#Mattheo Riddle fanfiction

[sabxynsweet]

more sweetheart!reader with mattheo

more

You’re sitting on the chair next to Mattheo, a chair that once belonged to Theodore Nott who was now sitting off to the side with Enzo and Blaise as they watched you lean all your body weight on the hand that rested on Mattheo's desk.

"Did you do something different with your hair?" You ask, peering up at him through your eyelashes.

"Hmm?" He looks down at you.

"Your hair, it looks a bit different." You watch in adoration as he runs his fingers through his hair, only for his curls to fall perfectly back in place.

"Good different?" He smirks.

"Very good different." You say quickly, making him laugh.

The two of you don't hear Theo, Blaise and Enzo snickering at you a few seats away.

"That is a girl in love." Pansy says, frowning at her friend, “It's almost hard to watch."

"Mattheo is going to break the poor girl's heart." Blaise says, always amused.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Theo chuckles, "the other day, I was talking about some movie and he casually says 'yn loves that movie'."

"So? That's normal. By now, they’re friends, aren't they?" Enzo asks, Theo rolls his eyes.

"Okay, first of all, Mattheo isn't friends with girls." He points to Pansy. "Unless they're his friends' girlfriends or whatever."

Pansy grins, and throws her feet on Blaise's lap.

"And secondly, Mattheo knew her favourite. movie." Theo emphasises.

The group nod and gasp in agreement.

“You’re kidding! I’ve known him for 3 years and he still can’t remember my birthday!” Enzo complains.

“Sorry, Enzo, you’re not his girl.” Blaise snickers.

"Should we be worried that they can hear us?" They turn their attention to the pair sitting a couple seats away.

You were in a fit of giggles over something Mattheo was saying, his entire presence making you giddy. Their focus was set on you two, your focus was set on each other.

"Yeah, I don't think we have to worry about that."

to the two people who sent me asks - they’re in my drafts!! coming so soon, i promise. i have so many drafts of situationship!mattheo i might just skip this awkward “friends” stage

[nottsangel]

blood moon — t.n. & m.r. part 2

pairing: dark!theo nott x reader x dark!mattheo riddle.

warnings: smut 18+, dubcon, violence, blood/bloodplay, knifeplay (carving into skin, cutting off clothes), threesome, painal, double penetration (vaginal and anal sex), stockholm syndrome, cigarette play and branding, mask kink, hair pulling, face slapping, degradation, spanking, threats of murder, creampie. do NOT read if any of these topics are triggering for you.

word count: 4.5k. THIS IS A REUPLOAD

summary: purge night— a night you’ve 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 1. the purge au… moodboard . more

“What the fuck is going on here?” 

Even muffled by the mask, you instantly recognised the voice. Mattheo. The same Mattheo you’d heard downstairs earlier—  the same Mattheo you did not want to find you. Not after the way he’d been yelling that you were going to die.

“You fucking pervert.” He chuckled, striding into the room with an air of confidence and carelessness. He swung the baseball bat over his shoulder, dark red blood splattering across your once-pristine white walls. His gaze flickered between you, still on your knees, and Theo— who stood frozen, his cock still out.

“You’re in so much fucking trouble, you know that?” Mattheo drawled, amusement dripping from his tone. He was already fantasizing about telling Tom exactly what was playing out before him, you could tell. And so could Theo, his eyes narrowing behind the mask.

“You better shut the fuck up before I slit your throat right here and now.” Theo’s voice was threatening and fierce, the tight grip on the knife turning his knuckles white as he glared at his friend. 

“Relax, tough guy.” Mattheo’s brown eyes flickered towards you, darkening with something unreadable— something that made your stomach churn. “You want me to keep my mouth shut?” A pause. His tongue swiped across his lips. 

“Then let me join. We’ll use this slut before we gut her like a fucking fish.” Theo scoffed, shaking his masked head in disbelief while Mattheo leaned lazily against the wall, his bat resting beside him, arms crossed as he waited for an answer. 

For a quick second, your eyes were drawn to Mattheo’s arms which were covered in platters of blood, flexing slightly as he folded them, revealing his toned muscles. But your gaze was instantly captivated by his eyes— so soft-looking, such a gentle shade of brown, yet something maniacal lurked within them, making you deeply uneasy.

Between the two of them, Mattheo was clearly the deranged one out of the two, while Theo seemed more composed, more calculated. And with that knowledge, you stayed perfectly still, not daring to move an inch, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention as you listened to them bicker. It was almost as if they’d forgotten you were even there.

“Let you… join? Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Theo muttered irritably, taking a moment to think before stepping closer to Mattheo, knife pointed right at his throat. “Fine. But let me make one thing fucking clear. We’re letting her live. Capito?” 

Mattheo groaned dramatically. “Oh, Jesus Christ. Theodore Nott found the love of his life on purge night, ladies and gentlemen!” He gestured wildly, as if speaking to an invisible audience. 

Theo’s jaw clenched. “You fucking idiot. Now she knows my full name.” His voice was dangerously low, his face mere inches from Mattheo’s. Their dynamic was strange— one you couldn’t quite place. They seemed like close friends, yet also like they could kill each other at any moment.

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please— Here! I’ll take off my mask.” Before Theo could stop him, Mattheo reached up and pulled it off in one swift motion. 

Oh. 

He was unexpectedly handsome— his dark locks were tousled from the mask, his stunning features complementing the deep brown eyes that had already been exposed to you earlier.

“My name is Mattheo Riddle, I went to Cresthaven high school… what else, uhhh… Oh! I had a really cute cat named Whiskers, which disappeared one day—“” 

“Idiota del cazzo, shut the fuck up!” Theo snapped, his voice laced with exasperation. You could see the sheer panic in his blue eyes, but Mattheo— he relished riling Theo up like this, his pretty eyes glinting with amusement as he glared at him.

“You’re such a pussy, man. Calm down” 

“Yeah… that’s what I said.” You softly murmured under your breath from across the room, still on your knees— but they didn’t even acknowledge you. Theo’s fiery gaze was locked onto Mattheo, while Mattheo’s mischievous one was equally fixated on Theo’s. 

This was your chance. Now or never. 

Carefully, you shifted onto all fours, keeping your gaze trained on the two bickering men as you slowly crawled towards the open door, inch by inch. It was risky—you were on the far side of the room next to the bed, meaning you had to slip past them—but it wasn’t impossible.

“Can you put away your, you know, weapon? Feels threatening.” Mattheo then said, causing Theo to narrow his eyes in pure confusion. Your heart pounded as you hyper-focused on every tiny movement, making sure they didn’t notice you. You could practically taste freedom.

“Che cosa? I’m not even holding a—” He began, his eyes shifting to the bloody knife laying on the carpet, staining the white fabric red, before his gaze flicked downward— landing on his half-hard erection. “Oh.” He scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, well, can you like, I don't know, point it the other way?” 

“You’re a fucking dramaqueen.”

“Listen, I’d rather take a bullet right now than be covered in your cum!” 

“You think I’m gonna cum while looking at that ugly face of yours? Please. You’ve got nothing to worry about ‘cause you’re making it soft already."

“That’s only because—”

Perfect. Fucking perfect. 

They were so wrapped up in their argument, it gave you the perfect opportunity to sneak away. And fuck—you were so close. You could nearly hear the bloodcurdling, agonised screams echoing from outside the still-open front door. You could almost smell the fresh blood of the poor souls being slaughtered in the streets. That’s how close you—

“Oh, would you look at that? Your pet is running away.” Mattheo’s dry tone sent a chill down your spine, the euphoria you’d felt mere seconds ago instantly shattering.

Theo hastily pulled on his boxers before storming towards you and yanking your head by gripping a fistful of your hair, causing you to let out a sharp scream. You could feel the warm trickle of blood running down your skin again, as he carelessly reopened the wound on your neck. 

“Did I say you could leave? Huh? Quit being a fucking brat if you want to stay alive.” 

“You’re too fucking nice to her, you pussy.” Mattheo growled from across the room before approaching you as well. You swallowed hard, unsure what he meant by it before he quickly picked you from the floor by effortlessly  swinging your body over his broad shoulder. He walked towards the bed and aggressively threw you on it, your body bouncing from the impact. 

Mattheo’s hand inched closer to you before his firm palm harshly met the skin of your soft cheek, making your face whip to the side. Tears pricked your waterline from the dazzling stinging sensation, and you were dumbfounded— not necessarily by Mattheo slapping your face, but by how much it turned you on.

“That will shut her up.” Mattheo murmured, his self-satisfied grin evident. Theo’s jaw clenched as he glared at him, disapproval written all over his face before he glanced back at you, his eyes softening slightly through the mask. 

It was an intimidating sight— both men staring down at you, their towering, intimidating frames looming over you, with darkened, piercing eyes fully fixated on you and you only. Your panties were soaked by now, but still, you desperately tried to hide it.

Mattheo noticed the way your stare lingered a little longer on Theo— specifically on his face... or rather, his mask. Making you gasp at the sudden movement, Mattheo reached for his own mask, which he had tossed aside earlier, and swiftly placed it back over his head again as he marched towards you. He bent down, tilting his masked head slightly as you could hear the slow, muffled breaths against the material, adding to the chilling scene.

“Does Miss have a little mask kink?” he growled, his voice low and taunting. You gulped, but kept a poker face, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction, though your cheeks heated at his words. He was right, after all.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the fire in your gaze surprising him for a moment. It was a stark contrast to the fearful expression he was used to seeing in his countless victims. But he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“You’re a little slow sometimes, aren’t you?” you taunted, daring to raise an eyebrow. But even as the words left your lips, a tiny bit of fear still bubbled up inside you. The mischievous grin on Mattheo’s face only grew wider, his piercing eyes staring down at your swollen lips. 

It was difficult for Mattheo to pinpoint exactly what it was, but there was something about you that pulled him in. Something that intrigued him. Something that made him want to keep you forever.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Mattheo said in a hushed tone, his voice muffled by the mask, an alluring gaze in his eyes. He swiftly seized the blood-soaked knife from the floor and inched it closer to your stomach, exposed by your lifted shirt, causing you to inhale sharply, your eyes flickering with fear. 

You expected to feel the sharp blade dig into your flesh again, but instead, he swiftly slid the weapon under your tight clothes and cut them open in one quick movement. You yelped at the sudden motion, your shirt ripping open, exposing your red lace bra. 

“Jesus, calm down. I’m not even hurting you.” Hearing the derision in his voice, you realized you were holding your breath. You let out a shaky exhale of relief— until you heard his chilling voice again, “Yet.” 

Theo still loomed over you in front of the bed, his sharp eyes closely observing the scene. He seemed mesmerised, watching Mattheo cut off each article of clothing from your shivering body. You felt more and more exposed with each passing moment as goosebumps covered your bare figure, now only clothed in your underwear and bra. 

Theo drew closer, the sound of his heavy footsteps and your pounding heart the only noise in the room, his tall figure casting a dark, intimidating shadow right over you. He took the knife from Mattheo, eager to finish the job, and slid the blade under your bra while leaning over you. You locked eyes with him, and he was so close that all you could see in front of you was the bloodstained, white mask and his captivating blue eyes. 

A gasp slipped from your lips as he sliced your bra, his fierce gaze not leaving yours once. Strangely, you couldn’t break eye contact either, as though some invisible force was pulling you in, drowning you in the depth of his stunning ocean eyes. 

After tossing your bra to the floor, he dragged the knife over your delicate skin, the blade leaving superficial marks in its wake, down to your dripping cunt. You cursed yourself for not pushing him away and seizing the knife, but you couldn’t— in fact, you were craving more. And he knew that. He didn’t need to hear the words when your sparkling eyes told him everything.  

Growing impatient, he quickly snapped the straps of your lace thong, the sharp blade so dangerously close to your most intimate spot. Still, you only felt yourself grow more aroused because of it, and the shame and anger towards yourself gradually faded, as lust, yearning and desperation overtook all other senses. 

For the first time, Theo slowly broke eye contact, his hungry eyes scanning every inch of your fully naked figure— every mole, every imperfection, every detail that made it yours. He couldn’t seem to look away, his pupils dilating and his pants growing tighter at the breathtaking sight. Slowly, he inched closer, and you could smell that delicious, musky cologne again, calming you down instantly.

“Like I said, such a pretty little thing.” he whispered, and you felt your cheeks heat up, your core throbbing with how badly you craved to feel something. “You’re all ours tonight. We’re gonna fucking ruin you.” 

Before you could question his statement, he pulled you towards him by your hips and swiftly flipped you over, eliciting a shriek out of you as your body bounced on the mattress. He propped your hips up, leaving you ass up, face down in front of them. Embarrassment washed over you, being in such a vulnerable position in front of two men, and you could feel your arousal trickling down your thighs, only making you feel more humiliated. 

“She’s dripping, mate. Fuckin’ pathetic.” Mattheo remarked, a condescending chuckle escaping his lips as Theo handed him the knife. 

“‘Course she is. Have you seen the way she’s been looking at us?” Theo replied, watching Mattheo move closer to you. Your whole body tensed as you felt the blade running over your exposed skin once again. You didn’t need to see Mattheo to know he was smirking at the sight of you trembling in a mix of fear and arousal.

“Don’t got much to say now, huh?” He taunted, dragging the knife down your bare back to your ass, the cold metal and sharp edges making you shiver. 

“Fuck you.” You spat back at him, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt yourself unable to fight back. You were terrified, yes— but that wasn’t why.

“There she is.” Mattheo said, his tone pleased, before harshly slapping your ass and leaving a stinging mark on your sensitive skin, making you jolt forward.

Immediately after, you felt the icy knife dig into your flesh, deeper and deeper, until your warm blood trickled from the open wounds, making you hiss at the sharp pain. Slowly, you felt the letters M and R being carved into your ass on one side before Mattheo handed the knife to Theo. 

Theo did the same to the still unmarked skin, but this time you felt the letters T and N being cut deeply into your delicate flesh, making you grip the sheets from the sting. Mattheo leaned down and eagerly licked up your blood from the wound, and you inhaled a sharp breath at the feeling of his tongue lapping at the deep cuts. 

Theo abruptly gripped a handful of your hair and yanked your head back, holding the blood-dripping knife close to your face. “Clean it up.” he instructed, and you complied, your tongue gliding carefully over the sharp metal as the bitter, metallic taste of your own fresh blood filled your senses.

