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Š2026 black-cherry-tea please do not copy, translate, or claim my work as your own.
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Warnings: SMUT, breeding?, PiV sex, degradation, aftercare, rough sex
Mattheo Riddle was used to being taken seriously. So when his Gryffindor girlfriend couldn't hide her giggles after the Slytherin team lost the game, he had to teach her a lesson of course.Â
âAinât so funny now huh?â He practically sneered at the girl under him, pushing down on her upper back to further push her into the mattress beneath her and him into her. Each vicious thrust into her was an attempt at punishment that only had her moaning louder.Â
âMatty- fuckâ She rasps out, and finally her shaking arms collapse and she falls fully down onto the mattress. Her cheek pressed into the pillow.
âLook at you- pathetic.â He sneers, drawing a hand back to smack her ass. She lets out a yelp as he huffs a laugh through his breathlessless.Â
âCome on baby- give it to me.â He rasps out, leaning over her back to bring a hand around her front and between her legs.Â
âMatty- fuck- I!â She lets out a loud moan as he pushes her over the edge again, clenching around him hard enough to have him twitching inside of her.
âFuck- gonna breed you. You like that?â He pants, rubbing her swollen clit to bring her down from her high.Â
âStay- fuckinâ still-â He growls out, holding her hips tightly now.Â
âShit-â He groans as he buries himself to the hilt one more time before releasing inside her.Â
He stays there, half collapsed on top of her for a few beats, before she makes a sound close to a hum and lifts her head to the best of her ability.Â
He sighs breathlessly, lifting himself off of her and rolling onto his side.
âAre you okay baby?â His raspy voice has her tired eyes fluttering open and closed lethargically.
âYeaâŚâ She murmurs out and gives him a little tired smile and she finally fully sinks down onto her front on the mattress. His breaths slowly become less labored as he reaches out and strokes her hair back from her sweaty forehead.
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Summery: Tom and you had been divorced for a few years now. After custody of your shared child was revoked, you fell deeper into depression and coped with alcohol. It gets bad enough that your Ex Husband, Tom Riddle, tries one more time to save the mother of his child.
Warnings: Alcoholic! Reader, alcohol abuse, depression, Divorced AU, comfort sort of?? in his own way.
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: Andddd part two is out!!! Hope you enjoy! I listened to Tom Riddle's playlist while I made it, you can find here.
Part 1
The morning passed by slowly. I was fed a light meal with some oatmeal, mixed berries, and toast. The maid surprised me at first, but quietly left after I had thanked her. I felt different with the morning sun on my skin and food in my body. Warm, cozy, but still weak. Like my body had realized I stopped torturing it and was now punishing me. I didnât eat much, only about half of it. The weakness of my bones had turned my body into stone. During the day as I lay in bed, I felt unmovable then. As if the stubbornness of my stiff joints had turned me into a piece of furniture. Thoughts of my son encroached upon my every waking thought and dream. I lay half awake staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It was harder not having anything to do when you were sober. Like suddenly every failure and misstep in my life, my marriage, my motherhood, were a crushing weight against my heart. It felt heavy with my hand over it. Like somehow I could suck out every part of me that is weak, but choose to comfort it instead. I couldnât bring myself to cry in the silence. Not with the shakes wracking through my body in tiny bursts through my tired muscles. At first, I had thrown up, a couple times I had. Each time feeling seemingly worse than the last, as if a part of my soul was drained down the toilet bowl with the rest of my rotted guts and stomach acid. Yet the most putrid taste I had ever tasted was the guilt. MattheoâŚmy baby boy.Â
The shakes only got worse as the day went on. When the maid came in to bring me dinner, I was on the floor leaning against the wall with my head in my hands. It was impossibly hot in here, like the sun was personally scorching me. I only wished I could sweat and shed the sins still evident in my face.Â
âMrs. Riddle?â The young girl called quietly, I hardly glanced at her. I rolled my head to the side and groaned, fisting my hair.Â
âJust- just go.â I said with more irritation in my voice than I intended. I wasnât mad at the poor girl. Not for calling me by a name I no longer possessed, not for being concerned or confused. I was angry at the world, for the pieces of it I had missed out on. My son's life this past year has been a blur of confusion and half drunken memories. Just a little high, just a little something to get through the day, and now Iâm supposed to get through a life without it. The maid, Emily, lingered. I angrily glanced up at her.
