#puppy!mattheo riddle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafesslxt · 1 year ago

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✧.* 𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 | 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

જ⁀➴ your best friends get a hint of how sexually frustrated you are and offer their help

: ̗̀➛ nsfw, smut, teasing, making out, nicknames, cheating with Tom, fingering, oral on female, p in v unprotected, nipple sucking

「 ✦ Mattheo, Tom, Theodore, Enzo, Draco, Pansy ✦ 」

Mattheo:

❥ It didn‘t took him long to notice something‘s wrong. You two sit together in potions, currently making a new potion. Normally you two would laugh and banter all the time, teasing each other but you were so quiet today and didn‘t even look at him

❥ "Y/n, is everything alright?" he asks and puts his hand on your shoulder, drawing a little whine from you. His eyebrows knitted and he took a step back, scanning you whole. He just then noticed your flushed cheeks, flustered expression, your thighs pressed together and your bottom lip between your teeth. You were turned on.

❥ He wanted to test his theory a little and started to prepare the ingredients for the potion in front of you two. He flexed his arms a little, knowing you liked his hands because you once told him when you two were drunk. He saw your hungry gaze at his hands, making him smile to himself.

❥ "Here, chop up the root. Can you do that for me, doll?" He softly breathed against your face, coming dangerous close to you. The nickname gave you visible shiver‘s, just feeding right into his ego. He had a crush on you since forever but never actually had the balls to tell you.

❥ After class was over and you guys were free he pulled you with him to his dorm. "M-mattheo what are you doing?" you wondered but followed him. He closed the door behind you and grabbed you by your hips, pushing you against the door. A gasp left your lips and you looked at him like a deer in the lights.

❥ "Care to tell me why you‘re so .. on edge?" Thats when you finally let everything out. You broke up with your boyfriend and the reason was simple: He couldn't fuck. Mattheo had to hold back a laugh at your outburst of emotions. "It's not funny! It's so frustrating you can't even imagine!"

❥ "Want me to help you? You know.. like a best friend would." he offers you with a smug smirk on his face. You thought he was joking until he had you trembling and shaking under him. He hit every corner and touched every part of your skin that was untouched by your ex-boyfriend. "What are friends for huh?" he moaned when you clenched around him, your nails digging into his back when your orgasm came nearer. Let's just say, you never ever had to fear bad sex again.

Tom Riddle:

❥ You and your best friend Tom sat together in the library when no one was there anymore, thank‘s to Tom‘s charm and good reputation. It all started with your leg bouncing the whole time until Tom send you an annoyed glare which made you stop immediately.

❥ But it continued with your sighing. It got so distracting that at one point Tom slapped his book down onto the table so hard that you flinched. "Please tell me why you‘re sighing like a hurt puppy the whole damn time."

❥ You really considered telling him but you were kind of shy when talking about things like that. On top if that Tom already hated your boyfriend and you didn‘t want to give him another reason to add to the list. "Nothing, just.. tired."

❥ Tired my ass was what Tom thought. He knew you were lying so he had to try a different way. It didn‘t took him long to get inside your head with his new found skill ' Legilimency'

❥ "He told you what?!" Tom suddenly shouts at you. "What?" you asked him confused. "He told you that when you asked him for some foreplay?" He didn‘t even tried to hide the fact that he read your mind. "Tom! Stop going through my head all the damn time!" "Did he seriously tell you it‘s not worth the time?"

❥ He scoffs when you tell him the whole thing that happened with your boyfriend. "No wonder you‘re that sexually frustrated." "Excuse me?" "Come on. All the sighing and leg bouncing the whole time? Your body needs release." He said in a monotone voice like he talked about the weather. "Well – it‘s not that easy Tom." "It is. Let me help you."

❥ Since he could read your mind it made no sense to even try and deny the excitement that went through your body at his offer. He had you laying all spread out for him on the library desk in front of him. Books and notes all over the place and even floor. Your skirt got pushed up to your stomach and his fingers skillfully played with your throbbing clit.

❥ "Look at that. How could this not be worth anyone‘s time hm?" Tom muttered while sucking on your nipples, switching every minute between them while pumping his fingers in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit until you came around his digits. And that waw just the beginning of a whole night of foreplay.

Theodore Nott:

❥ That‘s exactly how your best friend looks at you when he overhears you talking to Pansy, telling her, you haven‘t slept with someone in so long that you would do abything for dick now. Obviously it was a joke. But obviously Theo wouldn’t be Theo If he didn‘t already formed a plan in his head.