“Atta girl.” he grunted in approval, as he dragged you off the bed and onto your feet by your hair, making you yelp at the pull. Theo now stood in front of you, and Mattheo behind, your lips set in a grim line at being so close to both men, feeling their burning gaze through the masks, on you and you only.  

Theo lowered his boxers again, his cock still painfully hard, the tip pink and swollen, leaking with precum. His gaze lingered on you, devouring your form with hungry eyes, as his hand moved to your head, gently cupping your flushed face. 

For the first time on purge night, something stirred inside him— a warmth, a tingle that gnawed at his chest. It was unfamiliar, unsettling. He had never felt anything like this before. In the past, the screams and pleas of his victims were nothing but background noise, just another part of the night. But with you... it was different. The faces of those he’d slaughtered had always blurred together, reduced to mere objects. But he saw you as a person, a human being— and it terrified him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty.” Theo groaned, his voice rough with desire as he abruptly gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you, your cunt hovering over his leaking erection. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his muscular torso, and he effortlessly held you up, his biceps flexing, his fingers digging into your flesh.

That feeling— it was back again. That disgusting, hollow sensation. You thought you had pushed it away, but how could you, when you’re about to have sex with a fucking murderer? Theo noticed the slight tension in your body, your brow furrowing as you nibbled on your bottom lip. 

“I promise I’ll make it worth it.” 

Your pulse raced, the blood-curdling screams outside the house, combined with being sandwiched between two masked killers, making you feel… unsettled. Yet Theo’s deep voice, laced with his thick Italian accent, was enough to pull you in, distracting you from the terror.

You wiggled your hips, your pussy aching with need, craving him. The head of his cock nudged against your wet entrance, making your body shudder in anticipation.

“Tsk, so impatient,” he taunted, his voice laced with amusement, but there was an edge to it. Before you could reply, he pushed you down fully onto him, filling you completely, stretching you in a way that made you hiss. His breath was uneven in your ear as he murmured, “You feel so good, bella. So damn tight.”

Behind you, you heard Mattheo free his erection from his pants, the tip brushing against you. “Not even waiting for me, huh? I see how it is.”

The sudden pressure of Mattheo’s cock pushing into your ass made you gasp, your sharp nails digging into Theo’s arms as the sharp, stinging pain hit you. Tears welled up in your eyes as Mattheo, unrelenting, spread your cheeks and pushed in deeper.

He didn’t give a fuck that he was hurting you— in fact, it turned his sick brain on even more. He was only after his own pleasure, using you like a toy to get what he wanted.

“It— It hurts!” you cried out, the sensation of being filled by both men stretching you beyond what you could handle, making you bite down hard on your lip until you drew blood from the thin skin, but it also fueled an unfamiliar hunger within you. You wanted to fight, to push Mattheo away, to scream for him to stop— but the combination of the sharp pain and the overwhelming pleasure made it almost impossible to resist. It was intoxicating.

“Shut up and fuckin’ take it,” Mattheo growled, thrusting in with brutal force. “This night could’ve been a lot worse.” 

Through your blurred vision, you locked eyes with Theo, and for some reason, that gave you a sense of grounding. You had met Theo right before Mattheo barged in, but with Mattheo there, Theo felt like your safe space, as if you had known him for years.

“Fuuuck, you feel— god, you feel so good, baby.” Mattheo muttered, setting a brutal rhythm. You squeezed him so tightly, he couldn’t hold back. Even though it hurt, the mixture of pain and pleasure made you even more wet, arousal leaking all over Theo’s cock.

But then, a sharp chill ran through you as you felt the cold blade pressed against your throat.

“One wrong move, and it’s over.” Mattheo grunted into your ear, once again relishing the fear it stirred in you, pushing him closer to the edge. His cock pushed deeper in and out of you, rubbing against Theo’s, separated only by the thin wall of your flesh.

Theo kept a close watch on your facial expressions and body language, alert and ready to intervene if Mattheo went too far. He didn’t know why he felt protective over you, but he did, and he felt himself relax as more pleasure than pain radiated from you.

Theo began thrusting into you as well, his pace significantly slower than Mattheo’s, who was nearing his release. Mattheo’s hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly as his thrusts became rougher, bruising you with every movement. You felt so tight around him, the knife at your throat unsteadily shaking as his thrusts grew sloppier, making your whole body freeze at the danger.

Luckily for you, Mattheo came deep inside you a few thrusts later, strings of curses falling from his lips. Theo had expected him to come fast. He’d been waiting for it, craving to feel you on his own. All to himself. 

“Just what I needed… Fuck.” Mattheo groaned breathlessly as he abruptly pulled out, the sudden emptiness feeling strange for a moment, but you quickly felt his warm cum drip out of you, dripping down all over Theo’s cock. Behind you, you heard the mask drop to the floor, followed by the familiar click of a lighter, cigarette smoke quickly filling the air.

“You’re mine now,” Theo whispered into your ear, his voice low and possessive, drawing your attention back to him. With his arms still holding you up, he effortlessly walked you both over to the bed, sitting on the edge with you on top of him.

“Come on, pretty girl. Make me feel good,” he ordered lazily, settling back on his elbows, his eyes hungrily raking over your naked body, from your perfect tits to the way your cunt still tightly gripped his hard cock.

You felt hesitant at first, self-conscious under the weight of their eyes, waiting for you to fuck yourself on Theo’s cock. But then, a flicker of something other than lust caught your attention in Theo’s eyes— desperation. He wanted this badly, more than anything, and it made you feel powerful in the situation.

“How about you beg for it first?” You blurted out, immediately gulping hard, not knowing if you killed yourself just now by saying those words. Theo cocked his head to the side, the silence only making you more nervous.

“Such a dumb girl, isn’t she? She’s lucky she’s this pretty.” Mattheo remarked, the sound of him exhaling cigarette smoke carrying his amusement with it. But Theo ignored him, all his focus on you, your unexpected request clearly intriguing him.

“Please.” He murmured with a smirk. His rough hands gripped your ass, the sharp sting of the fresh wounds on your skin being stretched overshadowed by the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. The word felt foreign coming from him— usually, it would be said to him, not the other way around.

Mattheo’s eyes widened, watching the scene unfold. “What the— you know what? Not my problem.” He shook his head, taking another drag from his cigarette and observing the two of you with a mix of curiosity and disinterest.

Slowly, you began to move up and down on Theo, your hands resting on his chest as his cock slid in and out of you, massaging your walls so perfectly. Low groans escaped his lips as he watched you, his eyes filled with lust, one hand roughly guiding your hips. 

Mattheo handed him the cigarette, and Theo took a slow drag, his eyes darting all over your body, unsure where to look. With one hand still gripping your flesh, he exhaled, blowing the smoke right into your face. He smirked at the way you coughed against the thick cloud, his eyes squinting in amusement. 

You were too focused on the way Theo’s erection stretched you open to care about anything else, your head thrown back as you rode him, chasing your own orgasm. Theo was holding back his moans, not wanting to reveal how much he was enjoying it, but your pussy felt like heaven to him. This might even be better than killing on purge night, he thought to himself.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna cum all over my dick?” Theo groaned, handing the cigarette back to Mattheo. Both of his hands now gripped your hips harshly, guiding you up and down on his cock. You felt disgusting—covered in blood, bruises, cuts, Mattheo’s cum, and your own arousal—but still, this night could’ve ended a lot worse.

“Mhm... mhm,” you softly murmured, nodding and unable to speak, your movements increasing as you neared your climax.

You felt Mattheo creep behind you, the scent of cigarette smoke filling your nostrils once more. “You better cum for us, princess. Or we might have to kill you after all,” He threatened, his hand brushing your tousled hair from your face as he mischievously gazed down at you.

Theo hit all the right spots, the pleasure becoming overwhelming as he thrust upward, the head of his cock brushing against your most sensitive parts. Just as you were about to cum, a sudden intense burn spread across your thigh, followed by a sizzling sound. Your head jerked to the side as you watched Mattheo press the end of his cigarette into your skin, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Look at you, all fucked out for us.” He chuckled, and at that moment, your orgasm uncontrollably rushed through you, clenching around Theo’s cock as he groaned deeply at the sensation.

Your knees buckled, your head thrown back, and the unbearable pain from the burn only heightened your pleasure. Your lips parted in ecstasy as you came, and quickly after, you felt a pool of warmth spread within you as Theo’s grip tightened on your hips, his own deep groans muffled by his white mask.

“So fuckin’ perfect…” were the only words Theo could manage, his breath shallow as he leaned back on the bed, eyes shut in the afterglow. It had been by far the best orgasm he’d experienced, and he refused to pull out, unwilling to miss the comforting warmth of your pussy around his cock.

The morning sun slowly rose, marking the end of Purge Night, and Theo reluctantly pulled out, watching as you collapsed against him— exhausted and ruined.

Mattheo smirked, amused by the sight, flicking the last embers of his cigarette onto the floor as the same ominous sirens blared violently through the walls, echoing over the blood-covered streets. “Yep, that’s our sign to leave.”

“You hear that? Purge Night is over,” Theo murmured, stroking your bruised skin possessively. “But that doesn’t mean we’re done with you.” Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement surge through you. You weren’t ready to let go just yet. 

Mattheo chuckled darkly, “You think you can go back to your old life after this? You’re ours now.” As the sirens signaled the end of the chaos outside, the two exchanged a look— one that promised you were theirs, whether you liked it or not. Little did they know, that’s all you wanted. 

“We know where to find you now, piccola,” Theo said, his voice low and intense. “Any second of any day, we could climb through these windows… or break in through the back door. Who knows?”

With those final words, they walked out, leaving you naked, wounded, and stuffed with their cum, feeling the emptiness slowly creep up on you. Your eyes drifted to the two blood-soaked masks they left on your bedroom floor— souvenirs to remember them by, reminders of their power over you.

Purge Night was just the beginning.

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ♡

a/n: i understand that people might ask for a next part, but for now, i am not planning to write more full lengths fics for this. however, i will continue writing drabbles and creating more content in this au with the any of the slytherin boys! more.

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[vipwinnie]

Sleeping after an argument

mattheo riddle x reader

Summary : you decided not to sleep with him after an argument

In the dimness of his room, you sit on the edge of the bed, your heart heavy with frustration. The walls echo with the reverberations of an seemingly endless argument. He stands, a sharp gaze in his eyes, his poisoned words filling the air.

"Why are you always like this?" you ask, trying to contain your own anger. "Your attitude is toxic, Mattheo. It can't go on like this."

He sneers, an ironic smile distorting his face. "Oh, now it's my fault? You're always the victim, aren't you?"

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the flames of anger rising within you. "It's not about being a victim. It's about mutual respect. You can't keep acting this way."

Mattheo approaches, his presence oppressive. "Mutual respect? Funny coming from you. You just criticize me, judge me."

"Because you act disrespectfully! You constantly attack me, and I can't take it anymore."

He shrugs, disdainful. "If you can't take it, leave. No one is forcing you to stay."

The tension reaches its peak. You stand up, facing Mattheo with determination. "Maybe that's what I should do."

The words hang in the air, heavy with consequences. The room is filled with the silence that follows an argument, and you wonder if this confrontation marks the end of something, or perhaps the beginning of a new dynamic.

Frustrated by the atmosphere, Mattheo abruptly stands up and heads to the bathroom, using the excuse of needing to prepare in there to escape the confrontation. You remain in the room, Mattheo's dark look still echoing in the air. The decision not to spend the night in this toxic atmosphere takes hold in you, and you head to the bathroom as well.

Reflecting in the bathroom, you decide to leave the unresolved argument behind and choose not to sleep that night. The idea of returning to your shared room with Pansy becomes a tempting refuge. Exiting the bathroom, you silently slip through the hallway, deliberately avoiding Mattheo's room.

Meanwhile, Mattheo, after anxiously waiting in the bathroom for some time, starts to worry about your absence. Concerned, he knocks on the door, softly calling, "My love, are you okay?" Faced with your silence, he eventually opens the door, discovering that you're no longer there. Regret fills him as he realizes the impact of his behavior.

Determined to find you, Mattheo heads towards the girls' dormitory, disregarding any rules of decency. His only thought is to bring you back to him, suddenly realizing how crucial your presence is to him.

Upon opening the door to your room, he notices Pansy's absence, but you're there, asleep in your bed, hugging a pillow that was supposed to replace him for the night. Mattheo gently removes the pillow from your arms, slipping into its place. He embraces you tenderly, whispering an "I love you" in your ear, realizing the foolishness of the argument. He holds you tightly, hoping that you'll find it in yourself to forgive him despite the hurtful words he uttered.

[nottswitch]

— if you’ve been naughty, you get…

──────────────── 𝐛𝐮𝐫���𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩. ──

summary: quidditch is a sport that demands strength and stamina, resulting in physical exertion. exertion equals releasing disproportionate amounts of warmth, which, as it turns out, feels better shared.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

cw: 18+ smut, enemies to lovers, rough p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, spanking, choking, degrading, hair grabbing, cursing

wc: 3.1k

a/n: the first fic of the naughty side of the list, so buckle up for the filth!! hope you enjoy <3

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; mattheo m.list ; kinkmas 2024

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The entirety of the Quidditch stadium roared as Harry Potter hovered proudly in the air, the Golden Snitch snug between his fingers. The ultimate rivalry between the houses never ceased to exist, be it on the school grounds or on the pitch, the students from other houses having chosen a side long ago and now discreetly passing galleons to each other in the stands. You craned your neck a bit, your loosely tied scarf sliding off as you watched the players descend onto the ground, the green and silver side clearly trying to get off the pitch as hastily as possible.

Mattheo was, for all intents and purposes, pissed. His nostrils were flared, his breath coming out short and ragged, the exertion from the long-winded game straining his aching muscles. His bat was clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles almost translucent as he fought the urge to swing it at the annoyingly smug Gryffindors who seemed to be very purposeful with the loudness of their celebrations. A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth – the opportunity was too golden, no pun intended, to have a go at the guy, even though you knew that now, of all times, he wouldn’t dream of holding back. It was a constant push and pull between the two of you, a burning need to kick the other while they were down, and a loss of a very important game was a chance presenting itself on a silver platter.

"Hey, Riddle!"

The sound of your voice made Mattheo grit his teeth, the vibration echoing in his already ringing ears. His eyes briefly darted to you descending the stairs from the top of the stands, the look in them as close to murderous as it can possibly get.

"Don’t," he muttered, continuing to stride across the field, towards the tunnel, where the other players from the Slytherin team had already disappeared.

"Don’t what?"

