on your jaw slithering down to clasp a firm hold around your neck. "Yeah, baby, that's my name, fuck...say it again."

His pace on your clit increased, your head spun with carnal lust. Intoxicated. "Mattheo-"

"Yeah, good girl. Fuck--so fucking good." The reply came within seconds, along with the release of your throat, his hand gliding back to tangle in your hair. "Come on, baby, you know I'm not in this for the sex...you know I want way more than that."

If you hadn't already been rendered helpless and speechless from his relentless pace on your clit, you would have scoffed at that. But instead, all you could do was attempt to breathe the words out between your moans.

Your lids squeezed shut, fingernails digging into the fabric of his uniform. "I-I don't know that, actually."

"Fuck." Mattheo dipped low, his finger thrusting into your cunt before you could even realize it had, his thumb continuing the pace on your clit. The way your wet walls gripped his finger as he pumped it in and out of you was enough to send him into pure fucking desperation. He sucked in a deep inhale, gathering himself. "How do you figure that, hm?"

"Because-ah-here you are practically fucking begging me to let you fuck me." Your back arched, your legs trembling. If it wasn't for Mattheo's looming frame practically pinning you against this shelf, you were certain you'd be a pile of limbs on the floor at his feet. "You're just...t-telling me what I want to hear, Matty."

"I'm not." His pace increased, his brows knit tight. He didn't like that response. Not one fucking bit. His lips found your ear, his grip on your hair intensifying. "You don't understand how fucking bad I want you--how fucking bad I want every single last inch of you. Your laugh, your smile, your wit, your heart, your fucking soul. You haunt me every moment I'm awake. Even when I'm asleep you're there, fucking torturing me. I dream about waking up next to you. I dream about growing old with you. I dream about worshipping you, pleasuring you. I dream about pumping this perfect cunt full of my cum. No woman has ever fucking done this to me. I'm insane for you. For fucks sake please let me fucking fuck you princess. I need you so fucking bad. All of you."

"Gods," was all you could say, not a single shred of coherence left in your brain, not as those words bounced around inside your head in rhythmic hums synced with the movement of his fingers. You were right there. "Matt--fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

"Mhm, go on baby," he cooed with a softness that seemed to fray against the edges of desperation, his voice nearly shredding against his vocal cords. How he was keeping himself together was truly fucking impressive. "You're so fucking good for me. Such a pretty fucking pussy, hm?"

"Yours," you breathed out just as your vision blurred, your entire body shuddering around his fingers. "It's all yours!"

A choked gasp slipped from your lips, swiftly muffled by the plush entirety of Mattheo's mouth. His tongue invaded past your teeth, meticulously exploring your gums as if etching the details into memory. The sound of his groan reverberated through you, but it soon became a mere echo as your ears rang and your orgasm charged, coursing through every inch of your being, leaving your head spinning and your body trembling against the shelf.

Mattheo withdrew his lips from yours, sensing the aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through you, sure in the fact you had regained enough composure to remain quiet without his help. He grazed his teeth along your jawline, warm breath bathing your skin as both of you panted in unison, bodies pressed and fighting for breath as he slowly pulled his finger from your cunt and teased over your clit with slow, sensual swirls.

"Let me fuck you," he repeated again, softer this time, his voice a whisper as light as a feather in the air. "You said it's mine...you said this pussy belongs to me."

"Yes," you panted, squirming against his hold as he continued his slow teasing strokes over your clit. "I...I did say that...it does..."

"Mm," his dark eyes lingered over your lips before he leaned in slightly, resting his forehead against yours, erratic breaths intermingling. "Please. Fucking please, let me take what's mine."

Mattheo Riddle had gone by many names over the years; an asshole, a delinquent, a rebel--but a man with manners? A man who'd ever had to beg and plead for something he wanted? That was not something you would have ever included in his description. Seeing him like this, completely and openly vulnerable, did something to you. Something you knew you could no longer resist. This was a man you knew you were willing to take risks for, willing to risk getting hurt for. It'd been fucking months. You wanted him. Just as fucking badly as he wanted you.

"I dunno, Matty," you grinned, unable to fight it off even if you tried. "Maybe you should say please again...maybe you should say it on your knees..."

Mattheo huffed, a groan accompanying it.

"Dirty, dirty little thing..." he whispered, pulling his hand from your cunt entirely now, both hands shifting to your hips, gracing them with a feral squeeze. "You really fucking are mine, aren’t you?"

As Mattheo Riddle dropped to his knees at your feet, you were certain the entire world had faded away. You were certain that time no longer existed and that there wasn't a single other living being in the entire expanse of the universe--all there was, across all existing planes of reality, was you and this messy, curly haired boy at your feet, looking up at you with dreamy chocolate eyes, poised to beg and fucking plead for release from his torment.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," his hands trailed a steady path from your hips down your thighs, squeezing and grabbing every inch of flesh he could. "You know that, right?"

You pulled your lip between your teeth, unable to peel your eyes off this boy before you. He was mesmerizing, In all his glory. Every last fucking molecule of him.

"Yes, Matty..." you breathed, your hands clutching at the wooden bookshelf behind you, steadying yourself. "You tell me a thousand times a day."

"Only a thousand? I was aiming for way more than that." Mattheo hummed, wetting his smirk-adorned lips as he brought his mouth to your inner thigh, softly nipping at it. "Guess I have to step my game up, huh?"

You blinked, pulse pounding in your ears. “I-“

“Please, princess…” Mattheo shifted, snapping himself back to the task at hand, nipping at your other thigh now, his voice so soft you almost missed it. His eyes never left yours. “Fucking hell.”

In one swift movement, his hands gripped your thighs and spread them apart, one leg slung over his shoulder as he brought his lips to your already dripping cunt, placing a vulgar kiss to it, tongue delving into your slit, a trembling groan echoing in his throat when he swallowed your wetness.

Your lungs sputtered, head falling back against the shelf--his eyes, in the pits of perversion, watched you, soaking in your speechless delight while he explored each tiny crevice of your cunt. Bliss built inside of you for the second time, blocks of white hot energy, stacking with every second those velvety, full lips massaged your folds. Your mouth fell in an open pant, your hips rocking into his face--his hands moved, sticking your wrists to your hips as he gripped you there.

You struggled to find your breath--oxygen had left the room--and you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to keep your moans quiet. Your previous orgasm still had you tingling, the stimulation almost, almost too much--but you found yourself climbing toward your second with little effort. Your eyes rolled back, pleasure crashing over you, tiny moans leaving you while he sucked slowly on your clit, engorged and throbbing at his lips.

"Fuck, Mattheo-" you whined, your nails digging into the flesh of your own thighs as his strong grip kept them pinned there. "I'm gonna-fuck-"

Your core thumped with a demand to cum--Mattheo was reining you to a cliff, your desire a wild animal, bucking with abandon and ecstasy.

"Mhm, that's it," he muttered into your flesh. "Let me fucking taste you."

His tongue swirled over your nub, slipping wet circles around it before he groaned and sucked it hard between his teeth. You wailed, cracked, orgasm gushing through you, a geyser, a cascade of ecstasy that left you quaking, your walls spasming at his chin.

There was no more holding back your moans. "Oh--f-fuck!"

Mattheo swallowed your release hungrily, releasing your wrists and clutching your hips to his head, as if the evidence of your pleasure sustained him, laving at you until you squeaked and jerked from sensitivity. With a satisfied gasp, he released you entirely, slowly rising back up to his full height, watching with tethered emotion while you descended from your high.

Without even giving you the chance to process it, he reached down and swiped two fingers along your slit, collecting your cum before bringing it up to your lips and urging it past your teeth.

"That's what I do to you, baby," he cooed, his eyes far less intense than they were before. His free hand brushed the sweat dampened hair away from your forehead, watching as you wrapped your lips around his fingers and worked them clean. "You like that?"

You nodded, heat flashing your face, and Mattheo groaned appreciatively, slowly pulling his fingers from your mouth. His gentle grip found your chin now, drawing your eyes to his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, "you don't have to-"

You cut him off. "Fuck me, Matty."

Mattheo blinked, and you reached for his belt.

"Please, Mattheo," you clenched, body quaking with need. Even after two orgasms you still wanted more, needed more. You needed him, and now you were the one willing to beg for it. "Please, fuck me."

Almost immediately, Mattheo's eyes darkened, his gaze glossing over with a hunger that spoke volumes far louder than any words ever fucking could. He leaned in slightly, your scent still lingering on his breath.

"You want me inside you? Hm?" He purred, lips grazing over yours. "You want me to fuck you here? Open and exposed for anyone to see?"

You smirked knowingly. The cloaking charm he had cast didn't escape your notice. This boy always had a knack for thinking one step ahead. Yet, the exhilaration of the prospect was just another facet that had initially drawn you to him.

You nodded. "Yes, Mattheo...I need you..."

Mattheo pressed his lips to yours, not wasting another singular second of time as his hands moved to the clasp on his belt, fumbling with it, a low groan escaping him as he pulled his throbbing cock free, gliding his fist over it a few times as his tongue hungrily fought with yours.

Mattheo's hands shifted to your shoulders, spinning you around, your own hands grasping at the shelving in front of you. You felt the warmth of his thick length gliding between your thighs, teasing you, slicking himself in your wetness.

"You're sure you want this?" Mattheo's voice was a soft growl in your ear, his hands grasping at your hips with enough force to bruise. "Fuck, princess, please be fucking sure."

The reaction was immediate. As though he asked you if you needed oxygen to breathe. "Gods, I'm fucking sure, Mattheo. I'm so fucking sure."

"Fuck," he muttered, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, fingernails digging into your flesh, pulling your skirt higher up your torso. "You've got me so fucked up, princess..."

As he slicked his length over your core once more, teasing your entrance, you whimpered. He was so smooth and silky and fucking big...you knew this was going to sting, even after two orgasms, even after he had you dripping down your thighs. Just that thought alone made your pussy clench, you'd do fucking anything to get him inside of you.

"Mattheo..." you whined, your body tensing with each false thrust. "Stop teasing me."

"Shit,” he breathed, easing the head of his length into you now, before slowly pulling out. "I'm teasing myself, baby...I don't know if I'm going to be able to control myself-"

You groaned, shuddering. "Please!"

Mattheo matched your groan with one of his own, and with one smooth movement, he tightened his grip on your hips, tugging you closer before he drove his dick into your cunt, splitting you open with one deep, slow thrust.

"Oh..." he moaned, paused, froze, entire body seemingly turned to stone. The only outward sign of his consciousness was his rapid breath washing over your neck. "...fuck."

You gripped the edges of the shelf with such intensity your knuckles were pale, doing everything within your power to keep quiet. The feeling of him seated inside you like this was everything you'd fucking imagined it to be. Better even. Your entire body was tense with bliss, your walls moulding around him.

Mattheo's lungs sputtered. "Relax...fuck-relax around me, baby..."

"I-" You weren't sure what he meant, your body trembling, your heart pounding in your throat. "Matt-"

"I'm not going to fucking last," Mattheo growled into your ear, the strain in his vocal cords more prominent than ever. "...if you keep squeezing me like that."

You mewled, head falling back against his shoulder as you fought to suck oxygen into your lungs. Mattheo finally began to move inside you; slow, easy strokes in an effort to give you a chance to adjust, feeling your tight walls relaxing around his thick girth, before he pulled out entirely and slammed back in, stuffing you full, groaning as you pulsed around him with each brief pause.

"Fuck...tight fucking pussy...so fucking wet..." he whispered, lips pressed against your ear. "All fucking mine."

Any ounces of restraint Mattheo had managed to maintain prior to this clearly had now been entirely annihilated as he increased his pace, fucking into you like a savage, as though he'd never get to fuck you again. He panted into your ear, groaning, fingernails bruising your thighs while he hammered your cervix with thrust after thrust after thrust. Sputtered curses left him under his breath and he attempted to silence himself with your neck, biting and nibbling at your throat. You stifled every single noise that threatened to leave your lips, body bouncing with the power of his hips, air hiccuping in your lungs as he pounded you.

"This little pussy is mine...you're mine..." he growled, fingers snaking down and brushing over your clit. "Fuck, you feel so good...I can't believe you kept this from me for so fucking long..."

Rapture numbed you, at the edge of your skin, a typhoon ready to wreck you witless. Your lids fluttered, teeth biting your lip with enough force to draw blood. He was going to make you crack. Make you fucking scream. There was no way you could continue being quiet when he was fucking you this good.

"M'sorry, Matty-" you weren't even sure what you were apologizing for. "So good...so deep...I-"

"Cum for me." Desire had consumed you both, his pace embodying complete desperation, a frenzied, urgent need to bring you both to orgasm. "Cum so I can fucking breed you...pump this little cunt full of my cum like I've dreamed of doing for months..."

Mattheo increased his pace on your clit, thrusts deepening even further--which you didn't even think was physically possible. He was slamming you deep, panting with every snap of his hips, your pussy hot and slick and pulsing with your oncoming climax.

You couldn't hold it back anymore--"Oh Gods-Mattheo!"

You shattered, exploded into flames, spectrum of colour blazing through your mind, a string of sobbing wails fleeing you as pulsed and spasmed on his dick, third climax shuddering through your veins. Mattheo groaned, clamping his palm over your lips as he continued to drill into you, holding off his own climax for as long as he could until he was physically unable to control himself--and he cursed, lungs sputtering as his hips slowed, cock twitching inside you as he poured his cum inside your cunt.

The room itself seemed to shudder, a tremor rumbling in the hardwood until he had finished and slowly pulled out, a deep, satisfied sigh leaving his chest.

After you collected yourself enough you spun around and watched as he tucked himself away, brushing his dampened curly hair back from his forehead. He straightened out, tucking the soft white fabric of his uniform shirt back into his pants before doing up his belt.

The second his eyes met yours, you reached for him. "I'm sorry for making you wait-"

"Don't ever be sorry," he cut you off, pulling you into him and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "You were more than worth the wait, baby."

[slytherinslut0]

Mattheo Riddle. | couldn’t help yourself.

PAIRING: Mattheo Riddle × Reader

SUMMARY: PHEW…uh-pure smut? like, extremely self-indulgent exhibitionism, with overstim thrown in there too. i’m sorry. but i’m also not. reader teases matty during class and makes him go feral.

WORD COUNT: 3.8k.

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, DUBCON, Degradation, Praise, Dom!Mattheo, Sub!Reader, Absolute Feralism, Humiliation, Spitting, Very Slight Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasm, Multiple Creampie, PIV, Semi-Public Sex, Dirty Talk.

Mattheo's usually charismatic demeanour had been replaced by one of raw fury as he dragged you by the arm into a nearby closet, directly following an admittedly heated potions lecture. You could feel the fire emanating off him, his body tensed with an unspoken rage. You knew you'd fucked up.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he spat out, his voice low and dangerous as he slammed the door shut behind you, blanketing the two of you in darkness. "Trying to get me hard in class like that?"

You could barely catch your breath, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his fingers still lingering on your skin as you stood meekly before him. Despite his anger, you could see the hints of lust burning within his dark eyes, betraying the true nature of his feelings towards you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice shaking as he backed you up against the door, your fingers trembling at your sides. "I-I couldn't help myself, Matty-"

"You couldn't help yourself?" he repeated, his lips dangerously close to yours as he spoke, hungry eyes peering down at you. "You couldn't help but try and turn me on in the middle of a fucking lecture? Do you see how fucking hard you made me?"

Advancing, his hands found purchase against the door on either side of your head, exerting a subtle but commanding pressure. As he pressed closer, you squirmed, acutely aware of the firm, insistent length of his grazing against your stomach. A tempting desire stirred within, urging you to reach out and grope him, to make him moan beneath your touch. Yet, you knew better than to push him any further.

"I'm sorry," you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at him with doe-eyes, filled with a mix of fear and arousal. "Please don't be mad."

Mattheo let out a low growl, his nails digging into the wood next to your head as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, his body towering over yours, already rendering you powerless beneath him.

"You want me to be mad," he muttered, his lips ghosting along your jaw in a teasing caress, heat pooling from your core and soaking through the lacy fabric of your panties. "You want me to punish you for being such a dirty fucking slut, don't you?"

A jolt coursed through your stomach, and it was then that the realization dawned on you that he might actually fuck you in this cramped closet, situated in the midst of a bustling hallway where the imminent risk of discovery loomed.

The proximity to other students and faculty outside the door intensified the gravity of the situation. Somehow, you hadn't grasped this possibility earlier, your focus consumed by your boyfriends overwhelming intensity. But now, as the weight of potential consequences sank in, you felt the increased urgency to diffuse the escalating scenario before it spiraled into a precarious exposure.

"N-no, Matty--I'm sorry," your voice trembled in a hushed whisper, the words catching in your throat. Arousal had you choking on your apology, and even to yourself, the plea felt unconvincing. "Please, let's just-"

"You think that's appropriate behaviour? You think it's okay to act like that in front of everyone, huh?" he hissed, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed his body against yours, halting your pathetic attempt at talking him down. "You little fucking tease."

Without wasting another second, he shifted, his big hungry hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of your trembling form as he vented his frustration. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you tightly against him as he ground his hardness into the crease of your thigh, your head falling back and meeting the resistance of the doors thin wood.

"I could have you right now if I wanted to," he muttered, his voice low and menacing as his lips grazed over your lobe. "You'd let me, wouldn't you? You want my cock, don't you?"

You quivered at the feel of his warm breath against your skin, your heart racing in your chest as you wondered what the fuck he would do next. There was something exhilarating about being at Mattheo's mercy, about being on the receiving end of his fiery temper and dangerous desires. You loved testing your boyfriend for this very reason alone, regardless of how it always seemed to put you in rather precarious positions.

"Matty-" you muttered, cautiously raising your hands, gently pressing them against his sides in an attempt to ground you both, to remind him of where you were. "Let's go back to-"

"Shut the fuck up," he spat, his voice slicing through the air with a sharper edge.

One hand disengaged from your body, swiftly moving to undo his belt, and the metallic jangle of the latch snapped you back to reality. As his trousers slid halfway down his thighs, his other hand seized a fistful of your hair, compelling your gaze to meet the throbbing evidence of arousal that you had singlehandedly incited.

"See what you fucking did to me? See how fucking hard I am?" His voice was shredded, torn, almost pained, his grip in your hair mimicking his intensity as he jostled your head in his grasp. "You caused this fucking problem, you're going to fix it."

"It's not that bad, Matty," you muttered, lifting your shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, attempting to preserve a semblance of composure. Lying through your teeth was a skill you were never good at. He was so fucking hard it looked painful. "You've had worse."

Mattheo groaned, the sound reverberating as he slammed his fist against the door, bringing your head along with it. Without giving you a second to steady your blurred vision, his free hand gripped your jaw, his intense gaze locking onto yours, lips so close they’d touch with a deep enough breath.

"Yeah? You wanna' fucking test that theory?" he growled, his eyes narrowing in challenge. "You wanna' feel how much this fucking hurts?"

You mewled, entirely involuntarily, your body seemingly taking on a mind of its own. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second as Mattheo leaned in closer, licking a hot trail up the side of your neck and biting down hard on your ear, making you squeal far louder than what you should have.

"You gonna' be quiet for me? Or are you gonna' get us caught, huh?" His hand released your jaw, navigating to the band of your panties, skillfully tugging them down your thighs. Stepping back, he afforded you space to step out of them, yet his other hand remained steadfast, refusing to abandon its hold on your hair. "You'd like that though, wouldn't you? Someone walking in to find me fucking my dumb little girlfriend like the filthy fucking whore she is."

"Fuck," another shift, and Mattheo was working his briefs down his thighs now. "I'm not a whore-"

"Mhm," he sneered, the arrogant tone of his voice making your cunt pulse. You cursed yourself internally for loving him even when he's a sadistic asshole. Or, especially when. "Says the whore letting me fuck her in a broom closet between classes."

Mattheo grunted in effort, and you didn't even notice your teeth breaking the skin on your bottom lip until his grip tightened and he yanked the fabric of his briefs over his hips, his massive cock springing free. Staring at it--tumescent, twitching, the head gleaming with pre-cum--every muscle between your hips pulsed, body flooded with hot, heavy lust.

"Shit," you breathed, snapping yourself from your trance, wincing slightly as his grip tightened on your scalp. "Says the man who got bricked up from a simple fucking thigh touch-"

At your words, Mattheo snapped, as if finally wearied by your teasing. His substantial hand seized your jaw once again, exerting enough force to clench your teeth together. A resounding thud echoed as he pressed you against the door, his other hand transitioning from your hair to encircle your thigh, drawing it around his waist.

"Watch your fucking tongue," he spat, his dark eyes piercing into your flustered skin. With feigned thrusts, he rutted his hips against you, a warning in his tone. "Keep up with the attitude and I'll put that dirty mouth to a different use. And I'll make it fucking hurt."

"Mmmph," you huffed, squirming in his grip, his cock gliding along your slick folds, catching on your clit. You knew you weren't getting out of this now, and not a single shred of you wanted to. "Fine."

"That's it," he husked, altering his grip to pry your jaw open with two fingers. "Good fucking slut."

Leaning in, he spat inside your mouth, compelling your jaw to close afterward.

"Swallow it," he commanded, his tone a blend of authority and desire. "What do you say?"

Your gratitude was a muted grumble as you complied, your body throbbing with an undeniable, pent-up need. "Thank you, daddy."

Mattheo's eyes darkened at your obedience--not daring to wait a second longer before snatching you by the hips, hoisting you up and slamming you against the door. You groaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, wanting to touch as much of his body as physically possible.

Mattheo nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, the crescents of his nails nipping at the sensitive flesh of your thighs while he angled himself at your wet, wanting core. A moan left you, your own nails scraping over the fabric on his back as he braced himself before ramming deep into your cunt--and that moan became a loud, sharp cry.

"Fuck," he whispered into your ear, hips setting a savage pace from the start. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you were practically fucking begging me for."

Words evaded you as the thick haze of pleasure fogged your mind, your body liquefying against him. Incoherent babbling--blended with groans of bliss--were the best you could do.

"Little wanton slut, couldn't even--fuck--couldn't wait until after class-" the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed loudly in the cramped closet, making you wonder if anyone outside could hear you. The thought lit a thrill up your spine, the mere prospect of exhibitionism, of getting caught. "You're so fucking wet for me, I bet you've been thinking about this all day--my insatiable little cockslut--fuck-"

"Fuck-yes-Matty!" You could barely choke out the words between the force of his thrusts. "You fuck me so good--make me feel so fucking good-"

"Do you know how much trouble we could get into if someone catches us?" he teased, his hands tightening around your thighs, baring bruises on the tender flesh. "But you like it rough, don't you? You like the idea of getting caught with your skirt up around your waist and my cock buried deep inside this tight little pussy."

His words were hot and filthy, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing moment. He knew just how to push your buttons, how to make you cum harder than you ever had before--each syllable making your wet walls squeeze him harder.

"M-Matty-fuck-" he was ruthless, now, his cock ramming into your cunt, splitting you wider with every savage thrust. "Oh, fuck-"

You were only halfway cognizant of what was leaving your mouth--tangled streams of pleasure and pain paired with cursing pleas for more, wanting him to dig you out from the inside, hollow you until empty--and despite the risk of getting caught, you didn't care. You'd never felt so full, so complete in your entire life. Each thrust delved deeper, each one more forceful than the last, the sheer gravity of them resonating with resounding bangs against the thin wooden door.

"Mmmfh, this is what you fucking deserve-" his teeth aggressively nipped at your earlobe, warm breath forcefully coaxing over your trembling flesh as he shifted, slamming into your cervix with unyielding intensity. A torrent of yelps and pleas streamed past your teeth, met with a dismissive indifference from Mattheo, his aggression fueling the relentless pursuit of his desire. "Teasing me like a little desperate slut--carrying on until I couldn't take it anymore..."

Mattheo's merciless assault on your g-spot continued, the pleasure tainted by a numbing ache as he slammed your cervix in unison. Your nails desperately sought purchase on his back, an attempt to reclaim some agency or at least remind him that you were more than a vessel for his primal desires. Yet, lost in the grip of his own instincts, he treated you as if you were merely a doll, a receptacle for his release, a result of the absolute animalistic power you'd drawn out of him.

"Now look what you made me do," he spat through clenched teeth, voice reverberating down your spine. His words dripped with venom, but there was a hint of satisfaction in the way he spoke. "Degrade and humiliate my girlfriend, fuck her in a dusty fucking broom closet-fuck-"

"Hurts." Your eyes rolled back, disappearing into your skull as a glistening sheen of perspiration covered your flesh. Soft, lingering moans continued to escape your lips as you muttered, "hurts so good."

"Yeah, yeah it fucking does," he continued, his cock driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. He was moaning, panting at his own words. "I know you want to cum on this fucking cock, baby, tell me how bad you want it."

He was going to send you over the edge, talking like that. "So bad! So, so bad, Matty! Needa' cum on your thick cock, please-"

"Mhm, that's fucking right..." his hand abandoned your thigh, gliding down the front of your body. "My good little slut, so obsessed with my cock."

Mattheo leaned back, creating just enough space to let the pads of his rough fingers tease your quivering bundle of nerves. Your response was a mixture of a squeal and a moan, your hips instinctively jerking against his, each rhythmic thrust pushing you relentlessly toward the brink of release. Under your warped cries of ecstasy, you caught his desperate, growling breath as he fucked harder into you, his own moans leaking out while his thrusting became more erratic.

"Gonna' cum for me, baby?" His voice was softer now, you knew he was getting close. You knew he was barely hanging on. "Tight little pussy gonna' cum for me?"

"Please, Matty," your voice was so hoarse it was unrecognizable, your desperation palpable. "Needa' cum so bad..."

"Yeah, I feel you squeezing me..." his tone was uneven, panting and growling. "Cum."

The coil of pressure inside of you burst, enveloping you in a hot, convulsing warmth--you were crying out, cumming hard around him, your walls clamping down on his dick, milking his thick girth as you pulsed and throbbed with pleasure. Set off by your eruption, Mattheo only lasted a few more thrusts before he moaned your name, cursing through clenched teeth as he came with long, stuttering thrusts, pumping his cum deep into your pussy.

Bringing both hands back to grasp your thighs, your boyfriend buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lungs still heaving for oxygen as he paused for a brief moment, collecting himself just enough before he began to slowly resume thrusting into you, revelling in the feeling of your slick, cum-filled walls gripping his cock like a perfectly-crafted vice. You were so sensitive, so fucking overstimulated you couldn't even begin to comprehend the sensations, clearly having underestimated the sheer force of his desire, entirely.

"You feel so goddamn good," he grunted, his lips pressed against your neck, making you squirm and whine against him. "I could fuck you for hours."

"Matty," you hiccuped, your gasp getting caught in your lungs as he thrust into your sticky cunt with a particularly harsh thrust. "Too much--it's too much Matty...so sensitive..."

Dismissing your protests, Mattheo began to increase the pace of his thrusts, this time more deliberately, as though taking his time to savour the feel of your tight pussy wrapped around him. A moan involuntarily slipped past your lips as he tightened his grip, holding you more firmly than ever. Trapped within his grasp, his chest pressed your back against the unyielding wood of the door, leaving you with no visible escape route.

"Oh, I think you can," he said, his voice low and dangerous, the strain in his tone evident by the sheer rasp. "You're going to take all of it, princess...this is what you fucking wanted, isn't it?"

As he spoke, he quickened his pace, driving deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust. Your body bucked against him, overwhelmed by the intensity of pleasure that coursed through you. You threw your head back, lids sealing shut, trembling digits grasping at his thick chocolate curls, body once again submitting to his power.