❥ Teasing was the keyword. And patience. Theo‘s plan was to tease you little by little over days to get a reaction out of you.

❥ First day he brushed past you every here and there with his hips pushing slightly against you and his hands on your hips. It made your whole head spin and you tried to calm down, seeing him smiling at you innocently.

❥ The second day was just as simple. The whole day he whispered into your ear, laughing, joking, asking things about the class you two were having right now. And with every whisper he brushed his lips against your ear lobe or shell, his warm breath hitting your skin and leaving goosebumps behind.

❥ On the third day he got a bit bolder. When you started bouncing your leg or fidgeting with your fingers, he would put his hand on your thigh. High. He said "It‘s to calm you down a little bit cara mia." His big hands squeezing your flesh and his fingers stroking your desperate skin.

❥ Day four you and all your friends sat in the common room on the couch by the fireplace. You sat next to Theo of course, sharing a blanket since it‘s cold due the late night. At some point he had you leaning against his chest with his arms around you. While you lazily listened to Draco telling ya‘ll a story, Theo‘s finger started to dance over your slighty exposed skin on your stomach. Your shirt mist have rosen up a little under the blanket. You sucked in a breath, trying not to melt right there in front of everyone.

❥ Day five and six were the hardest because he completely neglected you. He talked to you but never stood beside you or sat next to you in class or lunch. It drove you literally crazy. Why would he do this to you? He didn‘t even hug you. But you also couldn‘t ask him because how would that sound? 'Hey Theo why don‘t you touch me anymore?' No thanks.

❥ Day seven was when you actually broke. "Theo, we need to talk, please." You practically dragged him away from the rest of your friends to your‘s and Pansy‘s room. "How can I help you principessa?" he asked with a smug smile on his face. "Touch me." was all you blurted out. He raised his eyebrows and looked surprised at you. "What?" "Touch me Theo, please. I - I can‘t concentrate anymore when you‘re not near me."

❥ Well – what was supposed to be innocent touching and stroking, ended with you on your belly on your bed with Theo behind you, pounding his cock into your pussy. "Everytime from now on that you feel like this, you come to me, capito?"

Lorenzo Berkshire:

❥ You and Enzo were best friends since you could remember. You two have gone through everything together. Break-up‘s, first heartbreak, fighting with parents, puberty, seeing each other naked by accident, literally everything.

❥ You two were so close that nobody even questioned it when you were cuddling under a blanket in the common room late at night while your friends talked about how unfair the quidditch game today was.

❥ "Did you use that peach-shampoo again?" he whispered into your ear when you layed down on his chest and your hair was right under his nose. You looked up at him and nodded with a smile, knowing it was his favorite. He sighs when he inhales it and wraps his arms around you, his fingers playing with the hem of your little crop top.

❥ Enzo was so concentrated at sonething Theodore told the group, that he didn‘t notice how he started to play with the top of her skirt, his fingers gliding under it so innocently. When you noticed you stopped breathing for a second, glanzing up at your best friend who didn‘t seem to notice what he was doing.

❥ At first it was okay but after ten more minutes, you felt yourself getting restless in his arms and shifted every now and then in his lap. You felt yourself get slowly turned on from his little touch. With his second hand he started to stroke your thigh mindlessly, not realizing how your cheeks started to get red and your pussy wet. You pressed your lips together.

❥ Then it happened. Your hips grinded against his lap out of the pleasure and desperation you felt. He froze immediately and stopped moving his hands and fingers. He gulped and looked down at you, your heavy eyes already looking up at him when you grinded against him again boldly.

❥ He swallowed down a moan when your ass grinded against his crotch. "What are you doing baby?" The nickname send shivers down your spine together with his raspy voice against your ear. "I think – I think I need out friendship to go to the next level." You breathed out. You saw him biting his lips when his hands startet moving again. One hand continueing massaging your thigh while the other slipped down into your underwear and went straight to your slick folds.

❥ "Shit you‘re soaked." he breathed when he dipped his finger into your wet pussy, teasing your throbbing clit. Your hips bucked up and you tried to be as quiete as possible so your friends around you wouldn‘t notice. Right when you were about to come around his fingers, he pulled them away, your eyes going wide.

❥ You glared up at him with a desperate look in your eyes and rosy cheeks. He licked his fingers clean when no one watched and smirked down at you. "Don‘t worry baby, you‘re gonna come around something way bigger."