Your voice was clearly taunting as you approached him, your arms crossing on your chest as you fixed him with a smirk. Unconsciously, your gaze slid down his body, taking in the sight of his Quidditch jersey clinging to him, damp with sweat and accentuating the ridges of his toned abs. You licked your lips, the action coming out of your subconsciousness that craved to feel those abs underneath your palms, although you had yet to admit it.

"Don’t fucking try me right now," Mattheo retorted without sparing you a glance. He was already more than a little aggravated, and the last thing he needed was your teasing and endless quips, combined with the effortless allure you always held despite being an insufferable little cunt. His uniform suddenly felt too tight, which prompted him to take off the green jersey, harshly tugging it over his head with one hand.

Your lips parted ever so slightly as you watched his torso opening up to you in all its firm, built glory. But the muscles weren’t the first thing that you noticed – as much as the view was enticing, it was also not completely new. No, the thing that made your breath hitch was the fact that he was literally steaming, as if he had just left a sauna. Translucent whirls were emanating from his heated body, his skin breaking out in goosebumps in the chilly December air. Mattheo didn’t even shiver, throwing the piece of clothing over his shoulder and flicking the bat from one hand to the other. His pace was firm and purposeful, leaving no doubts about his intentions to leave the Quidditch pitch as quickly as possible.

You had entirely different plans for him, though.

Without thinking much, you followed him into the tunnel leading out of the stadium, barely able to match his long steps.

“Or what?” you called out defiantly, finally reaching him at the price of your breath getting shallow and your heart beating faster than normal. You weren’t one hundred percent sure it was just the effect of walking quickly.

Mattheo stopped in his tracks, nearly making you stumble into his broad back. His eyes closed shut for a moment, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath, feeling his already nonexistent control slipping away with every single sound of yours he heard behind him.

“You will regret it,” he muttered through gritted teeth, not making a move to turn around to look at you – he knew that if he did, he could say goodbye to any traces of restraint still left in him.

“Oh, really?”

You knew you were walking a dangerous line by taunting him like that, but at this point, you couldn’t stop. Was it a sudden surge of bravery, was it recklessness or something else, deeper and yet uncharted, you couldn’t tell. You just knew that if you stopped right now – that was what you’d regret for a long, long time, possibly for the rest of your life. You stepped closer, your chest almost pressing against his back, feeling his muscles tense as your proximity registered in his mind and sent signals through his whole body.

That step was all it took for him to finally snap. In a split second, his hand was wrapped around your throat, pressing you against the wall of the tunnel. A strangled gasp escaped your parted lips, your pulse fluttering wildly as his fingers pressed right on the point, curling around your neck as if he was ready to snap it in half. He probably could, if he wanted to.

“Say another word and find out,” Mattheo hissed, the warm air of his breath brushing against your flushed face. His already dark chocolate eyes darkened further – you swore you could see his pupils dilating in real time, the dimness inside the tunnel failing to hide the mixture of anger and lust swirling in their depths.

“I’m not scared of you,” you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with a strange type of determination. Whatever was happening was something completely new in your dynamic, yet it felt like it had been building up the whole time you spent bickering and trying to get to each other using the power of biting words.

Mattheo’s hold grew tighter around your throat, almost cutting off the stream of much needed air flowing into your lungs.

“You should be.”

A loud thud echoed through the tunnel as his bat hit the floor, thrown away and immediately forgotten about. His newly freed hand gripped your waist, pressing you harder into the wall, the coldness of the surface seeping through the fabric of your winter robes. Mattheo’s body was flush against your front, creating a sharp contrast between the chill of the air surrounding you and his fired up skin, dampening your shirt with small rivulets of sweat dripping off him.

You swallowed thickly, unable to tear your gaze off his face, his dangerously handsome features tense and barely moving. You had no idea what to do with your hands, so they ended up on his bare chest without any real input from your mind, which, you could tell, was slowly turning off anyway. A hiss coming from him once your skin touched his was a surprise, but you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy his reaction. For some reason, you found yourself bold enough to try exploring this newfound knowledge, sliding your hand down his chest, along the firm planes and ridges. Two things happened at the same time: Mattheo’s fingers dug deeper into the sides of your throat, causing a strangled sound to escape your lips, while his other hand left your waist to grab your traveling wrist.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing right now,” Mattheo muttered, and you swore you could hear his teeth grinding against each other. “I’ll show you, though. I’ll fucking show you.”

Next thing you knew, you were lifted off the ground, stuck in the iron bars of his embrace. The instinct in you that still tried to persuade you that this whole thing was wrong made your dangling feet try to hit Mattheo’s knee. This weak attempt at defiance was quickly stopped by his arm moving down and tightly locking around your thighs, stopping your legs from moving altogether.

“Asshole.” You did hear the treacherous breathlessness of your voice, but also didn’t have it in you to care. The heat between your legs was rapidly intensifying, the friction created by your pressed up thighs only making you more desperate for something real, something substantial to quench your undeniable thirst.

A dark smirk appeared on Mattheo’s face, the one that did nothing to soften his expression – it only made him look more like the devil he appeared to be. A second later, his foot was pushing a door you didn’t even know was there, doing the same from the other side once he walked into a dark room that smelled like wood and broom polish. You didn’t have time to think or formulate a snarky response to his actions before you were getting turned around and bent over, Mattheo’s hand pressing insistently on the back of your neck. You barely had time to stabilize yourself against the cold wooden bench that stood at the wall, your scarf sliding off completely and falling to the floor.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, although it was more of a formality, since you made no actual attempt to get up from the new position. Mattheo, of course, took notice of that, his smirk widening a bit.

“This the only thing you can think of?” His voice was cold and mocking at the same time, not failing to send a shiver down your spine – it was huskier than usual, an undertone of desire obvious even to untrained ears. Mattheo effortlessly lifted up the hem of your robes, the rumpled fabric of your skirt splayed across your ass in a way he found sinful. “Where’s the smartass attitude, hm?”

A sharp smack landed on your ass, stinging even through several layers of clothing. Your body jolted forward, a yelp breaking out of your throat both at the unexpectedness of it and a wave of pleasure the smack sent straight between your legs. Mattheo found himself enjoying your reaction, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, fingers curling and pressing into the flesh.

“Fuck y-,” you started to mutter, glancing at him over your shoulder, but another smack shut you up pretty quickly. You could feel the sting, only intensified when his strong hand grabbed a handful of your ass, roughly kneading and squeezing.

“Much better from this angle,” Mattheo murmured, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek as his eyes shamelessly roamed your body up and down. His free hand slid up your back, pushing you to lean further down against the bench until he reached your hair. His fingers threaded through your locks in an almost tender gesture, one so uncharacteristic of Mattheo Riddle, before he yanked your head back, making you hiss from the harshness of the pull.

The warmth of his body enveloped you whole as Mattheo bent over, his flaming chest covering the entirety of your back. A fleeting thought flickered in your mind, that even the warmest robes couldn’t hold a candle to the human heater that was Mattheo after a Quidditch game. As his mouth neared your ear, his hand never stilled on your ass, lifting your skirt up to bunch up at your waist and running over the fabric of your tights.

“Really?” he asked, mockingly, making you want to strangle him and kiss the hell out of him at the same time. Your lips parted when you felt his sneaky fingers pressing between your legs, causing your thighs to clench. “D’you know I can feel you getting wet?” he cooed, brushing his lips against your ear, you were sure, very deliberately. You closed your eyes, unwanted embarrassment making its way to your cheeks, and you just knew the bastard was smirking again. You couldn’t control your body’s reaction to him, though, and your wetness seeping through your tights fully gave you away.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I thought your smartass mouth could handle better than that.”

Mattheo gave your hair another tug before his hand slipped down, curling around your throat again. His grip was tight, not allowing even a single millimeter of movement, a strangled gasp escaping you once you felt his hips pressing to your ass from the back. His hard-on was firmly planted between your cheeks, straining against his Quidditch trousers, as if he was trying to break through the layers of your clothing.

“But when I’m next to you,” Mattheo continued murmuring into your ear, a malicious smirk giving his words a dangerous hint, “you’re just a bitch in heat.”

“Fuck. You.”

You somehow managed to find words, the ones you couldn’t bring yourself to say before. Mattheo chuckled darkly, feeling your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his thumb – you really weren’t the best in hiding your deepest emotions, though your face still tried to keep its defiant stance.

“That’s the plan,” he answered, as his fingers moved against your covered pussy, the sound of it, though muffled, still embarrassingly wet. Once his torturous movements stopped, you nearly whined, biting your bottom lip in order to save yourself from further humiliation. Your teeth sunken into your lip didn’t go unnoticed – Mattheo licked his own, his hand on your throat lifting you up just a bit, his body heat a fire burning your back.

“Didn’t know having you speechless would be so…” Another smack on your ass interrupted his words, a squeal caused by the mixture of pain and pleasure sounding through the dark room. “…so fucking hot.”

You gained the courage to push your hips back, a satisfied hum rolling out of your mouth as you felt his cock twitch at the friction.

“So damn impatient,” Mattheo whispered into your ear. His own hips bucked forward, forcefully, enough to make your body jerk again. “But you’re lucky, because…”

He suddenly straightened up, roughly pulling down your tights and baring your skin to the chilly air. It was already stinging from the previous slaps, the sensation now stronger as the frost of early winter bit at the sensitive flesh.

“…me too.”

You didn’t notice the moment Mattheo’s trousers pooled at his feet, but they definitely did, along with his boxers. You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when his warm, slicked up cock slid through your folds, making you feel every inch of him, providing the friction you desperately craved. Your entrance clenched, as if trying to suck him in but failing. His tip prodded at your hole, your whole body backing against him in an attempt to finally let him inside.

You didn’t have to wait – a single deep thrust, and he was splitting you open in the best, most mind blowing way possible. Your high-pitched moan was so loud it could be easily heard outside, but you didn’t care – you couldn’t care. Mattheo’s groan matched up in volume, his hands gripping your hips with brushing strength.

“If I knew you’d be so fucking tight…”

He pulled out only to thrust right back in, making you moan so loudly you could feel the air shake around you.

“…I’d shut you up like that every. Single. Time.”

Each word was accompanied by another thrust, each one deeper than the last, even though it was physically impossible – at least you felt like he discovered new depths within you every time. The squelching sounds of your pussy roughly meeting his dick echoed through the narrow space you were squished into, the slapping of your bodies surely making its way into the tunnel behind the door. It was something you’d never felt before – the passion, the lust filling your very essence, consuming and turning your brain into mush.

Mattheo’s palm connected with your asscheek again, making it bounce and ripple. Immediately after, he squeezed the round mound, and you hissed, another sting shooting through your body. His pace was unforgiving, but you didn’t want to be forgiven – if that was punishment, you’d rather be guilty for life. The stretch of your walls around his cock felt like it was tearing you apart and gathering you back in one piece right after, and at that moment you were sure that no one else could fuck you like that.

His hand ended up in your hair again as he tugged you up, making your back press against his chest again. Somehow, it was still just as hot as before, causing you to break out in sweat from the exertion and his body heat seeping through your skin and bones. If the room had windows, they would certainly be fogged up. However, the only foggy thing was your mind, getting more and more dazed as your peak approached.

“You wanna cum, huh?” Mattheo growled, his laboured breath prickling at the sensitive skin of your neck. “Wanna cum on my cock, like the slut you are?”

As much as you hated yourself for admitting that, cumming around him was the only thing swirling in your head. You tried to nod, but his grip on your hair didn’t allow it.

“Words,” he muttered, his teeth clenching as he tried to hold his own orgasm back, determined to make you fall apart first. “The only time I want you to use your fucking words.”

“I wanna– Fuck! Wanna cum on your cock,” you managed to mumble, your cheeks heating up at the fact that you had just given in, had given him control over the pleasure you yearned for.

“Do it, then.”

With another rough slap on your ass, you came, wave after wave making your body tremble and shake. Mattheo was quick to finish right after, his growl bordering on animalistic as he spilled deep inside of you. The warmth of his cum felt like it was etched into your very soul, hot and sticky, your clenching hole squeezing some out to trickle down your thighs. Mattheo could get hard all over again just from the sight alone, but he resisted, pulling your skirt down to cover the delicious view.

For a few moments, you could only try catching your breath, leaning on the bench still somehow holding up in front of you.

“Next time you lose, you know where to find me.” Your voice was shaking, yet already filled with the cockiness of knowing that you, in some way, made Mattheo Riddle lose control.

“Next time I win, you won’t be able to walk for days,” he retorted, his tone bearing something akin to a threat. Or a promise.

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⏦ﾟ♡︎ Best Friends, Right?

Short Summary: Mattheo’s been distant for a while. Your best friend now doesn’t even bother speaking to you. Perhaps a party and a little bit of alcohol can change that.

Warnings: 18+ only! drunk sex, begging, unprotected p in v, creampie, Mattheo and reader both are oblivious fucks, make-up sex

A/N: change of scenery—Mattheo Riddle. (Going back to Tom as we speak)

wordcount: 2,4k

You aren’t entirely fond of the idea of going out tonight. You have never been.

But today, after your exam week had just ended—you couldn’t come up with any more excuses which you were certain your friends knew to be blatant lies.

You have gone through your entire closet. Twice. Even three times. Haven’t found anything fitting. Until—you spot something you were given for your 18th birthday which has since been collecting dust at the very back of the closet. A glittery red mini dress, outrageously short, probably too short for a Slytherin house party.

A deep sigh falls over your lips. You don’t have anything else, not here at Hogwarts at least. So you put it on. As you look at your reflection in the mirror, finishing off by applying mascara and some blush, you hesitate. It most likely wasn’t a good idea to walk around like this.

You aren’t given much of a choice, though, because just a split second later, the door to your dorm falls open, three of your friends—already somewhat tipsy—entering while singing a muggle song picked up last time you snuck out to visit London.

You are immediately dragged out of your bathroom, showered with compliments on your appearance. And when you do try to voice your concerns—they are cut off right away. They insist on you coming along, not giving you much of a choice before they hand you a matching purse to your dress and pull you after them in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

You shiver. It’s quite chilly in the dungeons, so you are somewhat relieved when you finally enter the party, already crowded with people. They ask what drink you want, and initially you tell them you would just take something non-alcoholic, but again they insist you finally “have some fun” after spending days on end in your dorm, always studying and never giving yourself a break.

You really aren’t a person to give into peer pressure, but for some reason today, you agree without much further complaint. They are probably right that you do need some time off. Turn your brain off for the night, just let yourself go.