âGo!â I shouted, a strong tremble going through my body with the velocity of my voice and every injustice in my life that had seemingly become a failure of mine. Emily flinched slightly at my voice, I regretted it. Groaning loudly in frustration, I thumped my head back against the wall as the maid hurried out. The tears came white and hot like a freight train down my pale cheeks. With utter sadness filling the anger inside of me, I was left confused and alone once again. Listlessly, I tucked my knees up to my chest and held myself together tightly. As if I could stop myself from falling through the floor once again. I sobbed into my knees, I clawed at my skin like a possession had taken over me, I closed my eyes and screamed. I broke so loudly and passionately, I didnât hear the door open. I gasped and pushed at the arms softly pulling mine down from my hair.Â
âShh shh sweetheart.â Tomâs soft voice was distant behind the falls crashing around my vision, straight to my heart where it never failed to make waves. I sobbed harder and tried to pull away again, I didnât want to be seen like this, not by him. To be judged as a useless mother or a full grown woman with the self discipline of a child. I hid my reddening face in my trembling hands until my wrists were softly pulled away. Strong arms wrapped around me and his gentle hand cradled the back of my head despite my messy hair and sweaty frame. He clutched my head to his chest as he muttered soothing words into my ear. My violent sobs turned into broken rasping ones. The kind only true helplessness could explain. I clutched at the soft material of his pristine button up, the material bunching in my hands.Â
âIâm going to take care of you now. Itâs okay baby- breathâŚbreathâŚâ Tomâs voice soothed me while he stroked my hair as I started to calm down. I had been so alone for so long, a hug is what continued my tears. Silent ones like the stillness of death. I nodded against his chest, feeling safe there and hidden. Memories of the willow tree I hid under as a kid resurfacing as he continued to stroke my hair regardless of how long I stayed like that. At some point he had pulled me onto his lap and began gently untangling my hair like we had all the time in the world on our side to stay like this. On this cold wooden floor, messes in our own ways.Â
âStay?â I asked in a quiet, raspy voice. The first thing I had spoken to him in however long we stayed like that. Tom sighed out slowly and nodded with his chin atop my head.
âIâve never been particularly good at saying no to you.â My ex husband's soft confession felt more like a eulogy than a romance. Though it always seemed like every memorable moment between us with either a beginning or seeming end. Yet it seemed despite every attempt at closure or any real end at all, our sick cycle was the ouroboros.Â
But, he slipped an arm under my legs and tightened his grip around my waist as he pulled me closer and stood.Â
âWhat happened to us?â I asked quietly, maybe another hour had gone by by now. He had held me against his chest the entire time, my arm draped across his stomach under the thick blankets he had pulled up over us. When Tom failed to respond, I lifted my head slightly. I searched his face for anything, an ounce of longing or hatred, reallyâŚanything. His eyes held something else, something Iâd never seen on his face before. Hesitation, shameâŚsorrow. My breathing hitched slightly as something similar crossed over my features as well. A shared reluctance between us stretching as time skipped a beat.Â
âSleep.â He said after a pause, bringing a palm up to smooth my hair back from my forehead. I looked between his eyes for a moment. Then complied. I couldnât deny time any longer. Mine was up. I hesitated before leaning my cheek back down onto his chest. My lashes fluttered open and closed lazily, as if deciding between consciousness and the gamble of dreams. Yet his hand had moved to lazily stroke up and down my bare spine, having slipped under my shirt, and unconsciousness won. Yet I swear before she took me, I felt a soft kiss against the crown of my head.Â
The next morning, Tom was gone. This was not something that surprised me, but something that stung just the same. I felt that loneliness seep back into my bones like an inevitable plague. The one familiarity I could find comfort in when everything had suddenly become new. My old flat was a consolation to me, the bitterness of a dilapidating mess that I had come to embrace. This new home, this room, was shiny and pristine. I felt little more than a smudge on my sheets that had been rubbed half away, yet the stain lingered. My body was starting to accept its new circumstances, but the thirst for my destruction was growing. I knew that Tom would not slip up, he would not be clumsy enough to leave anything in the desk drawers or the mostly empty dresser. Yet mid-way through the day, the need for alcohol became insatiable. I found myself searching every crevice, looking through every hidden spot. Anything. I only found emptiness. ExceptâŚfor a little journal and pencil I found in the desk drawer.
