#bf!mattheo

[theosbae]

mattheo takes care of u

mattheo’s hands are gentle as they work the shampoo through your hair, fingers massaging your scalp in slow, soothing circles. the warm water runs down your back, the scent of vanilla and something faintly musky filling the air—his shampoo, because he insisted on using his.

“you always make such a mess of yourself,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his voice. his knuckles graze the back of your neck as he tilts your head slightly, making sure he gets every bit of soap worked in.

you hum, eyes fluttering shut, sinking deeper into the bath. “m’not that bad.”

mattheo chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers still combing through the suds. “you’ve got ink on your wrist, sugar. and… is that flour on your cheek?”

your lips twitch, but you don’t argue. instead, you lean into his touch, letting him take care of you. he rinses your hair slowly, using his hands to pour the warm water over your head, careful not to let it drip into your eyes.

when he’s done, he strokes a wet strand away from your face, his dark eyes soft as they take you in. “there,” he murmurs. “all clean.”

you smile up at him, tugging him down by the collar of his shirt. “you take such good care of me.”

his lips curl into a smirk as he brushes his nose against yours. “someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

you laugh, pulling him in for a kiss, the water sloshing slightly as you move. mattheo doesn’t mind. if anything, he’s already thinking about how he’s gonna get just as messy as you.

[riddlesrizzler]

Cupcake Kisses

summary: your new lip gloss has sent mattheo into a frenzy. characters: bf! mattheo. reader. mentions of slytherin boys. warnings: none just fluff :) word count: 831

It had been an ordinary Saturday morning-soft sunlight filtering through the enchanted windows of Hogwarts, warm enough to melt the frost from the grass, but still kissed with winter chill. You’d bundled up in your favorite coat and scarf, Mattheo trailing behind you with his usual confident swagger as the two of you wandered through Hogsmeade.

You hadn’t meant to go into the little apothecary-slash-beauty shop nestled between the stone shops, but something about the warm lighting and the soft pastel decor called to you. It smelled like sugar and lavender inside, shelves glittering with bottles and balms, lip glosses, and enchanted perfumes. You wandered in, and Mattheo let out a sigh but followed anyway, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

You were drawn to the display of lip glosses near the front-each tube sparkling like a potion, promising scents like “Strawberry Dream” and “Marshmallow Mischief.” But one stood out in particular: Sugar Rush - Cupcake Scented. The tester glimmered with the faintest pink sheen and, curious, you dabbed some onto your fingertip and brought it to your lips.

Immediately, you smiled. It smelled like vanilla cupcakes fresh out of the oven.

You bought it on the spot, not even waiting for Mattheo’s teasing to start.

-

Back in the Slytherin common room later that evening, you were lounging on the emerald green sofa, blanket tucked around your legs, a book balanced on your knee. You’d applied the gloss again simply because the scent made you happy. You barely even noticed when Mattheo dropped down beside you with a groan.

“Bloody freezing outside,” he muttered, shaking out his coat and rubbing his hands together.

You hummed sympathetically but didn’t look up. That changed quickly when Mattheo suddenly turned to stare at you-eyes narrowed, head tilted.

“What?” you asked, blinking.

He leaned in slightly. “You smell… sweet.”

You giggled. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You smell like… cupcakes.”

You flushed. “Oh! It’s my new lip gloss. I got it when we went shopping in Hogsmeade. It’s cupcake scented.”

Mattheo reached over and plucked the tube from the table where you’d left it. “This tiny thing is responsible for me wanting to kiss you every five seconds now?”

You raised a brow. “You already kiss me every five seconds.”

He smirked. “Exactly. Now I have a reason.”

Without warning, he leaned in and kissed you-soft and slow, savoring the scent. His hand cradled your jaw like you were made of porcelain, and when he pulled away, his eyes were glazed over.

“Merlin, you taste like sugar.”

You rolled your eyes, flustered. “It’s just lip gloss, Mattheo.”

“No,” he said, tugging you gently into his lap. “It’s dangerous. You’ve weaponized cupcakes.”

From the nearby chairs, Theo and Enzo looked up from their game of Wizard’s Chess.