So when they come back and hand you a pink cocktail, you take your first sip. The alcohol instantly floods your senses. You haven’t drunk in so long.

Rationing it as much as you can, you briefly slip away from your friends at some point, which they, in their state, don’t even seem to notice.

You take a few deep breaths as you lean against the railing of the balcony, staring into the distance of the night sky. Earlier, years ago, you used to sit here with Mattheo when both of you snuck out to meet at your favourite spot. He always made time for you.

You exhale deeply, the cloud of your breath dissolving into the crisp winter air.

Once inseparable, you two now rarely spend time. You’ve been dying to ask why, why he avoids you. Answering in short, clipped sentences, never even looking at you when you initiate a conversation. It’s been tiring. Seeing your childhood best friend change, replacing you with someone else. Replace might be the wrong word for it—because you did love Theo and the others too. Just—less. It wasn’t as special. And up until recently—you had thought he felt the same.

You decide to not let these thoughts impact your mood any further, returning to the party soon after. It’s almost too dark and crowded to spot anyone in particular, your friends long gone from the spot you left them in. It would be quite difficult to find them again, so you decide to make your way through the crowd, into a corner where you’d have a better overview of the situation.

Just having made your way halfway through, your eyes lock onto someone familiar. Too familiar.

Mattheo stands there, calm and collected as always, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. Theo stands next to him, whispering something in his ear, subtly nodding towards a girl. But Mattheo doesn’t seem to be paying him any attention as his eyes drift elsewhere—to you.

In this moment you wish you could have just evaporated into thin air. You don’t want to see him, not right now, you don’t need another reminder. And as much as you want to move away, keep looking for your friends—you find yourself rooted in place. Your legs are not cooperating with your brain.

He just stares at you for what feels like an eternity, his hot gaze steadily dropping lower, skimming over your exposed cleavage down to the curve of your hips, wandering over your bare thighs before they travel back up. And then that bastard grins. Subtly at that, but just enough for you to see it.

At this point your entire body feels like it’s on fire—and you don’t know why. The way he looks at you shouldn’t matter this much, it shouldn’t make you feel this way. Like he wants you equally as much as you want him. You’ve been thinking that this might be the reason as to why he doesn’t talk to you—he might have caught on. Realised you have somewhere along the way developed feelings for him. Of course he wouldn’t reciprocate.

Only when Theo elbows his side does he avert his attention, eyebrows furrowing as he rubs his ribs, quickly followed by being dragged into the crowd, supposedly to the bar. Or to find a girl to fuck.

They used to do it that way—when you were still close.

To your relief, you don’t see him anymore after this encounter.

And you down one or two more cocktails.

Just in case.

For the—you hope unlikely—event you would see him again. Which turns out to be a good decision after all.

Slightly after 1 am, when the crowd thins out as people start leaving—you sense someone walking up to you from behind.

“You here?” A familiar voice whispers in your ear, and when you turn around, you are met with your once favourite brown eyes. “Thought you didn’t like parties.”

You huff slightly. “I guess I wanted to confirm it once more.”

His eyes wander again, and you instinctively pull at your dress. It really is short.

“You look gorgeous today,” he drawls, and suddenly he is so close you can smell the alcohol in the air. Too fucking close. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in every detail of his oh-so-familiar face, the scar on his nose you have traced your finger over countless times, his beautiful, long eyelashes, his dark, messy curls you used to twirl around your finger as he lay on your lap…

But he is drunk. That’s why he is talking to you. Not because he wants to. Sober Mattheo would have ignored you the entire night, you think to yourself.

“You are drunk, Mattheo.” You point out coolly, and he goes silent for a second as though he were reconsidering ever talking to you in the first place. You fully expect him to leave at that point, but instead, his lips curl into a smirk.

“So? Can I not tell my best friend she is pretty?”

A scoff leaves your lips faster than you’d have liked.

“Best friends usually talk to each other more often than just at parties, Mattheo.”

He nods. “I see. So, let’s talk.”

His hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pulling you after him. Exiting the Slytherin common room. Heading in the direction of his dorm.

Mattheo almost trips over his own feet on the way multiple times, and if it wasn’t for you, he would have earned some bruises from his clumsiness. He is more drunk than you thought he was.

As soon as you enter the dorm, you disappear into his bathroom and reemerge with a glass of water, handing it to him. He looks at you with a raised brow but drinks it nonetheless.

You don’t intend on sitting down. You want this to be over with as quickly as possible. You’d have preferred if he had just told you back at the party. You could have had faster access to alcohol that way.

After a minute of gathering his thoughts, he finally speaks up, getting up from his bed and carefully stalking towards you.

“You know why I’ve been distant? He asks, stopping right in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours. “Because you do something to me. You make me feel something I haven’t quite been able to place.”

He pauses briefly. Studying your facial expressions.

“Until a few hours ago.”

You tilt your head slightly, cocking an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”

“That I am— in love with you. Fucking hell, I love you, alright?” He pinches the bridge of his nose and turns away, striding back towards the bed.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck, you two are idiots.

“Mattheo.”

He just rambles on. “If you don’t, it’s fine. I expected you wou—“

“Mattheo.”

You quickly follow after him, spinning him around to crash your lips onto his. He doesn’t kiss you back at first—simply because he hadn’t expected it. He expected anything but this.

But when he does—it quickly grows hungry, passionate, his hands finding their way to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he keeps you in place, keeps you from pulling away. And both of you savour this moment. Fuck, you had missed his touch. Missed him. Missed your Mattheo.

“I love you too,” you confess, drawing in a deep breath as you finally part.

His lips are puffy and red, and although it’s hard to believe—he looks even better like this. Mouth slightly parted, dark curls a mess, eyes darkened with lust.

Lust.

If you weren’t drunk right now, your brain would try to rationalise, stop to think, think about the consequences of what was about to happen—but you aren’t used to alcohol clouding your mind. You can’t rationalise, much less even want to.

So when his hands wander up your back, finding the zipper to your dress—you don’t complain. Fuck, you wanted this.

Mattheo’s quick, tugging the zipper down, leaving your dress to pool at your ankles, sucking a mark into the skin of your neck before he takes a step back, appraising you.

Something flashes in his eyes. Dark, dangerous.

“Best friends, right?” He mutters under his breath, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He’s quick to rid you of the lace still adorning your curves, your hands in the meanwhile working at his trousers.

“Best friends.” You nod, breathless.

As soon as the fabric drops to the floor, his lips are back on yours, having you walk backwards until you lay on his bed, positioning yourself in the middle of the soft mattress.

He’s hovering over you mere seconds later, carelessly discarding his shirt somewhere on the other side of the bed.

You can’t help but moan softly when his lips trail kisses from your jawline all the way to your clavicle, fingers gently tugging on his brunette curls.

“Are you sure?” Mattheo asks then, meeting your eyes to find any hint of uncertainty.

You nod eagerly. “Yes.”

You barely get the word out before you feel him slip between your folds, gathering your arousal before he aligns himself with your entrance, thick and hot, and all of a sudden you weren’t so sure if you could even take him.

“Been dreaming ‘bout this pussy for too fucking long,” he slurs, and then, with one singular, sharp thrust, he buries himself in your cunt, momentarily knocking the breath from your lungs at the sudden intrusion. He stills for a moment, letting you adjust to the rather painful stretch on your walls as he feels you tense beneath him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls as you clench around his cock, and then he starts to move, slowly at first, dragging his length out of you before pushing back inside. It’s slow, torturously slow, as though he was scared to hurt you.

Your nails dig into his back, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. “Please, Mattheo, I need you.”

That’s all it takes. He speeds up, angles his thrusts just right, brushing over a particularly sensitive spot inside of you that makes your head spin in pleasure. He groans and whimpers, praises you for how well you are doing for him.

His hips snap against yours like he’s got a point to prove, making up for the time you two had lost. You feel something building in the pit of your lower stomach, a pressure that grows with every thrust, until it’s there, on the verge of exploding.

“Yeah, want to come?” He pants, his breath hot and ragged. “Show me how bad you need to come.”

“God, Mattheo, please. I need to come—“ you whimper, cut off by his lips meeting yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Sound so pretty when you beg for me.”

Mattheo seems to know exactly what you need because he reaches between the both of you, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit, and you moan in response. He’s pushing into you mercilessly, walls clamping down around him, your entire body tensing when your orgasm crashes over you in tidal waves, legs trembling as they are wrapped around him.

“Princess, fuck, can I come inside? Mattheo groans against your neck, thrusts growing ragged. “Please let me come inside.”

You manage a shaky yes for an answer, his hips stuttering against yours as he spills himself deep inside of you, coating your walls with his release.

He collapses on top of you then, breathing heavily.

It takes several minutes for him to regain his composure. He lifts himself off you, cradling you in his arms afterwards and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I will make it right, darling. Treat you the way you deserve.”

“I know you will,” you whisper, placing a kiss on his exposed chest before you drift off to sleep.

thank you so much for reading! <3 feel free to reblog and leave feedback! :3

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masterlist. | oneshots.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[yasministration]

wanna bet? m.list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ a mattheo riddle x potter!reader au

navigation // ꩜ smut, ❀ fluff, 𖤓 angsty/angry, 𖤐 funny

synopsis: when harry potter's sister moves from beauxbatons to hogwarts for her final year of wizarding school, she is immediately adopted into an unlikely friend group. ft. jily

✩ bet on it, parkinson? - when the group of slytherins spot harry potter with a girl they’ve never seen before, pansy decides to investigate, convinced you’re his sister. (𖤐)

✩ you're excused - pansy invites you to sit with her friend group on the train to hogwarts, an invite you immediately take, happy to make your friends instead of lingering around your brother's group. however, it isn't as simple as that with a brother as protective as harry potter. (𖤐❀)

✩ tie a tie - after six years of going to beauxbatons, you have never once had to wear a tie in your life, which brings you to an unfortunate situation on your first day at hogwarts. luckily, mattheo offers his help.

[acourtofchaos]

JUST GIVE ME THE NIGHT | Prince!Mattheo Riddle x Princess!Reader

summary: rival heirs from neighbouring kingdoms, a broken affair that should stay that way for you own good considering you're engaged to someone else, but you're unable to let Mattheo go despite the fact he ended things so harshly and one night you're determined to confront him about all of it when his actions prove he isn't as unaffected after breaking things off as he pretends to be.

C/W: 18+. piv. fingering. small amount of angst, mattheo being a little bloody and beaten, self-loathing behaviour from mattheo, kind of cheating since reader is engaged but its an arranged marriage and the guy is a dick.

song inspo: the night does not belong to god by sleep token

There was a stillness to the world as your hand lifted slowly towards his door.

It felt almost as if the entirety of the land had fallen into a hushed, watchful silence - a deep breath taken before your actions caused an undeniable shift of the tides with the startlingly loud rap of your knuckles against aged wood.

The way it echoed through the stone walls made you freeze, panic at the possibility of being caught rolling through your chest, your galloping heart, as you held your breath and waited what felt like an eternity for that voice you loved so well to call to enter. For the rustle of movement or the soft thud of his footsteps approaching the door.

None of them came.

And the absence of them forced you to swallow the lump in your throat that was attempting to suffocate you, to nudge the door open and pop your head around the edge to look for him. Hesitantly stepping into the room with a soft frown when he was nowhere to be found.

He had been there recently, at least, you were sure. The fire was still blazing strongly, the logs that had been thrown inside to feed it not yet swallowed whole, and when you looked to the bed, the sheets were wrinkled. Strewn and tossed aside like someone had been fighting for sleep and lost their temper when it continued to evade them.

You only hoped that he hadn't left in search of another fight. Especially not when you had heard from your own knight, Lorenzo, that he was already bloody and bruised, that he hadn't seemed to care what happened to him the first time let alone a second, but then just as you were about to turn on your heel and go looking for him something caught your eye.

His dagger. The one always hung at his hip, steel gleaming cold and sharp, as deadly as the boy that wielded it, sat innocently on top of the table beside the bed.

Now Mattheo may have been hot-headed, a thrill-seeker who was impossibly quick to anger, but he was not foolish.

Typically.

And unless he had suddenly developed a death wish after the two of you had violently parted at his own insistence, then there was no way that he'd leave without that dagger.

But then, as if on que, a faint splash alerted you then to a presence in the adjoining room.

You released a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding at the sound and maybe if you had been a little less concerned, a little less skittish when you had first entered the chambers, you would have noticed the rather obvious clue to his whereabouts in the way the room smelt like sweet soap and expensive oils.

The tendrils of steam that were seeping through the half-open door, soft and coiling, beckoning you to follow them and find him.

So you did, with your stomach tumbling and footsteps light and fast, almost soundless as you slipped through the gap and into the room.

At first you could hardly make anything out but then you blinked away the damp warmth, allowing yourself a moment for your eyes to adjust to the heavy fog of steam that lingered like a blanket, and with it the room steadily came into a less hazy view.

Much like the one in your own chambers, there was a sprawling bath that took up half the room, carved into the stone floor and adorned with jewels that glimmered and shone like starlight beneath the water. Housing at the farthest end of it, your prince, with his back to you, unguarded and completely unaware.

His body glowed, candlelight reflecting off the droplets of water that clung to his flushed skin, his dark hair damp and curling at the nape of his neck whilst his head hung low against the brace of his folded arms.

You let your eyes trace over every inch of him like it was the very first time, the last, because for all you knew it very well could have been.

Even with his back to you he was beautiful, and it broke those parts of your heart that had never been able to fully commit to hating him as you were supposed to, to see for yourself the way he had been marred by fresh bruises.

They were everywhere. Vicious blooms of lavender and navy, smudges of violence that ranged in size from being as small as a fingerprint, or maybe it was the stark outline of a knuckle, to something much, much larger.

They painted him with such an air of defeat, especially when paired with the slump of his usually proud shoulders, that the very sight of it felt fundamentally wrong. Like you were witnessing the death of a small, flickering flame that had once been a wildfire.

It made you vengeful, made you protective. It made your chest ache so unbearably that it felt as if you had bore wounds to match his own upon your lungs and your fragile ribs, and it had all left you incapable of breathing quite right.

There was the slightest movement from your own body as you tried, a twitch of your arm whether to reach out for him or to reach for a weapon you didn't possess to avenge him, and a soft noise that bubbled past your lips before you could choke it down.

Wholly unnoticeable to perhaps anyone else, but enough to alert Mattheo that he was no longer alone.