I stared at it, curious why he would leave this and nothing else. No books, no puzzles or newspapers, no movies. Just this journal.Â
Over the next few days I did not see Tom again, but the journal had become a close friend to me. I wrote about my experiences, my thoughts, regrets and fears. The need that consumes me like wild fire. It was easier to write than to speak, but sometimes I spoke to myself as well. I had never particularly valued my own company, finding it useless and depressing, but suddenly that was all I had. Except for the maid who came to deliver me meals daily. The meals went from light and twice a day, to three times a day and hearty. Today wasâ Thursday, the counselor would be coming. I did not doubt Tom would make due on his statement he had only made once. He was reliable like that, even on his threats. I remember as a girl when he had become jealous of other men who spoke to me. As if being the opposite gender meant instant attraction. I remember the confusion and fear that overtook me as I watched them slowly disappear, the timing was indisputable.
Tom had trapped me into loving him, but I believe I would have anyway. No one was as sure or devoted to claiming me as he was. There were boys back then, and men in recent times, who had claimed to want me. Who would take care of me, and some who would claim to make the pain go away and make me feel good. Yet none of them would have killed for me. They would fail to understand the darker parts of me that were twisted in knots inside of my head. The things I knew were wrong but wanted anyway were a burden on my intelligence. An insult to the women before me who have fought for something gentle and real.Â
By the time the counselor came, I had changed into one of the few outfits left in the dresser. There were no jeans or leggings or sweatpants. Just pajamas and the style Tom always liked me dressed in. His control over me was an insult stapled as help. Nonetheless I had changed into the white linen trousers and cream sweater. Both were quality pieces as well as the brown flats. I waited on the green velvet couch for him, or her, to arrive.Â
When she did walk in, I was surprised by the sincerity in her expression. The way she looked around the empty room with a confused look on her face. I suppose the absence of anything sentimental was alarming. Perhaps I could ask Tom to see Mattheo. A rather pathetic thought of mine. The old me would have left this room days ago to find him. The old me wasnât an alcoholic. Perhaps it is better that he sees me as he remembers me.
âHello Mrs. Riddle, Iâm Mary Wilson.â The aging blonde walked over with the quiet uncertainty of a lost doe and outstretched her hand. I tried to smile at her, but the energy I lacked was far too much effort to mask.
The days started to blend together wonderfully after my âtherapyâ, if you could call it that. I was content to stare out the window for hours, to draw and write, to roll around in bed, anything but actually consider the repercussions of my actions. The journal was the one thing in this dull room keeping me from hanging myself in the shower. A needed distraction from the burdens of my mind and self that I loathed vivaciously. Surely I expected this, the fall out. The withdrawal had been nothing compared to the healing. Waking up choking on my vomit on the floor had been less depressing than this sobriety. This isolation from anything but my thoughts and this repetitive meal plan.
 It wasnât until that night that my door creaked open once more. I had been sitting at the desk with my hand in my hair, listlessly sketching a little sparrow. The candle my only light. I found the buzz and doctrine hue of the overhead light too divulging and offensive to this room. It cast everything into an early dawn, forcing its vibrancy into the space and onto me. This candle cast odd angles and shadows with each quiet flicker, but its shivering flame felt like company in times like these. The light was sparse but at least it was comfortable with the dark. Â
Tomâs footsteps were easy to spot. He was rarely rushed or careless, always walking with that precise deliberate way of his. When I set down my pencil to look up at him, he was studying the little sparrow with a tilted head. I chose to study him. The candle's soft twilight highlighted the sharp curve of his jaw, the small bump on his nose more prominent like this. His eyes flickered over the page as he stood over me. I slowly leaned back in the creaky wooden chair, wrapping my sweater clad arms around myself as I watched him. The divorce struck through my mind like an arrow that left a hole in any beauty I saw before. My arms wrapped tighter around myself then, shrinking into myself slowly as I ran my gaze over his hair. It was more disheveled than he usually kept it, pieces of it falling into the violent hardness of his eyes.When they flicked down to me at last, I held my breath. His pupils were blown wide like a wild man, and this tortured look crossed his face before his lips tightened. I gazed back at him as my head lolled back against the chair. His eyes flicked over my body in an assessing manner. When he was soft like this, I couldnât resist him. Whenever he couldnât bear the silence of my ruination a floor above him, when the mystery goes on for too long, he comes walking back as if unwilling. Always with that same look in his eyes. As if I had carved out his heart and tattooed my sin onto its soft flesh. Pushing it back in to fit, ignoring the muffled lub-dub of his slowing heart.