“What’s dangerous?” Enzo asked, curiously eyeing the two of you tangled on the couch.

“Apparently,” Mattheo said, nuzzling into your neck, “my girlfriend’s lip gloss.”

Theo snorted. “Let me guess-cupcake flavored?”

“How did you-?”

“You’re literally sniffing her like a bloodhound,” Draco deadpanned from where he was studying at the table.

Blaise smirked. “At least he’s obsessed with sugar and not hexes for once.”

Mattheo didn’t respond. His attention was completely on you-fingers tracing circles on your thigh, eyes hooded with the soft kind of love that made your heart flutter. Every time you shifted or smiled, he leaned in for another kiss.

“You’re ridiculous,” you whispered against his lips.

“And you’re a walking bakery,” he said smugly. “And now I’m addicted.”

-

You spent the next few days noticing his behavior getting worse.

He’d sneak kisses in the middle of class, behind bookcases in the library, and even once during breakfast while you were sipping pumpkin juice. All because you wore the cupcake lip gloss.

At one point, you caught him digging through your bag looking for it.

“Mattheo!”

“What?! I needed a hit.”

“You act like it’s a drug!”

“It is!” he exclaimed, holding the tube up like a precious gem. “You don’t understand what this does to me, darling.”

Eventually, you were nearly out of the gloss. You were sitting on his bed in his dorm room, cross-legged in one of his oversized sweaters, carefully applying the last of it with your fingertip. Mattheo sat beside you, watching like a hawk.

“You should get more of that stuff,” he muttered.

You looked at him, amused. “You want me to always smell like dessert?”

He gave you a look. “You already are dessert.”

You laughed, cheeks glowing as he crawled behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You could smell like nothing and I’d still be obsessed with you,” he murmured. “But this… this is just unfair.”

You leaned back into him, smiling. “So you really love it?”

“I really love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But yes. The gloss too.”

And then he kissed you again.

Warm. Sweet. Full of cupcake-flavored love.

[nottswitch]

need us having a guy over and hooking up with him while sister’s bf!theo is there and he can hear. how would he react?

꒰ sister’s bf!theo hears you fucking his bsf mattheo ꒱

cw: 18+ mdni, voyeurism, masturbating (m), implied unprotected p in v, implied creampie, hair pulling, cursing, mentions of cheating

a/n: well hi there. we’re fucking his bsf matty here, i hope you don’t mind. i’ve been waiting to write this for so long, and finally we’re getting to it, so buckle up !!

⋆˚꩜｡

the sound of music coming from of your room is pretty much a habit at this point. theo isn’t surprised when he hears a faint sound of some chase atlantic song, chuckling to himself – god, you’re annoying with this band, much like his best friend, who always puts them on when he’s on aux duty. theo places his spare keys on the small vanity at the door – he’s come to wait for your sister, who had to run some errands this afternoon.

but as he walks further into the apartment, planning to make himself some coffee in the kitchen, he has to stop and listen closer. the music is suddenly not the only thing he can hear. his eyebrows knit together as he starts to distinguish… moans? he’s never heard you moaning like that before, that freely and loudly. whenever you were with him, under his mouth and fingers, your sounds were always low, stifled, always under threat of being exposed. now… you were unashamed and loud as hell.

despite himself, theo starts walking in the direction of your room. he can’t help being drawn there, and he curses quietly as he feels his cock starting to harden in his jeans – you sound that good. however, as he closes in, he hears something else, something that makes his frown deepen significantly. another set of moans and groans, male. there’s no fucking way.

surprisingly, or not, the door to your room is cracked open. of course, theo is a weak, weak man, and he has to know, has to confirm his assumptions. as he peers into the crack, he nearly chokes on air. there, on your bed, you’re in a very delicious position, ass up face down, your hands fisting the sheets as a guy pounds into you from behind, his fingers firmly digging into your hips. and not just any guy – theo’s very best friend, mattheo.

fucking chase atlantic. should’ve been a dead giveaway.

theo feels a wave of pure jealousy wash over him as he watches his friend take you in a way that theo could only dream of. he’s gonna kill him, he thinks – mattheo is fully aware of everything going on between you and theo, and still, he decided go against every single variation of bro code in existence… he almost groans aloud, having to bite his bottom lip to silence himself. the scene in front on him has no business being this hot.

without really thinking, theo unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers, his hard cock eagerly springing out and already leaking at the tip. his hand closes around the base, his breathing turning shallow as he watches mattheo grab a fistful of your hair to pull your body up against his chest.