Mesmerised, you watched the lazy lift of his head, the way it tilted almost imperceptibly to one side before the low drawl you've yearned to hear so desperately since you last fought finally found you again.

"I told you I do not need your constant supervision Theo, I am not a child."

You snorted softly at that, unable to help it at the faint bite of petulance lingering in his tone.

"I believe Theodore was in need of some well deserved rest after the lengths he had to go to today to keep you from getting killed, you have me instead." You called out softly, and the effect of your voice was instantaneous.

He didn’t turn.

Instead, it was as if all at once every part of him drew tight, like a knife had been plunged into the low dip of his back, deep past muscle until the tip grazed his spine, and then slowly ripped upwards.

You could sense the way it rippled through him, the violent shudder that wracked down to the depths of his bones when he croaked your name before he could bite it back. Before he could repackage it in grit and fire, and spit it like a reprimand rather than a telltale sign of his own weakness.

"What are you doing here?” He demanded, voice rough, brooding, once he was able to shove down the rush of longing inflicted by your presence that had caught him so horrendously off guard. “Come to seek justice for the wounded pride of your betrothed's men?"

Despite his defensiveness, you allowed yourself to draw a little closer, feeling the fine wisps at your hairline begin sticking to your skin as the heat in the room seemed to swell. Steam thickening until it was a physical press against your skin.

"Why would I care about them?" You shot back quietly. "But perhaps, you could help me make sense of all this and tell me what they did to draw your ire. Or are we simply feeling a bit nostalgic and deciding to revisit the old Mattheo who liked to pick fights for no reason?"

He didn't expect your calmness, you could tell. The levelled, coaxing tone apparently had a way of making him wary, fingers twitching restlessly against stone, trying to bury themselves into it like he needed grounding whilst his face slanted to the side just so.

It was movement enough to gift you a sliver of his face, the half-hearted sardonic curl of his mouth as he smirked. "Maybe I've grown sick of seeing Flint's ridiculous crest everywhere I turn."

You took another step closer, a thoughtful laugh humming at the back of your throat as you did so, before reminding him. "Then I believe you've come to the wrong part of the realm if you want less of it, dear prince." You mused. “Also that excuse is a blatant lie, I don't believe you, I think it was something else."

Mattheo turned to you then, slowly, deliberately, disbelief evident in his expression that you would provoke him so blatantly. Though, really, it shouldn't come as a surprise. Not with you, not when it had been one of the many reasons he had fallen in love with you despite himself.

Gentle currents broke out around each movement of his body whilst he leaned back, appraising you with raised brows.

"What else could there be?" He shrugged mildly, but where his tone was meant to be unaffected, dismissive even, there was the faintest tremble. A miniscule fracture beneath his indifference as his throat bobbed.

You planned on cracking it wide open.

With shaky hands, you unclipped your cloak, allowing the heavy weight of velvet to slide down from the curves of your shoulders and rush to the floor.

There was a sharp exhale as he drank you in, lips parting as your beauty punched the breath from his lungs, his heart stuttering at the vulnerability that you were entrusting him with despite everything he had done to try and make you turn your back on him.

It felt more intimate than either of you were used to or truly prepared for, nothing but a simple nightgown shielding you from the burning catch of his eyes whilst he was fully bare beneath the water. A far cry from the desperate rucking up of dress skirts and trousers that were torn loose rather than unlaced, drawn down just barely far enough for him to be able to bury himself within you.

"Everything." You whispered, shattering his trance and swallowing thickly when his dark eyes snapped to yours. "There's so much else. It's who the men wearing that sigil defend, the archaic laws they’re willing to reinforce for his benefit. What upholding them does to me, to us."

Warmth flooded your toes with the next careful step that you took. The hem of your nightgown swirling wet and weighted around your ankles whilst you studied him. The way his eyes softened before he could shield his feelings, the war between yearning and rejection that carved itself out across his pretty face as he battled himself internally.

After a moment he shook his head, resolute, or maybe he would have seemed so if not for the fact that he refused to meet your gaze. "There is no us, I've already told you." He muttered, hollow.

"Isn't there? Look me in the eye and tell me again, show me you truly believe it and then I'll be convinced."

Your words were an infuriating challenge, one that made something hot and unforgiving curl within his chest, that made his eyes flash and his jaw clench until it was sore, teeth threatening to shatter with the pressure.

Because he knew that you had him.

With that stubborn tilt of your chin and the unshakeable set of your shoulders, your fearless expression whilst you crept closer looking like his dream come true, he knew that nothing he told you was going to make you run this time. That you were done with letting him run also.

Still, he blew out a frustrated sigh, damp arms shimmering beneath the light as he folded them across his chest. Stubborn, even if he was fighting a losing game.

"There can't be an us, it's a foolish dream, princess."

You frowned. "Why?"

He regarded you with a pained gaze at that, the kind that you didn't just witness but felt, that seemed to beg of you ‘why are you torturing me like this’.

You were only inches away now, waist deep in the glittering water and his scarred, aching hands trembled with a desire so fierce to reach out and touch you, to make sure that you were real and he wasn't dreaming, that every nerve he owned was screaming it's discontent as he struggled to choke it back.

"Your family, for one reason." He said like it was obvious, gritting his teeth until you could easily spot the irritable twitch of his cheek when you scoffed.

"That never stopped you before, Mattheo." You countered, defiant, fingers drifting to touch the chain that adorned your throat. "Remember the tournament? You gave me your token before anyone else could even think about it, your necklace with your family crest that you then insisted upon me keeping? Hardly the actions of someone fearing repercussions from my family."

For a breathless moment you thought you'd unravelled him so much sooner than expected, his gaze blowing out, burning black as it followed the trail of your fingertips down to where he knew the very same pendant was nestled beneath your neckline.

The thought of you wearing his crest, his mark, and little else, only a thin nightgown that he absolutely wasn't watching slowly turn transparent as the water line rose with each step you took, had his hands clenching to white knuckled fists. His tongue dragging over the full plush of his lip like he wished more than anything it was your skin.

It had your head spinning.

Hunger had become a blaze within his blood and in a last ditch effort to look elsewhere his stare dipped only to then catch on the sodden material of your dress melding to your stomach and your hips, the curves of your thighs that he had been desperately forcing himself to ignore.

Mattheo growled a curse like the gods were against him and just when you thought he might snap, he dragged a hand viciously through his wet curls, yanking at them like he needed the sharp shock of pain to stop him making a mistake, before he then glowered at you.

"How about the fact that you're engaged?” He hissed. “I know you have no small amount of distaste for these laws but just because you don't want to marry that piece of shit doesn't make it any less of a major fucking issue."

"Says the Prince who years ago killed the man who challenged him to a duel for sleeping with his wife." You rolled your eyes, undeterred and voice deadpan. "Don't pretend the sanctity of other people's marriages mean shit you."

"Fine." He seethed, surging forward to ensnare your arms in an unyielding grip, the ferocity of his movement churning the water and causing your body to sway into his. "You want a better reason as to why I shouldn't touch you, shouldn't even look at you?”

“Do your worst.” You whispered as your hands found their way to his stomach, palms flush against his warm skin.

He swallowed hard, the dark fan of his lashes fluttering at the touch before he huffed a ragged laugh, a hollow sounding thing that was as forced as it was humourless. “If you insist, princess. How about all the years I spent being cruel to you before I ever truly knew you, how about that when I started to care for you I swore I would never say or do anything to hurt you again and then I broke that promise at the first sign of hardship.”

You opened your mouth to argue and Mattheo shook his head, guilty, and distressed by your willingness to defend the harm he had caused.

“I could have been brave and held hope like you did, or been kinder in my approach at ending things for your safety. But instead I immediately reverted back to cruelty that made you cry and almost broke your heart.”

Mattheo's voice broke and then he was releasing you just as suddenly as he'd caught you, pulling away and into himself as shame flooded his face. “You deserve so much more than this, and I have never been nor will ever be worthy of you.”

Silence followed, a gathering of seconds where your breath remained caught in your throat and your eyes stung with the burn of oncoming tears.

And then you were reaching for him tentatively, allowing time for him to retreat if he wished when his heartbroken gaze darted nervously to yours.

He didn’t though.

He gave in like it was suddenly all too much to refuse you, deflating with an agonised sigh and allowing his head to fall into the cup of your hands as your thumbs brushed gently over his cheekbones.

"Don't you think that should be my decision?" You murmured , the first sweeping tendrils of hope beginning to curl around your heart when he glanced at you with soft eyes and a hesitant smile.

“Gods no, you're a terrible judge of character.”

“I'm a fantastic judge of character.”

“You aren't, angel,” He insisted gently. “Do you know how many dodgy characters I've had to pay Lorenzo to scare off just whilst we've been here for this wedding because you're too tender-hearted for your own good.”

“There is nothing wrong with being k– wait–you bribed my knight?”

“Multiple times.” Mattheo confessed, a mischievous little smirk tugging at his lips. “He was more than happy to be able to get a little mean about it, knowing I'd cover for him. He agrees that you're too trusting, by the way.”

You blinked at him, bewildered, before feigning a betrayed look as you muttered. “Traitors, the both of you.” And shook your head in disbelief. "Anyway, my point was that neither of us have been saints and you were certainly not the only one capable of cruelty, Mattheo. I forgave you for it once before, and I forgive you for it now."

His eyes shuttered closed for a moment and he made a soft noise in the back of his throat, hands hesitantly skimming up your sides and over the soaked cotton stuck to your arms whilst he pressed his forehead gently to yours.

"You shouldn't." He murmured, tracing his fingers over the curve of your cheek and dipping to press them softly against your mouth when he sensed your impending protest. "If you forgive me and say you still want to be mine, I will be relentless. I'll tear cities to the ground and kill anyone that tries to take you from me.”

He nudged his nose against yours, something sparking in his chest when he felt the way your breath stuttered, the way you slipped a hand from his face and buried it within his curls at the back of his head to hold him close. “I'll want to steal you away back to my home and wrap you up in the colours of my family and the silk sheets of my bed so everyone knows you're mine.”

The air between you was crackling, suffocatingly hot and bloated with tension as his mouth hovered over your own, lips just barely catching whilst he spoke. “And when it inevitably sparks a war with the Flint's and maybe even between our families too, I will watch as the kingdoms burn and still be unable to let you go."

The heavy-lidded look he gave you as your eyes held his was searing, all unashamed, ruthless honesty, and so much that love that you felt dizzy with it. Weak kneed and breathless in the face of Mattheo’s passion and possessive need stripped back to their rawest forms.

"Then don't." You rasped, before your other hand left his face to cradle the fingers that had dropped from your mouth to linger at your chin, raising them back up so you could kiss the pad of each one. "You have me Mattheo, no matter what trials men or gods may bring, you'll have me. I am yours."

The groan that tore from his throat was pure sin. “Gods– fuck it, m’yours too–I always have been–”

And then Mattheo kissed you like he'd rather die than do anything else.

Desperate hands cupping your face and his mouth crushed to your own, any thought about the consequences, the inevitable chaos he'd be welcoming if he claimed you and gave you himself burning away as something golden and warm burst through him.

It was a demanding thing, raw and inelegant because your arms were tangling around his neck in an instant, fingers sliding rough through the wet silk of his curls, your tongue tracing the seam of his lips before he parted them for you.

And then oh, you were fucking whimpering his name around the prettiest moan he'd ever heard in his damned life.

He didn't want it to be like this though, he didn't want a feral blur of greedy hands and even greedier lips.

You had both fucked quick and frantic plenty of times but this felt like it needed to be different, like he needed to take his time and unravel you bit by bit as if he had all the time in the world to kneel before you and offer his worship.

So he forced himself to quell the desperate roughness in his movements. Kissing you honey-slow and soft as a dream, tilting your jaw carefully so he could deepen it whilst a hand swept down your back to sink you into him.

"Angel." He murmured against your mouth, with a need that was almost overwhelming. "My pretty girl."

The lovely sigh you made at his words did something to him that he couldn't explain, it had him drawing back just an inch, forehead dropping to yours so dark eyes could watch your face, half dazed and lovesick.

Mattheo knew you would have let him take control and fuck you there, in the bath, against the steam-damp stone, you would have let him crowd you against them and wrap your legs around his waist, let him push inside you and set a pace that had your back arching, limbs trembling, moans tumbling from your throat that echoed around the walls like a damn symphony.

But he wanted to hear you ask for it, craved the reassurance of your words rather than just the cues of your body and the urgent press of your mouth telling him that you wanted this, wanted him, whilst his fingers brushed over the laces of your soaked nightgown.

Your eyes found his the moment they fluttered open, hazy and warm with desire, making him groan when you nodded breathlessly.

"Don't stop, Mattheo.” You pleaded, sounding as wrecked as he felt. “I need you."

He caught your mouth with his again, kissed you deep and aching, burning just wild enough that it felt like your knees would buckle whilst his hands worked open each silken ribbon that ran from your chest to your stomach until the nightgown parted wide.

It was with a shaky breath that he let his fingers hook beneath the material at your shoulders. That he drew it down, slow and gentle, until it bared your chest and then your belly, your arms slipping free of the damp sleeves as the top half of the gown fell and bunched at your hips.

There was no time for you to be insecure about it, not when Mattheo was looking at you like you were something sacred. Not when his hands stopped pushing down your gown and instead ghosted up your arms and over the dips of your collarbones with a reverence that had you shivering.

His exploration resuming only once he'd mesmerised every constellation like freckle adorning your skin to then trace the swell of your breasts and the path from your sternum to your navel.

His palms slid to your hips then, kneading gently as he buried his face in your neck to hide the lovestruck, flustered expression on his face. Murmuring, “You are the most beautiful thing I've seen, the closest thing to heaven that I'll ever touch.”

You were smiling, he could feel it. A soft laugh bubbling up past your lips and pouring, pretty and golden, over him as your hand dragged gently down his spine whilst the other tangled itself in his hair. “I didn't know you were capable of being so poetic.”

He let out an amused huff. “It only happens with the right inspiration.” He hummed, lips trailing the curve of your throat as he spoke, nose nudging at your jaw before he pressed a warm, lingering kiss there. “Like being in the presence of divinity.”

You snorted. “You're ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you.”

Your breath hitched, a small gasp fleeing from your throat that you couldn’t stop if you tried. You wanted to melt, wanted to cry, wanted to say it back to him over and over as the pressure from the bloom of your own feelings cracked open your ribs one by one for your heart to pour itself out.

You settled for kissing him instead.