âHi babyâ My raspy voice was almost a whisper through currents. His sharp blink and the twitch of his lips were the only sign that he heard me. That he saw me sitting here in the dark, calling for him. I furrowed my brows as he slowly dropped onto one knee. My arms unwrapped from around myself to reach out for him on instinct. His eyes flashed down to my arm with alarming speed before he wrapped his hand around my wrist and tugged me to him. I let out a quiet oomph as my face hit the soft material of his linen button up. I didnât have much time to even think about readjusting before he was wrapping both his arms around me and hugging me tight enough to stop my breath. I wouldnât pull away even if he had let me, I had missed him. This side of him that considered me a part of him. I awkwardly struggled to free my arms from their prison squished into his chest. He did not let up his hold on me, only tightening it like a cobra once an inch more of space was offered. My arms went around his neck, running through his soft hair as I let my cheek press into his boney shoulder. My eyes focused on the flicker of candlelight over the metal bedside table with too many corners. The odd angles of it a promise of the secrets this house was built on. When I felt the shudder in his body, I held him tighter. As if he were the one thing in the world I could protect. That I could trust to never hate me, to always see me in a light untouched by dark shadows. I let the intimacy of shared insanity consume us.
Part 1
Pt 3? LOLLL
//Masterlist//
A/N: SO- this took me awhile to write lol sorry guys!! I hope this is good, I lowkey want to write soul consuming intimate smut for this lil series. LMKKK
Hi guys!!! I know I've been MIA lol I'll probably be posting part 2 of Hear My Call later tn and make some other stuff if I feel productive. Lol Stay safe!đ
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pairing: dark!theodore nott x fem!reader x dark!mattheo riddle. (mattheo makes his appearance in pt2)
warnings: smut 18+, dubcon, breaking and entering, violence, blood, knives (cutting into skin), rough oral sex (m. receiving), mask kink, mentions of murder, swearing
word count: 4k
summary: purge nightâ a night youâve feared all year despite coming from a rich and powerful family. but when six masked men show up at your door, are you really as safe as you thought?
PART 2. the purge au⌠moodboard
âThis is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the purge; all other weapons are restricted. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathersââ
âBlah, blah, blah⌠we get it. Same shit every year.â Pansy sighed dramatically through the phone, her tone dripping with annoyance. You could tell she was rolling her eyes, and you didnât need to see her to know she was slouched lazily somewhere.Â
Not much later, the ominous, bone-chilling sirens blared violently through the entire city, blasting through the walls and echoing in the still-empty streets. The all so familiar sound never failed to give you goosebumps all over your stiffened body, instantly raising your heartbeat. You briefly closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggled to control your shaky breathing.Â
âHellooo? Are you still there or have you been murdered already?â Pansy joked with a taunting laugh. Your eyes snapped open, her static-filled voice dragging you back to reality, and her humorous tone nearly making you forget the reality of this cruel night.Â
Because it wasnât just any regular nightâ it was Purge Night. The one night youâd been dreading all year, every year, in which all crime becomes legal for twelve long hours. Logically, you were well aware that you had nothing to fear. Your parents were successful entrepreneurs with plenty of money to afford the most advanced security equipment, keeping you safe from any outside danger.