Draco Malfoy:

❥ "Draco?" "Yes, y/n?" You currently were in his room at the malfoy manor due holiday‘s and since his parents really liked you – good reputation and behavior, pure blood family and a lot of money – they never had a problem with you over. The complete opposite was the case. They often hoped you two would be more than best friends some day.

❥ "Can you remember when you told me you would do anything for me?" You asked him with your voice cute and hopeful. "No.. but go on." You roll your eyes at his answer but go on like he said.

❥ "Well, there is something that you could do for me that I think you would enjoy too." you said carefully. His eyebrows rose up and he looked at you curious now. "Oh yeah and what would that be, doll?" That‘s the nickname he used on you everytime you asked him for a favor.

❥ Now or never, right? "I - I want you.. tofuckme." His eyes go wide and his jaw fell to the floor. "What did you just say?" he asks slowly, not sure If he understood right. "I said Iwantyoutofuckme." He stood up and walked over to you, grabbing you by your chin. "Y/n.. tell me slowly what you said or I swear – " "I want you to fuck me, Draco."

❥ His lips crashed into yours just a second later, pushing you down on his bed. You kissed him vack, more confused than he was. "Are you- aren‘t you gonna ask why I want this so suddenly?" you gasp when he starts sucking on your neck and his fingers already opening your jeans.

❥ "Fuck no, you can tell me afterwards. I don‘t care." he breathes before he throws all of your clothes all over his room and fucks you into his mattress for the whole night.

❥ After you two were done he pulled you against his chest, still breathing heavily. "And? What was the reason?" he asked out of breath. "Well uh – I broke up with Colin. He just couldn‘t make me happy in and outside the bedroom so .. I wanted to ask you to help me since ai felt so.. worked up." He chuckled deeply and pulled you even closer. "Told you he‘s a loser.." you roll your eyes at his comment. "You‘re mine bow, hope you know that."

Pansy Parkinson:

❥ "Pansy, can I ask you something?" you asked your best friend. You two shared a dorm together and sat currently in front of the tv you had bought for the two if you. Her new favorite show "baby" was playing. It was a italian show and she loved learning new languages. "Of course, what‘s wrong?" "Why has something to be wrong?" "Y/n.. you never ask to ask something.. only when something is wrong."

❥ You had to smile a little at her answer and rolled your eyes playfully. "Since you‘re sleeping with boys and girls.. I wanted to ask you.. do you enjoy going down on girls?" Pansy looks at you surprised. "Why are you asking me that? This isn‘t coming from no where."

❥ I sigh and look at my hands. "Uhm – Brody said he doesn‘t like it and it .. freaks him out." I tell her what my boyfriend told me. Her eyes go wide and she almost shouts at me, "He said what?!" "Can you please just answer me Pansy?"

❥ She sighs and looks at my fidgety hands. "Of course I enjoy it and what kind of man is he that he says something like that to you?" "Is it possible that maybe it‘s.. me? That something is wrong with me and not him? Maybe it looks weird or-" "Y/n stop. I promise you nothing is wrong with you love."

❥ "But you can‘t know that Pans.." "Do you want to try?" Now you are the one who looks at her in shock. "You would ?" "Yeah but only If you‘re comfortable with it of course. I know that you only have been with boys." Your cheeks heated up a little at the thought of doing something so intimate with your best friend. You two have talked about that one time and Pansy knew how open you were to trying it someday with a woman too.

❥ Let‘s just say from there on you never questioned yourself again. "Pansy I - that‘s do good." You let out a whinper, your habds going through her hair. "Hmm such a pretty girl. You‘re doing so good love." She praised you, smiling to herself. She would have a lot of fun with you in the future.

let me know If you liked it 🫶🏻 and sorry if pansy‘s part is so short but i ran out of time, ideas and i never wrote for her before 🤍

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @cardi-bre91 @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @auxcordlawd @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @beautywine @sagetakami @simp-for-fantasy @whyamireadingthis

My masterlist and taglist 🤍

xoxo sarah <3

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bookishdreamer28 · 1 year ago

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Height difference

Idk Mattheos actual height but let's imagine he's really tall here ✨ I hope you'll like it 👐

Mattheo is obsessed with the way his body is towering over yours. He has found himself thinking of how you'd perfectly fit in his arms many times and he can't help but feel his whole body getting hot at the very thought. From the very first moment Theodore introduced you to their group, he was instantly besotted. He was entirely mesmerized by you.