"you feel so fucking good, baby," he hears his friend growl into your ear, thrusting deeper and eliciting a sweet, high-pitched moan out of you. theo grits his teeth as his hand starts stroking his cock, the rage he feels towards mattheo mixing with his burning arousal. precum drips down his length, his fingers smearing it all over, and he has to be slower than he wants to be in order not to give himself away by the slick sounds of him jerking off.

"my mate is a fucking idiot, missing out on all this." mattheo’s words make theo’s free hand curl into a fist, the desire to punch his friend overridden only by the pleasure he’s feeling as he starts pumping his other hand faster. he knows mattheo is right – theo has been the one refusing to fuck you so far, because apparently that would be cheating on your sister, and him dry humping you into oblivion every chance he gets isn’t. but this realization doesn’t make it easier; it makes it harder, in more ways than one.

mattheo’s pace inside of you grows quicker, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and at this point, the entire apartment. theo’s lips part as he watches your body move along with his friend’s thrusts, your tits bouncing up and down and making his mouth go dry. his cock twitches in his hold, and he feels his orgasm inching closer and closer with every moan you let out.

"you close, baby?" he hears mattheo’s ragged whisper, and your frantic nod is almost all it takes to bring theo over the edge. he can’t believe himself – he’s jacking off to the sight of his best friend fucking you, and he’s about to witness you cum on his dick. no wonder you will, he’s seen mattheo’s dick himself, it’s a goddamn fuck machine…

when your whole body shakes, and your voice grows hoarse from the pleasured moan you let out at your orgasm, theo can’t hold himself back – he spills into his hand, bracing himself against the wall by leaning on his forearm. the sticky mess of his cum seeping through his fingers is a shameful reminder of what has just happened – he jerked himself off watching his best mate fuck you. god, was it really worth it? the post-nut clarity is strong, and it only gets worse when he witnesses mattheo not even thinking of pulling out when he cums. this fucking bastard…

theo decides for himself right that moment that he absolutely needs to fuck you, his pride be damned – not like he has much of it left anyway. and maybe punch mattheo a couple of times.

au. more.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

INTRODUCING POTTER!READER WITH MATTHEO RIDDLE

potter!reader is the softest little hufflepuff you’ll ever meet — sweet, polite, always with snacks in her bag and a book half-finished in her lap. she’s the sunshine of the potter family, and unfortunately, that sunshine is now dating mattheo riddle. harry’s greatest nemesis. his mortal enemy. his personal headache.

mattheo is smug, sarcastic, and entirely too pleased with himself — especially when he’s got harry’s baby sister on his arm and harry’s parents calling him “dear.” he swears he didn’t mean to fall for her, but now he’s absolutely whipped.

and harry? harry’s on the verge. full-time seeker, part-time brother, full-time victim of betrayal. while everyone else is busy picking out couple jumpers and cooing over “how cute they are,” he’s seriously considering faking his own death. it’s hard being the only sane one when your baby sister’s in love with your sworn enemy.

( oneshots )

01. YOU. AND MATTHEO RIDDLE. KISSING? 　─　sneaking around with mattheo was easy—until harry caught you in the act. one second, you're kissing your boyfriend in an empty corridor, the next, your brother is throwing off his invisibility cloak, screeching about betrayal, and acting like you’ve doomed the entire potter bloodline

02. FAMILY DINNER 　─　inviting mattheo to family dinner seemed like a good idea—until he started acting like the perfect gentleman, calling your dad "sir" and your mum "ma’am." harry, already furious about your relationship, is losing his mind as your parents actually like mattheo