Yes, to protect you, and only you. Not themâ they were out at a purge party, the details of which you didnât even want to know, shamelessly networking with other high-profile elites while the poor were brutally murdered in the streets surrounding them. Everything about this night gave you a sickening feeling in your stomach. But of course, you knew it would be fine. All you had to do was surviveâ survive in your mansion, surrounded by unbreachable security. Nothing was going to happen.Â
âYeah, yeah, very funny.â you responded, your voice tinged with irritation as you hurried from your bedroom down the wooden stairs to the security room, figuring that if you could check the cameras around the house, it might calm you down a bit. You couldnât shake the feeling of needing to tiptoe carefully down each step, as though someone might hear youâ which was ridiculous, considering how large and heavily secured the house was.Â
The eerily quiet house was broken by the first distant, chilling screams of pure terror from outside, making you grimace as you opened the creaky door to the small room, your eyes instantly squinting at the many bright screens that made your eyes burn.Â
âItâs just⌠I hope this night will be over soon, thatâs all.â you continued, one hand holding the phone close to your ear while your eyes fleetingly scanned over the security cameras, which were strategically placed to cover every corner outside the house.Â
âOh please, donât be such a scaredy-cat! Every year it goes just fine, so this year will be no different. When has anythingâŚâ Pansy chattered in her usual attempt to comfort you, completely unaware that her words were only doing the opposite, when her voice slowly faded away into the background and your eyes narrowed at one of the top-right screens, which was focused on your front door. What the fuck?
With your heart nearly pounding out of your chest and your hand shakily gripping the phone, you inched closer to the screen, moving as slowly as possible, almost as if the slowness would somehow alter the nightmare playing out before you. A sudden coldness washed over you, your eyes rapidly blinking. No, no, no⌠this canât be happening.Â
On the pixelated, dark screen, you saw six masked men standing in front of your door, their heads tilted as they stared right at the cameras. You felt lightheaded, your left hand reaching up to lightly clasp your throat, the panic threatening to overwhelm you once you noticed the various weapons they were holdingâ baseball bats, knives, axes, and god knows what else.
âPâpansy⌠I, uh⌠there are people standing in front of my doorâŚâ you stammered shakily, still staring at the screen, your body frozen in place with your hand gripping the phone so tightly that your knuckles turned white and your breathing became ragged and uneven.Â
âOh, theyâre probably just trying to scare you, babe. I mean, come on, they canât even come in for fuckâs sake!â she let out a mocking laugh as the chaotic thoughts in your head raced a hundred miles an hour, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty.Â
âPansy, what the fuâ you know what? Forget it.â you snapped, your trembling fingers tapping frantically at the screen before finally ending the call, frustrated at not being taken seriously by your best friendâ though, to be fair, when had she ever?Â
You hastily slipped your phone into your back pocket, already dreading the snarky text she was sure to send you for ending the call, before shifting your attention back to the screen. One of the men removed his mask, prompting you to move even closer with narrowed eyes, your forehead nearly touching the cold glass.Â
âGood evening.â he called out in a stoic, chilling voice, his shiny black hair neatly styled, and his stance tall, commanding and unmistakably intimidating.Â
âSorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, but let me kindly introduce myself. My name is Tom, and these guysâ they are my friends.â The scene you were intently staring at filled you with pure terrorâ this unknown man named Tom, surrounded by men in masks, each carrying weapons that could easily kill you, weapons that were already completely soaked in blood, the dark droplets dripping ominously onto your front porch.Â
âThis can go one of two ways; you simply let us in, and we will stealâ sorry, I mean take whatever we desire, and then, we leave! OrâŚÂ we can do this the hard way. But I can assure you, you will not survive the latter.â His tone was almost amused as he finished speaking, and through the grainy pixels, you could see a controlled, sinister smile spreading across his pale face.Â
âDo not think you are invincible. We can enter any home we want. And we will want, as wanting is our will on this fine purge night. Do not force us to hurt you.â
His menacing words sent tingles across your skin, all the muscles in your body tightening. And for a good ten minutes, they did nothing but stand there, staring straight into the camera, waitingâexpectingâfor you to open the door for them.Â
It was a chilling sight. Almost as if you were staring at a photograph, the men stood completely still, their blood-covered hands tightly gripping their equally blood-soaked weapons, knowing your blood would be next to splatter across them, mixing with that of other poor, helpless victims.Â
When they realised you werenât going to open the door, Tom gave his men a quick signal, waving his finger in the air, which caused you to cock your head in both curiosity and unease.
âAlright then.â He said, the sinister smile on his face growing wider. But it was fine. You knew they couldnât come inside anyway. Your house was so securely protected, there was no way they could come in andâ Is that a fucking blowtorch?Â
âYes, we are prepared. And youâ oh, you chose the wrong option.â Tom coldly stated as if he could read your mind, dragging the words in a chilling tone. Two of his men quickly got to work, the blowtorch slowly cutting through the thick metal doors, meanwhile, Tom continued to stare directly at the camera, his evil, dark smile never faltering, his soulless eyes not blinking once.