Every time you wanted to grab something that was out of your reach, he was standing closely behind you just to help you, but in reality all he wanted was to feel your small frame against his. And when you look up at him all puppy-eyed, with those eyes, he knew he was down bad already. And he knew he had fallen deeply for you.

He loved teasing you cause your reactions to his teasing were absolutely worthwhile. Seeing your flustered face was something he adored.

"How you're doing shorty?" He said in his baritone voice and it took everything in you not to punch the smugness off of his face.

"Stop calling me shorty" you tried look mad and scary with your angry expression but Mattheo wanted to just grab your face and kiss the shit out of you.

"Ok then how about...pixie-"

"NO!" You exclaimed and walked away from him, not being able to stay any longer around his presence but one thing you didn't notice, was Mattheo laughing quietly behind you because he found your walk absolutely adorable.

When he gets to hug you, that's when he feels like his heart will burst out. It's the way you snuggle your head in his chest, the way your arms are wrapped around his waist, and the warmth that instantly engulfing him when he feels your heart beating against him. Everything about this feeling is perfect. You just fitted perfectly.

His most fave thing about your height difference, is when you tip toe every time you want to kiss him. He's just standing there, the corner of his lips curving upwards displaying a cheeky smile on his face as he watches you struggling while you're trying to give him a kiss.

"You know you can lean down a bit right? I can't do all the work here" you frowned as you looked up at him. He pinched you cheek softly and traced his thumb in soft circles there.

"Yeah but you have no idea how adorable you l- ouch!" You slapped his hand.

"Now, don't make me bend your head down here by force"

"I would gladly let you love" he chuckled and you smirked as you placed your forehead on your palm, sighing.

"Enough with the teasing Riddle, now kiss me" you looked up again, waiting for his lips to finally crush on yours. He felt his heart pounding like crazy against his chest.

He laughed and instead of leaning his head down, he crouched down and scooped you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and he placed one hand under your thigh and the other around your waist. Kissing you was earth-shattering. The fieeling of your soft lips locking with his, was something he has been craving for so long.

Once you pulled away, you expected him to put you down but he still held you tight against him.

"Will you put me down now?" You tried to fight back a smile as you felt his hold becoming a bit tighter, his locked on you the whole time.

"Nope, I love having you like this love" he murmured against your lips and you giggled as you once again captured your lips together in a kiss which caused your eyes to flutter close and enjoy the feeling.

Thank you for reading!!

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lov3notts · 1 month ago

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okay be ready for some spamming, mora 😈so many many congrats on 1k !!! you deserve this and soooooo many more ahh.

now starting with cupid's arrow so i'm gonna go with mattheo riddle + "you stayed up…all night…for them. oh dude you're in love." from prompt 9 (12th prompt)

tysm i love youu ‹𝟹

1k celebration!!!; navigation

IM SO HAPPY WITH THIS ONEEE!!

The common room was quiet, the fireplace glowing low and golden. Most of the castle was asleep—should be asleep—but Mattheo hadn’t moved from the same worn armchair in nearly six hours.

His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, flicked toward the door again.

Still no sign of you.

Mattheo sat alone on the worn green sofa, elbow propped on the armrest, bouncing his knee. The fire cracked softly. His eyes, however, were locked on the door.

He wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore.

It was late. You’d gone out — a date, of all things. Some Ravenclaw boy with too-perfect posture and too-nice manners who definitely didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, in Mattheo’s very humble opinion.

Still, he didn’t ask questions when you told him you were going. Just shrugged and said, “Have fun.”

Like it didn’t twist something awful in his gut.

He hadn’t moved from the common room since.

He muttered something under his breath, fingers raking through his curls in frustration. He told himself he wasn’t worried, just… annoyed. Annoyed that you hadn’t sent an owl or a note or anything.

He wasn’t checking the time. That was stupid. He wasn’t keeping track of how late it had gotten.

He was just waiting. That was all. Waiting in the dark. For you.

The sound of steps broke his trance.

He looked up—fast, hopeful, like his spine reacted before his brain could pretend not to care. But to his disappointment it wasn’t you- it was theodore

“You’re joking,” Theo mumbled, stepping off the last stair. “You’re still here?”

Mattheo looked away. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Theo squinted. “Didn’t you say you were gonna crash right after dinner?”

Mattheo shrugged. “Changed my mind.”