"Gods!" Your eyes rolled straight back into your head, clenching around him when he started fucking into you faster. "Can't, Matty! Can't-"

"Can't what?" he growled, pulling his face from your neck to meet your gaze, his eyes black with impatient lust, stark against his reddened cheeks. "Can't take it? Can't handle me?"

Fire rose in your chest, and on instinct, you tightened your hold on the two fistfuls of his hair--tugging at his scalp, nails scraping his skin as his throbbing cock fucked you deep. "Matt-"

"C'mon baby, you're doing so good, taking me so perfect..." his voice was sickening, almost indefinitely sadistic, and you whimpered, squirming as a firestorm raged through you. "I'm going slow, princess...just relax, breathe...I know this greedy little pussy can handle it..."

Fog seeped into your skull--you wanted to think, to speak, to do anything other than suck air into your lungs and knead his soft, curly strands between your fingers, but you were gone--possessed, swallowed by your boyfriends primal power, which only seemed to increase as his plush, wet lips found yours.

A garbled groan escaped you, muffled by the fervent presence of your boyfriend's mouth. Your eyes rolled back for what had to have been the hundredth time, losing themselves in a sea of white as Mattheo's urgency intensified. His fingernails dug into your skin, a force threatening to shatter, his shoulders tensing with an obsessive, impulsive need. Hips smacking against your flesh, each thrust seemed fueled by an unwillingness to let you go. An unwillingness to pull out.

Your breasts bounced with the escalating rhythm, a physical manifestation of the desire that consumed him. Mattheo pressed his tongue past your teeth, navigating your molars with a hunger that mirrored his relentless need, the kiss growing hungrier and wetter by the second as he slipped his hand back between your bodies, fingers relentlessly twirling over your aching, sensitive clit.

"See baby, you're taking me so well," he spoke again, his tone low and appreciative, his pace quickening, his hungry eyes dipping over your whimpering expressions. "I knew you would--you're so fucking tight around me, make me feel so good..."

Despite his soft tone, his thrusts and fingers betrayed that, and you felt the shockwave quake through your body, flesh jiggling, a wail of pain forced from your lungs as he smacked your cervix. He was ruthless, now, his cock ramming into your cunt, splitting you wider with every savage thrust, dragging you back towards another orgasm faster than you could even comprehend it.

"Wanna' cum, Matty-" you wailed, voice cracking, nails surely breaking the skin on his neck as you held onto him for dear life. "I wanna' cum for you! Needa’ cum for you-please!"

"Yeah? You wanna cum for me again, huh?" He was pushing his words out between his shallow breath, teeth grit and brows furrowed in effort. "You think you deserve that? You think you deserve two orgasms after what you did?"

You groaned, breath missing you, vision hazed with pleasure as you met his eyes--wild and animalistic with lust. You couldn't fucking believe that he was still teasing you like this, how he even had the strength left to do it. You marveled at his almost inhumane lust, his primal fervour seemingly boundless.

"Please! I'm sorry!" You were practically screaming, not giving a fuck who was outside the door. "I'm sorry Matty! Please-"

His first response was to squeeze you tighter, fuck into you harder, turn your pleas into screams as he pulverized your cunt--but then, after thinking on it momentarily, he spoke.

"Cum for me fucking slut," he hissed, the words a brunt command. "Don't you ever forget who's in control here again."

"Yes--fuck--yes!"

Lightning tore through your nervous system, leaving a wake of sparks in its path, and you clenched around his dick, shaking and spasming as your second orgasm quaked through your body with a force that could have rendered you unconscious.

Mattheo growled, gripped you to his chest, pressing his lips back to yours as he continued slamming your pussy, panting and groaning while he fucked you through your high and straight into his own--a low, feral roar escaping him, his cum spilling deep into your cunt for the second time.

Your head was ringing too loud to hear him reach climax, to your honest dismay--you only felt it. Felt the violent fucking into your cervix, felt the pitching, stuttering of his hips, felt him silence himself in your neck while he poured jets of cum into your cunt, felt him throbbing at the hilt as he stopped, his hand falling away from your dripping, aching cunt.

When you'd returned to reality, panting for breath, he'd already slipped out of you, aiding you in steadying yourself on the ground. Meeting your eyes, he reached down, gathering the cum seeping from your cunt and collecting it on his fingers. Examining your face, he smirked, free hand gripping your jaw as he forcefully popped the fingers into your mouth.

Groaning, you tried to spit it out--your mouth already drier than the desert, his salty cum only increasing your thirst--but he was persistent, reaching the back of your throat and holding there until you'd started to suck his fingers clean. He watched you, the lust dying in his eyes, replaced with a sated adoration--and he seemed to catch himself, smirking and swirling his fingers along your tongue.

When you'd finished, you whimpered, meeting his gaze with tired eyes, and he pulled himself free from your mouth, leaning down to capture your lips with his as he started piecing himself back together.

“Love you, Matty,” you muttered as he pulled away, watching him run a hand through his sweaty hair, unsticking his curls from his damp forehead. “S’much.”

“Love you too, baby,” he tutted, briskly relatching up his belt before throwing an arm around your waist to support your jelly legs. “Let’s skip charms and head back to my dorm. We’ll run you a bath.”

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Five-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.

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Toxic Behaviours, Possessive Behaviours, Mentions of GunPoint (enchanted gun but still), Italian, Flirty!Theodore!Nott, Angst, Sexual Tension.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"I don't know about this, Em..."

Giggles danced through the air, originating from your blonde companion, currently immersed in a thorough investigation of your shared closet. Her voice, laced with amusement, murmured something indecipherable, the words muffled by the solidity of the wooden door. A long sigh escaped your lips, a potent release of pure exasperation.

"This is crazy," you muttered to yourself. "Nott is going to need an entire bloody medical team when he catches sight of me..."

The enchanting red dress, a gem sourced from a privy boutique in Hogsmeade under Mattheo's explicit direction, molded itself to every contour as you confronted your reflection in the mirror. As your eyes traversed the fabric's journey, or rather, the lack thereof--there was no escaping the undeniable truth; the dress was exquisitely tight, sparing no nuance of your silhouette to the imagination.

"Doubt he'll even get the chance..." Emily replied, finally reemerging from the closet, "lover boy will likely claim his head the moment he fixes his gaze on you for too long."

Emily's cheeky response added a layer of playful anticipation to the charged atmosphere, earning an exaggerated eye roll from you in response as you fought hard to suppress your smirk.

When you'd embarked on the hunt for the ideal dress, you had brought Emily along for her valuable opinion. As your gaze fell upon this specific piece, uncertainty gripped you, convinced it might be a touch excessive. Yet, Emily staunchly opposed that notion. Her unwavering belief in its perfection became a contagion, subjecting you to prolonged minutes of relentless persuasion. Gradually, her infectious enthusiasm chipped away at your resistance until, inevitably, you succumbed--reluctantly handing over Mattheo's gifted galleons.

"And do I truly wish to burden my conscience with the death of the schools most popular Italian playboy? And not to mention Riddle's certain Azkaban sentence...all but a couple months from graduation?" you deadpanned, fingers instinctively rising to massage your temples in an attempt to alleviate the burgeoning headache. "Maybe I should just borrow something from your-"

"Absolutely not," Emily interjected, her voice cutting through your proposal with firm decisiveness. She approached you, a sparkle in her eyes, and added, "you look perfect. Trust me on this."

Meeting your eyes in the mirror, Emily's irises shimmered with a warm reassurance. She adjusted her flowy emerald green dress, a garment she had acquired at Tom's request--they were going to the masquerade together, though the status of their relationship still remained uncertain.

Emily, ever the advocate of going with the flow, a concept apparently foreign to Tom, said she wasn't in any rush to make things official, understanding that perhaps it would look a tad bit odd for him to start dating her after he'd just paraded you around to all of his friends, merely less than a few weeks go.

And as a result of this, you and Emily had a long, in depth heart-to-heart conversation where you made sure to unravel any lingering issues--the liberating honesty and the comfort of having someone in your corner again felt tangible. Although initially perturbed by the extended secrecy, Emily eventually grasped the rationale behind your discretion, acknowledging the protective measures taken for yourself and your desired career.

The depth of your longstanding friendship played a pivotal role in fostering this understanding, and you'd never been more thankful to have such a wonderful, supportive friend in your life.

"What do you think Michael will do when he spots you wearing traitor colours?" you teased, an impish grin playing on your lips as you watched Emily fix her long blonde hair, adjusting herself in the reflection.

"I reckon he'll be rather unamused," she snorted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But he'll be in for a real surprise when he sees you cozying up with Theodore Nott, the traitor extraordinaire."

"Cozying up with Theodore?" you retorted with a smirk, feigning innocence. "Absolutely not, I just recently cleared my conscience, I intend on keeping it that way."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Italian playboy; word on the street is he can be quite insistent..." Emily spun back around to face you, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. "My suggestion is that you tell him about Mattheo before he unwittingly finds himself sharing a bed with Berkshire."

Your expression sank, and a twist formed in your stomach. "Oh, gods, Emily, I need to change," you exclaimed, spinning around and making a beeline for the closet. "Surely there's a garbage bag or your grandmas old moo-moo hidden in here that I could wear instead, right?"

Emily's sudden snort echoed through the room, reverberating far louder than you'd expected. With swift precision, she wielded her wand, slamming the closet door shut before you could reach it.

"Come on, it's going to be fun," she teased, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Give those cocky Slytherin boys an experience they've never had before. Making them squirm is a rare opportunity--after all, they're not used to being denied anything."

You hesitated, a reluctant smile crawling across your face at her words as you silently considered the prospect. Mattheo had always made it abundantly clear that girls were typically within arm's reach for him, and he could have anyone he desired. The idea of driving him to the brink tonight, knowing he couldn't do a thing about it after explicitly instructing Theodore to ask you, ignited a rebellious spark within you.

"Alright, but this better not turn into a disaster," you responded, your internal thoughts dancing between uncertainty and a subtle thrill. "If the mafia comes after me because I smacked their most prized possession, I'm blaming you."

"You look fucking hot. Own it," she encouraged, a playful smile dancing on her lips. Turning her attention to the door, a sudden realization struck her. "I've got to run. Promised Michael I'd help him with his bloody tie--but don't forget to check the mail. Something arrived for you earlier."

With a swift goodbye, she whisked away, grabbing her matching emerald green eye mask, leaving you to contemplate the mysterious package. Not one to dawdle, you approached the table by the door, spotting a small brown box with your name inscribed on it.

With eager anticipation, you unwrapped the package, unveiling a stunningly bejeweled red mask. A note accompanied the alluring accessory, bearing the cryptic message:

"Something about me, I fucking hate the colour yellow."

A smirk played on your lips as you extracted the exquisite gift from its velvet cradle. The crimson mask lay in your hands, a stunning creation adorned with gemstones that caught and reflected the light with each subtle movement. Blush flooded your cheeks as you approached the mirror, slipping the mask on. Turning your head in every direction, you marveled at the way it enhanced your features, making you feel like a mysterious enchantress.

The beauty of the mask was beyond words, and even though the logical part of you knew it had to be from Mattheo, the sheer magnificence of the gift made it feel almost surreal.

After what felt like an eternity lost in the mirror, admiring the stunning mask, the realization hit that you needed to meet Theodore. He'd mentioned waiting for you at the entrance to your common room, so as swiftly as possible, you adjusted your dress, attempting to cover up your chest, and gracefully slipped out of your room, navigating the familiar halls with a sense of purpose.

The chilled corridor welcomed you as you emerged, and after a brief moment of searching, there, like an awakening spell, you spotted Theo--and your stomach nearly leapt into your chest at the sight of him.

"Holy shit, Nott...are you...are you actually wearing enemy colors?" Your jaw dropped as you beheld Theodore in a Ravenclaw blue suit, a sight you'd never expected in a million years. "Hold still, I need to take a bloody picture of this."

Theo's arrogant response came with a sly smirk, his dark eyes tracing hungrily over your figure. He stood before you in a pristine suit, accompanied by matching vest, and a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The ensemble was adorned with exquisite gold links and buttons, showcasing his impeccable taste. His confident demeanour suggested that he indeed cleaned up more than nicely, and this was only a slight indication of his professionalism.

"Sure, have your laughs," he quipped, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. His eyes moved deliberately, scanning the curves of your figure. "Enjoy the view while it lasts, little bird. This suit's debut is a one-time thing—I might just set it ablaze once the night is over."

"Well you certainly know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?..." you teased, grin stretching past your ears as you took another step closer. "How honoured I am to accompany you in this suits first and only outing."

"Your wit is far too sharp for a Ravenclaw," Theo huffed in amusement, his stormy eyes glistening behind his dark blue mask. "You look properly fucking flaming by the way...do pardon my French."

You snorted, gracefully taking his arm as he offered it, intertwining yours around his. "French? I was under the impression you were Italian, Signor Nott."

"You speak it?" Theo raised an intrigued eyebrow, briefly glancing down at you as the two of you strolled towards the ballroom.

"Partially," you replied, a playful glint in your eye, your attention split between the conversation and the challenge of navigating gracefully in your black heels. Each step resonated with a confident clack on the school floors. "I dabble in a multitude of tongues...a side effect of an inquisitive mind."

"Is that so?" he said, pure intrigue in his tone. "Talk to me in Italian then,"

"Are you serious?" You snorted, far louder than you'd intended, waiting for him to say he was joking. He simply looked down at you, eyes locked on yours behind the mysterious mask.

"Absolutely serious," Theo chuckled, the breathy tones dancing in the air, a subtle spark of challenge in his eyes. "A little ball of knowledge, huh? Prove it."

A warm flush crept up your cheeks as you stifled your laughter. Theo had a charm of his own, a natural way of drawing people in much like Mattheo, although the troublemaking wizard had a slightly more breathtaking allure with those dark, intoxicating eyes and that unruly mop of chocolate curls. It wasn't a shortcoming on Theo's part--it was simply the irreplaceable magnetism that Mattheo possessed, but you couldn't deny the way Nott was making you feel.

"Alright, you want me to put my money where my mouth is, I respect that." You teased, clearing your throat as you pondered an Italian phrase that might leave an impression. After a brief moment of contemplation, it dawned on you. "Non c'è rosa senza spine."

(There is no rose without thorns.)

"Buona scelta," he replied with a smirk, his tone holding an air of both appreciation and subtle challenge. "Sei più astuta di quanto pensassi."

(Good choice; you’re more clever than I thought.)

"You underestimate me, Nott," you chuckled, a surge of pride coursing through you. "Consider that your first mistake."

"You know, the more I get to know you, the larger my desire to figure you out becomes,” he said, dropping his tone into a husky whisper as the two of you turned a corner. "You are...intriguing."

It was at this moment, as the two of you entered into the bustling main hall, that you were extremely thankful this event was a masquerade. The mask provided a welcome veil of anonymity, shielding you from the prying gazes that threatened to make you uneasy. It seemed you were blending seamlessly into Theo's arm, a part of the enigmatic allure rather than a subject of scrutiny.

"You couldn't figure me out in a million years," you retorted, a sharp edge to your tone, the corners of your lips subtly playing with a hint of a smirk. "Better men have tried."

Theo, as expected, didn't like that response. "Don't tempt me, little bird...I will make it my life's mission."

You rolled your eyes, chewing on your cheek. "You're far too sure of yourself, Theodore."

"Look at that, Bella...you're already using my first name," he quipped, smirking. "I'm making progress without even trying."

You fought the urge to smack him, your eyes narrowing in a playful challenge. "To know me, Signor Nott, I'll put you through hell...just ask Riddle, he can certainly attest."

"Mm, thats precisely the thing, little bird..." he said, his smirk holding a touch of intrigue. "Riddle's a closed book when it comes to you. Doesn't spill a damn thing, makes me wonder what secrets the two of you are hiding.”

"Quite a conspiracy, I'd say," you chuckled, relishing the light banter between you two as the distant sounds of music and laughter from the ballroom grew louder. With a nod and a playful smile, you gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Theo nodded, a playful glint in his eyes, as he released your arm and extended a hand to the small of your back, ushering you forward. "After you, milady"

Upon crossing the threshold into the ballroom, a breathtaking scene unfolded before your eyes. The room was adorned with vibrant spring decorations, an enchanting celebration marking the approaching end of the term. The fragrance of fresh flowers wafted through the air, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the room in a warm, golden radiance. Hogwarts students from all years, dressed in their finest attire, wore a dazzling array of masks, each one a unique work of art.

As your eyes darted around the room, the search for familiar faces led you to a moment of anticipation. The diversity of masks, ranging from intricate designs to whimsical shapes, made it challenging to discern familiar faces.

Finally, your gaze landed on the only man you'd ever go out of your way to search for, his distinctive chocolate curls drawing your attention like a magnet amidst the sea of masked enchantment. The mere fucking sight of him, cloaked in newfound sophistication, sent a thrilling pulse through your veins, awakening sensations in your body that you were unprepared to face.

He stood there, like a fucking silhouette of elegance, adorned entirely in black--black mask, black suit pants, a sleek black dress shirt, and a finely tailored black suit vest. The only splash of colour adorned him in the form of a satin red tie, perfectly mirroring the shade of your dress. The entirety of your being froze in place, your throat resembling a parched desert, the sole reminder to keep moving coming from the steady pressure of Theo's hand on your back, coaxing you forward through the enchanting crowd.

As the two of you veered closer to them, the tension in your body was almost painful. Truth be told, it wasn't the singular presence of Mattheo that set your heart racing like a high-performance sports car on race day--oh, no, the true accelerant was his fucking date. The very girl from the washroom, the one you had directed him to accompany, and the vibrant colour of her long, flowing dress:

Yellow.

"Riddle, Malfoy," Theo uttered, initiating a firm handshake with each of his Slytherin comrades as they exchanged greetings. "Parkinson, Lanalock."

"Nott," Parkinson remarked, a smile gracing her features. "Never expected to see you in blue. You could easily pass for a Ravenclaw, you know."

Theo's response carried a touch of cunning arrogance, sneaking you a glance. "A choice made with utmost consideration, you might say."

In the midst of the social dance, your gaze and Mattheo's remained locked, an unbroken connection that felt more like a silent conversation than a mere exchange of glances. The unspoken tension between you two hung thick, and in that charged moment, it was uncertain if either of you had even blinked. Your heart pounded not only in your throat but also seemingly echoed in another, more intimate part of you as well.

Mattheo had never looked more fucking captivating, and the longing for him intensified by the millions--that merciless irresistible force effortlessly working to pull you closer.

Just as the tension threatened to become all-encompassing, Professor Dumbledore's voice reverberated over the lively chatter, his warm tone weaving through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the enchanting Spring Masquerade. I hope the magic of the night unfolds to your desires. Now, if you would kindly make your way to the dance floor, we are about to commence the first slow dance of the evening. So, let the celebration begin."

The resonance of Dumbledore's voice snapped you from Mattheo's visual captivity, prompting a few deliberate blinks and an expelled breath laden with tension. Theo, with a gentle glance, took your hand, guiding the group to choose spots on the dance floor directly adjacent to one another. It required every fiber of your being not to steal a glance at Mattheo, aware that the mere sight of him holding another girl would induce a wave of nausea within you.

Your attention became an exclusive affair with Theo. As he placed his hands on your hips, his grip was tender, a sensation entirely distinct from anything you'd experienced with Mattheo. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the elevation of your arms, led your palms to find a gentle perch on Theo's shoulders. In the depths of his stormy blue eyes, you unintentionally delved, oblivious to the intensity of the eye contact you established--you were so lost in your own thoughts that a bomb could go off in this very room, and you were certain you wouldn't even flinch.

Then, Theo's voice broke the silence. "Little bird, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes," you blinked, your voice escaping your throat in a cracked whisper, as though each word were a struggle for breath. "And you?"

"More than," he quipped, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Your watchful eyes tracked the journey of his gaze, starting from your eyes, sliding leisurely to your lips, lingering provocatively before venturing lower, dipping over your chest with a seductive grace before sinuously slithering back up. The subtle intimacy of the visual exploration ignited a warmth within you, and you glimpsed his lips, recalling Emily's advice from your dorm. Make these men squirm.

"Glad to hear it," you mused, a playful edge to your tone, your fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders as he delicately drew you closer. "Wouldn't want the Italian playboy to be anything other than alright."

His grip tightened perceptibly, the sensation almost tangible as if his nails could breach the delicate fabric of your dress. The room plunged into a soft dimness, signaling the beginning of the slow dance. The shift in atmosphere was unexpected, enough to make you jump slightly. For a fleeting moment, you locked eyes with Mattheo, finding his gaze fixed on you, his hands scarcely making contact with his date.

Hastily looking away, Theo's voice reached your ear, dangerously close, "Italian playboy, hmm? Is that what they're calling me these days?"

"Don't act like you weren't already aware," you chuckled softly, the resonance carrying a hint of mischief. "Though, I must say, the rumors might be onto something."

Theo smirked, his voice a low murmur tinged with arrogance. "Well, uccellino, despite the rumors, I assure you I am a proper gentleman..."

A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as his nails dug deeper into the fabric of your dress, compelling you closer as the two of you gracefully swayed to the music.

"How gentle you are, indeed," you mumbled, chewing your lip as you met his gaze, the two of you dangerously close together.

Theo's gaze deepened, his lean frame bending down as his lips brushed against your ear. "I may be a gentleman, Bella," he murmured, the words a seductive whisper. "...but if you keep looking at me like that--with those big eyes, biting on your goddamn lip...we might just be fucking on the nearest surface I find."

Oh, no. This was bad. Your response stammered out before you could even think to stop it, panic flickering in your eyes.

"I-I, excuse me," you stuttered, hastily breaking away from the dance just as the song was nearing its end. The abrupt departure carried a mix of flustered embarrassment and a desperate need to collect yourself.

Seeking refuge, you maneuvered toward the drink table nestled in the far corner of the room. The dim light and distant chatter provided a momentary escape as you began to slam back drinks, attempting to drown the intensity of the encounter with Theo.

As the remnants of a calm facade settled within, a subtle shift in the atmosphere stirred your senses. A tingling awareness compelled you to glance over your shoulder, only to find yourself ensnared in the dark, intoxicating depths of Mattheo's eyes. A strange yet undeniable wave of relief washed over you, despite the fact that he stood looming directly behind, adopting the guise of casualness while pretending to grab a drink.

"Mattheo," you breathed his name, the syllables escaping your lips like a breathless sin, a recognition of the forbidden allure that surrounded him. "What are you doing?"

Mattheo's breath, a tantalizing whisper, brushed against the nape of your neck, setting your nerves ablaze. "I can't stand the way he's touching you, Raven...I can't even stand the way he's fucking looking at you..."

Your lungs seemed to stall. "This was your idea, Matty..."

"I'm well aware," he hissed, the energy radiating from him palpable in the charged air. "Fuck, you look so fucking sexy...you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?"

"I'm not sure I do..." your heart melted, a subtle heat pulsating through your thighs. "I think I need you to tell me again."

"You are so, so fucking beautiful..." he muttered, his voice a deep husk, strained with lust as it left his throat. "You are the most captivating girl in this entire fucking room...I can't stop staring at you...I can't stop needing you..." you gasped as his hand grazed over your ass, subtly, but a feeling you'd never miss. "What do you think you're fucking doing to me, hm?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip, the flush of blood coloring your face. "At this moment...nowhere bloody close to enough."

Mattheo's voice, saturated with desire, responded, "You're absolutely right, princess...and I can't wait to have you all to myself, as soon as this dumb fucking dance is over."

A soft hum escaped you as your lids fluttered, reveling in the warmth of Mattheo's body behind you. "Unless Nott gets to me first..."

As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo's hand seized your wrist with a subtle yet undeniable warning, a silent caution against uttering anything remotely similar again.

"Don't even joke about that, Raven," he growled, the intensity in his voice cutting through the air. "I swear to Salazar himself, what I did to Berkshire will pale in comparison to what I'll do to Nott."

"So jealous, Matty..." you purred, smirking as he slowly released your wrist. You couldn't deny that his possessive tendencies did something to you, however fucking insane they were. "So angry..."

"You like that, don't you?...dirty little slut..." you could practically hear the smirk on his perfect fucking lips, your entire body vibrating with need. "Keep tempting me, princess...I'll bend you over this table, fuck you in front of the whole fucking school...I'll point my gun at Notts fucking head and make him watch, on his knees in front of you as I fuck you stupid...how does that sound for jealous, hm?"

Breath eluded you, the sheer intensity threatening your consciousness. "Godric, help you..."

"Sorry, Raven, but the only help from above that I believe in is a sniper on a rooftop..." Mattheo's voice, a deep, honeyed drawl, slipped from his lips. "And just so you're aware, I know eighty different ways to kill a man--and I can make an easy seventy nine of them look like a bloody accident...understand?"

"Fuck..." your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. It had been days since his last touch, and the way he spoke now made you crave him more than the very air you breathed. "I don't think I do...I think I need you to tell me again..."

"I've never been a jealous man, Raven..." Mattheo's gaze swept the surroundings, ensuring no lingering gazes were watching. Satisfied, he shifted slightly, his lips now at your other ear. "I've never envied someone for what they have or who they're with, and yet, I'm damn jealous of every asshole you smile at, everyone you openly converse with...I've never fucking wanted something that I couldn't have, a girl I couldn't get...so this, all of this...is fucking maddening."

Your lungs seemed to stall, a momentary freeze as if he'd submerged you into the heart of a raging inferno. A surge of warmth flooded through every fiber of your being, an intoxicating heat.

"I need you," your voice murmured, the words dripping with a desperate longing. "I need you in every fucking way imaginable..."

"Mm," Mattheo hummed, the warmth of his touch tracing the curve of your hip. "Such a delightfully dirty mouth for a princess..."

Feigning innocence, you lifted your gaze to meet his, a coy smile gracing your lips. "Perhaps...but even princesses have their secret pleasures, don't they, Matty?"

For a moment--a fleeting, beautiful fucking moment--your eyes locked, and it was in that secret realm, where slight smirks played on each of your lips, and the tension was fucking so thick that you could hardly breathe--where you both knew you've found what the whole fucking world was still carelessly searching for.

And it was there, that you knew--no man, no job, no fucking career could ever make you feel as happy and needed and treasured as Mattheo Riddle did. In his own, crazy, fucked up way.

Mattheo blinked. "Meet me in the washroom in forty minutes.”

—————————

Chapter 26->

[slytherinslut0]

Lorenzo Berkshire- Through Rain or Shine

Info: you’d had a tough couple of weeks, and needed to find a way to relieve the numbness in your chest. when your forever friend unsurprisingly joins you, the two of you finally admit your feelings for eachother, after all those years.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: 18+, smut, fingering, kissing, themes of mild depression, praise kink, fluff, so much angst, childhood best friends to lovers trope.

In the quiet solitude of your dorm room, the weight of exhaustion pressed upon you like an invisible force, each day's relentless grind etched into the lines of weariness on your face. The past weeks had been an unyielding onslaught of books and notes, every waking moment dedicated to the pursuit of academic excellence, driven by the burning desire to excel in the impending owls exam.

The recent breakup with your boyfriend had cast a shadow over your world, pushing you deeper into the solace of your studies. Nights blurred into early mornings as you immersed yourself in the expanse of your textbooks, seeking refuge from the echoing emptiness left by the now-fractured relationship. Distractions became your lifeline, a shield against the lingering pain that clung to your chest like an unwelcome weight.