âOh, fuck, fuck, fuck.â This was when real panic set in, your eyes flickering with pure terror as you slowly backed away from the screens, gripping whatever furniture was nearby to steady yourself. You hurried out of the room, realising this was the time to hide.
Quickly but silently running up the stairs again, you heard the agonising sound of the blowtorch cutting through the metal, sending shivers all over your body and urging you to move faster.Â
You burst into your room, breathless, slamming the door behind you and you panickedly scanned the small space, frantically searching for the best hiding spot. There werenât many options, but the closet seemed like your only chance, so without hesitation, you flung the door open, stepped inside, and crouched down, wrapping your trembling arms tightly around your knees.Â
âItâll be fine, itâll be fine, itâll be fine.â You kept repeating to yourself in a quiet, trembling voice, desperately trying to gaslight yourself into believing it. But who the fuck are you kidding? They were inevitably coming in, and then⌠well, you didnât even want to think about it.
You gasped loudly at the sudden sound of a loud bang, followed by distant voices and approaching footsteps downstairs. Nibbling on your bottom lip and one hand clutching your throat, you struggled to calm your ragged breathing, but hoping to make out the conversation happening downstairsâ although you werenât even sure if you wanted to hear it in the first place.Â
âWe are coming, aha! And we will find you, you little fucking bitchâ an unfamiliar voice taunted from down the stairs followed by a menacing laugh, clearly relishing the undeniable fear they were instilling in you as the footsteps and faint chatter grew louder with every passing second.
âMattheo, control yourself. Search for the girl downstairs, and Theo, you check upstairs. The rest of us will take whatever is valuable and leave for the next house.â You heared Tom instruct two of his men, his voice stern and cold, before adding, âOh, and whatever you do, make it as painful as possible. I want her to suffer.âÂ
Goosebumps covered your entire body hearing the chilling words, and you could tell that these guys didnât fuck around. Everything about them was incredibly organised and prepared. This wasnât their first time purging. No, they knew exactly what they were doing.
Heavy, resolute footsteps then made their way up the stairs, each deep step resonating through the house, making the silence feel like it was closing it. Theo. There was no way out of this. The only thing you could do was pray that he wouldnât find you. But deep down, you knew he would.Â
âYou canât hide from me, piccola.â a deep, husky voice teased, his voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore. It surprised you to hear a foreign accentâ Italian, you guessed. And fuck, you could punch yourself in the face right now for finding it⌠hot.Â
The steps grew louder, tantalisingly slow, until his footsteps reached your room. Your hand flew to your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your brows furrowed as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on steadying your breath. Your heart beat out of your chest, and you worried it was beating loud enough for him to hear.Â
Then it was quiet. No sounds. You swallowed, your mouth feeling dry with tears brimming at your waterline, and you gasped when you suddenly heard his voice so close to you. Thank fucking god you still had your mouth covered.Â
âYouâre here, arenât you?â He said in a dark, knowing manner, and the only thing you could do at this very moment was repeat âplease donât find meâ in your head while only hoping your death would be less painful than Tom had ordered it to be. âI know you are...âÂ
The closet door then abruptly swung open, causing you to let out a loud, surprised gasp. The tears you had so desperately tried to suppress now uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as your head shot up. Soft ânoâs slipped from your lips when he grabbed you by the arm and aggressively pulled you out of the closet, the words barely audible and you panickedly shook your head, feeling lightheaded due to pure fear.Â
âShut up, cazzo.â he muttered irritably as he threw you on your bed with exasperated aggression. And you immediately compliedâ not only because he asked you to, but because you didnât want Matthew to hear you, knowing that Theo had found you, worried of what he might do to you. Matthew⌠Was his name even Matthew?Â
He stood still before you, and for the first time, you took him in, scanning him from head to toe as his imposing, tall frame loomed over you, casting a shadow over where you sat on the bed.