03. MOST DISTRACTING PERSON 　─　ever since mattheo started tagging along with your family, he's made it his mission to annoy harry at every opportunity. so when he joins you all to watch harry’s quidditch match, he somehow ends up charming the entire crowd—much to harry’s absolute misery

04. I NEED YOUR HELP 　─　mattheo riddle asking harry potter for help is something you never thought you’d hear, but apparently, when it comes to your birthday, he’s willing to suffer. now harry’s dragging him all over hogsmeade, milking the moment for all it’s worth, and mattheo’s just trying to survive

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ✗♡✗♡ requests are open for these three

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[sweetiechichi]

pov: you weren’t in class today

slytherin boys!reader

(includes theo, draco, mattheo, blaise, and enzo)

warnings: mention of cigarettes & potentially suggestive content?

————————————————————————

theo nott:

draco malfoy:

mattheo riddle:

blaise zabini:

lorenzo berkshire:

thank you for reading!!!!!

*i need a way for you guys to send in requests but idk how to set that up on my page:’(

[shakespearean-simp]

exboyfriend!mattheo watching f!reader clean up her new boyfriend instead of him

when mattheo beat him up after hearing him say to his friends that he was using her and that she was a slut

m: *why doesn't she look at me like that anymore? he doesn't deserve her. i love her. i love her? i love her. i miss her. please come back. i need her. yeah i need her. why does she look at him the way she used to look at me? she deserves someone better. like me. he should eat shit. he looks like shit too. good job mattheo.*

[slytherinsrule89]

them as your stalker !!!

Here you go lovely :) sorry it took so long

Tom

So many pictures of you in his dorm

Watching you 24/7 whether it be through cameras or in person

You won’t be able to catch him unless he wants you to

He’ll know more about yourself than you do

If you’re struggling in class he will become your tutor within minutes just so he can spend more time with you

Watches you sleep quite frequently

After stalking you for so long he ends up kidnapping you and keeping you all to himself

Blaise

He wants you to know he’s your stalker

Constantly leaving you notes and flowers so that you’ll know he has access to your room

Even when you do find out he keeps it up ignoring all your threats to tell someone

Steals your clothes just so he can smell you all the time

Mostly your underwear

He’ll watch you through your window most times

Even going as far as putting a peephole in your bathroom

Theo

Insanely good at being low radar

He’d never talk to you in person before so when you realize you have a stalker you don’t even take him into consideration

He buys you clothes and small gifts, leaving them in your dorm all the time

Just like Tom he has like a collage of pictures of you

Always watching you across the Great Hall but somehow never gets caught doing so

He’ll also write you beautiful love letters leaving them everywhere for you to find

Mattheo

Mattheo makes it quite obvious he’s stalking you

Always asking you about things you’ve never told anyone

Catching him staring 24/7

At first you just assume he’s got a small crush on you but as time goes on you realize it’s much more

You started finding small cameras in your bedroom and bathroom

Pictures of you were left in your dorm, ones where you thought you were alone at the time

You also started noticing that most of the boys that talk or flirt with you end up in the hospital wing, all except Mattheo

Enzo

Now Enzo on the other hand is very inconspicuous

You and him become friends and you end up talking about your stalker

He’s very kind and listens to you like he’s not the one who’s been stalking you

And when you bring up things that might get him caught he changes it up real quick so you don’t find out

He says he’ll instal cameras for you dorm so you might be able to catch them but really those cameras are just so he can watch you as much as possible

[rotthepoet]

Oh choices choices. To talk about Bf!mattheo riddle who is just so enamored with you that he cannot get enough at any point in time. Who always needs to be touching you. Who always needs to be reassured that you really do love him. Who spends hours between your legs whispering about how perfect you are for him. Who would kill anyone anytime if you asked. Who would keep pictures of you in his wallet. Who only refers to you as “his”. Who lays his entire body across yours when youre cold. Or go to sleep.