“Right.” Theo crossed the room, grabbed a bottle of water from the low table, and flopped into the armchair across from him. He cracked the bottle open, took a sip, then narrowed his eyes.

Theo raised an eyebrow, following his gaze to the door. A beat. Then he grinned.

“Oh, no way.”

Mattheo blinked slowly. “Shut up.”

“You’re waiting for her.”

“I’m not.”

Theo leaned forward, elbow on his knee, watching him. “You do realise it’s two in the morning and you’ve been sitting there doing nothing except watch the door like a sad little puppy.”

Mattheo finally turned his head, but only to glare. “Piss off.”

Theo smirked. “Nah, see, I would — if this weren’t absolutely pathetic.”

Mattheo shot him a look. “You done?”

Theo took another slow sip of water, grin widened like a cat with cream. “You stayed up… all night… for her.”

Mattheo glared, but didn’t argue.

Theo laughed. “Oh dude, you’re in love.”

“I am not in love” Mattheo snapped, just a bit too fast.

“You’re scowling at a door, Mattheo.”

Mattheo looked away.

“It’s because of that date, isn’t it?”

“Drop it.”

“No, no, this is good. Jealousy suits you. Makes your hair extra floofy.” Theo leaned forward, eyes glinting. “You’re picturing her smiling at someone else. Laughing at someone else’s dumb jokes. Maybe even kissing��”

“Shut up, Theo.”

Theo raised his hands in surrender, but the smugness on his face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying… for someone who’s always so damn cool, you sure look like a kicked puppy right now.”

Mattheo didn’t respond. Just rubbed a hand over his face.

Theo sat back in his chair, a little quieter now. “You’re not just into her,” he said. “You care about her. Enough to sit here until your spine turns to dust waiting for them to come back. That’s not some random crush. That’s... it.”

Mattheo swallowed, something flickering in his expression. “She don’t feel the same.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Says who?”

“I don’t know. She’s never said anything.”

“Neither have you.”

Mattheo didn’t answer.

Theo leaned forward again, more serious this time. “Look, I’m not one for romantic declarations or any of that Gryffindor-level nonsense. But you should probably stop lying to yourself before it eats you alive.”

Mattheo stayed still. Quiet. But his eyes had softened — not scared, not stubborn — just… exposed.

“She make me feel normal,” he said quietly, surprising even himself. “Like… not a Riddle. Just me.”

Theo blinked. That was more honesty than he was used to from his best friend.

“Then maybe you should tell her.”

Mattheo shook his head. “It’s easier like this.”

Theo smirked. “Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

Mattheo didn’t reply.

Then—

The door creaked open.

You stepped inside, cheeks pink from the cold, scarf loose around your neck, and a dreamy, faraway look in your eyes. You didn’t see them at first, too busy unwinding your scarf and brushing snowflakes from your shoulders.

Mattheo straightened instantly, trying and failing to look casual. Theo noticed and nearly burst into laughter.

You finally looked up and paused. “Oh hey, i didn’t know anyone would still be awake.”

Theo smirked. “Some of us couldn’t sleep.”

Mattheo shot him a warning glare.

You smiled, a little shy. “I didn’t think I’d be that long…”

Mattheo stood slowly. “Was it good?” he asked, and it came out rougher than he intended.

You blinked. “What?”

“The date.”

Your eyes widened, just slightly. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I guess.”

Theo chimed in, “Guess?”

You gave him a look. “He was nice. Polite. Smart.”

Mattheo’s jaw twitched.

Theo shot Mattheo a look, full of fake admiration. “What a guy. Truly. You hearing this, Matty? Wow Someone get that boy a medal. Don’t you want to congratulate him personally?”

Mattheo ignored him. “Are you seeing him again?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

Something in Mattheo’s eyes flickered. “Right.”

There was an awkward pause.

You shifted on your feet. “Anyway, I’m exhausted. Gonna head to bed—” You hesitated. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

Mattheo looked at you then, really looked, and quietly said, “I know.”

You gave a small smile. “Night, boys.”

As you walked past, Theo gave a long, dramatic sigh. Then under his breath—but just loud enough—he muttered:

“You’re so in love.”

Mattheo didn’t deny it.

But when he sat back down, still staring at the spot you’d stood, he felt it settle in his chest like thunder in a bottle.