For tasting the words on his lips as Mattheo said them again, hushed and lovely, like he knew you needed them more than you needed air in your lungs. A total goner for the way you lit up each time he did so until you were glowing brighter than the numerous candles flickering around the edges of the bath.

He moaned when you snuck a hand down between to find him hard and aching, gentle fingers circling around his cock, stroking him so maddeningly fucking perfect that he had to grip your wrist and get you to you stop before he embarrassed himself.

"I won't last if you keep touching me like that" He breathed, lips slipping over the curve of your cheek before he dipped his forehead against yours. "Besides, I want you in my bed, like you deserve, the bath can wait for another time."

With that, you let him push the rest of your gown from your body, his hands back on you before the drowned material could even sink to the floor once you stepped out of it.

Swallowing hard as he took a moment to digest that you were fully bare before him, that he was bare before you, and that there was no going back from this now.

There would be denying, no pretending, that he did not love you with every miniscule spec of existence that made up his soul. That he was not yours, as you were his.

His eyes met yours then, gazing over the raw vulnerability of your own expression before he pulled you into a kiss that burned.

That felt like a brand, a promise and a declaration, as he hauled you up into his arms, hands clamped tight beneath your thighs and a low groan rumbling through his chest when you wove your legs around him.

He carried you from the bath like you were infinitely precious, like you were the most important thing in the world to him as he snatched the thickest towels he could and moved out of the room, past the still-roaring fire, and towards the bed.

His mouth brushing softly once, twice, against yours when he set you back on your feet and wrapped you in a towel, drying you with a reverence that had your heart flipping in your chest and your cheeks flushing warm.

He melted when you took the other towel and did the same for him.

Little butterfly kisses pressed to his arms and chest whilst you went before the fizzing in his chest got the better of him and you laughed, startled and bright, as Mattheo tackled you softly down upon the sheets, pushing you back into his pillows with his body encasing yours.

And the sight that awaited him when he looked down was the sweetest, most breathcatching thing he had ever witnessed.

You with firelight slanting over your skin and dancing in your eyes, your mussed hair strewn over the pillowcases and your lips swollen from his affections, staring right back at him like Mattheo had not only hung the moon and the stars, but as if he was more beautiful, more beloved, than all of them combined.

Your hands found his face as his lungs drew tight, fingers sweeping the dip of his brow and the lovely arcs of his cheekbones before you pulled him close and whispered against his mouth. “I love you, Mattheo.”

The noise he made in response was a soft, cracked thing that sounded like you had ruined him.

Like you had slipped a searing hand between his rips and wrapped it around his racing heart until anything else it contained that wasn't you burned away.

Like he craved nothing else for the rest of his life but that white-hot feeling of being utterly in love with you.

“Tell me what you want,” Mattheo choked, voice wholly wrecked, nose nudging against yours. “You can have it, whatever it is, I don't give a damn, I'll give you anything. Everything.”

You gasped as he dragged a scorching touch from your shoulder down past your ribs, your stomach, hovering over your hip bone until it met your outer thigh and let the heat of it sink deep. Sparking a need so fierce you were almost sure you would have cried out for him if it wasn't for his mouth covering yours.

“I want you to touch me,” You told him breathlessly once he had finished kissing you dizzy. “I want you to make love to me, show me that you're mine and I'm yours, Mattheo.”

He had never followed a command so willingly, nor so quickly, in his life.

But the words had hardly parted from your lips before he was readily obliging, fingers slipping further over your skin until his hand dipped between your parted thighs and found you warm and wet for him.

He pressed his fingers to your clit in gentle circles but still you jolted, back arching like a bow and his name a startling moan on your tongue whilst he shushed you with soft sounds and even softer kisses mouthed against your flushed temple.

“Relax for me, princess, I've got you, let me make you feel good.”

You did your best to listen, to settle beneath his electric touch, chest heaving as you nodded and he rewarded you with another kiss for doing so well for him. A lazy, indulgent thing that stole what little of your breath his ministrations had allowed to remain in your lungs.

He was making your head swim with the smallest effort, just his weight hovering over you and his barely there touches that only grew bolder when it seemed like the light pressure was threatening to drive you insane.

The moan you made when he slowly pushed two thick fingers deep inside you, unhinged.

"Does that feel good?" He rasped, biting back a groan when the moment his thumb brushed over your clit you clenched tight around him. Hips canting and your hands grasping at his biceps, nails scoring pretty little crescent moons into his skin.

“Mattheo–” You panted, “oh gods, please.”

You were a shuddering mess. Crying out for him as he pressed himself close and moved a little faster, fingers curling relentlessly against that part of you that made you keen and your thighs shake, trembling and clamping down around his hand like you were desperate to keep him there.

There was the nudge of his forehead falling against yours then, a tender moment that made your heart swell as he watched you in awe. “I know.” He husked.” “You're doing so well, angel. Looking so fucking pretty for me.”

You let out a breathless, little moan at his praise, a delirious sound that once you would have rather died than made in front of him, but now you couldn't care less.

Were delighted by it even, with the way it seemed to hit Mattheo like a rock to the head, his dark eyes blowing wide and dazed.

He looked like he was fighting a war with his restraint.

Torn between his greed for your sounds, his hunger for the way you felt beneath him, around him, when you unravelled by his hand, and simultaneously never wanting it to end so he could have you writhing and whimpering for him for much, much, longer.

But your chest was beginning to rise and fall in shallow jerks, voice thinning as your insides burned and your blood sparked, pressure coiling tight in what felt like every possible nerve ending as Mattheo thrust and crooked his fingers just right until your back was lifting from the bed more often than it was resting against it.

"Are you close?" He murmured, low and rough, heat licking down his spine when you rolled your hips harder against his hand, tears of pleasure sparkling in your eyes as you quickly nodded. "That's it, be a good girl and come for me."

You did. A strangled cry catching at the back of your throat as golden light rushed through you. Blinding. Warm.

Your body quivering beneath his as he coaxed out more pleasure than you knew how to comprehend, head thrown back and hips stuttering until a soft kind of exhaustion settled over you like a blanket and pressed you limp into the sheets.

Mattheo was stroking at your cheek as you dazedly found your way back to him, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns as his gaze turned adoring, his expression lovesick when you blinked before tilting your head up for a sweet, gentle kiss that had him smiling against your mouth.

“You with me, princess?” He teased quietly.

“Always.” You murmured, swallowing the sigh that escaped him as you wound your arms around his neck, drawing him down at the same time you shifted your own body until every inch of him was pressed against you.

He swore as your thighs parted wider for his hips to nestle into, his cock sliding over your wet cunt as you did so, and he couldn't resist any longer when you rocked, slow and deliberate, against him. Fingers tangling in his hair whilst you moved like you were trying to drive him out of his mind.

"I need to feel you."

And fuck, how could he ever deny you anything.

How could he have ever tried.

There was a tremble to his movements when he finally pushed inside you, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he slid in inch by inch until his hips were flush against yours and you were whimpering his name like a prayer.

Your eyes fluttering shut at the stretch of him until his nose nudged sweetly at yours, his breath shaky against your lips when he whispered. "Don't close your eyes, keep them on me."

Mattheo moved slowly once your pleasure-drunk gaze was locked on his.

Languid rolls of his hips and butterfly soft brushes of his fingers up your sides that made the loveliest sighs clamber up from your throat.

Gentle hands removing your arms from around his neck and raising them above your head so he could stretch you out beneath him and melt into you until there was no space left at all between your bodies. Your hearts. Your bonded souls.

And it all felt like nothing could, or would, ever part you again.

He choked on your name when you tightened around him, groaning soft like you'd wounded him, like you’d stolen his breath even as he fought to grasp it with everything he had.

His eyes squeezing shut despite what he'd said because it all felt too fucking good and Mattheo was starting to fray apart at the seams quicker than he wanted to.

“I'm sorry– I’m not gonna last long.” He gasped, voice wrecked and sounding pained by the admission, but then he was moaning into your mouth as you kissed him.

A wild, desperate thing, that told him “don't worry about that, I just want you’ before you answered out loud with a threadbare noise of your own when you hitched your legs up higher around his waist and he thrust deeper, greedier, burying you into the mattress with each half-frantic snap of his hips.

It felt like the fire had blazed outwards from its hearth and swallowed the room, like it had found a home beneath your skin, flaring and spreading until it had then latched onto his, ready to devour him whole.

There was no more kissing anymore, just breathless pants into each other's mouths and his hands clenching desperately around yours whilst pleasure and delirium chased and nipped at your heels.

“Ohgodsohgods–fuck,” You whimpered when he angled his hips and ground into you, his pelvis catching at your clit with each aching press. “Mattheo–”

"I know,” he rasped, his forehead shoved against yours. His body beginning to shake and his pace faltering, movements jerking as your hips rose sharp to meet his own and made light burst behind his eyes. “I know, fuck, come for me angel. Let me feel it.”

You fell apart then, cunt fluttering around him until he followed you into bliss with a hoarse shout that he muffled by kissing you, rough and intense at first, and then slower. Sweeter as the fierce pressure of his orgasm mellowed into a low, buzzing warmth over time.

It took a few minutes for him to be a little less breathless, for his muscles to feel a little less liquified and his vision to lose the hazy smudge of lingering pleasure. But when it finally did, he rose above you just enough that he wasn't crushing you with his weight and looked down at you in awe.

And much to the threat of his own heart, you were staring at him the same way, stunned, eyes that were a bit glassy like you couldn't believe that what had happened between you was real. That it wasn't all some dream that you were destined to wake up from any second, heartbroken and alone.

The ache to reassure you, was a fierce thing that temporarily made him forget how to speak. Tightening his chest to the point of pain, to devastation that any flicker of your doubt was only there because he had planted it himself in a stupid attempt at denial that he would spend the rest of his life making up for.

And he would begin by gently stroking your cheeks in the way that he knew you adored, peppering soft kisses along your forehead and down the line of your nose until you laughed, soft and sweet, and his lips hovered just over yours. His eyes catching your gaze with all the raw honesty and love that he possessed.

"Marry me." He murmured, pressing a doting kiss upon the surprised parting of your lips. "Fuck the laws and our families and your fiance. You are mine and I have always and will always be yours, so marry me instead."

[harkovsangel]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ Theo likes it when he can take a confident girl and turn them into nothing. Mattheo likes when he can take a girl who doesn’t see her value and turn them into their highest version of themselves. Draco likes the control over he can have over a girl and their natural, feminine, nurturing nature. Enzo likes when he gets stucks in a girls head and heart, lasting a leaving effect. Blaise likes when he can make new memories and learn new things with eachother.

⟡ ݁₊ . written by harkovsangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

[enzosbabyangel]

ཐི⋆♱⃓⋆ཋྀ This pic is sooo Mattheo vibes !!

a/n: been a hot minute since i’ve been on this blog due to business but i am back !

The music was loud, but that did little to your ability to sleep as you laid ontop your boyfriend, Mattheo, who was sat with a cup of whatever alcohol in his left hand. Right hand holding your waist. Your friends spread out in the Slytherin dormitories.

Theo chuckled as he took a puff of the blunt him and Pansy was sharing. Sitting on the couch right in front of you guys. “She out cold already?” He hummed.

Mattheo laughed, looking down at your sleeping form against his body. “Yep.” He sighed. Bringing his free hand up quickly to move some of your hair out of your face. Speaking with a softness reserved only for you as he smiled down at you. “My sleepy girl.”

[dearnott]

Anything to be your man, mattheo riddle

“do you like, want them or something?” mattheo asks blankly staring at you while you looked like some idiot. Your hands were pressed to the glass and you were practically ogling at some shoes.

But they weren't some shoes. They were mary janes. The shoes that looked cute and pretty. The shoes that you've been admiring for 6 whole months. “I don't want them,” mattheo was astonished. “I need them.” nevermind, he took the astonishment back.

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “you can live without them. They aren't a must.” you looked at mattheo with a pointed look, though he wasn't taking anything back.

“they are a must. You don't get it ‘cause you're just a man.” okay, he was half pleased with that since you called him a man.

“a man, yeah?” he bit his lip looking at you with the same look you loathed.

“yeah, no.” his face instantly dropped.

“I'll do anything, how do I become avman in those pretty eyes of yours.” he practically looked like he was pleading. Now this, caught your attention as much as he did to you. A wicked grin spread across your face.

“anything huh?”

“no! wait I—”

“a real man would buy me those mary janes.” you cut him off. And your attention was fully on him, like usual. “please?”

“oh, fine.” as soon as he said that, your surroundings turned into pure joy. Rainbows everywhere. You had dreams of this day, the day those mary janes would be modeling on your feet.

“yay!” you squealed.

────

You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. His cheeks immediately reddened. “thank you so much, my man.” you look at him with innocent looking eyes. The ones he can't resist.

“y–yeah! Anytime for you hun...” he was pleased with himself, so were you.

You looked down at your new shoes happily. “look at them, don't they look great on me?” you were still looking at them as you asked him that.

“honestly you'd look great in anything,” he mumbled under his hot breath. You looked up at him at this. Your interest piqued.

“what was that? I didn't catch it.”

Oh no.

Mattheo’s smile faded quickly as he tried to muster up a compliment to fill in for his other.

“I– uh, I said, you look amazing... Yeah, totally.” he sighed in relief as your smile got bigger.

“aw, thanks.”

a/n: is it EXTREMELY short? yes. Keep smiling brightly :)

wc: 380 😐

[multific]

More Than a Gamble

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: You and Mattheo have been secretly dating, and though you love him, you hate hiding.

The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the glow of emerald flames flickering against the stone walls.

You moved quietly through the space, your heart fluttering with excitement.

It had been weeks since you and Mattheo started sneaking around together, stealing kisses in empty corridors, meeting in secret corners of the castle. Every touch, every whispered word had convinced you that what you had was real.

You loved him.

And even though you hated keeping your relationship a secret, you held onto the hope that soon, things would change. That one day, he would hold your hand in front of everyone.

But as you neared the hallway leading to the boys’ dormitories, voices carried through the air.

You froze.

“Alright, mate, just admit it,” Theodore’s voice was laced with amusement. “We all knew about the bet. We knew you were dating her.”

Your stomach twisted.

“What’s your point, Nott?” Mattheo’s voice came next, steady, unreadable.

“The point is,” Theo continued, “you lost.” He chuckled. “You were supposed to take her out once. One date. But what’s it been now? Over a month? Don’t tell me you actually caught feelings.”

A cold weight settled in your chest.

Mattheo had to ask you out on a date… as a bet?