[acourtofchaos]

the downside to writing by hand instead of on my phone is that i'm going to have to burn my notebooks once i'm done because there's no way in hell i'm leaving that kind of evidence of what i write just lying around

[yawneon]

WHO ARE YOU ? -

hi im eden, im a growing child 💪 (minor)

im from australia and i write sometimes in my free time (^○^) ! i write mostly when i have time off school so the weekends and i love meeting new people (｀_´)ゞ don’t be afraid to message me and have a chat!

i love cats and i love listening to music!

i listen to everything and im always willing to give any music genre a try (yes even country for those haters out there 💔).

WHAT DO YOU WRITE ? -

i typically write percy jackson fics but i also write some harry potter fics (slytherin boys, the golden trio, marauders ect ect). i also will write for anyone and i am DEDICATED to watch the show for you to write the fic for you.

i also write stuff for video games (overwatch fans i summon you). overwatch, valorant (if u exist), bg3 ect ect.

i only write fluff, angst, h/c and i do not write smut.

ANYTHING ELSE ? -

fanfiction unpopular opinion :

i cannot for the life of me read a slowburn fic 😭 im so inpatient zzz… the longest fic ive ever read was probably like 18k words

idk what else to write so i’m just gonna stop before i start and i can’t stop 😜

-

@yawneon

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN AQUARIUS

venus in aquarius values friendship as the most important foundation of their relationship. the connection of minds is something that an aquarius venus considers to be essential to build a solid relationship on.

sister’s bf!theo nott x reader ft. mattheo

warnings: 18+ mdni, cuckold, degradation, oral (m receiving), throatfucking, mentions of gagging, hair pulling, praise, cursing

nav // event / more

"fuck yeah, that’s it, baby girl… taking it so well…" mattheo groans loudly, his hand roughly fisting your hair as he pushes your head back and forth on his cock. your fingers dig into his strong thighs to steady yourself as you eagerly take everything he’s giving you down your throat, feeling the pleasant stretch of your walls around his thick length.

theo’s eyes are wide and dark as he watches the scene in front of him, his own cock standing straight, neglected and desperately twitching in the air. precum drips down his shaft, following a prominent vein where blood is rushing at light’s speed. he thinks it’s completely unfair, yet his body doesn’t seem to agree at all.

"shit, baby, your mouth is heaven," mattheo rasps out, his eyes flicking between your fucked out face and theo’s frustrated one. when his eyes lock with his friend’s, mattheo smirks, his hand pushing you onto him with an especially hard thrust.

"see that, mate? could’ve been your girl," he taunts, and theo really feels like punching him this time. he wouldn’t do it, of course, he fully realizes that, but still, the desire to do so burns hot in his chest. instead, he clenches his fists at his sides, his eyes back on your bobbing head.

mattheo chuckles darkly and looks back at you as well, pulling on your hair. you release him from your mouth for a moment, a thick string on saliva connecting your swollen lips to his tip, as you look up at him, then at theo, then back at him again.

"you love this cock, huh?" mattheo grabs his hard length and slaps it against your stuck out tongue, wet sounds briefly filling the air. "tell me. tell nott how much you love it."

"i love his cock," you mumble mindlessly, not even glancing at theo this time, your whole attention focused on mattheo’s cock in front of you, crimson red and throbbing with arousal. theo grits his teeth, trying to contain a snarky remark – he knows that if he says anything, he won’t ever get a chance to feel your lips on him, and that’s the last thing he wants to achieve.

"good girl," mattheo murmurs in a low voice. "now get back to it."

he pushed you back onto him, his hips thrusting forward to slide right into your throat, and you eagerly take him in once more. theo feels himself growing closer, and it would be so fucking embarrassing to cum untouched at the sight of you sucking off his best friend, but his body deems otherwise. just one more gag from you, this utterly sinful sound, and…

theo jolts up on his bed, his breath short and shallow, beads of sweat tickling his forehead. he grunts in frustration, running a hand through his damp, messy curls. these dreams have been haunting him ever since he saw you in your room with mattheo, and he hates himself for giving in back then – jerking off to his best mate fucking you raw. that was a totally new low, and it’s only overshadowed by the fact that he came in his sleep, into his boxers, like a damn horny teenager – again.

no, he absolutely has to fuck you now, or he might just go completely off the rails.