As the culmination of your efforts approached with the passing of your owls exam, a bitter relief settled in upon the conclusion. Yet, despite the temporary reprieve, the ache in your chest persisted, an unyielding rock crushing against your lungs. Caffeine and sleep proved futile against the overwhelming exhaustion that permeated your mind and soul.

And on yet another seemingly mundane night, a symphony of raindrops assaulted your window with an angry rhythm, a stormy punctuation to the warm spring night. Beneath the cocoon of your sheets, you lay motionless, your gaze fixated on the rivulets tracing their path down the glass. Restlessness plagued your every toss and turn, a sleep-deprived mind refusing the solace of slumber.

And as hour after hour passed in the hushed corridors of Gryffindor Tower, you succumbed to a rebellious impulse, heedless of any potential consequences. Clad in only a pair of sleep shorts and a light long-sleeved shirt, you navigated the dimly lit common room, driven by a compulsion to escape, to just fucking break free for once. Troublesome thoughts of repercussions faded in the face of your overwhelming apathy, truly not giving one single fuck about what could, or would happen to you if you were to get caught.

The damp corridor led you to the entrance of the courtyard, where the angry rain battered against the aged stones. A deep breath filled your lungs with the crisp scent of the tempestuous storm, and as you stepped into the downpour, an electric warmth surged through your drenched body. The hard curtain of water enveloped you, washing away the numbness and invigorating your senses, a desperate attempt to feel something--anything--other than the weight of your weary existence.

In another brief stretch of madness, you descended, lowering yourself against the soaked, weathered stones beneath your feet. As your back connected, you felt the tension instantly leave your bones, a shiver dancing along your spine, a stark contrast to the warmth pulsating within. The rain continued its unrestrained assault, a cacophony of droplets drumming against your body and soaking you to the bone.

With each breath, the scent of petrichor mingled with the raw, earthy aroma of the surrounding flora. Your clothes clung to your body, a second skin saturated by the unrelenting downpour. The waterlogged fabric, though chilling, brought a visceral reminder of your exhilarated presence in this moment--a stark departure from the numbness that had gripped you for the last few weeks.

In the embrace of the storm, time lost its linear structure, and the weight of your weary existence momentarily dissolved. The courtyard became a sanctuary, a refuge where the boundary between self and nature blurred, and for a fleeting moment, you existed in a space beyond the confines of your troubles, surrendering to the elemental dance of rain and stone.

Until, suddenly, the ephemeral sanctuary of rain-soaked contemplation shattered abruptly as someone leaned over you, disrupting the elemental dance against your skin. Startled, you opened your eyes, squinting against the mingling rain and the sudden intrusion of the night. There, peering down at you with a mixture of concern and confusion, was Lorenzo Berkshire, your damn-near lifelong bestfriend.

His worried expression cut through the remnants of your momentary escape, and reality crashed back with a jolt. The rhythmic percussion of rain against stone now seemed distant, replaced by the urgency in Lorenzo's eyes.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" His voice pierced through the storm, the concern in his tone palpable. "You're going to catch a bloody cold."

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as annoyance rolled through you. The boundary between self and the outside world reasserted itself, and the refuge you'd found in the solitude had now entirely slipped away, all thanks to the presence of your wonderful, but admittedly infuriating bestfriend.

"Enz, for the love of all things magical..." you grumbled, stubbornly keeping your eyes shut against both rain and scrutiny. "Can't I just have a moment alone? Please, just let me be."

"I can't just leave you out here, especially when you're practically bathing in the bloody storm." Lorenzo's concern lingered in the air as he shook his head, raindrops scattering from the movement. "Come on...let's get you inside before you turn into a drowned owl."

You stubbornly shook your own head, now--your rain-soaked hair clinging to your face as a testament to your unwillingness to yield.

"Enzo, I need this..." you muttered, not ready to abandon the calm you had just found, only moments earlier. "Just-just give me a bit longer, please?"

Ignoring Lorenzo's outstretched hand, you clung to the puddled, uneven stones beneath you, a silent plea for solitude amidst the storm. At your denial, your best friends frown deepened, lines of worry etching across his forehead as he observed your silent resistance. The genuine concern in his eyes betrayed an understanding that surpassed mere words.

He knew you--knew the intricacies of your soul since the days when stumbling was a more common occurrence than walking. He knew this was not like you.

He crouched down beside you, raindrops creating a haphazard pattern on his shoulders. The bond between you two transcended the need for spoken explanations. As he rested a hand on your shoulder, a comforting weight that spoke of shared history, he sighed.

"You've weathered storms before, but this...it's different. You're different." His voice was soft, gentle, barely audible over the sound of rain slamming the stone next to your head. "I'm worried about you."

"I know, Enz," you admitted, almost reluctantly. Opening your eyes, you met his gaze, and in that moment, vulnerability hung in the air. "It's just...everything--the exams, the breakup...I needed a moment to drown it all out, but it seems the storm found me first."

Enzo's hand on your shoulder tightened slightly, a wordless reassurance that spoke volumes. Together, in that shared silence, you both acknowledged the profound truth--you weren't facing the storm alone. He'd simply never allow it. And then, without uttering a single word, Enzo lowered himself to the rain-soaked stones, settling beside you with a quiet understanding. The haphazard patterns of raindrops now painted both of your figures entirely, a shared canvas in the midst of the storm.

In the hushed ambiance of the stormy courtyard, shielded behind bushes and flowers, you shifted your gaze toward Enzo, silently appreciating the allure of his rain-soaked features. Long lashes, adorned with raindrops, sparkled like morning dew, tracing a delicate path along his rosy cheeks. There was a captivating ease in the way he simply basked in the warm rain, his handsome features unburdened as though he was simply reclining in the luxury of his bed.

Enzo had always embodied an enduring quality, a trait that defied life's intricate twists and turns--an attribute you had always found yourself inexplicably envious of. His carefree demeanor wasn't a recklessness that jeopardized education or safety; instead, it mirrored the carelessness of a child navigating their first steps or the unburdened joy of someone soaking up the sun after a harsh winter. He moved through life with a rare freedom, an effortless lightness that resonated deep within you.

For that, you couldn't help but love him--a sentiment woven into the fabric of your bond. No matter the trials life presented or the stretches of silence between you, you unfailingly found yourselves back together. Side by side, navigating this crazy thing you called life.

"I'm here," Enzo's voice shattered the silence, a gentle reassurance that jolted you out of your contemplative trance. It dawned on you that you'd been lost in the steady gaze of his rain-kissed features. "You don't have to talk to me...but I'm here."

Your response came as a slow nod, a silent acknowledgment of his unwavering presence. The weight of his words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, a reassurance that soothed every inch of ache in your bones. It was right then, that you realized, since he'd laid down beside you, the numbness in your chest had completely fucking vanished.

Turning your attention back to the sky, you shut your eyes, embracing the rain that pelted your face. Basking in the comforting silence, you whisper, "Do you ever think about the day we met?"

Enzo's fingers brushed against yours, a tender touch that spoke volumes as he replied, "All the time."

His response stirred a warmth in your chest, a gentle flutter that resonated with the shared nostalgia. "The day at the lake?"

His low chuckle, like a melody in the rain, accompanied his words, "When you stole my toy shovel and then pushed me into the water when I tried getting it back?"

“Oh, please!” An uncontrolled giggle bubbled from your lips as you countered, "that's not at all how it went."

Enzo's eyes sparkled with amusement as he awaited your correction. "Okay, then, enlighten me. How did it really go?"

"Okay, okay, maybe it did go a bit like that..." amidst laughter, you playfully explained, "but you were the one who stole my bucket first, Enz. I had to get you back for it!"

"Fair enough, angel, I might have started it." Enzo's laughter blended with the raindrops as he conceded, "I guess I had it coming.”

Smirking, you retorted, "You've been a pain in my butt since the day we met, Enz…some things never change, do they?"

Enzo's grin widened, and he retorted, "Guilty as charged. But you love me for it, don't you?"

His eyes, filled with a mixture of mischief and affection, reflected the depth of a connection that had weathered the mischievous escapades and grown stronger with each passing storm.

"How couldn't I?" you responded with a fond smile, your gaze locking with his. "With a smirk that irresistibly charming, you make it impossible not to."

"Can't argue with that, angel," he quipped, flashing his teeth playfully. "Charm has always been my secret weapon."

As your laughter faded, a pause settled between you two. Staring at him, a flood of memories cascaded through your mind--years of friendship, shared laughter, and the occasional drunken kiss that had always lingered like a quiet undercurrent. In that moment, you couldn't deny the feelings that had grown, evolving beyond the boundaries of friendship.

The courtyard, still bathed in the rain's embrace, became a silent witness to the realization that the line you'd hesitated to cross might have finally blurred beyond recognition.

"Enz...have you ever...felt, lost?" As you blinked, you glimpsed his lips, your voice a soft murmur as it left your throat. "Like everything you thought was solid, just…crumbled away?"

"Absolutely," he confessed, a soft sigh escaping him as raindrops adorned his lashes like jewels. "It's like the ground beneath you turns into quicksand, and-"

"You're unsure of what to cling to, because it feels like..." you interrupted, your eyes locking onto his.

"....it’s all collapsing alongside you," he finished, completing your thought with a shared understanding. "Absolutely, angel...absolutely."

As you paused, eyes fixed on his features, a rush of emotions surged within you. The realization of your profound affection for this boy, the depth of his unwavering presence, and the shared history you both carried became palpable.

The weeks of self-imposed hibernation in your dorm had isolated you from the world, but here, in the midst of the storm, Enzo stood by your side. His willingness to weather the rain with you, to share the weight of your troubles, became a testament to a friendship that had transcended time and circumstance. The unspoken understanding, the shared glances, all hinted at a connection that had weathered storms of both the heart and the skies.

"Enz," you murmured, the endearment slipping from your lips like a secret shared between kindred spirits. "Thank you, for being here...it means more than you'll ever know."

"You don't have to thank me, angel," he replied, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his rain-kissed lips. "We've always been in this together...through rain or shine--it's what best friends do."

In the quietude of the rain-soaked courtyard, a charged silence hung between you and Enzo. Your heart, like a captive creature, pounded in your chest as you found solace in the shared gaze. His brown eyes, an intimate dance of vulnerability and unspoken sentiments, darted between your eyes and lips.

And then, in an unexpected surge of emotion, the two of you moved as if drawn by an invisible force--his hands found your face, a gentle reassurance, while your own hands mirrored the sentiment, delicately grasping the back of his neck as you pulled him close. Lips collided in a shared moment of exasperation, a kiss that seemed to carry the potential to mend wounds. Enzo's soft, warm lips moved with a careful precision, as though he feared shattering the fragile connection by moving too quickly or being too rough.

A sigh mingled within your shared breaths, and the emotional tide of the kiss swept over you. In the midst of the courtyard's relentless downpour, the intimacy of the moment became a sanctuary. Emotions, sought when you ventured into the rain-soaked space, surged to the surface, rendering you more alive than you had felt in fucking weeks.

Enzo, breaking the kiss with a soft, lingering reluctance, allowed his lips to trail along your jawline. A whisper of breath brushed against your skin as he confessed, his words carrying the weight of years of unspoken desire.

"I've wanted to do that for years," he admitted, the revelation settling in the damp air around you. "...for so many fucking years..."

Your response came as an instinct, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him close with a magnetic urgency.

"Me fucking too," you whispered, a fusion of emotions flooding your voice, "why did we wait so long?"

Enzo's gaze, now intensified by the admission and the proximity between you two, held a mixture of regret and longing. He nestled closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke with a sincerity that echoed through the courtyard.

"I don't know, angel," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of missed chances and unspoken confessions. "Maybe we were both waiting for the right storm to finally let it all pour out."

"Mm--pour it out for me, Enz," you whispered, your voice a gentle plea. "Tell me where you've been...tell me where your heart is..."

With a shared understanding, Enzo gently urged you to lay back, guiding you back against the cool, rain-drenched stones. He positioned himself alongside you, his head resting on your chest, the closeness of his body providing a comforting warmth against the coolness of the courtyard. One hand cradled your head while his other traced a delicate path down your stomach, igniting your skin into flames. Inhaling a sharp breath, he confessed,

"Someone once told me that it all comes down to the last person you think of at night." His fingers teasingly traced the line of your shorts as he continued, "That's where your heart is."

As his words lingered in the air, a tender smile played on your lips. Your eyes squeezed shut, encapsulating the vulnerability of the moment. Your hands found solace in his hair, fingers gently petting as you embraced the emotional tide that swept over you.

"Mm-yeah?" you murmured, finding it challenging to stay fully focused on his words as his soft teasing fingers traced along your inner thigh. "And who do you think of?"

Enzo pulled his head from your chest, meeting your eyes with an intensity that cut through the rain-soaked ambiance. His gaze held nothing but pure seriousness as he uttered, "Can I touch you, angel? Please?"

A near mewl escaped your lips, your entire body buzzing with anticipation. "Please do, Enz," you whispered, the plea carrying a mixture of desire and vulnerability. "Gods, please-"

Enzo leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss as he inched his fingers closer and closer to the edge of your shorts. As he slipped his tongue past your teeth, gentle yet urgent, you found yourself practically holding your breath in anticipation, shifting your legs wider slightly to give him better access.

Without wanting to keep you waiting for much longer, his long fingers slipped past the edge of the soaked fabric, connecting directly with your heat as you weren't wearing any panties. You moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it eagerly, his fingers wasting no time at all before beginning to rub tight circles against your clit.

Your grip on his hair tightened, your entire body quivering and squirming against his touch. You lost yourself in sensation, moaning into his mouth as he manipulated you expertly, sucking in air through his nose as he kissed you like he could devour you. The cool raindrops on your skin contrasted with the heat building in your body, and you felt as if you were about to burst with pleasure, explode with emotion.

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily as he slipped a finger inside you while his thumb continued to rub against your clit. You arched your back against him, feeling every inch of his finger stretching you out as he drove you to the brink of ecstasy, whimpering as quietly as you could as the two of you blended into the darkness, curtains of rain acting as your shield.

"I think of you, angel," His lips found your neck, kissing and biting gently as he continued to work you with his fingers, building your orgasm dangerously fast. "I think of you before I sleep...I wake up and I think about you..."

Your hands shifted, fisting his shirt as you cried out in pleasure, raindrops falling around you in a steady rhythm. You could feel his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses as he continued, "I think about kissing you good morning...I fall asleep while thinking about kissing you goodnight..."

"Oh...Enz..." the words sent a fresh surge of desire through you, and you arched your back involuntarily, trying to get closer to him. "Oh my Gods..."

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "You know I'm helplessly fucking in love with you, right?"

"Oh-fuck-" you moaned, louder than you'd expected as he increased his pace on your clit, his finger pumping in and out of you with increased intensity, sending your vision spinning. "Enzo-"

"Mhm...pretty girl..." he cooed as you tilted your head back, giving him better access to your neck, and he obliged by nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. "I fell in love with you back before knowing what love even was..." he placed sloppy kisses on your collarbone, nipping softly. "And I've stayed in love with you because no one...fucking no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

Moaning softly, you squirmed beneath him, unable to contain the growing intensity coursing through your body. Tears welled in your eyes, each word that escaped his lips resonating with a tidal wave of emotion, threatening to engulf you under the weight of your own heart. This overwhelming surge of happiness felt surreal, like a dream you never dared to believe could be real.

Suddenly, he slipped another finger inside you, stretching you out wider as his thumb continued twirling over your clit. You cried out in pleasure, the intensity of the sensation making your toes curl, your chest reaching for oxygen as though you’d been starved of it for years.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Enzo murmured against your skin, his lips trailing kisses back up to your jawline. "Does this feel good, angel?"

All you could manage was a nod; your breath was coming in short gasps as the pleasure built and built inside of you. The rain continued to fall down around you, a cooling contrast to the heat in your body, bucking your hips against his hand, becoming increasingly desperate for release.

"Good girl...so, so good..." he purred, kissing his way back up your jawline until he veered back and met your lips, pressing the plush entirety of his mouth to yours. "I continue to fall in love with you every fucking day because there's no one I could ever picture my future with, other than you..."

"Oh Gods, Enzo..." you could feel the tension building in your body, coiling tighter and tighter until you were practically vibrating with need. "I'm so fucking in love with you..."

"Mm," he purred, grazing his lips against yours. "Music to my ears, angel..."

As if sensing how close you were, he slipped a third finger inside you, his movements becoming almost frantic as he continued to rub your clit in tight, harsh circles with his thumb. Your body shook with pleasure, every nerve ending sparking with sensation as Enzo's deep brown pools drilled into yours, watching every slight ministration of your face as you teetered on the edge of pure fucking ecstasy.

"Fuck-Enz..." you moaned, grasping the soaked fabric of his shirt for dear life, squeezing it within your trembling fists. "I'm going to-"

He kissed you again, smiling against your lips. "Cum for me."

That was all you needed to hear; and with a sharp cry, you came hard, spasms of pleasure wracking your body, your vision blurring as pleasure washed over you in waves. Enzo continued to move his fingers inside of you, riding out your orgasm until you collapsed, panting and spent. In the aftermath, as you both caught your breath, the rain persisted, its cool touch soothing your heated skin. A comfortable silence enveloped you, a serene pause in the midst of the rain-soaked courtyard.

After a lingering moment, Enzo gently pulled you up to your feet. Gripping your face with a tenderness that echoed the shared vulnerability, he kissed you again.

"I'll be here for you," he murmured, his words a gentle reassurance. "When you're down, I'll hold you; when you feel like you can't get up, I'll support you. We'll navigate this at your pace, angel. There's no need to rush."

"We've been friends since we were toddlers--how much less rushing can we do?" Giggling against his mouth, you playfully teased, "I just want you, Enz. You've made all the pain in the last few weeks completely irrelevant in a span of an hour...it’s always been you.”

"Then have me, love," he cooed, his fingers entwining with yours. "Whatever you desire, it's yours."

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Eight--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.

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Rough Sex, Slapping (for sexual titillation), Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, GUNPLAY, Outdoor Sex, Gagging, Choking, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, ANGST ANGST ANGSTTTTTTT!!!!! GET THE TISSUES OUT!

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the aftermath of your heartfelt confession, the ambiance shifted beneath the curtain of rain. Mattheo's initial warmth, which had enveloped the moment, began to withdraw, slowly being replaced by his usual guarded demeanor.

Tension, thick and tangible, emanated from him, as if he yearned to retract, to voice a refusal. The gaze that had once been soft, akin to melted chocolate, now bore a stark reluctance. It was as though the vulnerability you had glimpsed moments earlier had transformed into a protective shield, guarding him against the intensity of the unexpected revelation.

Undeterred, you pressed forward, defying the cooling atmosphere with a resolute step. Your hands, a gentle insistence against the encroaching frost, found their place on his face. Amidst the rhythmic percussion of springtime raindrops, your eyes held an unbroken contact, mirroring the pounding cadence of your heart. A silent gaze held him in place, allowing the weight of your words to permeate the space before you spoke again.

"Don't say anything," you whispered, the words borne on the breath of the rain-soaked air, a plea to let the unspoken emotions settle in the delicate stillness between you two. "You've said so much, Mattheo...you've shared so much with me...I don't need you to say another word...just...just listen,"

Mattheo blinked, the subtle motion accompanied by the quiet working of his throat as he swallowed. His hands, hanging at his sides, remained still as yours maintained their firm grasp on his face. An almost imperceptible nod from him prompted you to inhale sharply, capturing the breath in your lungs.

"Perhaps I lied to you..." you began, your voice soft, tender. "Perhaps I wasn't being truthful when I said I never believed in destiny...because in a way, I do...but I also believe that we are only destined to do the things we'd choose to do anyway..."

A pause ensued as you studied his countenance, your gaze tracing the scars on his skin and taking note of his perfect imperfections that shaped the essence of who he is.

"And I'd choose you, Mattheo...in a hundred fucking lifetimes, in a hundred different realities, I would choose you...every fucking time..." you declared, your grip on him intensifying. Your hands trembled, mirroring the tremor in your voice. "I don't care about your history, I don't care about any of the bad things you've done...everything you've been through has made you who you are...and I am fucking in love with who you are...every single part of you...your smart mouth, your cheeky smirk, every line and every scar..."

Drawing him nearer, you gently guided him until his forehead found solace against yours. His hands discovered the curve of your waist, pulling you into an embrace that emanated urgency, a profound need to absorb every syllable you uttered, each word a testament to the depth of emotions shared between you.

"Your skin, absent of its scars, would be like a sky without stars," you murmured, your shared breaths blending in the intimate proximity. "I didn't fall in love with you; I fucking walked into love with you--with my eyes wide open, deliberately choosing every step along the way. Everything you've revealed changes nothing, Matty...I love you, utterly and unequivocally."

A profound silence enveloped the space, and time seemed to elongate into a suspended realm, each passing moment an eternity. His eyes, a tumultuous storm of unexpressed feelings, gently fluttered closed, his lips parting as his breaths, once steady, now took on a rhythm almost akin to panting--a visceral manifestation of the emotions swirling within.

His hands, deliberate in their motion, traversed the landscape of your back, ascending with a sense of purpose. As they reached your head, his fingers, fueled by a desperate urgency, found purchase, gripping your face with a fervor that spoke volumes. In this charged atmosphere, his eyes, concealed behind closed lids, hinted at the vulnerability beneath the stoic exterior. The suspended moment begged for release, aching for the words that lingered on the precipice.

"Say it again..." his murmured request, laden with longing, reverberated through the charged air. "I just-"

"I love you," you said, the words firmer this time, your hands threading behind his head, fingers entwining in his soaked hair. "I love you..."

His jaw tensed, and he released a shaky breath--his eyelids fluttering, the grip on your skull tightening. "Again."

"I love you," you repeated, your voice gaining strength, fingers digging into his scalp as though you could force the words through. "I fucking love you, Mattheo Riddle."

Breaths intermingled, and your grips on each other surpassed the hold of any chains or restraints. In the pulsating intensity, your minds spun with a whirlwind of thoughts. Was there a sweeter arrangement than this? He gets to ask you, over and over to repeat it--while you get to tell him, over and over, that you mean it.

Your nails dug into his scalp, foreheads pressing together with an almost painful force. "I thought it would be impossible to ever find someone...to ever be with someone, when beneath my surface of composure, I'm scattered in a million different pieces--like a puzzle with missing parts..." you paused, lips softly grazing his. "But then you showed me that every piece doesn't have to be in place to create something beautiful...something real...that love can exist in the most imperfect, lost, broken people."

A guttural noise escaped him, resonating low in his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, cradling your head.

You inhaled a shallow breath before you continued, "and I promise you, my love will be just as strong, just as beautiful, whether you, too, are in a thousand pieces, or just one.”

Mattheo, completely struck silent, locked eyes with your parted lips. In perfect synchrony, your gaze met his, and in that silent exchange, there was a mere gasp of air before his mouth was on yours. The passion between your bodies ignited into an unbridled inferno, refusing any attempt at restraint. His kiss was a slippery bruise, melding madness at your skin, tongue driving into you while he inhaled through his nose. You met him, movement for movement, groaning against him, fingers folding further into his hair, thumbs tracing the tops of his ears, and he groaned against your lips before capturing them again,

The kiss was unlike any before--a fervent blaze spiraling out of control, unwilling to be subdued for even a moment longer. His lips met yours with an intensity that felt almost primal; a hungry, desperate fusion of raw emotion and longing. His hands cradled your head with a force that hinted at an uncontainable desire, making you wonder if he sought to meld your very essence. The cool droplets of rain cascaded around you, soaking your skin to the bone, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

"I need you, princess..." he whispered, parting from the kiss, his hands gliding down your back as his lips found the curve of your neck. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Pretty girl..."

Your eyelids fluttered in response, fingers tightly grasping his hair, a desperate grip that mirrored the intensity of his kisses trailing down your neck. Your lip found refuge between your teeth as his mouth explored the path of rain cascading along your skin.

"My tainted little angel," he murmured, his words a provocative caress against your ear. "Crushingly beautiful...tender like a bruise..."

His hands, firm and insistent, sought the curves of your hips, fingers grasping at the wet fabric of your dress, tugging it upwards along your thighs. "You were the first sin actually worth hurting for...had me wrapped around your little finger before you even fucking touched me..."

You throbbed, a full-body pulse, humming into him with a shudder, Mattheo's lips moved back to yours, nipping at your lower lip before sliding to your chin, following the streams on your skin as he pressed clumsy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, falling to suck and nibble at your heartbeat. Whimpering, you nuzzled your head into his, and he responded with a sharp bite to your neck, barely-restrained, earning a squeal from your throat.

"I told myself I was fine...that I was better off alone...never needed anyone, never wanted anyone...but then you came around, and after all this fucking time, after everything I put you through...it's still you, it's you who fucking believes in me..." he murmured against your skin. “You mean so fucking much to me…and when I finally admitted to that myself, when I finally let myself feel…you made me better, and I don't mean from being my tutor...you just made me want to be better...fuck, Raven...I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at the stars...I wanted to get better grades for you…I quit drinking and drugs because I wanted to be a better man for you..."

As he lifted your dress beyond your hips, your hands eagerly joined the movement, gathering the fabric's hem and peeling it over your head. His eyes traversed over every inch of newly exposed flesh, absorbing the sight with an intensity that spoke volumes. You observed as he swiftly shed his suit jacket, stripping the soaked fabric from his frame and laying it on the ground. His hands deftly moved to undo his belt, discarding his gun in the process. Returning a firm grip on your hips, he crashed his mouth back to yours, a relentless hunger igniting the kiss.

Moaning, you writhed into his chest, and he gripped your face, nails scraping your scalp while he pulled you closer, groaning into you, leaning--you followed him, chasing his kiss until you were both on the ground; him on his back, your legs straddling him, palms planted on his chest.

"I’ve had some, then most of you...all, and then none of you..." a soft, anxious breath escaped his throat, and he swirled his tongue over yours before biting your lip and pushing you up, hands settling on your thighs, rocking you back and forth over his thick erection, covered only by the thin fabric of his boxers. "I-I can't lose you again...it's you...it's fucking always been you..."

"Oh, Gods..." your voice cracked, emotion bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill out as you rolled your hips against him. He watched you, panting in rhythm with you, and you admired him--how fucking beautiful he was--his eyes stark with need, his mouth parted in open anticipation, his muscles tensing as he gripped and squeezed you, jerking his hips into your heat. "You won't...you fucking can't..."

Rain bathed you both, rivers roaming over your curves, white cloth of your bra a dewy illusion over your breasts. His thumbs skimmed your nipples with prickles of pleasure, and you moaned, head falling back on your shoulders. As if the sound awakened something inside him, he gripped your hips, flipping the two of you around until you were on your back beneath him, lips instantly moving to your neck, sucking at your throat.

You slid your hands under his shirt, savoring the firm contours of his body. He tensed, a low groan escaping into the intimate space between you, while his hips pressed against you with a force that seemed intent on melding you with the forest floor. Your fingertips traced the hard muscles, memorizing the damp, heated feel of his skin. In his voracious pursuit, he exhibited no restraint, extracting painful hickeys from the pulse at your neck.

The heat of desire surged between your thighs, and he moved lower, marking you with unrestrained passion. Tissue yielded to the pressure of his teeth, welts blooming under the fervent touch of his lips. Anxiety flickered through your mind as visible evidence of his ardor emerged, but the soft groan escaping his chest erased any concerns. Your back arched, willingly offering more of your untamed flesh to his insistent exploration. Grateful, he bit at the swell of your tits, crimson crescents blooming, and his hands moved to your underwear as he laved at your nipple through your bra, scraping it with his teeth through the fabric.

