Submissive boys · Y/n story by @valora

The castle was silent save for the distant hum of the night. Moonlight filtered through the tall, arched window, casting silver ribbons across the stone floor of her private dorm.

Theodore Nott

voice low, roughened with a desperation he rarely let slip siamo stati buoni, dolcezza. Please.

Mattheo Riddle

looking up at her through thick lashes, a silver ring glinting on his finger as he reached for her ankle, thumb brushing the delicate bone You gonna make us beg all night, brat? Cause we will.

His lips curved into that familiar, wicked smirk. But his eyes—dark, hungry, and too honest—told a different story.