[i-await]

Kinktober vs my SSRIs. Who will win (it's kinktober holy shit)

[sweetiechichi]

pov: he sees u walk in to a slytherin party

slytherin boys!reader

(includes blaise, draco, enzo, mattheo, and theo)

* thank you so much for all of the love on my last post!! i am hoping to start a series out of these<3

warnings: language, flirting, somewhat sexual suggestions?

————————————————————————

blaise zabini:

draco malfoy:

lorenzo berkshire:

mattheo riddle:

theo nott:

*thank you for reading!!!

[clar2aa]

#needthat 😫😫

MATTHEO RIDDLE IS THE TYPE OF BOYFRIEND to be silently considerate and affectionate with his partner. hence why reader grows spoiled, expecting the princess treatment given by mattheo until now.

'god, you're so fucking spoiled.' mattheo complains, as he gently raises your head, to put a more comfortable pillow underneath: 'you comfortable?'

his tone sounds less harsh now, as you nod, before he sighs and continues his rambling, 'we can't have it like this, i swear to bloody merlin. you can't be an insufferable fuck, all spoiled and pampered.'

mattheo continues his rambling, as he goes fetch a warmer blanket for you, tucking it above the already warm covers of your bed. out of habit, mattheo places your favorite plushie next to you: 'so fucking spoiled. 'cause everything has to be how you want, huh?'

nevermind if this is his fault, having been the one to feed this little monster inside of you. mattheo carries you on his back or arms, whenever your feet are the slightest tired; mattheo serves your plate first at the great hall, so you won't tire your arms; carries your bag, so you won't have your shoulder sore.

and now, even as he rages at you, he's tucking you to sleep to make sure that you won't catch a cold in the middle of the night.

'insufferable, you're such a pain in the ass.' he grumbles, leaning down to give you the mandatory, usual forehead kiss before you sleep: 'hey. you don't have a headache, do you?'

you shake your head, to which mattheo huffs. 'good.' coming as an answer, genuinely relieved that you'd have a good night of sleep.

mattheo stops in front of you, raising an eyebrow. 'you do know that things will have to change, right? because i can't deal with a fucking spoiled little girl who thinks that—'

'mattie?' you call him, successfully shutting up the slytherin in front of you.

his left eye twitches at the interruption, however, he sighs and answers, his voice impatient: 'yes?'

knowing your way around the supposedly tough mattheo riddle, you push the covers of the other side of your bed, a silent invitation for him to join. 'stay over the night with me? i want to cuddle.'

and who would mattheo thomas riddle be, if not (never admittedly) whipped for you? without a second thought, mattheo kicks his shoes away, entering the warmth of your bed, strong arms immediately wrapping around your waist.

like two puzzle pieces, mattheo spoons you, face buried between your hair and the crook of your neck.

with a grumble, 'don't fucking think that this discussion is over, damnit.'

it only takes a gentle caress to his dark curls, to have mattheo relax his stiff muscles, nuzzling closer to your body, drowning on the scent that feels like home to him.

'good night, darling.'

with a sigh, mattheo gives up. this is never a war that he can win, is it? 'good night, princess.'

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[girllblogging777]

hi congrats on 1k!! can i please request a cinnamon tinged tale with mattheo riddle with a scenario where they have a fight and go to bed seperate but they both can’t sleep without each other!!

𝑈𝑁𝑆𝑃𝑂𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝐼𝑆𝐸𝑆 ˚ ༘✶

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x reader (angst, fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.5k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 :you and your boyfriend can’t sleep without eachother, but you had an argument

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

mattheo’s dorm was unnaturally quiet tonight. no whispers, no soft rustling of sheets, no stolen glances or quiet giggles. just silence, cold and deafening. he laid flat on his back, arms crossed behind his head, his jaw tense as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his room. the argument replaying in his mind on an endless, bitter loop.

he exhaled sharply through his nose. maybe he was an idiot like you had told him. scratch that. he definitely was. your words, heated and full of hurt, had ricocheted off the walls like a spell gone wrong. and instead of deflecting, instead of softening, he’d snapped back with the kind of sharpness he reserved for enemies. not for you. never for you.