Mattheo fumbled at your folds, two thick fingers peeling you open, assessing your slickness, teasing your entrance. "Still so fucking wet for me..." he murmured, clucking his tongue. "And in the middle of the fucking forest...you'd take my cock anywhere I wanted, hm?"

You bit your lip, trying to grind against his hand. "What can I say...watching you use that gun did something to me..."

"Naughty, naughty girl..." he leaned to your ear, thumb skating your clit--you gasped. "Weren't you ever told to stay away from the asshole, weapon wielding bad boys?"

"Perhaps," you hissed through a moan as Mattheo pushed two fingers inside you--your walls tightening around him, hips twitching, head lolling against his soaked jacket. "Though I've never been good at following orders."

Mattheo huffed. "I'd say."

His mouth consumed you with a fervor, tracing a path of rich violet marks from your chin down to your clavicle, his spit mingling with the rain. Scissoring you open, he rolled your stiff clit, rocking his wrist, curling and working your walls, his other hand palming at his erection in an attempt to pacify himself. You bucked your hips, a shivering moan escaping, and he cursed, slamming in to the knuckle.

"If I fuck you now," he muttered at your jawline, "you'll have to take all of me. Everything I give you." He bit your neck, hard, forcing a cry from your lips. "I won't be able to control myself."

Heat scorched you, and you pulsed around him in anticipation, his fingers crooking in your wet core. Thunder grumbled in the distance. "Thought I'd long proved my capability."

Mattheo purred, and bit you again, pain shooting through you. "Earlier doesn't count, we were rushing...I need to wreck this tight little cunt...I'll fuck you harder and deeper than any of those assholes could ever fucking dream of..."

You shuddered, meeting his eyes. "Do your worst."

Snarling, he leaned back onto his knees, tore his fingers from your core and stuffed them in your mouth; you whinged in surprise, working to suckle them clean. Mattheo's free hand unleashed his dick, twitching eagerly despite its thick, heavy length. He jammed his hand to the back of your throat, and you gagged before he depressed your tongue, prying open your jaw.

"You know how this works." His gaze locked onto you, and the sky seemed to ignite with lightning around him. "Beg for it."

When he released you, you gasped into the rain. "Please, fuck me."

In the blink of an eye, his hand struck you, unleashing a spray of saliva from your parted lips. "That was pathetic," he snickered. "I fucking said beg."

Your face burned--humiliation, shock, and most importantly: desire. If this is what he meant, you wanted more. "Why don't you fucking make me?"

"There's that dirty mouth..." Mattheo smirked, shifting as he reached for his gun, gripping it with his free hand while the other stroked his cock. Before you could process it, he brought the barrel toward your temple, pressing the cold, wet metal against your skull. "Last fucking chance, princess...if you don't beg for my cock I'll fuck you so hard you'll be begging for mercy instead."

A whirlwind of shame and yearning left your head spinning, the likely instigators of your brief lapse into temporary insanity. "I'm not scared of you, Riddle..."

“Oh, princess.” His smirk grew. "You should be."

Adjusting the gun, he compelled the barrel past your lips, the icy metal coating your tongue. His other hand delved into your hair, gripping your soaked strands tightly as he forcefully drove the gun deeper into your throat. Then, without warning, he broke you open, splitting your core with a deep, harsh thrust, head slamming your cervix. You cried out against the weapon, body recoiling in pain, hands moving to his hips, and he shook you in reprimand.

"Oh, no--don't fucking bother." He drove his palm into your head, his nails scratching your scalp. "No running. Take it."

Mattheo pulled out fully before ramming back into you, spearing you with his cock, your body quaking with the force of each of his violent thrusts. His breath was already ragged, furious groans pushed from his chest as he fucked deep into you. Your lungs were empty, failing to find oxygen in his onslaught, your walls squeezing his length in delight, drool spilling down your chin and mingling with the flow of rain.

"Fuck--such an insatiable little cunt..." he growled, his eyes drilling into yours, taunting you through his gaze. "It missed this cock already, didn't it?"

Another deep thrust, meeting your cervix, and you winced, groaning against the gun as you tried to nod.

"That's right...shit..." he pulled the gun from your mouth, strings of drool hanging like garland from the barrel, quickly being washed away with the rain. "My girl...my fucking beautiful, filthy girl..."

He tossed it onto the ground next to your head, drawing his hand down toward your belly, slick fingers rubbing merciless circles on the bundle of nerves in rhythm with his pistoning hips--you wailed, drooling with pleasure, assaulted with a sudden, immediate need to orgasm.

"Fucking hell, you're so tight when you're about to cum..." he groaned, punishing your pussy with hard, rapid thrusts. "Prove you can take it. Cum on this cock."

Between the attention on your clit and the size of his dick, you snapped, convulsing and trembling while your blood flooded with flames, blazing heat through your thighs and to your toes. Above you, Mattheo hissed, fucking you through it, valiantly holding off his own orgasm as yours fizzed at your flesh. When your core's pulsing slowed, he shifted, propping your calves up his shoulders before he leaned forward and clamped his palm down on your neck.

"Don't squirm, baby..." his low voice commanded, and as you whimpered, squirming beneath him, his grin deepened. His eyes, now wild and intoxicated with desire, held a promise. "I gave you fair warning."

His free hand pinched your cheeks, slowly sliding out before slamming back in and pounding your cunt, growling breath leaking from his lungs, his hold on your throat tightening. The pressure in your head only doubled the frenzy of being fucked--you wheezed, your pulse thumping in your temples, and this spurred him on, drilling you with a depraved stare as he plowed into your tight pussy again and again and again.

The rain was steam on your skin, thunder a distant noise behind the sound of slapping skin and your strangled, whimpering moans. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his throbbing dick, sore clit twitching once more with a growing demand to be sated--Mattheo grunted, tugging you closer, eyes drilling into yours.

"Open that filthy mouth."

Wincing, you complied, parting your lips as he commanded. Without hesitation, he leaned down and spat into it.

"Now swallow it. Show me."

With determination etched on your face, you managed to comply against the pressure of his massive hand. Popping your jaw apart with a grimace, you showcased your resilience, earning a smirk from him. In response, he rewarded you with a series of both painful and blissful strokes of his hips, pushing your body to its absolute limit. Your breath had vanished ages ago, your heart now a wild entity, coursing through your veins.

"Poor baby," he sneered, feign sincerity in his tone. "I think you need to cum again."

He snaked his free hand between your legs, rolling your aching clit, and you groaned--or tried to, anyway--the speed of your pulse resonating through the grip on your neck. He felt it, too, head bowing in pleasured shock as you thrummed around him, your oncoming climax massaging his thick cock with every new thrust.

"Fuck." Resolute, he rubbed you faster, watching you--in his gaze, you saw nothing but an endless, dark void of lust. "Who do you fucking belong to?"

The words barely made it out. "Y-you, Mattheo..."

His choke tightened, and your vision blurred. "Who owns this tight little pussy?"

"You--you do, Mattheo..." you gasped.

"That's right," he sneered, and swirled your nub so quickly you squealed. "Cum for me, princess..."

The force of your orgasm surged through you, blurring your vision, and you screamed, choked by his hand as every muscle below your waist convulsed in a rapturous ecstasy. Your pussy milked and squeezed his cock, but he resisted his own climax once more, sinking into you until you descended. He drank in the sight of you--eyes rolled, raindrops scattered like diamonds on your skin, your throat and chest smothered with the evidence of his possession.

"Good fucking girl...take me...take all of me," he muttered, voice low and deep in the night air. "Every single fucking inch."

Mattheo shifted again, one arm coiling under you to fist your hair, the other cranking your leg back until your knee hit your chest. Groaning with pleasure, he hammered into you, stretching you wide, filling you to the base. Soaked strands of his hair slid into his eyes, and he tossed them back, wetting his lips and fucking you deep, trapping you in his feral gaze.

"You love me." He tilted your head back with a deliberate motion. "You fucking love me."

You nodded, not a shred of hesitation. "Yes-fuck! I do!"

He swallowed, inching closer, his forehead tenderly meeting yours. "After all of it," he whispered, the words almost lost in the shared breath, "after everything..."

Your chin quivered, and the revelation about his parents cut into your heart, a painful echo of his turbulent past. It hurt, yes, but it also felt like the a groundbreaking revelation, the ending to the story which finally explained why he was the way he was. There was an undeniable understanding that surged between your hearts, a silent recognition that both of you needed love in ways only the other could provide.

Despite the turmoil, you couldn't blame him for something so deeply rooted. The man craved love as desperately as you did, neither of you ever willing to admit it. In the synergy of your souls, there existed an undeniable connection, a perfect harmony that transcended spoken words. Even in the hushed language of silence, your hearts resonated, acknowledging that there would never be two souls more perfectly suited for each other than yours.

"After everything." You wrapped your arms around him, safe when lightning crashed, rocking your hips in his pace. "No matter what."

"Fuck." He wound your hair in his fist, and wrenched your head back, tearing at your throat with his teeth, harsh thrusts pulverizing your cunt. "...I'm--fuck--I'm going to make you break again." His hand left your leg, long fingers back to stroking your tender clit. "And then I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Senses barraged, you shrieked, overwhelmed and oversensitive. He wasn't fucking joking. You wanted mercy. "Fuck! Mattheo! Please-please-"

"No. Take it," he snarled into your ear. "Take it."

He assailed your nub, and you quailed, curling around him like a snake, shaking from the overwhelming intensity of his power, lids shut while he nipped your neck, demolished your pussy, panted hard into your ear.

"You're mine." He growled, his voice shredded raw with lust. "Mine."

"I'm yours!" You shrieked, nails digging crescents into his back. "Yours."

"Fuck-" he hissed, slamming harder, deeper. "Mine! All fucking mine..."

"Yours! Fuck!" It was all too much, too great, brain crashing into a wanton mess. "All fucking yours!"

Your body convulsed, teeth sinking into your lip, propelled through a realm of heightened sensitivity into an ecstasy that seared your skin. Gasps and incoherent pleas spilled from your lips, a desperate supplication for release, for him to unleash the crescendo that would send you soaring and screaming and cumming.

"That's it," Mattheo growled, pumping into you, folding you into his frame. "You're taking me so fucking well baby, just one more...cum for me, angel."

Your senses fractured, caught between euphoria and disbelief, and your body spasmed, climax radiating through your every fiber, a luminous burst that shattered any remnants of sanity, setting Mattheo ablaze in its wake. He groaned, grunted, burying himself to the hilt, warm cock pulsing as he poured hot cum deep into your cunt. For a moment, he didn't move, silently working to catch his breath before he pulled back, shifting onto his knees.

You fixated on him, your head weighed down, struggling to fathom the endearment he had bestowed upon you--silently endeavouring to etch every detail of this encounter into the recesses of your memory. A contented sigh escaped you, accompanied by a smile that radiated the joy swelling within your chest.

However, as you gazed at him, basking in the warmth of affection twinkling in his eyes, you noticed a flicker of something else--an abrupt shift. His thumb grazed your chin absentmindedly before he moved, working to tuck himself away. You mirrored his actions, attempting to salvage what was left of your clothing, now thoroughly drenched by the relentless rain.

Walking through the forest on your way back to the castle, the shadows of the trees played in the puddle-soaked ground, creating a surreal dance around you. Mattheo extended his hand, a silent invitation you willingly accepted. The brief connection sent a comforting warmth through you, grounding you amidst the uncertainty.

As you navigated the path, thoughts swirled like the mist around you. The night's events echoed in your mind, and a cloud of questions veiled the clarity you sought. Contemplating a potential job at the castle, you wondered about its impact on your newfound bond with Mattheo. Did you still harbour the same enthusiasm for the job amid these compelling complexities? The walk became a journey through both the tangible forest and the intricate maze of your thoughts, navigating the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Approaching the castle, the distant melody of music embraced the night air, whispering promises of celebration within. Capturing the tune, Mattheo halted abruptly, pivoting to face you as the two of you lingered just outside the castle walls, hidden by the shadows of the night.

Your brows furrowed inquisitively as you locked eyes with him, seeking to understand the meaning behind this sudden pause. "What are you-"

"Shh." He cooed, eyes darting around.

After a brief survey of the surroundings, he fixed his eyes back on you with a newfound emotion swirling within them. Without another word, Mattheo enveloped you in a tender embrace, guiding your arms to rest on his neck as his firm hands settled on your hips. Bathed in the gentle glow of castle lights, he initiated a graceful sway to the rhythm of a slow, melodic tune that harmonized seamlessly with the rain-soaked ambiance.

In the suspended moment, your gaze locked with his, the world around you blurred as the rain continued its gentle descent, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the springtime storm. It felt perfect, a clandestine world of your own, away from the prying eyes of others.

"All those people think love's for show..." Mattheo blinked, drawing his face closer. "But I'd fucking die for you in secret."

Your breath hitched, water welling in your eyes. You quickly blinked it away, searching his face, mapping it, along with everything else from this night into memory.

"How'd I get so lucky..." you tightened your hold on him, the raindrops adding a gentle percussion to the soundtrack of the moment. "A sky full of stars, and yet you're staring at me..."

"There's no need," he murmured, directing your head to lay against his chest. "Avere lei è come avere le stelle."

Your heart leapt. "How did you-"

"Notts been teaching me," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, the pride in his tone. "You know what I said, don't you?"

You blushed, unable to stifle your grin. "I do."

He hummed. "Tell me."

"No," you whispered, fingers digging into his neck as you shifted your head to look up at him. "I'd like to hear you say it."

His smirk grew, and he peered down at you. "To have her, is to have the stars."

“Mm,” you glimpsed his mouth, brushing your lips against his as you murmured, "E averlo, è come avere la luna." (And to have him, is to have the moon.)

His smirk blossomed into a radiant smile as he gripped your face, drawing you into a profound, messy, deep kiss. Every fiber of your being quivered under the intense surge of emotions you felt for this man--love enveloping you entirely, and whether or not he uttered the words, you could sense it--right now, ten minutes ago, and every moment in between.

All you wanted, more than anything, was that he’d hold you tight, and whisper that you’d find a way to be together. But then, his hands fell from your face, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you back into him. With his lips pressed to your forehead, he whispered,

“I’ve never loved anything, Raven…anyone…I didn’t even know I had a heart until you made it beat.” He murmured, tightening his grip. “Now this heart belongs to you. And I’ll fucking kill every last person that tries to keep you from me…”

You shuddered, breathing him in. “We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.”

He hummed, nodding softly, the two of you swaying to the gentle melody, ignoring the cold rain pouring down against your bodies. You weren’t sure how long you’d stood there, minutes, maybe even hours--but as the song came to an end, switching to another, more upbeat one, you smiled, meeting his dark, gleaming eyes.

“I love you, Mattheo.”

He pressed his lips to yours. “I love you, Raven.”

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seventeen-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+, DARK THEMES, Sexual Harassment, Asshole!Berkshire, Extreme Depictions of Violence, Blood, SMUT, PIV, Virgin!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Dom!Mattheo, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink.

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

Emerging from the closet, you and Mattheo shared one more fleetingly charged moment, your eyes locking in a silent exchange laden with unspoken emotions. With a subtle nod, you both returned to your seats, seamlessly slipping back into the roles you had mastered--the poised Ravenclaw and the bad, rebellious Slytherin. The transition was flawless, but beneath the composed exteriors, a storm of emotions raged.

As the game progressed and the night drew on, your eyes locked with Mattheo's from across the circle more times than you could even begin to count--and as the rest of the room remained blissfully unaware, you were acutely attuned to the dance of hidden desires, an intimate connection that thrived in the shadows.

The game of truth or dare continued, growing more wild with each passing round, until most people involved became to tired to continue. In the midst of all of this, Emily and Tom seemed to hit it off, engrossed in their own conversation which seemed to have started before you had even returned from the closet with Mattheo--and as much as the sight was slightly confusing, you were profoundly grateful for the unexpected friendship between them. It undoubtedly relieved the pressure of having to engage with Tom.

As the night wore on, exhaustion settled deep within your bones. Berkshire, thoroughly intoxicated, was gently escorted to his dormitory by Malfoy, his usual disgusting arrogance now replaced by a drunken stumble. Despite the lingering adrenaline from the evening's events, weariness tugged at your limbs, pulling you towards the comfort of your dormitory.

While Emily and Tom remained engrossed in their conversation, you seized the opportunity to excuse yourself quietly. With polite smiles and casual goodnights, you bid farewell to the remaining members of the circle. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, your energy waning with every movement. The echoes of laughter and conversation faded into the distance as you navigated the familiar corridors, the subdued glow of torchlight guiding your way.

Taking a moment to escape the confines of the castle, you stepped into the tranquil courtyard, leaning against the railing and seeking solace under the vast expanse of stars. The night air embraced you, carrying with it a soothing whisper of tranquility. Breathing in deeply, you let the cool breeze wash over you, attempting to shed the lingering tension from your bones after the intense evening you had just endured.

And in the midst of your attempts to find serenity, the peaceful atmosphere shattered like fragile glass, stumbling footsteps making their way toward you. As you glanced over, you watched an inebriated Berkshire stumble his way into the courtyard, bringing himself dangerously close to you, his usual arrogance magnified by the influence of alcohol. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, fixated on you with a disturbing intensity.

"Shit...what do we have here?" he slurred, his words laced with drunken confidence. "A little bird all alone in the night...don't you know it's fuckin' dangerous to be out here all by yourself?"

Your disgust was palpable as you shot him a withering glare. "Save your pathetic lines for someone who cares, Berkshire," you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain. "The only thing dangerous is my dwindling patience at the mere sight of you."

"Why're you such a bitch, huh?" he slurred, his words carrying the stench of alcohol. His proximity was uncomfortably close, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be 'cause you secretly like me, right?"

Your jaw clenched, a mixture of annoyance and disgust bubbling within you. His words were as repugnant as his alcohol-laden breath. The tension you had been trying to relieve was now replaced by a different kind, a sharp pang of frustration at having to deal with his inappropriate behavior.

"I suggest you find your way back to your dorm," you retorted, your voice firm despite the rising irritation. "Your delusions won't make your company any more welcome."

Berkshire's drunken persistence grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, his obnoxious confidence seeming to inflate with every word you uttered. Before you could process it, he closed the distance between you, his movements erratic, invading your personal space. His clammy hand shot up, gripping your jaw with a force that made your teeth clench, forcing your eyes to meet his in a cruel display of dominance.

"Why won't you just admit it, huh?" he slurred, his words punctuated by the reek of alcohol on his breath. His bloodshot eyes bored into yours, his arrogance seemingly impervious to your clear discomfort. "You can't deny the attraction, sweetheart...I see it in the way you look at me when you think no one's watching."

Your patience snapped like a taut rope. Anger flared in your chest, hot and searing. With a swift movement, you pushed his hand away from your face, your voice cutting through the night with icy precision, a steely resolve in your voice that should have been enough to ward off any sane person.

"Let me make this abundantly clear, Berkshire," you said, your tone as sharp as a blade. "There is no secret admiration, no desire, and certainly no fucking attraction. You're nothing more than a nuisance, and I have no patience for your delusions. Now, back the fuck off before you regret testing my tolerance any further."

Despite your unwavering stance, Berkshire's drunken laughter reverberated through the courtyard, a disturbing echo of arrogance undeterred by your resistance. He jeered, taking another step toward you, his movements unsteady but determined. The cold, unforgiving metal of the railing you had been standing in front of pressed into your back as he cornered you, his breath reeking of alcohol and menace.

Panic clawed at your throat, but you refused to show weakness, your eyes meeting his with a defiant glare. "Berkshire, what are you-"

Ignoring your words, he advanced further, backing you up against the railing until there was nowhere left to retreat. Your heart thundered in your chest, the weight of his aggression bearing down on you. And then, in a moment of terror, he grabbed you, his grip surprisingly strong, squeezing tighter than you had ever expected. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers dug into your arms, pain flaring through your limbs. The situation had escalated far beyond your control, and the realization struck you like a physical blow.

"Let me go," you demanded, your voice strained but resolute, despite the fear tightening your throat. But Berkshire only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin, his drunken gaze wild and unpredictable. "Enzo, fuck, stop..."

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, he breath grazing over your neck as he pressed himself against you. "You're such a fucking-"

Before Berkshire could finish that sentence, a familiar voice--one usually somewhat smooth and composed, cut through the air with a terrifying intensity.

"Berkshire…if you don't get your fucking hands off of her," the threat in his tone was unmistakable, a promise of unspeakable consequences if ignored. "I fucking swear-"

But Berkshire, lost in his drunken rage, remained heedless, his eyes glazed over with a dangerous mixture of anger and entitlement. “Shut up, Riddle…she fucking wants me…”

You caught Mattheo's eyes from over Enzo's shoulder, ones that once held a glimmer of restraint now blazed with an uncontrollable anger that seemed to ignite the air around him. His usual composure shattered, replaced by a raw, primal fury.

In a heartbeat, Mattheo closed the distance between him and Berkshire, his movements fluid and almost supernatural. His hand shot out like a striking serpent, fingers wrapping around Berkshire's throat like an unyielding vice. The grip was tight, a clear message of the danger Berkshire was in.

“I warned you,” he hissed, and with a swift, powerful motion, Mattheo ripped Berkshire off of you, sending him crashing onto the unforgiving stone ground, a stunned gasp escaping his lips upon impact--Mattheo’s throat was shredded with anger as he growled, “I fucking warned you…”

You stood frozen, your lungs burning as you desperately gasped for air, your vision swimming with a heady mix of fear and relief. Mattheo, his eyes ablaze with fury, descended upon Berkshire like a vengeful deity. His arm darted out, fingers clenching Berkshire's collar in one hand while the other transformed into a merciless fist.

“Stay the fuck away from her…you don’t fucking look at her, you don’t even fucking breathe near her…do you fucking understand me?” Mattheo didn’t wait for a response, the first punch landing with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the courtyard like a thunderclap. Mattheo jostled Enzo in his grip, practically spitting his words against his face. “No one gets to fucking touch her…no one except me…fucking no one…”

A momentary pause hung in the air, a fleeting heartbeat of stillness, before Mattheo struck again. And again. And again. He was possessed, every punch a release of the pent-up rage that had been simmering beneath the surface, each blow fueled by a primal instinct to protect, to defend, to punish the one who dared to harm you.

Berkshire's face transformed into a grotesque mask of crimson, his features distorted by pain and fear. The courtyard seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Mattheo's anger, the sound of his blows drowned out by the rapid thudding of your heart--and it wasn't until Draco Malfoy, his normally composed demeanor replaced by wide-eyed shock, entered the fray, that Mattheo's onslaught finally came to a halt.

Malfoy, his strength surprising for someone so slender, managed to pull Mattheo off Berkshire, the latter struggling like a wild animal, his rage still burning brightly, his chest heaving with exasperated fury.

"What the fuck happened here?" Theodore dropped to his knees next to his fallen friend, a mixture of concern and disbelief etched on his features as he met your stunned eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind struggling to comprehend the violence that had just unfolded before you. The shock had rendered you speechless, your throat dry and constricted, words caught in the whirlwind of your emotions. "Yes...I'm okay..."

While you attempted to spit out words, Mattheo's heaving form, still seething with raw anger, ripped himself free from Malfoy's hold. With a voice that carried the weight of his fury, he spoke on your behalf, the words sharp and cutting through the air.

"Berkshire thought he could lay his fucking hands on her is what happened," his voice was cold, each word laced with contempt. "After I warned him...I warned him how many fucking times..."

Mattheo's aura, once magnetic and enticing, was now a tempest, an embodiment of wrath that crackled in the air around him. The atmosphere seemed to vibrate with his intensity, as if the very stones beneath your feet could feel his fury. It was a chilling reminder, mostly to you, that beneath the composed facade, there was a force to be reckoned with, a protector who would stop at nothing to shield you from harm--and that thought did inexplicable, disgustingly shameless things to your fucking body.

Draco Malfoy, his usual cool composure momentarily shaken, stepped away from Mattheo, his eyes assessing the situation with a discerning gaze.

"Let's get him to the hospital wing," he suggested to Theodore, his voice cutting through the tension. Nott, too, recognized the need for immediate action, nodding in agreement, before briefly meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry about him...there's no way he hasn't learned his lesson now...fuckin' sorry little prat..."

You nodded in response as the two of them lifted Berkshire, supporting his battered form between them. As they glanced between you and Mattheo, it was as though a silent understanding passed between Draco and Nott. Their glances met, a knowing look shared, acknowledging that there was something more beneath the surface of this situation. They sensed the unspoken connection, the invisible thread that bound you and Mattheo together, but they chose not to pry. Instead, they respected the unspoken boundaries, allowing the complexities of your relationships to remain your own.

Meanwhile, Mattheo turned his attention back to you, his eyes a tumultuous blend of emotions, the storm within him slowly subsiding as he registered the shock lingering in your eyes. With a soft yet determined expression, he stepped closer, his presence becoming a comforting shield against the aftermath of the confrontation that had left both of you shaken.

"Raven, I'm so fucking-" he began, his voice thick with regret and unspoken apologies.

"I'm fine, Mattheo." You cut him off, your heart pounding in your chest, the sight of his breathless, bloodied and dishevelled form doing dangerous things to your cunt--and you knew, more than anything, you just wanted to be alone with him. "Please just take me back to your dorm."

His brows furrowed in confusion, but the desperation in your eyes didn't leave room for questions.

"What-" he started to inquire, but you took a step closer, your neck arching slightly to catch his dark, penetrating gaze.

"Take me back to your dorm," you repeated. "Please."

Upon hearing the raw desperation in your voice, Mattheo nodded, his fingers gently finding yours as he immediately led you down the hall and through the empty corridor to his dorm. The moment he pushed the door open, allowing you to step inside, it felt as though the temperature in the room had increased to a million bloody degrees. The air was thick with unspoken tension, a potent mix of fear, desire, and the undeniable pull that had always existed between you, intensified now by the events of the night.

As you cautiously stepped into his dorm, your eyes were drawn to the familiar sight of the astronomy book lying open on his desk. The memory of the last time you had been in his dorm flashed in your mind--the same book, sitting untouched on his desk, an odd object in the midst of his carefully curated chaos.

"Why do you still have this out?" you questioned, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Mattheo hesitated, his stormy eyes locking onto yours in a moment of vulnerability.

"Can't a man indulge in the mysteries of the stars whenever he fancies?" he retorted with a smirk, attempting to deflect the gravity of the situation. His voice carried a hint of playfulness, but the tension beneath the surface was palpable. "Or perhaps stargazing is an art reserved solely for beautiful little ravens, hm?"

"Is it because of me?" Your stare bore into him, a mix of curiosity and suspicion flickering in your eyes. “Is it because of me that you have this book?”

He didn't deny it; instead, after a long, silent moment, he simply nodded, almost impenetrably, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a silent admission, a confession that hung heavy in the charged atmosphere of the room. In that moment, the undeniable pull between you became almost tangible, the invisible thread connecting your hearts growing stronger, defying the boundaries you had desperately tried to impose.

You stepped toward him. "Did you miss me, Mattheo..."

Mattheo met your gaze, his expression enigmatic yet stoic, a mask of his usual arrogance and charm slipping back into place. His silence lingered for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Then, in a voice that held a depth of emotion he was trying to conceal, he replied, "Maybe I did, Raven..."

You moved closer, the air crackling with need as you closed the distance, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally stood before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you dared to reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm, and beneath your touch, you could sense the subtle tremor that betrayed the restraint he was exercising. Your breath caught in your throat as you tilted your head, your lips hovering just millimeters from his.