Your world blurred as silence stretched between them, each second suffocating you.

Then, finally, Mattheo spoke.

His voice was quiet, but the words were clear.

“I don’t regret it.”

The weight in your chest cracked open into something sharp.

You turned and ran.

You barely registered the sound of your own sobs as you ran through the corridors. You didn’t care if anyone saw you. Didn’t care if they heard. You just needed to be alone.

You threw yourself onto your bed, curling in on yourself as the tears kept coming.

It had been a lie. All of it.

The touches, the kisses, the promises and the late-night whispers.

Had he ever truly wanted you? Or were you just a game to him?

The door to your dorm burst open.

“Y/N.”

You shivered at the sound of his voice.

Mattheo stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling as he had run straight from the common room. His dark curls were a mess, his lips parted, his eyes filled with something close to desperation.

“Please,” he breathed, stepping inside. “Just-just listen.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to sit up. Your voice trembled. “So it’s true?”

Mattheo flinched. “No.” Then he exhaled sharply. “I mean-yes, but not the way you think.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Not the way I think? You made a bet, Mattheo. A bet to take me on a date. Was anything real?”

He took a step closer, his hands clenched at his sides. “You. You were real.”

Tears stung your eyes again. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I was a coward.” His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I never thought I’d fall for you. I asked you out for a stupid, stupid reason. But that first night, when you laughed at something I said when you looked at me like I wasn’t just some reckless bastard, that made it real. And every moment after that was never a joke to me. I never told you because I was afraid you’d walk away.” He let out a shaky breath. “And I couldn’t lose you.”

You stared at him, heart pounding.

Mattheo Riddle, proud and untouchable, stood before you completely unravelled.

And despite everything, despite the pain, you still loved him.

“I hate what you did to me,” you whispered.

“I hate myself for it,” he admitted. “But I swear to you, I would never hurt you like that again.” He stepped closer, reaching out hesitantly. “I love you, Y/N. And if you tell me it’s over, I’ll walk away. But if there’s any part of you that still believes in us-” He swallowed hard. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I never needed a bet to want you.”

You closed your eyes, your heart waging war against your mind.

But when his fingers brushed yours you realized the truth.

You still wanted him.

But you were no fool.

"I want to believe, I really do. But... I was hiding my love for you, and you played me. I cannot look past that. You lied to me."

"Y/N, please I really meant what I said, I want you. I don't want to hide anymore."

"Would you have said the same if I didn't overhear you? Would you have said that you love me?"

"I don't want to lose you."

"You lost me the moment you played me. Please, leave. I need to be alone." you turned away from him, you only heard as he closed the door behind himself.

You wanted to believe him. But this truly hurt. Knowing he only started dating you because of a bet. Now, all of his words seemed like a lie.

---

Days passed and although Mattheo followed you almost like a lost puppy, you tried your best to ignore him.

He tried to find opportunities to speak to you, but you didn't allow it. You ran away. You figured he would give up.

He will move on.

He will find a new girl to play with.

You just had to hold out until then.

But then days turned into a week, a week turned into a month.

Now the entire school was whispering about you and Mattheo.

He didn't give up.

It got to a point where you had to hide from him, hiding in the school grounds. You finally managed to find a tree that hid you from the others.

But of course, Mattheo found you.

"Can I sit?" he asked but you didn't look up from your book. He sat down next to you on the ground, he kept his distance.

Everything in you told you to leave, except for your heart.

Your heart, as if it had its own way of life, begged for you to go to him so he could hold you as if your heart was missing its other half.

And what your heart desired, made your mind daydream. You were reminded of the way everything used to be.

How you two were hiding behind trees and bushes, how he looked at you. How he still looks at you.

You looked up from your book just as he got ready to light his cigarette.

You groaned and reached out, snatching it from his lips, you broke the thing in half.

"I told you to quit," you said before moving back to your place and trying your best to read your book.

But you were only pretending. You could see him watching you from the corner of your eye.

"I want you back. I need you. I don't think you truly understand just how much." you looked up at him from your book, his eyes were intense, and they held meaning and purpose.

You closed your eyes for a moment, you needed to think. Your next move will decide everything, the weight of that almost crushed you.

So you opened your eyes and whispered, “Then prove it.”

And he did, he moved so fast, your mind didn't even register it.

You only realised that he was right in front of you when his lips met yours, it wasn’t just a kiss.

It was a promise.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[sabxynsweet]

someone flirts with sweetheart!reader... mattheo gets jealous

lots & lots of people requested jealous mattheo, so here it is!! i hope you like it <3

You’re waiting in Charms class - as usual - when some Gryffindor you don’t recognise swoops in and takes the seat you were saving for Mattheo.

“Sorry actually that’s-”

“Thanks, Sweetheart.” He says and the way the name falls from his lips makes you feel uneasy. “You know, I always see you around but no one ever calls you by your real name - what is it?”

You tell him your name hesitantly and he smirks.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You grimace inwardly.

“Thank you.” You hum absentmindedly.

You’re not stupid, you can tell he’s flirting with you, or trying to.

You wonder if you can play dumb your way out of this. Until Mattheo arrives, at least.

You look away and pretend to fiddle with your stationary but he doesn’t take the hint.

“I’m Lucas, by the way.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” You say, now feeling guilty you didn’t ask. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Meanwhile, neither of you notice when Mattheo walks into the classroom. He stands by the door when he notices someone talking to you.

He feels his blood boil at the sight.

It’s a feeling he recognises from all the way back in fourth year when he watched as Cedric Diggory asked you out.

He remembers how the feeling dissipated into amusement when he watched you almost trip from the speed in which you bolted away from Diggory, mumbling some half excuse.

Still, he feels that same anger now.

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?" He says smugly, like there’s no way you’ll decline, “This weekend maybe? What do you like to do? No, no, let me guess - you love the beach.”

You hate the beach.

You turn to him and fix your sweetest smile, trying to soften the blow of rejection.

“I’m not exactly single.” You say, because it’s sort of true and much easier than saying “I’m not interested in you, your hair is fugly and you’re not Mattheo!! You're not cute!!!!!!!!” (oops)

“What?” He says, with furrowed brows. “Who?”

In your mind, you roll your eyes. Is he a caveman? Outwardly, you smile awkwardly.

“Mattheo Riddle.” You mumble and Lucas barks out a laugh.

“You’re kidding, right?” He laughs, “You mean he fucked you one time and now will never acknowledge you again?”

You frown. “Sorry?”

“Sweetheart.” He says the name so condescendingly, you wish he would not. “You can’t possible be naive enough to think he even remembers your name.”

Oh, he must be new.

You want to argue or laugh or cry but you don’t have time to do any of those things because Mattheo is walking over to you.

You breathe out a sigh of relief until you see the look on your face. His jaw is clenched tight. If you didn't know him better by now, you'd be scared for yourself.

But you do know him, so you're scared for Lucas.

Mattheo walks right past Lucas and stands in front of you, he bends down just slightly enough to grab your face in his hands, he kisses you.

It's hard and fast - enough to make Lucas wince - but never really rough.

“Excuse me, we were…” The end of Lucas’ sentence dwindles off when Mattheo pulls off of you slowly and deliberately. You almost whine at the loss of contact.

He turns to face Lucas with a devastatingly bored expression.

“You’re in my seat.” He says, his voice cold and uninterested. You would laugh if your mind wasn’t so fuzzy from the kiss.

Lucas didn’t need to be told twice, he scrambles to move away, mumbling something like a “sorry.”

Mattheo just rolls his eyes before taking his seat and turning to his girl.

“What was that?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

He shrugs. “Nothing, just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You stifle your laughter, he doesn't notice.

“And calling you Sweetheart, who does he think he is?” He continues, mumbling more so to himself than to you.

“Fuck, he pisses me off. I swear, I was about to fuck him up.”

You let a laugh slip through, his head snaps to yours.

“What?” He frowns.

“You were jealous.” You say with a sparkle in your eyes, he scoffs.

“Yeah, right.”

“You totally were!” You insist, breaking into the biggest grin, “You’re very hot when you’re jealous.”

“You’re hot all the time.” He says, eyes on you now.

“Stop it.” You cover your face, “Don’t change the subject.”

He rolls his eyes, turning to you fully now. He holds your face in his hands, you look up at him with your wide eyes.

He drags you in closer, kissing you in that slow, dizzying way he usually does - so far contrasting from the kiss earlier.

Mattheo pulls away and smirks at your dazed expression.

"I'm doing no such thing.

taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls @fayezasstuff @glittervame @wxnterwidow333 @thalibaby @cminoko @blainea98 @randomfanpage @megzz-x @peterparkerspersonalplaything @kiessecretcove @kiesrepostarchive

[strangled-slytherin]

Buried in Books

Summary: Theo finds you asleep on your books in the library after a long night of studying and insists on taking care of you.

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: None

It was late, well past curfew, but the library was still and quiet, save for the soft sound of Theo’s footsteps as he wandered through the rows of dusty bookshelves. He had been looking for you for the past hour, mildly annoyed but mostly concerned. You’d promised to meet him in the common room to go over notes for Potions, but when you didn’t show up, Theo knew exactly where you’d be—buried in a pile of books, probably lost in your studies.

As he turned the corner into one of the smaller study alcoves, his suspicions were confirmed. There you were, seated at a small table, surrounded by textbooks, parchment, and ink bottles. But you weren’t reading. Your head was resting on your folded arms, face turned to the side as soft breaths escaped your lips. You had fallen asleep, completely knocked out after what must have been hours of hard studying.

Theo paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement, his initial annoyance fading as he watched you sleep so peacefully amidst the chaos of your schoolwork. He shook his head, a fond smile pulling at his lips despite himself. You always did this—pushed yourself too hard, determined to get every detail just right, to master every spell and every potion. But sometimes, you didn’t know when to stop.

He approached quietly, his movements careful not to disturb you just yet. He could see the faint smudges of ink on your fingers and even a light streak on your cheek from where you’d likely brushed your hand across your face at some point. Your hair was slightly mussed, and the way you were slumped over the table looked far from comfortable.

Theo’s gaze softened as he knelt down beside you, his eyes taking in the sight of you, your peaceful expression as you slept, completely unaware of the world around you. He sighed quietly, feeling a mixture of fondness and exasperation. You always worked so hard, and he admired that about you—but Merlin, did you need to take better care of yourself.

Gently, he reached out and moved a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers light and careful, not wanting to wake you just yet. The simple action felt oddly intimate, and Theo hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering in the air before he pulled it back, clearing his throat softly.

"Y/N," he whispered, leaning in closer so that only you could hear him. "Come on, love, you can’t sleep like this. You’re going to wake up with a stiff neck."

You stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, your brow furrowing in your sleep, but you didn’t wake. Theo chuckled quietly under his breath, shaking his head. Typical. He wasn’t sure how you could sleep so deeply on such an uncomfortable surface, but somehow you managed.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, pushing the books aside carefully to make room for you. He stood up and gently slipped his arm under your shoulders, lifting you up just enough to coax you out of your awkward sleeping position. "Let’s get you somewhere a bit more comfortable."

You blinked groggily, starting to wake up as you felt yourself being moved. "Theo?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you rubbed your eyes, looking up at him in confusion. "What… what time is it?"

"It’s late," Theo replied, his tone soft but teasing. "Late enough that you shouldn’t be here, passed out on your textbooks like this. Come on, let’s get you back to the common room."

You blinked again, still disoriented and not fully awake. "I was just… studying," you mumbled, your head lolling back toward the table as if you were ready to fall asleep again.

Theo smirked, keeping his arm around you as he gently pulled you to your feet. "Yeah, I can see that," he said, amusement lacing his voice as he guided you away from the table. "But you’re not going to learn much if you’re asleep on your notes."

You groaned softly, leaning into him as you rubbed at your eyes. "I didn’t mean to fall asleep," you muttered, half-apologetic and half-embarrassed. "I was just trying to get through the chapter on antidotes…"

Theo rolled his eyes, though his expression was more affectionate than annoyed. "Of course you were," he said, shaking his head. "You work too hard, Y/N. You need to sleep, not drown yourself in textbooks."

You gave him a sleepy smile, though your eyes were still heavy with exhaustion. "But I have to be ready for the exam," you protested weakly, your words slurring slightly as you leaned more heavily into Theo’s side.

"The exam’s still days away," Theo replied, his voice gentler now as he led you through the dimly lit corridors, back toward the Slytherin common room. "You’ll be fine. You always are."

You hummed in response, not really arguing but not entirely agreeing either. You were too tired to put up much of a fight. "Thanks for coming to get me," you murmured, your head resting against his shoulder as you let him guide you.

Theo glanced down at you, his lips quirking into a small smile. "What else would I do? Leave you to drool all over your books?"

You gave him a sleepy laugh, shaking your head. "I wasn’t drooling," you mumbled, though the blush on your cheeks suggested you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not.

Theo chuckled, his grip on you tightening just slightly as he helped you down the last flight of stairs. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night," he teased.

When the two of you finally reached the common room, Theo helped you over to one of the cushioned sofas by the fire. He knelt down in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he studied your face, making sure you were more comfortable now.

"You’re exhausted," he said softly, his voice losing its teasing edge. "Get some rest. We can go over the Potions notes tomorrow."

You nodded, your eyes already half-closed as you curled up on the sofa, the warmth of the fire making it impossible to stay awake any longer. "Okay," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. "But don’t let me oversleep."

Theo smiled, standing up and grabbing a nearby blanket to drape over you. "I won’t," he promised, his voice soft. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on you as you drifted back to sleep, looking far more peaceful than you had back in the library.

As he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder one last time, a quiet smile on his face. "Goodnight, Y/N."

And with that, Theo settled into a nearby armchair, pulling out his own books—just in case you needed him when you woke up.

[belovedenzo]

nsfw mattheo riddle headcanons…

things to expect from matty if he’s fucking you

│ words; 900

│ notes; just a few various sex headcanons w/ mattheo <3 enjoy! felt like giving ya’ll some sugar hehe

│ warnings; MDNI 18+ nsfw below! toxic! mattheo. drinking. kinky :b

│ A bully. No matter how much he loves or cherishes you- once he’s in that type of mood there will be no mercy. Once he hits that deep place inside of you that causes a gasp to rip from your throat- he can’t take it anymore. He’ll insult you, demean you even while simultaneously praising you. If anything he ever says hurts your feelings he’ll kiss all the bad away when he’s done with you and apologize. 