but now you were gone. well, not gone-gone, but you weren’t here. you had stormed out of his dorm, muttering something about needing “space.” space. mattheo didn’t even know what to do with space.

his mind wandered to you. where were you now ? back in your own bed, curled up with that damn blanket you refused to replace no matter how many times he teased you about it? where you crying? did you hate him?

the ache in his chest tightened, like a hand gripping his heart. he turned to his side, punching the pillow beneath him in frustration. he needed you, your scent of cinnamon, your quiet murmurs before sleep, the way your hand would instinctively find his beneath the covers. without you, the room felt emptier than it had any right to.

across the castle, you sat cross-legged on your bed, staring out the window. the moon hung low, bathing the grounds in silver light, but your thoughts were anything but serene.

why had you said those things? you hadn’t meant to snap at him. it wasn’t his fault he was reckless, it was just who he was. you knew that, knew it better than anyone. but still, watching him flirt with danger, walking that fine line between thrill and disaster, it drove you insane. you cared too much to stay silent.

you sighed, hugging your knees to your chest. the bed felt too big, too cold without him. even on nights you two argued, you would always ended up tangled together, legs overlapping, breaths mingling. it was impossible to stay away from him and not to break the castle’s rules by sneaking into each other’s rooms past curfew. but tonight, you were alone.

minutes stretched into hours and you kept tossing and turning, thinking about him. at the same moment, mattheo swung his legs out of bed, running a hand through his messy curls. he didn’t care if he’d get caught. he didn’t care if you were still angry. he needed to see you.

suddenly, your bedroom door swung open and you turned around, eyes widening. “mattheo ?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. he stood there, unsure of what to say “i uh… i can’t sleep…”

“neither can i,” you admitted softly, watching him intently.

he stepped closer, his hand twitching at his sides. “i’m sorry, baby. i was a dick. you were just trying to look out for me and i lashed out, it wasn’t fair.”

your heart clenched at his honest words and you looked up at him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you, matt, i just worry about you too much. and sometimes, i feel like i care more about you than you do”

his brows furrowed and he finally reached out, his hand softly brushing against your cheek. “i do care. about me. about us. but i’m just… stupid sometimes.”

you couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, leaning into his touch. “yup, you are.”

a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “does that mean i’m forgiven ?” you pretended to think a moment before answering, sighing. “only if you stay.”

and he didn’t need to be told twice.

moments later, you two were tangled together in your bed, your head resting on his chest as his fingered traced lazy, absentminded patterns on your back. neither of you spoke at first. the quiet felt sacred, too delicate to shatter. but mattheo couldn’t let it end there, not when he had so much to say.

“i don’t ever wanna go to bed mad at you again.” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. his fingers stilled against your back, waiting for your response.

you tilted your head up, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes met his. “me neither,” you whispered back, “i hate how it feels, matt.”

he nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin in the dark. “i know, love,” he admitted, “it feels wrong. everything feels wrong without you. i’m sorry i made you feel like i don’t care.” he paused for a second and you waited, silent.

“i care, baby. i care so much if scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

you could see it in his eyes, the way his walls had crumbled entirely for you and how painful that felt for him. mattheo riddle, who always unshakeably confident, was laying himself bare for you.

“i know,” you said in a steady voice. you reached up, your hand curling around his wrist. “but i’ll keep worrying about you, you know ? that’s not gonna change..”

he chuckled, the sound now and warm in the quiet room. “i figured, love. i don’t deserve you.”

“damn right you don’t,” you teased, your lips twitching into a genuine smile. then your voice softened “ but that doesn’t mean i’m going anywhere.”

the tension in mattheo’s body eased at your words, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you as to shield you from the world. you felt the way his lips brushed against the top of your head, a soft gesture that made your heart flutter.

“i love you,” he said quietly, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded against your chest.

for the first time that night, the heavy weight between you lifted and the two of you stayed like that, your breaths syncing and limbs tangled in complete and utter peace. because no matter how messy you were, how much you clashed or stumbled, you always found your way back to eachother.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : tysm for this amazing idea ! tell me if you wanna be tagged and check out my 1k celebration for more !

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