"Don't be shy, Mattheo..." you murmured, teasing him with your fingers as you trailed over his jawline. "Why don't you show me how much you missed me..."

Mattheo's jaw clenched under your touch, his dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that matched the simmering desire between you. You sighed when his hands, strong and possessive, found their way to your hips, pulling you closer with a magnetic force that left you breathless. His restraint wavered, the barrier between temptation and surrender growing thinner by the second.

"Salazar fucking save me..." Mattheo's voice was a raspy whisper, a plea and a challenge rolled into one, his vulnerability veiled behind a facade of arrogance. "Who the hell are you..."

You leaned in, your lips hovering dangerously close to his, your eyes locking onto his with a daring intensity.

"Sorry to break it to you, Riddle," you purred, your voice a seductive melody that echoed in the charged space between you. "But I'm afraid not even your maker could save you now..." a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your breath mingling with his. "Better start counting your blessings..."

"Blessings, huh?" Mattheo's lips curved into a half-smirk, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'd much rather count the seconds until I can taste those sweet fucking lips of yours..."

His words sent a jolt of desire through you, your heart pounding in response to his brazen confidence.

"Gods, you really are a changed man, aren't you?" You murmured, fighting your smirk as his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. "You were never one to wait for permission before..."

"Raven," his voice was a low, raspy whisper, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter. "You're really testing my fucking patience here...and you should know I'm not a patient man..."

Your smirk grew, heat flushing your cheeks, your fingers tracing a tantalizing path along the underside of his jawline, now, teasingly slow.

"Maybe I enjoy testing your limits…maybe I want to see how far I can push you..." you muttered, your voice laced with playful defiance. "Or perhaps I just like watching you squirm, Riddle...perhaps I want to hear you beg for me..."

Mattheo's patience snapped like a taut wire, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and desire.

"Look at you, huh...all fucking smug..." he growled, his voice edged with playful frustration as he peered down at you. "You've kept that pussy from me for over two fucking weeks and now you want to tease me like this? Did you forget how bloody fast I can make you crumble for me..."

Your defiant facade began to crack under the intensity of his gaze, a shiver running down your spine.

"Gods, maybe I did..." your voice barely above a whisper, the defiance replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "Maybe I need you to remind me..."

"Shit...there she is...there's my good fucking girl..." he murmured, his tone a mixture of reverence and desire. "...tell me what you want, Raven..."

A sigh of satisfaction slipped past your lips as his hands tightened their grip, his touch searing into your hips as though he was trying to hang on to his last shreds of willpower. With a trembling voice, you met his dark, penetrating eyes, wetting your lips as you let yourself drown in their depths.

"You," you whispered, your voice a husky admission. "I want you."

He exhaled. "Then fucking have me."

In a whirlwind of desire, his lips crashed onto yours, sending your senses into a frenzy. Your eyelids fluttered shut as both of you inhaled sharply through your noses, trying to catch your breath amidst the electrifying kiss. His hands, strong and possessive, tangled in your hair, pulling you closer with an urgency that matched the racing beat of your heart. Your lips parted in a soft groan of surrender, inviting him in, and his tongue slipped between your teeth with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

His lips moved over yours, claiming every inch as though he needed you to survive, and your fingers found solace in the dark waves of his hair, gripping them tightly. Mattheo responded with a primal sound, a low grunt of satisfaction that resonated between your entwined bodies. With a swift motion, he spun you around, his lips never leaving yours, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees met the edge of his bed. The kiss deepened, his mouth exploring yours with a deliberate slowness, his fingers continuing their sensual dance through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, melting the space between you.

Mattheo's tongue danced a tantalizing dance inside your mouth before he withdrew, leaving a lingering connection between your lips. In that moment, silence enveloped both of you, rendering you nearly motionless, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what to say, think, or do. You felt the undeniable hardness of his arousal pressing against your belly, causing a flicker of anticipation to ignite within you. Your hands instinctively moved towards the hem of your shirt, but he halted you with a gaze as hard as stone.

"No," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Let me."

A flush of scarlet painted your cheeks, but you nodded in silent consent, your throat tight with anticipation. His fingers bunched the fabric of your shirt, lifting it up and off of you. As you raised your arms, granting him permission to undress you further, he completed his task with deliberate care. The fabric landed on the floor with a soft rustle, discarded and forgotten, while his eyes roamed over every newly exposed expanse of your skin.

It was a ritual you knew you’d never tired of, the way he looked at your body as if it was a masterpiece, a gift he hadn't been prepared to receive.

Under the intensity of his gaze, a cascade of warmth flooded through you, your skin tingling with awareness. His hands skillfully moved behind you, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pushed it off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your arms, his fingers skimming over the surface of your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question, before gracefully sinking to his knees in front of you. His warm breath ghosted over your belly, holding your stare as to ask for permission before he hooked his thumbs under the rim of your pants and panties, peeling them down your thighs, revealing your sensitive sex to him--inch by torturous inch.

A shiver rippled through your nerves, sending a thrill down your spine as his molten-gold eyes held yours with hunger that seemed to consume everything in its path. His gaze didn't waver for a single moment, even as he expertly removed your shoes and tossed them aside carelessly.  As he rose, his palms trailed over the contours of every curve, his touch igniting a trail of electric sensations in their wake. He towered over you, a commanding presence that left you breathless, and one of his hands delicately cupped your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip with a gentle intensity that sent your heart racing.

"Lie back," he murmured.

Your fingers quivered with anticipation as you nodded, succumbing to the electric tension in the air. Slowly, you eased yourself back onto the mattress, adjusting your position so you could lie flat against the soft bedding.

Mattheo prowled around the perimeter of the bed, his intense gaze scorching your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Each step he took seemed deliberate, his movements exuding a raw, primal energy. After a moment, he paused, his fingers deftly working on the buttons of his bloodied dress-shirt. With a fluid motion, he peeled off the fabric, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest. His pants followed suit, dropping to the floor until he stood before you in just his boxers.

From this angle, the sight of him made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch in your throat. The raw masculinity and confidence he exuded was both breathtaking and overwhelming, leaving you yearning for more as he loomed over the bed, the outline of his throbbing cock straining the fabric of his boxers doing unspeakable things to your body--the sight of it against the background of hard, tense muscle made you clench, and you bit your lip to hide a moan that was sneaking its way out of your mouth.

And even though you knew he noticed, he said nothing, even as his knee dropped into the mattress, even as he shifted, crawling over you, until he hovered above you, looking more fucking angelic than he ever had before, looking like a man filled with devotion, passion and need.

"Mattheo..." fear was mixing with the pull of lust. You'd never seen him like this. "Matty, I--"

"Shh," he said, pushing a strand of hair away from your temple. "Relax for me, princess..."

You drew in a shaky breath, and nodded--and his lips pressed into yours, plush and wet, before he moved, leading a tingling line of kisses down your cheek, to your jawline, to your neck. Leaning in, he caressed your throat with his warm mouth and you gasped, back arcing into him. In response, Mattheo purred, laying layer after layer of soft, wet marks on your sensitive flesh. One large hand slid down your arm while he kissed his way to your breast, nuzzling his cheek into the valley of your chest before drawing a nipple between his lips.

A cry escaped you, your hips bucking into his abdomen. "Oh, Gods..."

"Shh," he said again. "Relax, angel..."

The nickname he called only made you want to writhe more. Your mind internally fucking screaming with need. Taking a deep breath, you nodded anyway.

"My angel," he repeated, planting slow, soft kisses on your stiffening bud. "My fucking sweet little angel..."

He took your nipple into his mouth again, moaning while he suckled it swollen, his hands painting pleasure on your swathes of naked, aching skin. You whimpered, nibbling on your lip to silence any sound, hands slowly slithering their way through his messy, yet beautiful fucking hair. As you tightened your grip on his strands, a groan slipped past his teeth, and he flicked the tip of your peak with his tongue before releasing it, mouth making a hot trail along your navel, his hands massaging up and down the outside of your thighs.

"You're doing so well," he whispered into your stomach. "You're so fucking beautiful..."

"Matty..." you whined, his words creating a storm of bliss in your chest. You didn't know what else to say.

"Keep being good for me..." he kissed his way to the mound of your pussy, holding a rumble in his chest as his lips grazed the top of your slit. "Are you ready?"

Are you ready? He just fucking asked if you were ready. As you gazed at him, his pink lips glistening with saliva, eyes smoldering with desire, the answer became crystal clear.

"Yes," you said. "Yes, I'm ready."

Without further hesitation, Mattheo lowered his head between your legs, your entire body jolting in pleasure   as he licked a broad, flat band up your sex, feeling your fingers twirling in the curls of his hair. His mouth was hot and eager as he showered your folds with deep, heavy kisses, sending shivers of delight throughout your entire being. Mattheo's hands held your thighs in place as he slicked his strong tongue in between your slit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your core. Your eyes were fixed upon him, unable to look away from the sight of him worshipping your cunt with his mouth.

"You taste incredible," he cooed, leaving soft kisses along the crease of your thighs. "You know that I thought about this little pussy everyday, don't you?"

Your breath hitched. "Y-you did?"

"Mmhm."

He returned to working his tongue along your inner-folds, gathering your juices along the tip, humming while he swallowed--he was deliberate, taking his time to memorize every bit of your pussy, to draw as much cum from your core as he could. You whined, your clit desperate for attention.

"Matty..." you pleaded, "please..."

Mattheo's gaze met yours as he hummed, sealing his lips around your swollen nub. The intensity of the pleasure collided into you, causing a wracking sob to escape your lips as your eyes closed in ecstasy. His  grip tightened on your thighs, tugging you closer to his face. As he sucked on your clit, he gradually built up the pressure, block by block, pushing you towards the peak of orgasm.

Your hips relentlessly rolled into him, urgent moans filling the air as you fell further and further toward overwhelming bliss. "Fuck, Mattheo...Gods..."

His hands left your thighs, exploring your body, gripping and kneading any inch of flesh they could find, until they finally rested on your breasts, thumbs tracing small, gentle circles on your hardened nipples.

"Oh, fuck," you said, "fuck, fuck..."

As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, any words leaving your lips devolved into incoherent wailing. You teetered on the edge, straining against a wall of unrelenting bliss that threatened to overtake you completely. Then, with two hard sucks, Mattheo eased you over, drawing out your climax long and slow against his mouth. Ecstasy consumed you, numbing your skin as your limbs shook and trembled. Every sensation was intensified as he pulled you through wave after wave of pleasure, groaning as your juices coated his lips, your core throbbing and pulsing at his chin.

It felt like an eternity before he finally released you, dragging his tongue up the top of your slit as he panted and gasped for breath alongside you. The aftermath of your intense orgasm left both of you struggling to regain your senses.

Your head rolled along the mattress, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Mattheo...that was..."

"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your center, and returned his focus to your belly, kissing a steady path to your sternum, his hands still stroking at your skin. "I need you to know how much I missed everything...and I mean fucking everything..."

"Oh," was all that left your mouth, teeth pinching your lip when it began to tremble.

"From your perfect fucking tits to your filthy little mouth..." one hand started to palm at your breast, the other still gliding up your side as he inched forward. "From those delicious fucking thighs to that pretty little pussy..." he was at your neck, now, rasping into it, the heat of his body enveloping you. "Every inch of you is fucking perfect...fuck the drugs Raven, you are my insatiable goddamn addiction..."

Every syllable that escaped his lips seemed to caress your very soul, igniting a wildfire of longing within you. His words were like a spell, weaving around your heart and wrapping you in a cocoon of desire. You craved him in a way that transcended the physical, a hunger that went bone-deep. It wasn't just the touch of his skin against yours that you yearned for; it was the merging of your essence, the melding of your souls into an ethereal dance of passion. You wanted to dissolve the boundaries between you, to lose yourselves in a realm crafted solely for your bodies, where every touch and sigh was a symphony of fervor.

And as you met his gaze, there it was, in his eyes--an unnamed emotion that pulsed between you, an unspoken truth that bound you together in a way words could never encapsulate. It was a force beyond reason, an irresistible pull that drew you closer, time after fucking time again.

"You once called me a plague but fuck...you have no fucking idea..." his voice, raw with desire, clawed its way out of his throat. "I haven't even fucked you, Raven...how the fuck have you done this to me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, fingers instinctively curling in his hair. "Do you want to?..."

Mattheo hesitated, as if time itself hung suspended. His eyes searched your face, seeking the truth in your words, and then, he answered, his voice a low rasp,

"Of course I do..." he breathed. "But after what happened tonight-"

"No," you cut him off, your body moving restlessly beneath his. "After what happened tonight, I only want you more...I've never fucking wanted you so fucking badly, Mattheo...it was you who defended me, not Tom, not Zabini, you...it's always been you..."

Mattheo's jaw tensed, his eyes darkening, his chest heaving. "You want me to fuck you..." he said, as though he was trying to make himself believe it. "You want me to take your virginity..."

You nodded, a silent confirmation of your desire, but Mattheo's fingers found their way to your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle, yet firm. He held your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation, any uncertainty.

"Say it, Raven," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You know I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to take your virginity."

Your breath caught in your throat, his proximity overwhelming your senses. With a shaky inhale, you met his intense gaze, your voice coming out as a mere whisper, "I want you to take my virginity, Mattheo."

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, the desire in his tone making your core scream. "You know that means-"

"I'm yours." You cut him off. "Even though all of this could fuck up my entire future, I don't care...I'm yours...I submit my sanity to the disaster that is sneaking around with you, Mattheo...I don't want the safe option, I don't want soft or subtle...I want dangerous, I want messy, I want sins...I fucking want you..."

"Salazar fucking save me..." he breathed after a long moment of staring at you, shifting himself to pull down his boxers, his throbbing cock springing free, smacking against his belly. "You really are a little fucking devil..."

You clenched at the sight of his dick, head glistening with precum, twitching insistently as he shifted, looping an arm under your neck and cradling your head, his face nestling into your neck while his other hand directed the head of his dick against your wet folds, slicking itself along your wetness, your entire body tensing at the foreign sensation.

He was so fucking big...you weren't sure if, "are you even going to fit...you're so fucking-"

"Shh, Raven." Mattheo huffed against your neck, angling back to meet your eyes, that devilish smirk plastered across his lips. "I'll make it fit."

At his words, you clenched again, unable to deny the intoxication of his primal arrogance, his eyes fixed on your face as he angled himself at your core now, the anticipation radiating off of him only fuelling your hunger, sending thrills through every inch of your body.

"Relax," he breathed, eyes boring into yours, the hand behind your head keeping you in place. "And look at me...I want you looking into my fucking eyes as you feel yourself stretching out for me..."

With a nod, you held his stare, and slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside of you, inch by inch, letting you gasp and wince while his thick length stretched you open, until he was fully sheathed within your tightness. The sensation was overwhelming, stretching you to your limit, beyond anything you ever thought possible, and Mattheo only seemed to grow harder with each gasp that left your lips. With him completely seated inside of your cunt, you felt him pulsing at the hilt, felt his already urgent need to cum inside of you. But instead of moving right away, he jerked you closer to his chest, his lips softly grazing yours as he brought his hand to cup your jaw.

"Are you okay?" His voice was torn, shredded, nearly unrecognizable.

You nodded, holding his eyes. "I'm okay."

"Shit, Raven..." a deep groan left his chest as he exhaled, pulling out and plunging back in as slowly and carefully as he had the first time. "You're so fucking tight...fuck..."

You mewled--between the passion in your chest and the newfound sensations between your legs, your head was spinning, something was close to bursting. His skin was so hot against you, and you gripped him tighter, another moan leaving your chest, chin shaking beyond your control, the pleasure and pain commingling in your mind as you surrendered to his skilled touch--Mattheo stared at you through it all with gleaming eyes before he smothered your lips with a kiss, burning and short.

"Is this what you wanted?" The low thunder of his voice melted in your ears, and he murmured your name. "Tell me..."

Your fingers dug into his skin, your voice torn between gasps. "Yes, Mattheo..." you mewled. "It's all I've wanted."

He leaned forward, lips feathersoft on yours, kissing you, still easing his cock into you with careful rolls of his hips. The grip at your head soothed your scalp--and you could feel it, could feel yourself blending with his body as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you, could feel your pulses pounding in pace, could feel the unspoken, intangible harmony coiling in your blood.

"Who else can make you feel like this, hm?" His embrace constricted you, now, stilling you while he rocked deep into you, stuffing you full, his free hand travelling down your belly, grazing over your clit--and you choked, whimpered, limp in his arms. "Tell me who this tight little pussy fucking belongs to..."

The pleasure was overwhelming, earth shattering, entirely all encompassing. Your lids fluttered, your brain spinning. "Oh, Gods...oh my fucking-"

"Look at me, Raven..." he ordered, voice torn. "Look at me or I'll stop."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, nails biting into his skin, heart pounding in your throat as you felt your sanity dangerously fucking close to shattering, your entire body encompassed in a pleasure that you've never known, a pleasure that only Mattheo fucking Riddle could give you, one that burns you from the inside out, one that shatters every inch of your resolve, leaving you bare before him.

"Tell me..." he whispered, his fingers twirling your clit. You could tell he was close, too. "Fuck...fucking say it…”

"You," you mewled, lost in the melted chocolate swirls of his irises. "It fucking belongs to you, Mattheo...fuck...only you..."

"Shit..." he groaned your name, sucking at your shoulder, tongue leaving hot lines on your neck. "You love being dirty for me..." his fingers whirled your clit faster. "You love being my nasty little slut, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, Mattheo..." you wailed, body trembling beneath him. "I love it..."

"Fuck--" A feral kiss bruised your lips, his cock splitting you with long thrusts. "That's it..." he muttered your name against your mouth. "Cum--cum for me, let me feel you..."

You shattered. "Gods--Matty! Fuck..."

Euphoria rended you wide, tearing at the seams of your sanity, and you fractured, convulsing with the sheer strength of your climax. Your walls spasmed around his dick, milking him hard, and Mattheo held you, mouth meeting yours as he came, hips hitting you with every rush of rapture as he quickly followed after you, spilling his release inside your cunt. This seemed to last for minutes, the aftershocks of bliss rippling through your bodies at once while you remained there catching breath, still connected.

You were wilted, spent, a collection of skin and cum and sweat, and when Mattheo finally pulled out, he slumped down on the mattress beside you, pulling you back into his chest, nothing but the collective sounds of your exhausted panting filling the air, neither of you willing to move even though you knew you couldn't stay here all night--but your drooping lids didn't care, your body succumbing to slumber without giving you a choice.

And as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but question how a boy who once had been the bane of your fucking existence, had now become the centre of it.

———————-

Find eighteen here->

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Ten-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+, SMUT, Throat Fucking, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Humiliation, Begging, Gagging, Oral (f & m rec), Spanking/Belting, Sexual Punishment, Sexual Aggression, CNC, DubCon.

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

Dread gripped your insides, twisting like a coiled snake ready to strike. The weight of the impending confrontation pressed upon you, a leaden heaviness settling deep in your stomach. Last night had been sleepless, the weight of Mattheo's threat lingering in your mind like a haunting spectre. It wasn't necessarily fear that gnawed at your insides, but a potent blend of anxiety and worry.

The mere thought of Mattheo retaliating against last nights events, potentially drawing his brother Tom into an even deeper tangled web of suspicion, sent shivers down your spine. You knew Tom was already suspicious, already clearly had some sort of inclination about what was going on between you and his brother, and fear sunk its talons into your neck just thinking about what could happen if Mattheo lashed out at him again after last night. The timing would just be all too convenient to happen twice in a row like that.

In the hushed confines of the empty classroom, as you awaited Mattheo's attendance for Wednesday's tutoring session, every second seemed to stretch into eternity. The air hung heavy with anticipation, your breaths shallow and hurried--every creak of the floor beneath your restless pacing echoed like an ominous drumbeat. Your heart thudded in your chest, its frantic rhythm reverberating in your throat, each pulse a reminder of the impending confrontation. Fingers, usually steady, now trembled with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, tangible proof of the mounting tension in your chest.

But then, before you could even process it, the door creaked open, the sound slicing through the heavy silence in the room like a warning. You turned, your heart skipping a beat when you saw Mattheo's disheveled figure framed by the dim light filtering in from the corridor. His white dress shirt was stained with patches of blood, his appearance marred by the evidence of a recent altercation. His eyes, normally sharp and piercing, were now ablaze with a fierce intensity, burning with emotions that he kept tightly concealed.

As he stepped inside, the atmosphere seemed to shift, the air growing thick and suffocating. Each movement he made was deliberate, calculated, as if he was conducting an unspoken symphony of power and control. With a fluid motion, he started to loosen his tie, his hands moving with a grace that contrasted sharply with the aggressive energy radiating from him. The room seemed to shrink in his presence, the walls closing in as if acknowledging his dominance.

You stood frozen, your gaze locked onto his, unable to tear yourself away despite the unsettling mixture of emotions that gripped you. Mattheo's gaze bored into yours, his eyes holding a storm of emotions--anger, frustration, and something deeper, something you couldn't quite pinpoint. The weight of his unspoken words hung heavily between you, the silence ringing in your ears like a deafening roar, suffocating the space and leaving you feeling like you were standing on the edge of a precipice.

With each step he took toward you, the energy in the room grew more electric, his presence overwhelming. The intensity of his stare made it hard to breathe, as if he could see right through you, peeling away layers until your soul lay bare before him. It was a confrontation without words, a battle fought in the silent language of unspoken emotions, and you stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to break free from the magnetic pull of his furious gaze.

Your voice quaked. "Mattheo-"

"No," he said, cutting you off, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "No talking, Raven, not tonight."

You felt a lump forming in your throat, a mixture of frustration and confusion bubbling within you. You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the words that begged to spill out, but his resolute demeanor silenced any protests before they could escape your lips. As Mattheo came to a halt directly in front of you, his bloodied emerald Slytherin tie sitting loosely around his neck now--he wasted zero time before he seized your hips with a motion as swift as a striking snake, his grip so strong it felt like your bones might shatter within his grasp.

Every muscle in your body coiled like a tightly wound spring, bracing for whatever the fuck he'd do next, but nothing could prepare you for the feeling that would erupt through you as he leaned in--inhaling a sharp breath, his exhale hot against the sensitive skin of your neck. The sharp scent of alcohol wafted from him, swirling around you, adding to the already charged atmosphere.

His head dipped, finding the hollow of your shoulder, his dark, curly hair grazing your skin like a whispering caress. A shiver traced the length of your spine as his proximity engulfed you, leaving you both exhilarated and trapped in the potent grip of his presence. You swallowed, trying to steady your trembling fingers that hung limply at your sides.

"You're drunk..." you managed to utter, your voice barely audible in the charged air around you. It was fucking Wednesday. "What happened to exercising your demons, Mattheo..."

"Oh, I am," Mattheo murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in a heated caress. "I got them running around the castle right now, doing laps...."

Despite his effort to suppress his fury with cunning sarcasm, the energy radiating from him was palpable, a stormy intensity that crackled in the air around you. His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could feel the weight of his words settle on your skin.

"I...you..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. His proximity was overwhelming, his strange demeanour leaving you entirely at a loss for words--yet there was one thought that seemingly wouldn't leave your mind. "Matt...please tell me this blood isn't from Tom..."

"I said no fucking talking, Raven..." Mattheo's fingers dug into your skin, a painful pinch that threatened to draw a cry from your lips. A sharp gasp escaped you as he swiftly maneuvered his hand around your back, his fingers asserting a firm, possessive hold on your ass. "That mouth only has one fucking purpose tonight...it's been far too long since I've had those pretty lips around my cock..."

Mattheo's presence was a blazing inferno, searing heat that enveloped you entirely, making your skin prickle with anticipation. He maneuvered you both with an unyielding force, guiding you until the edge of the desk met your ass, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. Both of his hands, firm and possessive, found their place on your backside, pulling you snugly against his muscular frame. A sense of foreboding settling deep within your lungs, a weighty anticipation that gripped your every breath.

Despite the palpable tension, you couldn't resist the compulsion to probe further, pushing his boundaries even as the atmosphere crackled with escalating intensity.

"Mattheo, please..." your voice brushed against his cheek like a gentle breeze, your fingers winding into his hair, pulling on the tousled strands in an urgent plea to lock eyes, your heart racing with anxiety. "Please just give me an answer...Tom was skeptical-"

With a sudden, unsettling intensity, Mattheo's demeanor transformed--whatever restraint he was previously maintaining had now completely vanished as he swiftly pivoted you around, his hands unrelenting as he pressed your hips forcefully against the desk. The cool wood bit into your skin as he loomed behind you, his body molding to yours with possessive insistence. One hand coiled around your throat, pulling you back against his chest, while the other traveled up the front of your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Say his fucking name again and I will not hesitate to bend you over this desk and fuck you until the only name you remember is mine..." he pulled you impossibly close, his breath a sultry growl against your ear. "You'll be so fucking full of me, Raven...you'll be so fucking full of my cum you'll feel fucking empty without it...you'll fucking crave my cock...you'll be begging for me to get inside you..."

His free hand explored your body, its fingers skillfully finding every contour, moving purposefully to your tits, caressing and squeezing once he'd reached them. He pulled you tighter, hugging you flush to his front, his insistent erection pressing tight against your ass. A delightful buzz tingled on your skin from his grip around your throat, rendering you utterly helpless, and all that escaped your lips was a soft, pathetic whimper, surrendering to his control.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" He murmured, the alcohol on his tongue swarming your ear. "You're all I can fucking think about."

The words brought a wave of heat crashing over your body.

"Matt-" you said, fighting against his hand, his name hiccuped between your gasp for air when he increased his grip. “-thèo..."

"You fucking haunt me," he said, jerking his hips into your ass, his painfully hard length jamming into your backside. You whimpered as the force of his pelvis drove you harder against the desk. "I've made myself cum to the mere thought of fucking you so many times, Raven...fuck, if you were any other slut I would have fucked you stupid by now..."

His voice was dark and deadly, so quiet that you were almost certain you weren't hearing him correctly, the pounding of your heart drowning out the edges of his syllables, his hand working to untuck your blouse from your skirt before slipping underneath it--igniting goosebumps on your flesh as he went.

"Oh..." the word was a moan as it left your lips, his fingers brushing over your stiffening nipple. "Shit-"

The fingers at your throat increased their pressure, choking your words. "I told you I have a clamouring fucking desire to ruin you...and believe me, I do...but it's not enough to just ruin you, Raven...It's like I need to fucking own you, possess you...there can't be anyone else..."

In defiance of your good judgment, you clenched, a shiver of longing fluttering over you. Mattheo's large palm squeezed your other tit now, kneading it in his hand until he could feel the peak of your nipple. His thumb brushed over it, and you held back a whine, wriggling against him.

"Mattheo-" his name left your lips like a breathless sin, as though it was the only word your pathetic, lust-filled mind knew how to say.

"You know I could be with any girl I fucking want, Raven...any single fucking one..." he murmured, circling the hardening point with the pad of his finger, sparks of pleasure lingering in its path. "I seen your little friend looking at me the other day...what's her head like, hm?"

Ignoring the squirming in between your thighs, you rolled your eyes, a flutter of uncontrollable irritation flowing through you. "Go to hell-"

He answered your snark with another harsh jab of his bulge. "Yeah, you don't like that, do you..." the hand on your throat slid up to pinch your jaw open, two fingers shoving past your teeth and depressing your tongue. You caught a gag when he reached toward the back of your throat. "You wouldn't like it if there was another girl kissing me good night, would you? Another girl sucking me off...swallowing my cum..."