A white mask fully covered his face, and in his right hand, he held a bloody, sharp knife, causing you to gulp in fear. Oh, he looked fucking terrifyingâ but there was something else, something other than fear deep inside of you. A feeling you desperately tried to suppress. A feeling you felt ashamed to feel. A feeling you could not bring yourself to admit.Â
âHuh.â he commented, his head tilting slightly to the left. âTom didnât tell me you were such a pretty little thing.â he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing over your cheek, causing you to instinctively pull away, stiffening under his touch.Â
âCosĂŹ carina.â he chuckled mockingly, and your eyes were drawn to his hand that was expertly spinning the knife. His other hand then abruptly gripped your hair, making you gasp, and he slightly tilted your head to expose your neck.Â
From your peripheral vision, you could see the bloody knife drawing closer to your neck, making you instantly shut your eyes with furrowed brows, knowing this was it.Â
âCanât wait to see these white sheets turn red.â Theo taunted, but you were shaking, crying and nervously biting down on your lip so hard that blood welled up, waiting for the moment you finally felt the sharp knife against your delicate skin.
And then you did. You felt the cold blade lightly dig into the skin of your neck, the sharp, stinging sensation causing you to tightly grip the sheets, followed by fresh, crimson droplets of blood slowly trickling down your skinâ but then he stopped.
âHm. You know what, bella?â Theo paused for a moment, crouching down to get on eye level with you. The closer he got to you, the faster your heart raced, your whole body heating up with a mix of fear and something else. The deep sense of guilt you felt for feeling⌠this way gnawed at you from the inside.Â
âI might just have other plans for you.â Your head snapped toward him, and you hissed at the fresh cut stretching open, your hand instinctively reaching to the wound, carefully dabbing your fingers on the blood still trickling out.
âYou wanna live?â He questioned, and you reluctantly nodded, still unable to shake off the feeling of unease, even as a slight sense of reliefâor maybe hopeâ began to grow inside of you.Â
âThen I advise you to get on your knees before I change my mind.â You blinked rapidly, unsure if you heard him correctly. Surely not.Â
âIâ what?â You stammered, breathing in so fast you nearly choked on air as your heart pounded out of your chest.Â
âOh, you heard me.â He rose to his feet, and your eyes intently followed his every movement. The way the moonlight seeped through the blinds illuminated him, and for the first time, you could clearly see his ocean-blue eyes gazing down at you with intense focusâ the only feature of his face that was visible through the mask.Â
He reached the knife out again, causing you to flinch, but this time he pressed it under your chin to lift your head, the pointy end digging into your soft skin.
âYou donât think I noticed?â he began, and you sat frozen, knowing that a single movement would press the knife deep into your skin.Â
âYou donât think I noticed the way you looked at me with those pretty eyes?â You raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, unsure of what he was hinting at, and you absolutely hated thisâ the vagueness of his words. You hated having to guess what he meant. It made you anxious.Â
âI have purged a lot of people, bella. And there is one thing aaall of them have in commonâ they all have this same, fearful look in their eyes.â he continued, and it made you wonder what he saw in yours.Â
âBut you⌠cazzo. With you, I see something else sparkling in those pupils.â The way the mask muffled his voice made you unconsciously lean in closer to hear him better, and he did the same, but for an entirely different reason, until you were merely inches apart. It was a strange observation to make in such a moment like this, but oddly enough, he smelt nice, very nice. A pleasant, musky cologne with the undertone of cigarettes filled your senses.Â
âWith you I see⌠lust, yearning, desperation.â he whispered into your ear, the knife digging deeper into your skin, yet still not deep enough to draw blood. Your eyes shot wide open before locking with his, and you felt caught. He hit the hammer right on the nail.Â
âGo on, tell me Iâm fuckinâ wrong.â but you couldnât. You couldnât tell him he was wrong. Because he wasnât. Your eyes darted nervously around the room, unable to meet those intense, piercing eyes as the ache between your legs only grew stronger.Â
âYeah⌠thatâs what I thought. Bet your panties are soaked already, arenât they?â you heard a muffled, condescending chuckle coming from under his mask as he slowly twisted the knife under your chin. You so desperately wanted to bite back, to defend yourself, to tell him that he was being ridiculousâ but the words were stuck in your throat.
âSo⌠back to where we were.â he growled as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, suddenly remembering Matthew wandering around downstairs and being able to walk in at any time, causing him to rush.Â
âCâmon sweetheart. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me if you want to live, aâight? If Mattheo finds us, itâs over for you.â Ohhhh, Mattheo⌠right, right.