│ Whines. An occasional groan or moan is common- especially when your lips are wrapped around the head of his cock. But what can be heard most are the deep, long whines that tumble from his lips when his mind disappears for a bit. 

│ When he’s done- you leave. Unless you mange to put Riddle under a spell and make him fall in love, you will be lumped in with all of the others. If you’re not the girl he loves then you can leave when he’s done with you. No sleepovers, no cuddling, maybe a quick smoke. However that being said, he’ll still always come back to you for more later because he likes to sleep with the same girl for a while.

│ Passionate. While he may be dismissive to commitment, you can always expect Matty to be attentive and passionate while he’s actually fucking you. Unusually sweet words will fall out of his mouth amongst the rougher ones, things he would never say otherwise. 

│ Manipulative. No matter how angry you are with him, he is able to persuade you that all will be okay and you won’t be mad anymore if you just left him fuck you. It works! (does it?)

│ Jealous. If he chooses you to be his play thing, no body else is allowed to touch you but him. Until he is done with you, just the sheer sight of someone else showing interest in you while send him into a tail spin. The second he is finished though, he could care less.

│ He bites. Specifically your neck and thighs- especially with you beneath him in any way. He loves to take this time and bite just hard enough for you to flinch and suck in a breath. Toxic! Mattheo would totally bite you till u bleed if he’s pissed at you. 

│ Loves to give hickey’s. While pda may not be his thing, he does like everyone to see the marks he has left. If the biting wasn’t enough trauma to your skin, giving you hickeys makes him feel accomplished and established like everyone should know to keep their hands off you while he’s the one marking you.

│ Slow and deep. He isn’t always that way, but it’s definitely his favorite motion of the ocean. If his day was decent and nothing weighs heavy on his mind, he likes to go slow and steady to hit all the good spots. However on a bad day you can count on getting your walls bruised. 

│ Affectionate. After care may not be the best if you don’t mean too much to him but during what ever he’s doing to you, kisses will be peppered all over you. Hands will fall on every inch of your skin and massages will come with every grip he gets on you.

│ Anger fucking. If you make him jealous or angry, count on a hate fuck. He expresses his emotions through dominating you- even if it hurts. 

│ Drunk sex. Mattheo is definitely more open and sweet when he’s under the influence of alcohol. Your most intimate moments with him have been when he’s a shot away from being too far gone. He softens and has more fun with you while he’s inebriated- almost like he’s been weakened. 

│ Dacryphilia. If you got pathetic enough to cry in front of him especially if it was due to him being too harsh- it kind of turns him on. He’d be lying if he said seeing you cry didn’t make his dick hard. 

│ Lazy. He loves it when you ride or do most of the movement for him at least. Not only does he like to see you work for it, but it’s less of a job for him. 

│ A huge tease. He likes to have control of your entire day. All day he’ll make sure to keep you on your toes with small glances and brushing of limbs. Eventually if you seem excited enough that will have entertained him enough and he’ll give you want you want (need) from him.

│ Has a huge mouth. You can bet that all of his closest friends in Slytherin know about the two of you sleeping together. He likes to show off.

│ Keeps you as close as possible. When he is being more passionate with you, the closer you are to him the better. He likes your foreheads to touch, your chest, anything that makes him feel as close as possible for just the time being. 

│ Throat grabber. His favorite place for his hands to be is around the front or back of your neck. Sometimes even both wrapped around the sides- only slight constriction. He also knows you secretly love it when he chokes you. Sometimes he goes too far, you have seen stars but it felt good while he buried every last inch of himself inside you.

luv, spell

requests are open!

taglist; lmk if u need to be added or removed! @draco-malfoys-lovergirl @dearmisshoney @shyamanuensis @riddlesbunny @enzosbabyangel @juliet-017 @ur-local-wizard @nottsstar @riddlesrizzler @riddleswhcre @riddlesgirlie @riddlesgrl @eternalbuckley @leona-hawthorne @obsessedwithceleste @pizzaapeteer @nemesyaaa @viperify @hayleygrrr @prythiansprincess @writingsbychlo @nottslove

[nottswitch]

drummer mattheo fingering reader after she said he was not good with his fingers

꒰ drummer!mattheo proves he’s good with his fingers ꒱

cw: 18+ mdni, fingering, cursing, smoking, slight smoke exchange

a/n: on a drummer!mattheo brainrot right now, and damn, he is so fucking good with his fingers

⋆˚꩜｡

you didn’t know the exact intention behind you saying that. maybe you just wanted to rile mattheo up, maybe you thought his ego had been getting awfully huge lately and decided to bring it down a notch. in any case, you couldn’t complain now, spread out on the couch in his dressing room as his fingers pumped in and out of your dripping cunt.

"f-fuck, matty, s-so–"

you were cut off as his digits curled inside of you, pressing into your clenching walls, into that exact spot. although, to be fair, with mattheo every single spot was that spot – he was so damn good with his… everything, including his fucking fingers. his fucking drummer fingers, skilled to throw drumsticks around like it was nothing, and also skilled to make you a complete moaning and whimpering mess.

"so what, pretty girl?" he drawled, looking down at your flushed, sweaty face with quite a devilish smirk. he was sitting on the couch next to you, legs spread in a casual manner, betrayed only by the tent at the front of his sweatpants, where his rock-solid cock was throbbing with arousal. his demeanor was as nonchalant as ever, though – a cigarette dangling in his left hand as his right one fucked you into a frenzy.

"you were saying?" mattheo teasingly prompted, his movements slowing down a bit as he watched you trying to babble something incoherent. he took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke wafting from his mouth in your direction, very much on purpose. the bitter scent hit your nostrils, but in your current state, it didn’t seem as acrid as it usually did. and mattheo knew, watching with amusement as your lips parted, inhaling the bits of smoke that reached you.

"s-so good…" you somehow managed to whimper out, thighs clenching together as the pace of his fingers picked up again. it was impressive, really, how he still had this much strength in his arm even after a two-hour show. sweat glistened on his biceps and bare chest, nearly making you drool as you took in the sight of his slumped over form with your eyes half-closed.

"yeah? s-so good?" he parroted your mess of a sentence, raising an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. "i don’t know, baby, i don’t believe you. didn’t you say, quote unquote, ‘you don’t know what to do with those fingers’?"

"’m sorry…" you mumbled, a high-pitched moan escaping as he scissored you open, pressing on multiple sweet spots at the same time. you couldn’t string words together anymore, and mattheo still smoked with a smirk on his face, as if he wasn’t cancelling all your brain functions using just the power of his hand.

"oh, you are, baby," he murmured as his fingers plunged even deeper, the sloppy sounds of your pussy making his cock throb harder. "i know you are. and you’re gonna prove it, yeah?”

you managed half a nod, your hands gripping the couch, making the old leather squeak under their grip.

"go on then. cum all over my fingers, pretty girl."

mattheo took another drag from the cigarette, the grey cloud swirling in waves around his smug face. his eyes darkened as he watched you lose yourself, the orgasm crashing over you in waves. as your legs trembled, nearly crumpling on the couch and mattheo’s lap, he pulled his fingers out, completely coated in your slickness. he licked it all off, moaning when the taste of you hit his tongue, mixing with the lingering bitterness of tobacco.

"oh, baby, we’re not done." he chuckled, noticing how the heaving of your chest was gradually slowing down, the high slowly clearing out from your mind. his hand moved to the front of his pants, firmly palming his straining cock. "i’m not too sure you’re sorry yet.”

more.

[ur-local-wizard]

Ruin You

Mattheo Riddle, an incubus, is used to getting his way. But when he falls for you --the one girl immune to his charms -- and learns of your innocence, he's overcome with the want to ruin you for anyone else.

MDNI! characters are adults, corruption kink, praise, fingering, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, creampie, loss of virginity, friends to lovers, incubus!mattheo x fem!reader, I am not responsible for your media consumption.

w/c: 1.6k

in response to this request!

nav masterlist au list

a/n: first smut ever!! I hope this lives up to all the expectations! <3

Seduction came to Mattheo Riddle as if it was his mother tongue – natural, unhurried. He knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and the way to angle his smirk just right to make people weak in the knees. His smile was devastating, his voice rich and deep, his touch always featherlight yet never failing to leave a scorching heat behind. He thrived off sexual innuendos, his existence woven into every fantasy and every intimate thought that flitted through every mind.

But you seemed to be immune to his charms.

Remaining blissfully ignorant to his attempts, you somehow escaped every interaction with the demon entirely untouched by the sin that dripped from his lips. It was confusing, infuriating, yet somehow intoxicating; only serving to make him thirst for more. 

“You know,” he purred, leaning closer to where you sat in the common room. “If you ever need help with anything, I’m here. You only have to ask.” 

You blinked up at him, and a wholesome smile spread across your lips. “That’s so sweet of you, Matty. You’re such a good friend.” 

He nearly choked on his own spit at your response. Friend? He was a literal demon of temptation and desire, and yet you thought his actions were friendly? 

His flirtations only escalated after that. Every smirk, wink, lingering touch, was only met with a beaming smile or polite nod. You were a puzzle, a challenge. He wanted to figure you out – to understand how to get his message across. And yet he found himself drawn to you in other ways; ones that weren’t driven solely by physical need.

Then he heard the rumors.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He was just drinking at a party like usual, when he heard Pansy’s voice. “Y/n’s a virgin? Makes sense I guess. But with a face like that, I expected more,” he heard her say. 

He felt the world tilt for a moment, and not from the alcohol he was drinking. Everything in him was screaming, the depraved part of him clawing at the edges of his restraint. A virgin. Pure. Untouched.

His body ached at the thought, and the demonic part of him longed to find you and corrupt you, defile you. But the last thing he wanted was for you to see him as he was – a monster, a predator, a creature of hunger and lust. He wanted you desperately, needed you even, but he would never force anything on you.

For the first time in his life, Mattheo Riddle was at a complete loss for what to do.

Although it was difficult, Mattheo tried to distance himself after that revelation. He told himself that it was for your own good, that you were better off without him, that he would ruin you if he got too close. 

But the more he resisted, the more unbearable the distance from you became. He still heard your laugh echoing throughout the corridors, still caught glimpses of you in the Great Hall, still felt the echo of your innocent touches that lingered, their memory like a brand seared into his skin. 

However, you noticed the change in his behavior almost instantly, and began to wonder if you’d done something wrong.

“Matty?” You asked one day, your voice soft and uncertain. You’d caught him just after curfew, when everyone was meant to be heading to their dorms. “Are you mad at me? Have I done something?” 

Mattheo’s fists clenched at his sides, not able to stand the way your doe eyes were filled with guilt and concern. No fear, no anger, no suspicion, just pure and genuine worry. It broke his heart, and he had to look away. “No angel, you didn’t do anything.” 

You tilted your head in confusion, and your brows furrowing. “Then why have you been avoiding me?” 

His mouth floundered as he searched for something to say. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t scare you? That wouldn’t hurt you? Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie either. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, giving a non-answer while shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then explain it to me,” you said, looking up at him expectantly.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. You stood firm, gaze unwavering, arms crossed over your chest. The sight of you, so determined, so concerned, made him snap. 

“You drive me mad, you know that? Every time you smile at me, every goddamn touch, makes me go absolutely insane. I want you so bad… I wanna ruin you for anyone else.

“So? Who said I didn’t feel the same way, Matty?”

He stared at you in utter disbelief. “But all the hints I threw-” 

“Yeah, I get those now,” you grumble. “After I realize you share the same feelings. I just… didn’t want to assume.” 

He scoffs and takes a step closer. “So you want this too?” 

As soon as you nod, he’s on you. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging lightly, as he backed you against the wall. One hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, and you could feel his desire pressing against you. The kiss was fervent, full of pent-up desire, yet beneath the urgency there was tenderness. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot on your skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re so fucking perfect.” 

His hands were warm as they slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. Your bra was next, falling away to meet your shirt, and you should have been mortified of being so exposed in the common room. But you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Not when his touch ignited something within you that you never knew was there, not when his lips brushed against your ear, whispering sweet praises that made your stomach tighten with need.

His own shirt was next, falling into the growing pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Hands finding your hips, he spun you around, and you immediately braced yourself against the wall. The stone was hard and cold against your hands, and the cold air of the common room caused your nipples to pebble. His touch drifted down your back, before slipping under your skirt to rub against your core. Letting out a gasp of surprise, your hips jolted towards his touch, earning a soothing hum from the man behind you.

“I’ll be gentle, okay? So fucking gentle,” he murmured as he moved your panties to the side. Two fingers slipped inside your cunt with ease, earning a whine from you. 

“Fuck. You're so tight. So wet,” he groaned as he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars. “I really am the only one to touch you like this? Gonna be the first and last, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you moaned, head falling forward as a knot started to form in your belly.

His fingers picked up their pace, pumping and curling just right, just enough to drive you dangerously close to the edge. “I want you to promise, angel. Promise me I’ll be the only one to ever see this beautiful pussy of yours.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, but that didn't satisfy him. Right as you were about to finish, he tore his hand away from you, leaving you teetering on the brink. The loss and emptiness made you whimper, but when you heard him unbuckling his belt, anticipation replaced the frustration. The suspense made you tense, your thighs pressing together in search of relief.

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance, teasing, but he didn't move. “I want to hear you say it. Promise me, angel.”

“I promise,” you whined, growing impatient from the loss of sensation. You wanted him desperately.

That was all he needed to hear, his hips surging forward, thrusting into you with one swift motion. A choked gasp escaped your lips, the stretch making you wince. He stilled, letting you adjust, though his grip on your hips tightened like he was barely holding himself back.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. Your fingers curled against the wall, and when you started to squirm, he took that as a hint to move. His first thrust was slow, gentle. It was your first time after all. But eventually his restraint snapped. His rhythm was deep and deliberate, fucking into you as if this was the last thing he'd ever do.

One hand snaked around your body to rub tight circles on your clit that made your knees buckle. He caught you, keeping you upright as his pace never faltered. 

“Feel so good. Like you were made for me,” he moans, his voice raw. 

His continued ministrations made pressure build once again, white-hot pleasure beginning to curl insistently in your stomach. You could feel it, the inevitable, and his increasingly erratic movements were a tell-tale sign that he was close too. 

“Come for me,” he whispered, coaxing you. “Prove to me how perfectly you were made for me.”

Pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming. You tightened and fluttered around him, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his throat. He followed soon after, burying himself deep with a groan. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, lost in the shock of what had just happened. Then he pulled out and turned you around, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You did perfect, just like I knew you would.”

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