You tried to call him an asshole, but all that came out was, "Ah-houh."

"Mhm, I know..." he snickered, pressing further into your body, hunched over you like you were his next meal. "You're going to fix that situation with my brother, or else I will...you have one fucking week..."

Your heart hammered, your pulse flying, your body trembling against him. His teeth nipped your ear, your head spinning with the onslaught of his power.

"Because this..." this hand on your breast made a path toward the band of your skirt, and you shuddered, bucking away from his touch when he skimmed the sensitive skin of your belly.

"...little cunt..." his hand slipped under the seam of your panties, long, thick fingers easily reaching the warmth of your slit, resting on the outer folds, and you whimpered, wiggling your hips as you sought out his touch.

"...is mine..." one finger parted your lips, slicking itself on your wetness, dragging and catching over your swollen, stiff clit and pulling a low moan from your throat.

You were gelatin in his arms. All you could do was bob your head against his grip, tongue writhing to speak.

"Yeah, that's fucking right..." he said, tracing tiny circles around your clit while his length pressed against your ass. "This tight little pussy wants to cum for me, doesn't it?" You groaned--louder than you wanted--when he sped his pace on your nub, and he squeezed your jaw, voice a deep growl against your ear. "Then you better prove you deserve it."

He relinquished his hold on you, his fingers slowly sliding away from you body as he took a deliberate step back. This subtle retreat granted you just enough space to pivot back towards him. In the dim light, his eyes appeared as profound as the obsidian night, their intensity softened by an unexpected vulnerability. It was a facet of him you had never glimpsed, hidden beneath the layers of his usual overbearing arrogance.

A hushed tension hung in the air as his gaze descended to trace the contours of your lips, a magnetic pull drawing him toward you. His own lips, parted with anticipation, met yours in a tender yet fervent kiss--a languid grace encompassing the way he explored your mouth, a delicate dance that left you breathless. The lingering taste of alcohol on his tongue only heightened the intoxicating sensation, sending your senses reeling as he skillfully slipped past your teeth, all before pulling away again.

"Get on your knees for me, pretty girl..." he murmured, his hand finding your hair and directing your head down, a huff of exasperation leaving his nose as you did what he said without question. "There we go...so good for me..."

As you knelt before him, your heart thundered in your chest, its beats so forceful you feared it might shatter your sternum. Perplexed, you couldn't pinpoint the source of your unease. It wasn't the first time you'd assumed such a position for Mattheo Riddle, yet an unfamiliar tension hung in the air tonight. His unpredictable demeanor had your entire body on edge, amplifying your nervousness to an unprecedented level.

"We're going to do things a little different tonight..." he purred, his hand in your hair pulling away to stroke your cheek with two rough fingers as he peered down at you, dark eyes burning wounds into your skin. "Unbutton your shirt for me."

Your heart skipped, your senses reeling, but with trembling fingers, you immediately did as he said, as though you were being controlled by a remote in his hands. Mattheo hummed in approval as you got down to the last few buttons, his eyes never once leaving yours, the muscles in his jaw clenching and his throat bobbing as he swallowed. When you were done, you met his eyes again, the intensity making your thighs clench in need, and a smirk teased his lips as he reached for the tie sitting loose around his neck; holding it between his battered fist.

When he spoke again, you almost fainted. "Take off my belt, princess..."

A visceral tension gripped you, twisting your stomach into a knot so tight it felt like your insides might unravel. Your hands trembled like fragile autumn leaves in the wind as you reached for the metal latch on his sturdy leather belt. With cautious fingers, you tugged, undoing the buckle carefully and pulling on it until it slithered free from around his waist. Gripping it tightly in both hands, you met his gaze once more, your eyes locking, accompanied by enough force to shatter glass.

Mattheo delicately lifted the tie, guiding it towards your mouth with a gentle touch, your lips parting in a silent understanding. He skillfully threaded it between them, the smooth fabric caressing your skin. With practiced hands, he wrapped it around the back of your head, the silk cool against your skin. With a deft motion, he fashioned it into a comfortable knot, ensuring it held securely, before he bent down and gripped your arm, pulling you back up to your feet.

"Bad girls get punished, Raven..." he murmured, his lips grazing your jawline, one hand on your hip, the other reaching for the leather seated in your hands. "Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are, and I'll reward you..."

As the leather slipped from your hands, Mattheo pulled back, something flickering behind his eyes that made your stomach leap up into your throat. He met your gaze, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or fear, before he urged you to spin around.

"Bend over the desk," he husked, running his hand up your back, the gentle touch igniting flames on your flesh as he urged you down against the desk, the cool chill of the wood igniting a shudder through your entire body. "Down on your elbows...there we go..."

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. Drool was already threatening to spill from the sides of your lips, the taste of blood lingering in your mouth as the bloodied tie sat tightly between your teeth--your breath hitching in your lungs as you felt two large hands run down the sides of your body, tracing your curves with determination as he positioned himself behind you, pressing his bulge against your ass until his hands met your hips and he pulled away; finding the hem of your skirt and slowly flipping it up to expose your backside, wasting absolutely zero time at all before his hands found the plump flesh, squeezing and groping like his life depended on it.

"Fucking hell, Raven..." he groaned, his voice tight and hoarse with need. "You look so fucking good bent over...I wish I could keep you here, just like this..."

You moaned involuntarily, a tornado of emotions swirling inside your brain. You felt as though you were in sensory overload, so many firsts happening at once.

"Spread those thighs," a calloused palm dipped between your legs, urging them further apart, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms, your entire body trembling as the heat of Mattheo's power turned suffocating. "Good fucking girl..."

Your breath hitched, feeling his thumb grazing dangerously close to your cunt, resisting the urge to buck toward his hand--desperate for connection. The heat between your thighs was insatiable at this point, and the teasing was driving you insane. Snapping you from your thoughts, there was a jingling of a buckle, followed by a loud, sickening crack--and you shrieked, heart thumping in your throat, squirming with force to attempt to get away from what was to follow.

"Ah, ah," Mattheo huffed, pressing a palm down on your lower back, holding you firm against the desk. You felt the smooth leather being dragged across your flesh, the sensations making your entire body flinch.

"I'm going to bruise this beautiful ass, and you're going to thank me for it, because that's what bad, filthy girls deserve..." he paused, as though waiting for your protest, and when it never came, he shifted his body, looming over you. "Do you understand me, princess?"

Do you understand? Do you fucking understand? No, any sort of understanding eluded you entirely. In truth, the unfolding scenario baffled you--you didn't know how the fuck you'd gone from being his tutor, someone who could barely tolerate his daily presence, to this precarious moment--bent over the fucking desk, about to be belted by him for an issue involving his own brother. You didn't understand any of this, and yet, not one single part of you wanted to stop it.

In response, you nodded, and Mattheo hummed, seemingly satisfied.

A heavy silence settled around you, in wake of his voice. Every sinew in your body tensed with anticipation, your eyelids squeezed shut in grim expectancy. The air hung heavy, pregnant with the impending storm, while inside you, tension wound tighter than ever, prickling your skin like sharp thorns digging into flesh. Then, like a sudden lightning strike, a searing bolt of pain cracked across your backside, tearing a scream from your lips. Despite the muffling effect of the tie clenched between your teeth, the sound reverberated through the room, shattering the silence.

Mattheo, his grip firm, yanked your hair, pulling you forcefully against his chest--his lips brushing against your ear.

"Do that again and I'll give you something to really fucking scream about, Raven..." he snarled, his fingers pinching your scalp. "Shut up and bite the tie. To five."

In a swift, unyielding motion, he thrust you back onto the desk, his hand firmly grasping your head, forcing your cheek against the chilling surface of the wood. You squirmed beneath his unrelenting hold, your eyelids clenched shut as you awaited the searing sting, but Mattheo didn’t make you wait for very long before the smooth leather of his belt cracked against your skin, leaving behind a trail of fiery agony that surged through your limbs.

Instinctively, your teeth sank into his tie, muffling the primal scream that threatened to escape your lips. An electric jolt of pain rippled through you, yet amidst the torment, a strange sense of resilience emerged. Inhaling sharply, you found the strength to steel yourself, your body absorbing the pain while your spirit endured the storm.

"Mm." Mattheo hummed, running his rough palm over the red, sweltering skin, squeezing a cheek in one of his big hands, soothing the welts. "I gotta say, I fucking love watching you squirm, princess..."

Your face reddened, a pang of an unknown emotion in your chest, eagerly squeezing your eyes shut as he pulled his hand off your flesh, the lack of movement and audible sounds in the room driving your nerves into a panicked frenzy. And then, before you could process it, you felt it again--the pain forcing a choked cry to leave your throat.

"Such a shame I have to ruin this perfect ass--" crack.

Your cunt twinged at his words, fire flashing your flesh, and he he struck you again, swift and merciless, leaving no room for a response--only a ragged, involuntary squeal escaping your throat in response to the searing pain.

"Such a shame I have to remind you of your place--" crack.

You whimpered, your body trembling with a mixture of pain and bewildering emotions. A twisted cocktail of sensations engulfed your mind, leaving you conflicted. You cursed your own body, disturbed by the inexplicable response, your senses entangled in a blend of desire and humiliation. Your core pulsed with an insatiable need, aching for attention, craving release despite the twisted circumstances.

Confusion swirled in your veins, leaving your head spinning. How could you find arousal in something so humiliating? The paradox gnawed at your thoughts, yet an undeniable part of you craved the intensity, leaving you inexplicably craving more.

Above all else, this was degrading. Yet, you were fucking throbbing for it.

"...remind you who you fucking belong to--" crack.

With the final, brutal crack of the belt, the metal buckle seared into your skin, imprinting its icy mark. The sharp, biting sensation wrenched a primal groan from your throat, your body convulsing in response. Drool spilled from your lips, tears welling in your eyes--and the room reverberated with the metallic clatter as Mattheo discarded the belt, his hand moving swiftly to find the inflamed skin, fingers grazing the wounded area with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness.

His thumb traced the path where you were certain blood had been drawn, a deliberate gesture that seemed to collect the evidence upon his skin. In a sudden, commanding movement, he pulled you away from the desk, forcing you to face him. Within the depths of his gaze, you glimpsed a twisted satisfaction entwined with something infinitely darker. His grin took on a sinister edge as he sucked his thumb into his mouth, the taste of your blood lingering on his lips. It was a macabre ritual, sending shivers down your spine, as if he had claimed a piece of you in a way that transcended the physical realm.

With a deliberate slowness, he withdrew his thumb from his mouth, his unyielding eyes locked onto yours, a challenge simmering beneath the surface. His fingers traced the path of the tie between your teeth, pulling it down methodically until it hung around your neck. Gently, he wiped the drool from the corners of your lips, his touch meticulous and strangely intimate. His eyes scrutinized your face with a depth of focus that both unsettled and intrigued you. There was an enigmatic intensity in his gaze, a complexity that left you partially terrified and yet undeniably aroused.

In that moment, you found yourself entangled in a labyrinth of emotions, your mind racing to comprehend the enigma of the boy standing before you.

His voice was a hoarse whisper. "What do you say, Raven..."

You swallowed, throat more arid than the desert, heart still pounding like a base drum. "Thank you, Mattheo..."

Mattheo's hands found their way to your face, his touch firm yet strangely gentle as his fingers slid sensually through your hair. Without a word, he crushed his lips against yours, a hungry and urgent kiss that left you breathless. His mouth dominated yours, his tongue probing with a rough insistence, exploring every corner of your mouth, caressing your own tongue in a dance of desire.

A low, needy moan escaped your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss, while your fingers clenched his shirt, desperately seeking an anchor in the whirlwind of sensations. With a commanding strength, he urged you backward, his grip on your hips unwavering as he effortlessly lifted you onto the desk. A soft whimper slipped from your throat as the supple flesh of your backside met the unyielding surface of the wood.

He moved down your neck, his plush lips leaving a hot trail of kisses down your chin, jaw, licking and sucking at the every inch of skin he could, creating planes of goosebumps across your flesh. His tongue drew a line across your collarbone, and he fell to your breasts, tugging down your bra and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling it. You moaned, meeting his gaze, and he rolled his tongue around the hardened bud, sending shivers through you, straight to your clit.

Exasperated, he pulled away--dark eyes scanning your heaving, lust-possessed form.

"You're beautiful," he breathed.

You were speechless, beginning to tremble, and Mattheo Riddle dropped to his knees between your legs, urging your thighs further apart on the desk, long fingers clutching your hips. Your cunt clenched in anticipation, but your teeth were clacking from anxiety, and he met your eyes.

"Relax," he said.

You made an attempt to nod, but your chin quivered despite your resolve. It wasn't an issue of trust, nor were you overtly frightened. Yet, the sheer intimacy of his presence, hovering intimately close to your most vulnerable parts, left your nerves frayed and your composure on the edge of unraveling.

"Raven." Mattheo glared at you, gouging the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Relax. You're safe with me..."

"I-I know..." you whimpered.

You shut your eyes tightly and drew in a slow breath through your nose, holding it in an attempt to steady the quivering in your body. You waited, holding onto the breath, until the tremors subsided before finally exhaling, releasing the tension that had gripped you.

"Good girl," he said. "Now look at me."

You opened your eyes, and his gaze locked with yours as his warm mouth started to suck at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, extracting a mewl from you. He smirked against you, moving closer to your center, and you bit your lip, walls contracting again with desire. As he drew closer, the curls of his messy hair tickled your skin, and then he shifted a hand, urging your panties to the side before he skipped his tongue across your outer folds, making your hips buck toward him.

"Filthy thing," he said, and pressed his full, soft lips to your pussy, dragging his flat tongue along the slit.

“F-fuck," electricity shot through you, wriggling within his grasp, your fingers clenched tightly, entwining in the disheveled tangle of his hair.

Riddle muffled a laugh with your flesh, lavishing your cunt with deep, slow kisses, tongue sliding inside of your folds, lapping the juices at your core, teasing your outer lips with languid licks. He moved away from your center, his mouth back to crawling along your thighs, and you complained with a grumble. In response, he took the tip of his tongue and flicked your clit.

"Shit..." you moaned, rocking your hips toward him. You stared at him with shining, pleading eyes. "Matty...please, please..."

"There's my girl..." he purred, "I love when you beg for me, Raven...you've been so fucking good for me..."

Before you could response, he growled and sucked your clit into his mouth, and you cried out, body jerking, but he held you fast, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. A moan left you as you gyrated your hips, warmth spreading out across you, fingertips and toes buzzing with bliss. Mattheo played his tongue against your swollen clit, your walls throbbing as your pleasure continued to build.

"Oh, fuck," you said, head hanging to the side. "Oh, Gods...Matty..."

The vibrations of his moan reverberated through your pussy, and he sucked harder, his unyielding stare never wavered, his golden-brown eyes digging into the depths of your soul. Each breath came faster, a delicious surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, building an exquisite tension that carried you higher and higher, inching you closer to the precipice of bliss. Mattheo buried his face into your cunt, lips tight on your clit, tongue batting the bundle of nerves.

Incessant moans escaped your chest with every ragged breath, jaw hanging open, gripping his hair like you could pull it from his scalp. "I...holy fuck...Mattheo..."

"That's it," he purred, the praise in his tone sparking heat in your lungs. "Cum for me, baby..."

A tidal wave of euphoria crashed over you, the walls of your senses pulsating, your body wracked with the convulsions of a long-delayed orgasm. Your vision blurred into white nothingness as you threw your head back, a crescendo of unintelligible curses escaping your lips in a primal symphony. Mattheo held onto your spasming legs, his ministrations expertly guiding you to the pinnacle of your pleasure, drawing out every last exquisite tremor, tip of his tongue sliding up your slit to your mound as you finally returned to reality. Your chest swelled as you caught your breath, refocusing on Mattheo's glistening face.

Your head rolled, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Matt-"

"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your centre. "We aren't done yet, princess...keep being good for me..."

Entirely speechless, you nodded, unable to peel your eyes from his as he pulled you off the desk, dropping his hands from you as he moved to the buttons on his trousers, swiftly undoing them before pulling them down his thighs along with his boxers--his thick, throbbing cock springing free, tip glistening with precum, his head falling back in relief as he wrapped his fist around its girth, stroking slowly as you instinctively gathered yourself in front of his feet.

Something was swirling inside you, something primal, something hungry--and your hands found his thighs, slowly trailing up, peering up at him with a wide-eyed gaze; your voice alien to your own fucking ears.

"Please, Matty..." you purred. "Please let me suck your cock...please let me swallow-"

"Fucking hell..." Mattheo seized your hair, his actions driven by a raw and primal intensity as he directed his cock toward your lips. "Show me what that filthy mouth does, baby..."

You parted your lips, and Mattheo's grip on your hair tightened, pushing himself into you. Without thinking, you groaned on his length, legs writhing with arousal as he inched himself along your squirming tongue. Mattheo was biting his lip, watching your own lips stretch around his dick, watching you stare up at him with large, obedient eyes. He throbbed in your mouth, and you swallowed, the pool of your spit mixing with pearls of salty pre-cum.

Mattheo grunted, pulling out and thrusting back in, and in and out again, lips parting while you whimpered and choked on the size of his cock.

"Poor thing," he sneered. "Am I too big for your dirty little mouth?"

Nodding, you attempted to groan your agreement, but found yourself muffled by a deep thrust into your throat. You retched, trying to get off of his length, but another hand seized the back of your head, holding you there, tears and drool sliding to your jaw while he rocked into you. Every noise from your chest was a stifled whimper, gagging with every deep thrust, but he was ruthless, fingers burrowed into your face, cock fucking hard into your throat, and when you squeezed shut your lids, he growled.

"Look at me, Raven." he ordered. "Look at me when I'm throat fucking you. Know whose cum you're about to taste.

You complied, locking eyes with him through a haze, your throat raw and tender, lips and tongue going numb with his brutal thrusting.

"Good girl," he moaned, "so good...fuck..."

Riddle shifted, craning your head back, plunging deeper into your neck, seething in pleasure when you whined on his cock. His breath was coming fast, his dick pulsing urgently in your mouth, and then he was cursing, hissing your name, hips jerking in sloppy thrusts. He pulled out, fisting his length.

"Open."

You did, and he growled, shooting hot ropes of white onto your mouth and eyes, hips still rolling while he fucked his hand through the end of his climax. As he caught his breath, he looked down at you, your jaw jacked open, his bitter cum collecting on your tongue and sticking one of your lids shut.

"Go on," he huffed. "Swallow it."

Groaning, you swallowed, eye twitching as it opened despite the pull of his release on your lashes. Gasping for air, your head hung low as Mattheo released your hair. His eyes never wavered, attentively watching your every move as you gradually pulled yourself up from the floor. Meanwhile, his hands deftly moved to adjust his pants, restoring a semblance of decency.

Your own hands trembled as you fumbled to button up your shirt, a sense of vulnerability lingering in the air. Mattheo closed the distance between you, his tall figure casting a shadow over you in the charged silence. With a slow, deliberate movement, he used his finger to sweep away any traces of his release from your face, his eyes smoldering with intensity and a smirk playing on his lips as he directed his finger toward your parted lips.

Without hesitation, you welcomed it between your teeth, your mouth enveloping it with a mix of compliance and desire. Holding his gaze, you sucked gently, the unspoken tension crackling between you. He watched, his lips parting slightly, as you willingly took his finger into your mouth, the connection lingering until he slowly withdrew it, the intensity of the moment hanging between you like a charged current.

"Shit..." he murmured, glimpsing your lips.

"Shit." You repeated, glimpsing his.

The charged silence hung heavily in the air, enveloping both of you as you stood there, locked in a wordless exchange. Countless unspoken words seemed to swirl between you, filling the space with their weight, yet neither of you dared to vocalize them, opting for the sanctuary of silence. After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo finally exhaled, the sound carrying the weight of the unspoken. With a resigned gesture, he moved towards his chair and sank into it, the weariness evident in his posture.

You followed suit, collecting yourself, and Riddle finally broke the silence.

“This isn’t his blood.” He said, and relief almost immediately flooded you. "One week, Raven."

————————

Find chapter eleven->

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Three- 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+, PURE SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Oral Sex (M Rec), Throat Fucking, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, Manipulation, Gagging, Spitting, DubCon, CNC.

**here’s: one, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen & twenty.

As you approached the door of the familiar private classroom, a subtle sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your confidence.

Admittedly you got lost in the depths of your homework after dinner, becoming absorbed in the swirls of ink on your parchment, diligently crafting your Astronomy essay due in a mere three weeks from now. The minutes seemingly slipped away, and you realized you were running late for today's tutoring session, the devastating consequence of your intense focus on your academic obligations.

However, considering Mattheo's habitual tardiness--one of which he has mastered as well as any given art form--you assumed your delay wouldn't be at all consequential, and would most likely even go unnoticed. So without really thinking twice about it, you gently pushed open the door, expecting the room to be empty, the usual silence welcoming you as you stepped inside.

But then, to your astonishment, the room was not vacant. There he was, Mattheo Riddle, perched on the chair with an air of casual authority. His long legs were stretched out before him, feet confidently resting on the desk's edge, displaying a newfound confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. His arms were folded, his posture exuding an almost predatory assurance. His eyes, dark as the night and twice as intense, followed your every move as you stepped inside. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the weight of his gaze pressing upon you.

You closed the door with a deliberate slowness, the soft click echoing through the room like a gunshot in the silence, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently challenging you.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." He taunted, his voice laced with a poisonous charm. The room seemed to shrink in the wake of his suffocating arrogance. "Guess Ravenclaws little good girl isn't so perfect after all...who would have guessed."

You rolled your eyes, a flush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you awkwardly dropped your gaze to the floor. The weight of being late for the first time in your life was almost palpable, but you made an effort to play it off, attempting to regain your composure despite the lingering discomfort.

"Save the mind games for someone who's willing to play, Riddle," you said, slowly making your way toward him. "You have no right to talk, you're late every single week."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who turns into a sobbing mess over a less-than-perfect grade," Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have mental breakdowns just because I'm not the class's golden child in everything, and I'm definitely not the one who's about to graduate in merely a few months while still a fucking virgin-"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment at his audacity, a surge of indignation propelling you to slam your bag down on the desk in front of him. The force of your action knocked his feet off the desk, abruptly interrupting whatever sentence he had intended to finish, leaving him silenced in disbelief.

"At least I'm going to fucking graduate without needing someone to hold my hand like a child." You hissed, the words slipping past your teeth before you even had a chance to process them. "For someone who needs me so much, you sure don't act like you appreciate my help."

Mattheo's eyes darkened, a storm of arrogance and anger swirling in their depths, transforming his usual stoic demeanor into a deep scowl etched across his face. He rose from his seat, his tall frame looming over you, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.

"You think I need you, Raven?" He purred, wetting his lips. "You really think that?"

You steeled your jaw, strengthening your stance, ignoring the fact that your fingers were trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

"Where would you be without me, Riddle?" You whispered, kinking your neck back to catch his dark, hungry eyes. "How many tutors did you have before me? How many other students tried to help you but couldn't stand your arrogant, no-fucks-given attitude, hm?"

Your words draped the air with a palpable gravity, silencing Mattheo completely--an unprecedented reaction, given his usual quick retorts. The revelation ignited a fierce ember within you, fueling your resolve and lending a sharp edge to your words, as if each syllable carried the weight of your determination.

"That's what I thought..." your voice was low, reverberating as a mere whisper in the air, something flickering behind Mattheo's eyes that made your lips curl into a devilish smirk. "You know that without me, you'd be here forever...maybe you've managed to manipulate me into being your little toy, but that doesn't change the truth about this whole thing...you need me, Riddle, you fucking need me..."

Mattheo blinked, the ensuing silence lingering for what felt like a painful fucking eternity--time seemed to come to a standstill, everything around you fading into insignificance, leaving just you and the cunning, arrogant boy with tousled hair in your presence.

When he finally spoke, You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, understanding all too well that his words were laced with an arrogant twist, a prelude to something manipulative and cunning yet to unfold.

"You're right," he finally said, stepping closer. "I do need you,"

His voice dipped into a low, sinister register, and the corners of his lips curled into a sadistic smile, sending a chill down your spine.

"I need you to watch your fucking mouth," the touch of his fingers on your arm nearly made you jump, his hand grazing up and over your shoulder. "I need you on your knees begging for my forgiveness," the pads of his fingers grazed your collarbone, and before you could even comprehend it, his large hand clasped around your throat, the other finding the small of your back as he pushed you up against the desk. "And then, I need you swallowing my fucking cum like the good little whore I know you are."

Without wasting a single second of time his plush lips attacked yours, his tongue delving past your teeth with a passionate urgency. You were painfully aware of Mattheo's manipulative tactics, understanding that he was using your vulnerability to his advantage, and the rational part of your mind screamed warnings at you, reminding you of the toxicity in his actions.

Yet, beneath the surface; as his hands roamed your curves, his tongue explored your mouth; an unsettling, exhilarating feeling lingered, a strange sort of affection for the very dominance that should have repelled you.

The awareness of his exploitation only intensified the rush, a twisted form of affection blossoming amidst the wrongness of it all. It was as if the knowledge of being used had become entangled with your desires, forming a paradoxical bond that you couldn't sever. In the midst of the moral turmoil, a dark, irresistible thrill coursed through your veins, leaving you helplessly drawn to the very thing you should have despised.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Raven..." his lips fell to your jawline, hands groping your curves, bunching the fabric of your uniform within his battered fists. "You've been swearing far too much...you were late...and now you want to act like you have power over me?" When he sunk his teeth into your earlobe, you yelped, flinching as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Don't get it twisted, princess...I hold the fucking power here...look at what I do to you..."

Your entire body was tingling, your fingers latching onto the fabric of his white button up dress shirt for dear fucking life.

"Mattheo-"

His lips fell lower, rough hands gripping your hips and shoving your ass back onto the desk behind you, parting your legs on either side of his strong body as he pulled you against him.

"This is what I do to good girls like you...I turn them into naughty little whores..." he purred, licking a flat line up the side of your throat, your lids involuntary fluttering shut at the breathtaking sensation. "...naughty little whores who take my cock and swallow my fucking cum."

His hands slid up your sides, taking the fabric of your skirt along with them, and you gasped as you felt it hike dangerously high up your thighs, trembling fingers tugging it back down to keep yourself covered.

Mattheo huffed, releasing the fabric. "You're not used to being bad though, are you, princess?"

His teeth sank into your collarbone, creating a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine. Strands of his tousled hair caressed your cheek, the faintest whisper of a touch sending tingles across your skin. Your lips parted involuntarily, releasing a soft whimper, while Mattheo's response echoed in a deep, guttural groan that reverberated through the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

One hand gripped your jaw as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

Your breath hitched, flames roaring in your veins. "No, Mattheo...I'm not..."

"Mm," he purred, wetting his lips as he stared. "Do you know what happens to bad girls, Raven?"

Your stomach twisted as he tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, his eyes darkening with desire as they darted across your face, seemingly examining your features as though they were precarious and new.

Your voice trembled. "No..."

"They get fucking punished."

Before you could respond, Mattheo shifted his hand, shoving two rough fingers between your teeth, reaching for the back of your throat and forcing a gag. Your eyes watered, beads of salty fluid threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he was unyielding, gripping the back of your neck with his other hand to force himself further down your throat--holding you in place while he did.

Your entire body was in flames, your thighs begging, fucking screaming in a need so disgustingly dirty you'd never experienced anything remotely close to it before.

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, his dark eyes watching every single ministration of your face as you gagged on his fingers. The hand behind your head relented as he brought it to his crotch, palming the insistent bulge in his trousers as he watched you; seemingly not having blinked once.