You hesitantly walked over to him before getting on your knees right in front of himâ right in front of his already hard erection trapped in his boxers, desperately wanting to escape as the tip formed a wet patch of precum on the fabric.Â
âWell⌠you know I could just kick you in the balls right now and run away?â There it finally wasâ the words that had been stuck in your throat, and the boldness inside of you that had finally come free. It was that unexpectedly tender demeanour of his emerging in brief moments, causing you to see him in a humane light, which stilled your fears.Â
He scoffed before aggressively gripping your hair and pulling your head back, causing you to hiss at the fresh wound on your neck stinging at the movement. He drew closer to you before suddenly holding the knife to your throat again, the softness youâd glimpsed earlier vanishing in an instant.
âOh yeah? You donât think Iâm gonna find you and cut you open? Go for it. Give it a try. Letâs see how that ends.â he warned in a low, menacing tone, your brows furrowing as you clenched your teeth, staring right into his narrowed eyes.Â
âActing as if you arenât practically begging to suck me off right now, tsk. Hurry the fuck up.â he ordered in a harsh tone, abruptly letting go of your hair and retracting the knife from your throat.
Realising you had no other choice but to follow his orders, you stared up at his masked face, before your gaze fell on his boxers. You could tell he was big just from the imprint through the thin fabricâ oh, there was no doubt in that. Reluctantly, you drew your head closer to his crotch, teasingly using your teeth to pull the waistband of his boxers down before slowly sliding them off.Â
âSee, I knew you were a fucking slut.â he growled, his amusement evident as his erection sprang free against his toned abs, precum glistening at the tip. Oh, well fuck. He was indeed huge, causing your eyes to widen momentarily as you swallowed hard. You glanced back up at him one more time, and he gave you a sharp nod, his hand on the back of your head pressing insistently, urging you closer.Â
Your head slowly inched closer to his intimidatingly large cock, and you started with placing soft kitten licks on the tip, tasting the salty precum, when suddenly a mischievous smile began to curve your glossed lips. In one swift, unexpected motion, you wrapped your mouth around his throbbing length, firmly pressing your teeth into the skin while at the same time your hand darted to his balls, your sharp nails digging deep into the sensitive flesh.Â
âThat fuckinâ hurts, you bitch. Cazzo!â Theo cursed, aggressively pushing you back until you hit the bed, yet the same mischievous smile on your face only widened. It confused him how the terrified, weak girl he saw earlier had transformed into⌠this.Â
âDidnât expect you to be such a fucking pussy.â you challenged him, fire burning in your eyes. Not because you wanted to die, but because deep down you knew you werenât going to. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldâve done that already. With the precum leaking from his painfully hard erection right in front of you, you knew the only thing on his mind was finding his release. He was a man after allâ simple, driven by his desires.
âYou better shut that little mouthââÂ
âOr what? You're gonna threaten me again with that stupid little knifeââ before you could even finish your sentence, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you roughly towards him, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat instantly, triggering your gag reflex as you struggled to breathe around his thick, aching erection. He quickly set a brutal rhythm, bucking his hips aggressively into your mouth, and you felt your eyes well with tears, saliva running down your chin.Â
âIf you stop, Iâll make you fucking regret it.â His hand gripped your hair in a tight ponytail, pulling you to meet his thrusts as he relentlessly fucked your mouth. Gagging sounds filled the room as he forced your head down as far as possible, groaning at the sight beneath himâ a sight that could so easily make him come already.
âYou wanted this from the start, huh? Such a patheticââ Theoâs sentence was then abruptly cut off when the door suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall, causing you both to freeze and stare, wide-eyed and horrified. A chill ran down your spine as you noticed another masked man standing in the doorway, holding a blood-soaked baseball bat while casually leaning against the doorframe. Oh no. Â
âWell, well, well⌠look what we have here. You really thought I wouldnât find out, Theodore? How cute.âÂ
Mattheo.Â
PART 2.
reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! âĄ
a/n: thank you sm for reading ^_^!!!!!!! this was supposed to be one long fic but i decided to cut in into two (or maybe more if needed) parts! im not sure when the next part will be posted but ill try to work on it soon !!! <3
Debating dating a guy for a day exclusively for a neck massage and to go through his phone just because my neck hurts and I want to know everyone's business. Real or real?
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