"Unbutton your shirt," his voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with primal desire. He pushed his fingers deeper, clearing his throat. "Seal those filthy lips around my fingers, and unbutton your fucking shirt, princess..."

You cursed the fact that his body was separating your legs because all you wanted, more than anything on the face of the planet, was to squeeze your fucking thighs together--to give your cunt any sort of friction possible. Every word from his lips was doing inexplicable things to your body, and the need between your thighs was growing so insistent it was almost painful.

Following his commands, you sealed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue and bobbing your head painfully slowly as you teased him, trembling fingers moving to the buttons on your blouse and undoing them one by one until your chest was entirely exposed to him--your lungs stalled, pussy clenching as you watched his eyes darken with desire while they scanned your chest covered only by your navy laced bra, the hand on his crotch moving more insistently now.

"My fucking God, Raven," he breathed, jaw tensing so tight it looked painful. "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that hidden this whole time..."

You mewled involuntarily as he grazed your chest with his free hand, pushing his fingers deeper down your throat with enough intensity to make you cough as his demeanour switched and he palmed your breast with enough force to illicit an exasperated groan. He was possessed now, something swarming his pupils that made your entire body convulse with unfamiliar and unabashed need; you were almost certain there'd be a pool of your desire on the desk between your thighs at this point.

Without warning, he abruptly removed his hands from you. Your lips, parted in anticipation of a breath, yearned for air before his mouth enveloped yours once more. In a frenzy, his hands hurriedly reached for his belt, driven by an almost desperate urgency as you both inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Your lips meshed together in a way that seemed to consume each other, as if you could breathe in one another during the kiss.

Once he'd successfully freed himself, he pulled back, shoving his fingers back into your mouth and yanking you off the desk, his throbbing length pressing against your belly as he shoved himself against you; fingers forcing another gag from your chest, watching you with a primal fervour in his eyes so intense it was intoxicating.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth again, he cupped his hand out in front of you. "Spit."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain buffering in attempt to process his words until his free hand shot into your hair, tilting your head until your lips were parallel to his palm.

"Spit, Raven," he repeated. "Spit into my fucking hand."

Your stomach contorted with a mix of disbelief and unfamiliar desire, your entire being thrown off balance. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a jolt, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. His eyes bored into you, searing your skin into flames, and without another moment's hesitation, you gathered the saliva he had coerced from you and spat it into his hand.

"Mm, that's it...good little whore..." He purred, bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it into his shaft as he stroked himself, eyes never once leaving yours. "Now, get on your knees for me, pretty girl."

Your breath caught in your throat. He, of all people, had just called you "pretty," and you were certain your ears were playing some sort of trick on you. It was a compliment you never expected from him, someone you had never imagined would see you in such a way. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you did as he said, squeezing your thighs together as you situated yourself in front of his feet.

Mattheo's hand remained in your hair, firmly gripping a fistful as he stroked himself. "Hands behind your back, Raven..." he muttered. "Let me see those delicious fucking tits of yours."

Your entire body shuddered, immediately clasping your hands together behind you without a second thought.

"That's it...fuck-" he was stroking himself faster, the veins in his hands tensing with every movement. You weren't sure who was enjoying this more, him or you. "You want this, princess? You want this cock in your dirty little mouth?"

Your throat was drier than the desert, each swallow a struggle against the arid emptiness within. Fingernails dug into your own flesh with a fierce intensity, the pressure threatening to break through the skin, mirroring the internal turmoil that gripped you. Holy fucking shit.

"Yes..." your voice was a pathetic whisper.

"Don't be so modest, Raven," he sneered, slowing his pace, twisting his wrist as he stroked his shaft, eyes never once leaving yours. "Beg for it."

Your stomach was in your throat. You'd never done anything like that before, you weren’t even really sure how. "I...um-please, Mattheo..."

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement dancing across his features before he locked eyes with you once more, his arrogance wrapping around the room like a suffocating cloak.

"Bloody hell, I said beg for it...does the prissy little princess not know how to fucking beg?" his voice was a hoarse growl, his vocal cords strained with lust. "Tell me how bad you want my cock, Raven, tell me how much you need it."

You couldn't believe your ears; the turn of events in your life felt utterly surreal. Never in your entire existence could you have imagined that this is where you'd find yourself right now--merely a few months away from graduation, on your knees for the most suffocatingly arrogant delinquent in the school who was making you beg to suck his fucking dick. A man who only last year wouldn't have paid you an ounce of mind, who probably didn’t even know you existed.

Your cheeks burned, but you fought through it, the arousal in your lungs fuelling your words. "Please, Mattheo...I want your cock so bad, I want you in my mouth, I want to choke on it, I want you to fuck my throat until you cum-"

His grip on your hair tightened, simultaneous with the grip on his cock as he cranked your head back, leaning down to meet your eyes; his lips hovering mere inches above yours.

"My God, you're a dirty fucking slut, aren't you?" He purred, smirking so wide it reached his eyes, his fingers bruising your scalp. "A dirty fucking slut whose sole purpose is to let me use her mouth whenever I want, yeah?"

You swallowed, wincing as he jerked your head back further, fucking into his fist faster, harder. "Yes, Mattheo..."

He sneered, clearly loving every fucking minute of this. "Imagine if anyone saw you like this...fuck-you're fucking filthy..." his voice was breathless, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to make himself cum before you had the chance to suck him off. "Apologize for being such a nasty little slut and I'll let you swallow my cum."

Your thighs clenched in need, your wetness seeping through your panties at this point. Gods, you wanted him so fucking bad you thought you were going to die.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, eyes wide as you peered up at him, nearly-speechless. "I'm sorry for being a nasty little slut."

"That's right..." he purred, directing the head of his cock toward your mouth, groaning as your pressed your lips to it. "Good girl...fuck-so good for me..."

Your entire body was in flame, hands still clasped together behind your back as both of his thrust tightly through your hair, absentmindedly sealing your lips around his shaft, revelling in his skin's heat, dragging your tongue along the throbbing, pulsing underside. Riddle growled, bucking his hips, and you took him further into your mouth, gagging as his tip slammed the back of your throat.

"You take me so well, Raven..." he breathed, head falling back on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as his hands urged your head along his length. "Can't believe a mouth that annoying can feel this fucking good."

You groaned in assent, sucking hard at his cock as he slowly started to fuck your throat. You were both struggling to breathe, both losing control, both lost in an ocean of primal, urgent carnality. Pleasure was straining your seams, ready to explode inside of you, drool dribbling in globs from your chin, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you tried to hold the boundaries of your sanity together.

"Mm, fuck..." Riddle's grip was crushing your skull. "I changed my mind…I'm gonna' cum on those perfect tits, princess..."

Your bones almost liquefied at this--but you steadied your knees, gagging as he started fucking into your throat faster, thrusting deep, your eyes disappearing into the back of your head as you allowed him to use your mouth as a helpless hole for him to fuck--singlehandedly loving every fucking second of it.

"Shit-" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck."

Your thighs clenched, brain fogged by a hurricane of lust, but when he pulled out, abruptly, your cognition returned--your vision clearing to an image of Riddle, red-faced, fucking his fist. Snarling, he jerked your hair, and choked on his moan, the sound stuttering while he shot the hot loads of his cum onto your chest and neck. He sucked down air in long, heavy breaths, waiting until the end of his release had dissipated, and then dropped you, stepping back to marvel at his masterpiece. You swore steam was wafting off your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pieced himself back together, buckling his belt. "Tell me how I taste."

Every inch of you tingled, chest heaving, jaw slack in an open pant. Keeping his stare, you brought a trembling hand to your chest, swiping his sticky cum off your tits and trailing it past your lips, slowly sucking it off your first two fingers. The taste melding with the mere prospect of what was happening elicited a low moan from your chest, and you shuddered, trapped in his gaze until you were finished.

"Salty." You teased, smirking up at him.

"Salty, huh?” He huffed, a devious grin on his face as he helped you up to your feet, rough palm grasping your forearm. "Important mineral for a balanced meal, yeah?"

You chuckled, heat swarming your skin as you stammered up to your feet, meeting his darkened eyes as you began buttoning up your shirt, taking in his newly flushed features--curly brown hair slightly sticking to his forehead before he ran a battered hand through it, brushing it back.

“Smartass,” you grumbled, turning toward the desk. “Next week we have an exam, so there won’t be a tutor session, you know that right?”

He released a breath, throwing himself into the usual creaky wooden chair beside yours. “Guess that just means you’ll have to do that again before the nights’ over,” he said. “You know, to compensate for next week.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide your smirk. “In your dreams, Riddle.”

“Oh, definitely not, princess.” He breathed, glimpsing you briefly. “In my dreams you do a hell of a lot more than that.”

——————

Chapter four->

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Seven-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 fucktov. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Violence, Aggression, Blood, Slapping, Slight Masochism, Sexual Aggression, WeaponizingEnzoBerkshire(im sorry?), Fingering, DARK THEMES.

***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Rowena, render me resilient." You huffed, mumbling to yourself while pulling your infuriated corpse out of the creaky wooden chair in the empty potions classroom. "I'm going to fucking kill that boy."

Mattheo was thirty minutes late. Thirty. Three. Zero.

At first, you dismissed his tardiness, convincing yourself it was just another instance of his habitual delay--and in those initial ten minutes, you buried yourself in your homework, trying to maintain an air of indifference. But as the clock ticked away, another ten minutes, then another five, your patience wore thin, your nerves splintering with palpable annoyance. From that point on, each passing second seemed to echo with the ghost of his absence, amplifying your frustration.

The room seemed to close in on you as you stared at the clock, wondering why he would brush you off so callously when he damn-well knew he was the only fucking reason you were there, in that classroom, in the bloody first place.

The single-minded focus on confronting Mattheo propelled you forward, urging you to swing open the creaky wooden door with a determined force. As you stepped into the eerie, freezing corridor of the dungeons, your resolve transformed into a palpable energy, driving you forward with every purposeful stride. The anticipation of the impending confrontation overshadowed any trepidation, making you oblivious to the typical nerves that might have accompanied a situation like this.

As you approached the Slytherin common room, the distant thumping of loud music permeated the heavy door, sending vibrations through the floor beneath your feet. Despite the unfamiliar territory and the intimidating reputation of the Slytherin's domain--which was often veiled in a haze of marijuana smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol--your anger acted as a shield, eclipsing any reservations or second thoughts.

Your frustration boiled over as you banged on the door with a force that reverberated through the wood, echoing your impatience. With each pounding knock, a faint haze of smoke seeped out from the cracks around the door, a telltale sign of the revelry inside--it felt like centuries had past before the door swung open, a thick cloud of smoke billowing out from the bustling common room; and before you could react, a Slytherin student you didn't recognize--tall and imposing, grabbed your arm and yanked you inside, pulling you close to him.

He pressed you against the door as he slammed it shut behind you, his eyes narrowing as he scanned your appearance from head to toe, clearly suspicious of your presence inside his domain.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his voice sharp and laced with suspicion. The scent of alcohol mingled with the smoke, adding an acrid edge to the atmosphere as he scrutinized you, waiting for an explanation. "You're out of your bloody depth little Ravenclaw...some nerve-"

You stammered, hardly able to catch your words. "I-I'm Mattheo's tutor...he didn't show up to-"

"Mattheo's tutor, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery as he cut you off. "Well, good luck trying to drag him out of this madness on a Friday night. Once he's in, he's in deep, and nobody can rescue him, especially not a helpless little Ravenclaw like you."

His grip on your arm tightened, emphasizing his point, the pressure sending a jolt of pain through your body. Your stomach twisted as you watched his lips curl into a cruel smirk, his blue eyes glinting with sadistic amusement.

"You're better off running along before you get sucked into our world. We Slytherins don't play nice, especially when it comes to parties."

With that, he shoved you away from the door, dismissing you with an irritated flick of his hand, leaving you standing there, caught between frustration and helplessness, engulfed in the suffocating haze of smoke and the pounding rhythm of the music as you attempted to gather yourself. Admittedly, the smell was getting to your head, you pulse pounding in your temples and matching the base of the music. You shot your gaze around the room, in search of any sort of sign that Mattheo was around--but you didn't get very far before you felt movement behind you.

Your heart raced as you spun around, finding yourself surrounded by practically all the boys from the infamous Slytherin Quidditch team, their cold gazes assessing you with a mix of curiosity and arrogance. Draco Malfoy, the groups undeniable leader, sneered at you, his blond hair perfectly styled despite the chaotic atmosphere of the room.

"Well, well, look what we have here, boys," Draco drawled, his tone dripping with superiority. "A lost little Ravenclaw wandering into our house. Did you take a wrong turn on your way to the library, sweetheart?"

You swallowed, your eyes shooting around at each of the men as they circled around you, Theodore Nott and Regulus Black shared a knowing glance, exchanging silent communication that made your skin crawl. Blaise Zabini, the schools best known charmer, stepped closer, his smug smile sending chills down your spine.

"Or perhaps you're here to join the party?" he suggested, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin prickle with discomfort. Lorenzo Berkshire, the powerhouse of the team, folded his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable as he observed you. The room seemed to close in around you, the haze of smoke thickening as their presence suffocated the air.

With every instinct screaming at you to escape, you tried to muster courage. "I-I'm just looking for Mattheo," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pulsating music. "I'm his tutor, and he was supposed to meet me for a study session...I came to find him."

Theodore smirked, tilting his head as he scrutinized you with a calculating gaze. "I don't recall Mattheo mentioning anything about a tutor," he said, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "Are you sure you're in the right place, Bella?"

"Or, perhaps you're here for something other than tutoring?" Lorenzo said, his voice like a low growl--your nerves multiplying as he took a deliberate step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "You should know that little birds who dare to venture into the snake's den rarely ever make it out alive..."

Lorenzo's words stirred something inside your chest, your stomach twisting into a knot so tight you thought for sure your intestines were about to explode. The boys, their eyes gleaming with a sinister intent, moved forward with calculated steps, their chuckles weaving through the air like unsettling whispers. They encircled you, a menacing dance of predators closing in on their prey-the glint in their eyes mirroring the sharpness of fangs as they closed the gap, enveloping you in a suffocating sense of dread.

You couldn't help but to be acutely aware of the irony of the situation, you were the helpless little bird ensnared in the midst of hungry snakes--desperate for rescue that you knew would never come--internally freaking the fuck out until you steeled your shoulders, gathering every single last ounce of your courage to meet Enzo's burning gaze head on--a glint of defiance twinkling behind your eyes.

"Little bird, Berkshire?" you taunted, your voice ringing through the room as you took a bold step toward him, your head held high to meet his eyes. "Last time I checked, the Ravenclaw emblem was an Eagle…unless it’s changed without my knowledge…" you continued, your gaze unwavering, watching his jaw clench with irritation. "Do you know what eagles are capable of, Berkshire? Or is that information too elevated for your limited intelligence?"

Lorenzo's lips curled into a contemptuous smile. "Save your Ravenclaw wit for your textbooks, little bird," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "In our den, you're just prey, no matter what emblem you wear."

The boys around you chuckled darkly, their laughter echoing through the room like the hiss of snakes, only fuelling your urge to defend yourself further. Lorenzo took another step forward and you straightened your shoulders.

"Your attempts to wield venom through words mirror your feeble Quidditch endeavors…always falling short of the impact you intend," you sneered, your confidence cutting through the tension. "Perhaps it's time to reevaluate your definition of prey, considering the ones who underestimate tend to fall the hardest."

Lorenzo's nostrils flared, his face turning crimson with rage. "You got quite the mouth on you, little fucking brat," he spat, his voice sharp as a dagger, hand reaching up to grip your jaw, pulling you tight against him--the scent of alcohol flooding your nostrils as his free hand gripped your hip, your mouth parting in complete, paralyzing shock. "You want to fucking say that again, huh?"

The boys surrounding the two of you exchanged uneasy glances, their initial amusement morphing into concern as they realized just how far he was willing to take things. A few of them took cautious steps back, their confidence waning in the face of Lorenzo's escalating rage.

Your voice wavered, a mixture of fear and defiance. "Let go of me."

"Not so tough now, are you?" He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening. "You're bloody pathe-"

Lorenzo's malicious words hung in the air, pregnant with menace, but they were abruptly silenced by a deep, furious rumble that reverberated through the room.

"Berkshire," you recognized that voice. You’d never, ever not recognize that fucking voice. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The resonance of his voice was like a rolling thunder, each syllable echoing off the stone walls and sending tangible shivers down your spine. The very atmosphere seemed to quiver in response, and you could almost feel the raw power of his anger vibrating in the air, setting the entire room on edge. Enzo's eyes widened in alarm, his confident facade crumbling like fragile parchment in the face of Mattheo's wrath.

Slowly turning, Enzo locked eyes with the approaching Riddle, whose gaze blazed with an unyielding fire, and without giving him a chance to react, Mattheo surged forward, his movements swift and deadly. His fist, wrapped in a tempest of rage, found its target in Enzo's jaw with a resounding impact.

The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the room, Enzo's head snapping violently to the side, a spray of crimson erupting from the corner of his lip, painting the air with the evidence of Mattheo's strength--and the room stood still for a moment, suspended in a heartbeat of sheer shock as Enzo stumbled backward, his once-defiant demeanor now entirely shattered.

In the wake of Mattheo's ferocity, the room remained suspended in a tense silence, like a captured breath waiting to be released, the echo of the impact still ringing in your ears. Enzo, once the epitome of arrogance and aggression, now stood stunned, his hand clutching his injured jaw as he struggled to regain his balance. The other boys, previously reveling in their sadistic taunts, stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief at the sudden turn of events.

Mattheo, his chest heaving with restrained fury, stepped forward, his gaze locked onto Enzo.

"Touch her again," he growled, his voice low and menacing, "and I'll make sure you regret every last moment you spend at this fucking school."

Enzo, now visibly shaken, nodded weakly, a mix of fear and humiliation clouding his eyes. Without another word, Mattheo turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly, concern flickering in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentler now, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that had just erupted in the room. "Did he hurt you?"

Your mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions, struggling to process the chaotic events that had just unfolded. Numbly, you shook your head, your hand instinctively reaching up to rub your jaw, still tingling from the force of Enzo's grip.

"No," you said, not daring to meet his eyes. "I'm fine."

With a nod, Mattheo turned, his eyes boring into the remaining onlookers, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "Enough gawking. Move along," he ordered, his tone laced with steel. "This isn't a show for your fucking amusement."

The intensity in his words sent the spectators scrambling like startled crows, leaving you and Mattheo in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the recent events hanging heavily in the air as he peered down at you with dark eyes.

"You came looking for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible above the fading echoes of the room. "Thought you'd appreciate a night off from my bullshit."

Your chest seized as you eyed his face--the cut across his nose from yesterday still faintly bleeding, swatches of blood still decorating his jawline and cheekbones--you couldn't deny that this boy was a bloody mess. A cunning, arrogant, complicated fucking mess--but Gods, was he fucking attractive.

"I don't appreciate being blown off without notice, Riddle..." you huffed, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "Not that you could ever relate."

“You’re right, I can’t..I usually get some notice before being blown.” With a slight smirk, he gripped your wrist, meeting your eyes. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Mattheo's hold on your wrist was firm yet oddly reassuring as he guided you through the chaotic Slytherin common room. The room was a cacophony of laughter, music, and rowdy students, but his presence seemed to part the crowd effortlessly, creating a path for the two of you with ease. The air outside the common room was a welcome relief, free from the suffocating haze of smoke and the overwhelming scent of alcohol. Mattheo didn't release your wrist, his touch lingering, and you found yourself following his lead as he navigated the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the distant echoes of the party behind you. Mattheo's expression was unreadable, his eyes focused ahead, as if he was deep in thought. The tension that had gripped you inside the common room began to dissipate, replaced by a strange sense of calm in his presence. As you walked, you stole glances at his profile--his jawline sharp, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes a stormy mix of emotions.

There was something different about him tonight, something vulnerable beneath his usual composed facade.

As the two of you finally reached the vacant potions room, Mattheo relinquished his hold on your wrist, allowing his fingers to slide away like the fading echo of a melody. He gently pressed open the ancient door of the classroom, and you slowly ventured inside.

Your senses heightened, capturing every subtle nuance of the space. The faint creak of the floorboards beneath your weight, the distant hoot of an owl, and the rustle of leaves against the windowpane merged into a symphony of nocturnal sounds. The anticipation in the air crackled like static electricity, wrapping around you as Mattheo's presence loomed closer, his warmth seeping through the layers of your uniform.

A singular step carried you further into the room, yet your feet rebelled against moving any closer. Your body buzzed with a peculiar blend of apprehension and curiosity, a tingling sensation that crawled beneath your skin. Mattheo's proximity felt palpable, his body brushing against you as he stood just behind, a silent guardian in the obsidian night.

The click of the lock reverberated through the chamber, its sound shattering the silence like a fragile glass.

His words caressed your ear as he spoke, accompanied by the strong scent of whiskey on his breath. "You're a goddamn handful, Raven..."

At the sound of his voice, your lids fluttered involuntarily, warmth creeping down your back, you were beyond thankful that he was behind you and couldn't see your reaction.

Your voice was a breath as it left your lips. "That's funny, coming from you..."

"Touché, princess." He hummed, the vibration massaging your spine. You tensed as his hand brushed your shoulder, pulling your hair back with it. "I'm sorry about Berkshire...he's a real charmer..."

You huffed, shaking your head, dismissing the heat that pooled in your core with each passing moment of his proximity. "Seems like all you Slytherin men are...certainly know how to dish it out, but don't know how to take it, hm?"

His lips curled into a smirk, his tone laced with arrogance. "Oh, we know how to take it, Raven," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I certainly do, anyways..."

Your breath caught in your throat. "I'm not so sure about that, Riddle...my mouth has gotten you going many times now..."

"Fucking right it has..." he growled, lips grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. "But I can handle you...the real question is, can you handle me..."

Your pulse was flying, rocketed somewhere into another galaxy. "Haven't I proved myself yet..."

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped him, reverberating through the room. His warm breath brushed against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation across your flesh. His tongue traced a torturous path up the side of your throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands hovered over your hips, their presence magnetic, hesitating slightly before tightening their grip as if uncertain of your response.

"Not even fucking close, princess..." he purred, his words dripping with desire. "You have a long ways to go still..."

A soft, involuntary sound escaped your lips, your head falling back against his shoulder, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that coursed through you. Resistance seemed futile; you were utterly ensnared in his grasp. He wielded an irresistible power over you, and you had no strength left to resist, even if you wanted to--all you had were words; empty, meaningless words.

"I thought you didn't want to do this anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hushed breaths between you. "I thought you just wanted me to be your tutor."

Mattheo's grip intensified. "I said a lot of things last night that I didn't mean, Raven..." he murmured against your neck. "I was drunk."

"You're drunk right now, too, Mattheo..." you muttered, unable to hide your amusement. "Bloody hell, you have issues."

"I know...I've gotta work some shit out," his teeth nipped your earlobe, you could practically feel the smirk on his lips. "I'm exercising my demons, Raven, I promise..."

His words hung in the air, laced with desperation and a yearning for understanding, as if he sought solace in your presence but didn't know how to ask for it--with a sharp inhale, your hands found his, and when he loosened his grasp on your hips, you spun around to face him, meeting his dark, penetrating eyes.

Your hands fell to your sides, fingers trembling as your gaze darted from his eyes to his lips, and back to his eyes. "What the fuck do you want from me, Mattheo Riddle..." you whispered. "Give me a solid answer...for once in your bloody-"

"I want you," he cut you off, his hand shifting to cup the side of your face. "...I want you on your knees for me..." his thumb brushed your cheek, his head tilting. "...I want you swallowing my cum..." he wet his lips, leaning closer, "...but most of all, I want you moaning my fucking name until it's the only word that pretty little mouth knows how to say."

Your lips parted, a soft exhale of contentment escaping your throat as he brushed his mouth against yours, stealing every breath from your lungs.

"But…you can't stand me, remember..." you whispered, your voice trembling like fragile glass. "You hate me..."

"Yeah," he huffed, his gaze flickering to your lips. "I hate you."

Your heart thundered against your ribs. "You hate me.”

"Yeah, I fucking hate you," he replied, his eyes simmering with intensity. "Do you hate me?"

"Yes," you responded, the words flowing from your lips like molten lava. You needed no time to think about it, not even a second. "I hate you."

"Yeah?" His eyes darkened, his features glossing over with something that made your stomach twist. "Say it again."

"I hate you, Mattheo Riddle..." you murmured, his lips brushing over yours again, sending electric sparks across your skin while his hand slithered around your lower back, pulling you closer. "I hate you so much."

He gripped your uniform between his fist, a low chuckle leaving his throat, his voice dripping with seductive arrogance. "I don't think I believe you, Raven." He purred, his warm breath caressing your lips. "Maybe you should prove it."

He pressed his lips to yours in one swift, powerful kiss, the intensity of it leaving you breathless. His mouth trailed a scorching path along your jawline, his tousled curls tickling your cheek as his warm breath fanned your skin. Speaking became a struggle amidst the sensations that engulfed you.

"How do you propose I do that?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible over the thundering beat of your heart. His lips moved to your ear, pressing against it with a tantalizing heat.

"Hit me," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

"What?" Your body erupted in an incomprehensible collection of emotions, admittedly taken back by his request. "Why-"

"Hit me," he repeated, voice harsher now. "Just like last night--fucking slap me, Raven...don't be shy, you know I deserve it..."

The intensity behind his words propelled you into action, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Without a moment's hesitation, you inhaled a sharp breath and drew your hand back, the room electrified with anticipation. With swift precision, your palm met his cheek in a sharp, resounding smack--his tousled chocolate curls dancing upon impact, his head jerking to the side.

In the charged aftermath of your slap, a potent silence hung in the air, laden with fervent anticipation. When he smirked, his eyes ablaze with a searing intensity, it felt like a scorching brand against your skin. Undaunted and admittedly more fucking turned on than you'd ever been before, you wound your hand back again--this time, your slap landed with a fiercer impact, a guttural groan escaping his lips as your palm connected with his cheek for the second time.

Before you could register what was happening, his hand gripped a fistful of your hair, his strength surprising you, and he spun you around. With a forceful push, he shoved you against the wall, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger that matched the storm raging within you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both.

"You like that, Raven?" He purred, his fingers working to untuck your blouse before slipping underneath the fabric, the sensation of touch sending shivers down your spine. "You like making me fucking hurt, huh?"

"Gods, yes," you gasped, words choked through your breath as his fingers teased your nipple under the fabric of your bra. "You deserve so much more than that."

"That's right," he groaned, arrogance flooding his tone, lips moving like a sin along your neck, igniting your senses. "I'm a piece of shit, aren't I...using you like this...taking you as my little fucking toy when I said I wouldn't..."

A shuddering breath escaped your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, unable to deny the raw intensity of your desires for even a single fucking second longer.

"Mattheo," you gasped, your voice barely audible, your body amplifying your words as it pressed closer to his, spine arching as he teased your nipple. "Touch me...please, just fucking touch me..."

"There she fucking is...there's my dirty little slut..." Mattheo groaned, low in his throat, teeth sinking into your neck. "Begging for me without even needing to be told...fuck, you learn so quickly, don't you..."

As his hand trailed down your stomach, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the heat of his touch flood through you. The trail of embers he left in his wake had your mind reeling, making it hard to even form coherent thoughts--your heart pounding so hard you were completely fucking certain he could hear it.

"Matty..." you whimpered, his teeth marking your neck, your grip tightening in his hair.

As his fingers slipped under the hem of your skirt and found their way to the mound of your pussy, you couldn't help but arch your back, pressing your hips closer to his hand. The fabric of your thong did little to impede the sensation, and you felt your body responding involuntarily to his touch. Your bodies were pressed tightly against each other, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in rhythm with you.

"Shh," he murmured, hand slipping from your hair and clamping over your lips. "You'll need to be quiet princess...you don't want to get caught like this, do you?"

His body shuddered against yours as you mewled, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through your limbs. Mattheo pressed himself harder against you, his hardness pressing against your thigh--the sensation sending a jolt of excitement through you, causing you to roll your hips against him in response. You were so fucking far gone now, there was absolutely no saving you. You wanted more of him, all of him, every single inch he wanted to fucking give you.

"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice was a breathless growl as he slipped his fingers under your thong and slid a finger through your soaked slit, your entire body jolting against his--a loose moan reverberating through your chest. "Oh fuck, Raven...you're so fucking wet..."

Breath hitching, engulfed in a deluge of lust, you wriggled against him, lava already flowing out from your centre and through your veins.

"Look at what I fucking do to you..." he pressed your head against the wall, his own head shifting back to meet your eyes. "Who else gets you this fucking wet, huh? Fuck...this little pussy already belongs to me..."

You choked back a moan, stifled under his rough palm as the pad of his finger drew slow circles around your clit, warmth flooding your body. Your hands clutched the fabric of his shirt now, digging in with enough intensity to slice the fabric with your nails. Mattheo growled, watching every ministration of your face under his hand, rubbing faster in response, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your hips bucking.

"That's it...fuck..." he muttered, loosing himself in your eyes, in the heat of your pussy dripping from his touch. "No turning back now, Raven...you're going to fucking cum for me...you're going to make yourself mine..."

Your lids fluttered, body trembling, oxygen fleeing you without hesitation; short, insistent groans escaping your throat, his fingers assailing your stiff nub. You were balancing on your peak, ready to tip over, never knowing pleasure so fucking intense in your entire life.

"Look at me." He hissed. "Look into my fucking eyes as you cum for me."

Every nerve in your body felt electrified, pulsating with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful--chest rolling and head spinning as you met his eyes; drowning in their chocolate intensity. His touch, his gaze, everything about him overwhelmed your senses, plunging you into a euphoria you had never experienced before. You were gone, hardly hearing his words, hardly even conscious, the sensations flowing through you were unlike anything you've ever known. And then, before you had a chance to accept it, white light flashed in front of your vision, blurring your sight, a blissful heat ripping through you and shattering your sanity as you squealed into his palm--Mattheo’s lips parting and his chest heaving as he watched you, not daring to blink, not even daring to breathe.

You became aware how tight you had been holding him, and you quickly released him, a wave of hot shame washing over you. Your hair was sticking to your face, your cheeks tingling.

"Such a good girl," he said, lifting his fingers from your pussy and bringing them to his lips, shoving them past his teeth, holding your stare as he sucked your juices off of them before slowly pulling them out with a pop. "Just getting a taste of what I have to look forward to later."

You exhaled a long, trembling breath--your conscious slowly returning.

“Gods,” you gawked, speechless, body still tingling with the aftershock of your climax. “What are you doing to me, you plague of a boy…”

He chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a malicious smile. “Told you I’d ruin you Raven…” he said. “I may be many things, but a liar isn’t one.”

———————

Here’s eight->

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Two-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: very angst. lots of emotions going on here. reader proves herself to the syltherin boys. honestly just a really playful, fun, light chapter.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the wake of Mattheo's cutting words, three days had passed--three seemingly endless days since he had slammed the door shut on your attempts to help him, his declaration of your connection being nothing more than a futile endeavour, one destined for ruin once the end of the school year rolled around still ringing in your ears like a haunting melody.

The echo of his harsh words reverberated within your mind, an incessant hologram with no escape, seeping into your thoughts during sleepless nights, intruding upon your attempts to focus on anything else. You weren't sure why those words had cut so fucking deep, because in the moment you'd hardly even flinched, but you couldn't ignore the lingering pain they caused.

And during those agonizing days, an uncomfortable tension settled between the two of you, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. You took the hint, biting back the words that threatened to spill, choosing silence over confrontation. You trailed after him like a shadow in between classes, keenly aware that any attempt at conversation would only ignite another explosive clash, a battle neither of you felt prepared to wage again so soon.

The memory of your last argument lingered, its toxicity staining the air between you, leaving wounds too deep to heal without acknowledgment and remorse; two things neither of you seemed ready to give, quite yet.

But what really made matters worse, was that both of you were unyielding in your convictions--both of you shamelessly stubborn and unapologetic, neither of you feeling as though you were in the wrong. Mattheo barricaded himself behind walls, lashing out as if you were the enemy, despite your unwavering efforts to assist him--which, in turn, resulted in your pushiness. Your refusal to tolerate his aggression without challenge, became your armor, your way of standing your ground.

Maybe you had been too forceful, perhaps too harsh, but in your eyes, it was a response to the aggression he hurled your way. You couldn't simply let his hostility go unchecked; it was against your nature. And so, the standoff continued, a battle of wills and tempers, leaving both of you entrenched in your own convictions, neither of you willing to admit fault.

But today, you decided you weren't going to hide back anymore. You couldn't allow your stubbornness to completely destroy whatever progress you had made with Mattheo thus far. This was about more than just your pitiful feelings, or whatever emotions you had tied into the situation with that complicated boy. This was about being there for him, wether he wants you to be or not. Showing compassion and patience.

And so, summing newfound determination, you shook off the weight of your own melancholy and sought him out after dinner. Today, he and his group of friends had chosen the serene ambiance by the black lake as their study sanctuary, immersing themselves in the preparation for the upcoming charms exam next week.

Over the past three days, you had gradually grown somewhat acquainted with his friends. While you hadn't quite reached the level of camaraderie, there was a palpable shift in their attitudes towards you, a subtle warmth replacing the earlier distance. This change in dynamics became more evident, especially after the unsettling incident involving Berkshire, who still remained confined to the hospital wing, almost a week later.

With determined resolve, you traversed the courtyard and descended the hill toward the lake, drawing in a steadying breath. Each step echoed your silent promise: to honour Mattheo's boundaries, even if it felt like swallowing shards of glass. The crisp air seemed to echo your determination as you neared the group of Slytherin boys, their laughter and banter carried on the breeze.

Among them, Mattheo sat with his usual nonchalant demeanor, his tousled hair framing his intense eyes. A cigarette dangled effortlessly from his fingers, his bag slumped lazily beside him as he rested stoically against a tall tree, lost in conversation with Malfoy. As you veered closer, his gaze met yours briefly, as though he sensed your presence, the darkness within his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. Beside him, Blaise Zabini's face lit up with anticipation, a welcoming smile playing on his lips as he waved you over.

"Well good evening, little raven...always a pleasure," Blaise grinned, his tone teasing as he made room for you to sit down next to him. "Here to keep an eye on Riddle, are you?"

As you settled into the space between Blaise and Mattheo, the group of boys, including Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, and Regulus Black, welcomed you with light smiles and eager nods.

"Perhaps." You teased, sneaking a glance at Mattheo, his gaze planted on the cigarette between his fingers as he fiddled with it. "Or perhaps I'm here to make sure you lot don't burn down the entire forest during your little 'study session'..."

"Rest assured, we're Hogwarts' best-behaved troublemakers," Draco chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief, a cocky smile playing on his lips. "But if you're worried about the forest, maybe you should stick around...your presence might just be the calming influence we need."

Your blush was undeniable as you smirked, meeting Draco's silver eyes across from Mattheo. He leaned back on his palms as his gaze darted over your features, the top buttons of his uniform shirt undone, exuding an air of effortless confidence.

"I know enough about you, Malfoy, to know that's the furthest thing from the truth," you said, your tone teasing. "But either way, I won't be going anywhere anytime soon...unfortunately for him, Riddle here is stuck with me for a few more weeks."

Blaise chuckled, his voice low and smooth. "Ah, the lucky bloke," he replied, his eyes meeting yours with a smouldering intensity. "If I had my way, you'd find yourself stuck with me, instead...and I assure you, it would be a much more enjoyable experience..."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Oh yes," he teased, his voice a playful melody as he shot Mattheo a knowing wink. "I know all too well the misery of enduring Riddle's icy presence all day; he could freeze a bloody dragon with that demeanor...it's almost cute that you think you'll be able to change him."

The timbre of his voice, a melodic dance of amusement, filled the space around you, and Mattheo's demeanor, once steely and composed, seemed to falter slightly under the weight of Blaise's remarks.

His features tightened, as if grappling with invisible chains, and your own smile, once confident, wavered slightly, betraying the impact of Blaise's words. Swallowing hard, you felt the weight of his teasing remarks settle in the pit of your stomach, a heavy reminder of the argument you and Mattheo had just a few days ago. Despite the discomfort, you summoned your courage, your voice soft yet resolute as you spoke.

"I'm not trying to change him, Blaise," your words hung in the air, delicate and firm, like a fragile thread of understanding. "I'm just here to support him...whenever he's ready to let me."

Your words lingered for a moment, underscoring your unwavering dedication to bolster Mattheo without imposing change upon his core. Although you were directing these words at Blaise, you hoped Mattheo had taken heed of them--as this mentorship, you understood now, was not about altering his identity; it was about assisting him in unraveling the internal struggles, urging him to redirect his anger into positive outlets rather than combatting every perceived threat with physical violence.

Blaise's eyes softened, his usual playful demeanor giving way to a more contemplative expression. He leaned in closer, his gaze scanning your features with a profound curiosity, as if searching for hidden depths within your soul. His voice, now tinged with awe and respect, broke the silence.

"Where have you been all this time, hm? He could have used someone like you years ago..." he murmured, his gaze shifting between you and Mattheo, a glint of intrigue shimmering in his dark eyes. "She must truly be something special for you to willingly sacrifice your freedom for her, Riddle."

"A special pain in my ass, yeah," Mattheo said, his voice seemingly devoid of emotion, a subtle hint of sarcasm lacing his words. As he took a draw of his cigarette, a flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes, the smoke curling around him like a shield. "Nothing about this arrangement was willingly chosen, Zabini..."

Despite the gravity of his words, a rush of warmth surged within you at Mattheo's candid remark. Amusement sparked in your eyes, a glint of playful defiance as you tried to suppress a smirk that threatened to betray your composure.

"Don't let him fool you, he loves it..." your voice, low and teasing, hung in the air, the words daring and provocative as you shamelessly appraised Mattheo's hardened features. "Isn't that right, Riddle? You know you enjoy being kept on your toes for once..."

Mattheo met your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly, but a flicker of amusement danced in their depths. Your boldness didn't go unnoticed, a silent understanding passing between you amidst the banter. With an air of nonchalance, he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he brought his cigarette to his mouth once more.

"Yeah, that's what I enjoy," he drawled, his tone dry and drenched in sarcasm. "Being kept on my toes."

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at Mattheo's sneakily playful words, your attempt to conceal your reaction falling short. Your eyes dropped to your lap, a feeble effort to shield your reddening face from the prying eyes around you. The charged words hung thick in the air, every gaze in the circle keenly aware of the subtle shift in dynamics. Before you could even think to react, Theodore Nott's voice, low and teasing, sliced through the tension, his eyes glinting with a playful gleam that hinted at secrets only he knew.

"Careful, Bella Mia..." he cautioned, his words hanging in the space between you, laden with enigmatic warnings. "You'll only get hurt."

Confusion knit your brows, a perplexed frown marring your features as you tried to decipher his cryptic statement.

"What?" you asked, your voice betraying your bewilderment.

"Your smile..." he replied with a knowing smirk, his tone light but filled with subtle implications, "...you look like you're about to fall in love."

The breath caught in your throat, the world around you momentarily blurring as Theodore's unexpected revelation hit you like a tidal wave. The color drained from your cheeks, leaving your face pale, and your heart thudded against your ribs with a fervent urgency, as if pleading for clarity. Flustered and unprepared, you turned your gaze toward Mattheo, seeking solace in his familiar presence.

Nervousness danced in your eyes, a desperate search for reassurance before you stammered out a denial, the words tumbling from your lips in a rush. "Fall...in love? With Mattheo? Sorry, no...no bloody way."

Your words spilled out in a hurried, almost desperate attempt to dispel the implication, yet there was an undeniable tremor in your voice, a subtle quiver that betrayed the unease settling deep within you. Mattheo's eyes met yours, but they held an emptiness, a haunting void that sent a shiver down your spine, something distant flickering within them, making your stomach twist in uneasy knots.

Around you, the group erupted into sneers and light chuckles, their amusement palpable as they sensed your flustered expression. But your attention remained fixated on Mattheo, his silent gaze carrying the weight of Theodore's words, a looming storm cloud hanging over your heads, heavy with unspoken implications.

In love. The notion seemed absurd, impossible even. No, it couldn't be true. There was no way.

"Nott's right, you'll only get hurt..." Malfoy's sneering voice cut through the air, his words laced with a malicious amusement as he cast a sideways glance at Theodore, who snickered in agreement. "You're far too innocent for Riddle... he'd chew you up and spit you out in a second...any of us would..."

He paused, his cold eyes darting from yours to Mattheo's, and back to yours again, as if sizing up the situation. A sly smirk played on his lips, the cruel glint in his eyes sharpening. "Well, perhaps not Notty boy here; he's a little softer."

A surge of heat coursed through your veins, igniting a fierce determination within you that contrasted sharply with the warm, gentle breeze caressing your skin. Despite the pressure weighing heavily upon you and the palpable weight of their expectations hanging in the air, you refused to succumb to their underestimation. With your pulse quickening, you squared your shoulders, locking eyes with Malfoy's cocky gaze.

"You know...I don't believe I'm as fragile as you all seem to think I am," you retorted, words laced with conviction, challenging their perception of you. "I can handle myself just fine."

"Don't let her appearance fool you," Mattheo's words, unexpectedly slicing through the charged atmosphere, nearly startled your heart out of your chest. His voice, dripping with playful irony, reverberated through your limbs as he spoke without even sparing you a glance, his dark hair framing his face and his whiskey eyes meeting Malfoy's with a challenging glint. "That pretty face hides one hell of a devilish mind."

A collective reaction rippled through the group of boys, their eyebrows shooting up in surprise, their smirks growing wider. The implications of Mattheo's remark hung thick in the air, sparking newfound curiosity and amusement that crackled in the atmosphere like electricity. Malfoy seized the opportunity, his smirk taking on a mischievous edge.

"Now you're calling her pretty, Riddle?" he teased, his tone laced with playful skepticism. "Are you sure there's nothing going on between you two? You have been spending a hell of a lot of time together..."

Simultaneously, you both shot back with lightening speed--your words colliding mid-air, overlapping with the others quick response in a chaotic symphony of denial.

"He wishes," you said, your voice carrying a playful edge--while at the same instant, Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm and wit. "In her bloody dreams," he said.

Your synchronized responses elicited another round of chuckles from the boys, a shared moment of camaraderie at the expense of you and Mattheo. The tension between the two of you remained, but the exchange had shifted into a playful rhythm, now, the unspoken dynamics between you two sparking curiosity among the others. Malfoy's chuckles gradually faded, replaced by a challenging glint in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling his lips.

"Alright then...little good girl," he drawled, his tone laden with mischief. "Why don't you prove it?"

Your nerves prickled beneath your skin, a rush of anxiety coursing through your veins as you stammered, "Prove...it? Prove what?"

"Prove that you aren't as innocent and fragile as we think you are," he challenged, his words hanging in the air like a dare. "Prove that you're more than just your books and your pushy, smartass attitude."

Nervously, you glanced around the circle at each of the boys, their eyes fixed on you with wide grins of anticipation. The weight of their expectations pressed upon you, and you felt the intensity of the moment, wether you wished to ignore it or not. Mattheo didn't dare to meet your gaze, but you could sense the slight smirk playing on his lips as he casually fiddled with his cigarette. After a long, silent moment, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

"Fine, Malfoy," you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "Challenge excepted."

With determination, you pushed off the ground, turning your attention away from the circle and toward the tranquil expanse of the black lake. The challenge had been accepted, and you were ready to prove that there was more to you than met the eye, ready to do whatever the hell you needed to earn their respect in your own damned way.

The boys surrounding you stared in wide-eyed shock as you swiftly shrugged off your uniform jacket, the soft fabric falling carelessly to the grassy ground. With a quick motion, you kicked off your shoes, the blades of grass tickling your feet beneath the fading sunlight--it was dark enough now that if you moved away from them, toward the edge of the lake, and stripped off your skirt and shirt, they wouldn't be able to see too much. Nevertheless, they'd still catch glimpses, and that was precisely the point.

Mattheo, still seated, shot you a puzzled look, his eyes narrowing with sheer confusion and concern.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he questioned, his voice slicing through the stunned silence. The weight of his gaze bore into you, searching for an explanation that might justify your unexpected actions. A surge of confidence pushed you forward, your resolve unwavering.

"I'm going to prove that I'm more than what you all think," you replied, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And that sometimes, good girls do bad things, too."

Theodore Nott, always one to read the room, glanced between you and Mattheo, a sly smile playing on his lips. "This should be interesting," he murmured, his tone laced with amusement. "Salazar save us..."

With a newfound sense of liberation, you descended toward the tranquil lake, the gentle lapping of water against the shore a soothing melody in the background. The soft rustle of the wind caressed your ears, heightening the anticipation that hung thick in the air. As you began to undo the buttons on your uniform blouse, each delicate movement resonated with the weight of the challenge, setting your heart racing in your chest.

With every button that slipped out, the tension in the atmosphere grew palpable, the burning gazes of the captivated boys etched into your flesh. The fabric of your blouse glided off your shoulders, landing gracefully on the grass like a discarded shield at your feet. Standing there, clad in nothing but your bra and skirt, you felt a heady mix of exhilaration and vulnerability wash over you.

As the cool evening air enveloped your skin, you sensed a presence behind you. Slowly, you peeked over your shoulder to find Mattheo sprinting toward you, his brows furrowed in disbelief and his eyes widened in pure shock. He came to a halt just a few feet away, his voice laden with a mixture of astonishment and genuine concern.

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" he exclaimed, his words a sharp contrast to the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. "You're going to fucking freeze..."

His gaze flickered over you, a kaleidoscope of emotions playing in his eyes, the dominant one undeniably being shock, tinged with a hint of something else--something unspoken and complex. Under the intensity of his stare, you felt a rush of warmth suffuse your skin, a bold defiance kindling within you as your hands moved to the band of your skirt. With deliberate slowness, you teased the length of its waist, holding his eyes captive in a daring challenge.

"What's the matter, Riddle?" you purred, savoring the power in the moment, knowing he couldn't physically intervene in front of his friends without arousing suspicion. "Are you truly worried about me?" Your voice dropped into a low, nearly inaudible whisper as your smirk deepened, relishing the way his eyes tracked your hands. "Or...perhaps...you're just unable to handle other men looking at your property..."

Mattheo's frustration was palpable, his brows furrowing as he struggled to maintain his composure. Yet, beneath the annoyance, there was a glimmer of amusement, a reluctant acknowledgment of your audacity.

"You're playing with fire, again, aren't you?" he muttered, his tone a blend of exasperation and begrudging amusement. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a hint of admiration for your boldness despite the irritation simmering beneath the surface. "Just be careful you don't get burned."

"Oh, please," you retorted, unable to contain your smirk, the confidence in your voice echoing your daring spirit. "Witches don't burn."

With a swift, decisive motion, you cast your skirt aside, the fabric pooling on the grass as you dashed toward the lake with unbridled determination. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, dulling the edge of the initial shock as you plunged into the cold water. A sharp gasp cut through the night as the icy embrace of the lake stole your breath away, the shock of the temperature quickly giving way to exhilaration. In the background, the boys erupted into cheers and hollers, their admiration for your audacious leap resonating in the crisp evening air like a chorus of approval.

Meanwhile, at the shore, Mattheo stood half-stunned, his eyes widening in surprise before that sly smirk slowly crept back onto his face. He watched you with a mix of amusement and something else, something that look almost like an undeniable respect for your audacity. His fingers absently toyed with his cigarette as he observed your fearless actions, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily shattered by your bold act.

From the water, you observed the boys exchanging glances, their smirks hinting at a shared understanding that transcended words. With an unspoken agreement, they shrugged in unison, a collective "fuck it" echoing through the air. One by one, they rose to their feet, shedding their uniforms with carefree abandon until they stood just as exposed as you were. Their toned bodies glistened under the evening sky, the moonlight filtering through the clouds, casting a silvery glow upon their skin.

With lively laughter echoing through the night air, the boys sprinted toward you, their infectious excitement palpable even from a distance. They effortlessly brushed past Mattheo, who stood frozen in place, his expression a mosaic of shock and amusement, his eyes tracking each of his friends as they leaped into the water alongside you. As the cold water embraced them, the boys couldn't help but groan in unison, their playful complaints filling the air.

"Bloody hell, it's freezing..." Reggie exclaimed, eliciting chuckles from the others. “How the fuck did I think this was a good idea…”

Amidst the banter, they turned their attention to you, their expressions a blend of awe and admiration.

"You've definitely surprised us, little bird," Theodore teased, his tone laced with genuine respect. "Making this look so easy, aren't you?"

Malfoy's voice echoed with a mix of amusement and challenge as he shouted across the water to Mattheo.

"Riddle, don't be a killjoy," he taunted, a playful glint in his eyes. "I know you can't resist a good challenge...you're really going to let little raven here outshine you like this?”

The words hung in the air, a tempting dare that Mattheo couldn't ignore. He stood at the water's edge, his expression a mixture of hesitation and a playful grumbling--clearly debating whether to join the revelry or stay put. You grinned as you watched, his face sporting a resigned yet amused expression, as he finally succumbed, muttering under his breath as he peeled off his uniform with deliberate slowness.

"You guys are bloody mad," he grumbled as he folded his clothes neatly on the shore, his movements deliberate and slightly begrudging. "If we catch hypothermia, Raven, I'm blaming you."

Finally, with a sarcastic salute and a roll of his eyes, he took a deep breath and dove into the water, his entry marked by a splash that mirrored the energy and excitement of the night, everyone erupting into laughter at his little display. Mattheo waded over, his playful irritation evident in the way he shot you a mock glare before unleashing a playful splash, water droplets scattering in all directions.

"Mattheo!" You squealed, wiping the water from your face. "You bloody arse!"

His eyes twinkled with mischief, and he couldn't help but smirk as you retaliated, sending a splash of water right back at him. The tension from earlier had transformed into a playful energy, the group now engaged in a water fight, laughter filling the air as splashes and giggles and squeals intermingled.

Before you knew it, everyone was caught up in the spirited frenzy, water splashing in every direction as the boys chased each other, their playful shouts and laughter blending harmoniously. Mattheo, who had initially been the reluctant participant, seemed to revel in the chaos, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he retaliated with gusto, no longer holding back.

As the water fight intensified, you noticed Mattheo momentarily distracted, his attention diverted by the antics of the other boys. Seizing the opportunity, you discreetly gathered a handful of mud from the lakebed, forming it into a small, compact ball. With careful precision, you approached him from behind, your steps silent in the water, and with a swift motion, you lobbed the mud ball, aiming for Mattheo's shoulder.

The ball hit its mark perfectly, leaving a satisfying splatter of mud on his skin, the boys erupting into laughter, thoroughly entertained by your clever move. However, turning around, Mattheo's eyes widened in exaggerated shock, his voice tinged with playful hurt.

"Did you just fucking ambush me? In front of my own men?" he exclaimed, his tone laced with feigned betrayal as he theatrically wiped the mud off his skin. “You’re real fucking bold, aren’t you, Raven?”

You snickered, grinning at the fact you’d caught him off guard like that. “You know what they say…never drop your guard, Mattheo…”

A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes as he casually glanced over your shoulder, spotting Theodore wading in the water behind you and Malfoy standing just a bit to your side. A subtle shift occurred in Mattheo's demeanor, a silent understanding passing between him, Theodore, and Malfoy. Their eyes exchanged a knowing look, a shared sense of mischief darkening their expressions. Mattheo's voice, once filled with mock hurt, now dripped with wicked amusement as he issued his command.

"Grab her, boys," he ordered, his voice taking on a sinister edge, setting the stage for the impeding revenge. "Time to show the little bird what happens when you mess with a bunch of venomous snakes."

Excitement surged through your veins, a thrilling concoction of adrenaline and laughter, as you attempted to evade their grasp. Your heart raced, the pounding in your chest echoing the playful chaos around you. Despite your best efforts, Theodore's fingers wrapped firmly around your arm, and Malfoy's grip held your other, their strength ensuring your playful struggles were in vain.

“Come on, Mattheo!” You squirmed and giggled, a delightful blend of resistance and amusement, as you found yourself caught in their playful trap. “I’m sorry, please…”

Mattheo, his confidence soaring now that you were being successfully restrained, seized a hefty clump of mud, his fingers sinking into its cool, squishy texture. As he spun back around, his eyes locked onto yours, and with deliberate measured steps, he closed the distance between you, his movements exuding a cocky swagger that only intensified your anxiety.

"Any last words, Raven?" he taunted, his voice dripping with playful malice, the echoes of your impending fate resonating in the air like a looming storm. "If you wish to pathetically apologize for that ignorant display, now is the time to do so."

"Mattheo, please!" Desperation and regret flooded your voice, your pleas tumbling out in a desperate rush, mingling with the tension that hung heavy in the air. "I'm so sorry, please don't--I didn't mean to-"

But Mattheo merely shook his head, a triumphant smirk curving his lips, dismissing your words with a casual flick of his hand.

"Actually, just decided it's too late for ass-kissing now, princess," he sneered, his words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "Brace yourself."

With a swift motion, he hurled the mud at you, the clump splattering against your chest. Laughter erupted from the boys, their camaraderie deepening in the chaos of the moment. And you, caught in their playful trap, couldn't help but join in the laughter, realizing that the evening had taken an unexpected turn, transforming into a memorable, joyous escapade under the moonlit sky.

As the boys finally released their grip, laughter still lingering in the air, Mattheo met your eyes, his gaze dipping over your mud-splattered form with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

Grumbling, you couldn't resist a playful jab, "You're such an ass."

His chuckle transformed into a self-assured grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Guilty as charged," he admitted, his voice teasing. "But you have to admit, it was worth it for that look on your face."

You let out a reluctant chuckle, realizing the absurdity of the situation. "Fine, you win this round," you conceded, unable to suppress a smile. "But don't get too comfortable; next time I'm bringing everything I got."

"I'm counting on it," Mattheo replied with a grin, a spark of anticipation in his eyes, acknowledging the challenge you had just thrown his way. “Wouldn’t be normal for you if you didn’t.”

After a little bit longer, the group of you finally emerged from the water, the stars twinkling overhead like diamonds scattered across the night sky. Laughter and playful groans of annoyance filled the air as you all struggled to peel your clothes back on, the urgency to get back to the castle evident in the chilly breeze that swept through the night.

With clothes clinging damply to your skin, you all made your way back, sharing stories and laughter along the path. The atmosphere was light, the shared escapade having created a bond among you, making the cold night feel a little warmer. As you approached the castle, a sense of accomplishment and newfound friendship enveloped the group, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the unexpected turn the night had taken, leaving you with a memory of an exhilarating adventure under the starlit sky.

—————————-

Chapter 23->

[slytherinslut0]

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 Theos 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->