Because he was.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

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dearmisshoney · 4 months ago

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books and deep throat thoughts

synopsis. one afternoon at your uni, mattheo — the bane of your existence — snoops through your book (he can read?) and finds out you’re not the innocent goodie-two-shoes everyone thought you were. fixated on humiliating you as much as possible, he discovers books are somewhat useful and indeed pleasurable to ride read.

pairing. bully! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, nerd!reader, not-so-inexperienced!reader, allusions to virginity (nothing confirmed 😈) bully!mattheo (he is cruel), toxic! mattheo, possessive!mattheo, jealous!mattheo, slight mention of harry potter x reader (but nothing serious! NO CHEATING!), inappropriate use of books, humping/book-riding, face-slapping (with his cóck), enemies-to-lovers tension, degradation & teasing, slight praise, clit stimulation, deepthroat/facefucking (is there a difference? lmk), dirty talk, name-calling (whore, sweetheart, princess, baby, but also 2 instances of brains), overstimulation & slight dumbification, messy, no p in v this time folks

word count. 3.6k

a/n. had a dream about this one. mostly self-indulged, but i hope you enjoy it! likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶

“well, well, well, what do we have here?”

mattheo said condescendingly from behind you, making you jump in your seat from the sudden intrusion. he swiftly snatched the book you were reading with the tips of his fingers, gripping it with such delicacy as if it were the most precious jewel. sadly, that was just the impression he was leaving, actually holding the book as far as possible as if it were trash.

you should be used to it by now — the way he always comes in the afternoons in this empty club room to shoo you away for him and his friends to smoke and gamble all they want. unfortunately for them, you were allowed (and even begged) to occupy the room so that delinquents like mattheo won’t do dangerous stuff inside the university.

“brains reading her stupid books again?” he squinted his eyes at the opened pages, pursing his lips together in a mocking way at the black text on the pages. he twisted and turned the book in all directions, feigning interest, only to snicker at you after his examination. slightly closing the book— still keeping track of your page number with one of his fingers as a bookmark — he tilted the object towards your head and let it tap the top of your head.

“there’s still space left up here?”

oh, how he loved making fun of you and your bookworm attics. you didn’t do anything to him to deserve this, really. it’s just that your mere existence irks something in him.

mattheo riddle is a notorious bully at your uni, especially to solitary souls like you. but no one brings him joy like you do; maybe it’s the way you always make yourself small when you see him around, maybe it’s the way you scrunch your nose and avert your eyes every time he even breaths in the same room as you. maybe it’s the way you get quieter than usual, mumbling sometimes under your breath a half-assed retort to his jabs, or the way you look up at him with your puppy eyes in an attempt to soften his attacks.

bad news, sweetheart. it only makes him bully you even more.

“i read for pleasure.”

“and what do you know about pleasure, brains?” he scoffed in an instant at you, almost laughing out loud at your words. pff, reading for pleasure? yeah, and he gets into fights to bring peace among students. likely story.

cracking the book open on top of your head, he used you as a stand to skim through the text to tease you more.

“this shit putting you to sleep is– ” mattheo was ready to confirm that, yes, maybe books making you go to sleep could count as pleasure, but the end of his sentence got stuck in his throat right as his eyes fell on one of the words on the page.

“dick? DICK?”

and he burst into a hideous laugh, menace and surprise so clear in his voice. this was a such a great discovery for him… his favourite nerdy girl was enjoying porn at university. in plain sight. with no worry.

what a shameless little whore.

“mattheo, no! stop that!” he hear you protesting, trying your best to grab at the book and push it away from his hands. but he was faster, stronger, more determined than you to discover more of your depravity. so, removing the book from your head, he replaced it with his hand and pushed you down right back into your seat.

“you’re reading porn? at school? oh my god!” he went on to taunt you, continuing to keep you seated as he resumed his reading of the paragraph. if at the beginning of your meeting he was keeping the book as far away as possible from his face, now he was practically buried between the pages, devouring all the description and the dialogue of the sex scene.

“ugh– this is so embarrassing.”

you puffed out loud, slapping your palms against your face and scrunching every muscle into them. you were such a dumbass, making such a mistake around mattheo like you didn’t already know what kind of person he is. he will never let you get away with it. he won’t snitch, he likes to keep blackmail material to himself, but he will remind you about this every. single. day.

“of course it is! the goodie-two-shoe virgin reads this at university.” he said between laughs, still flabbergasted by the entire incident.

“she pulled his pants and boxers down in an instant. his dick sprung free of its confinements and slapped against his tensed torso, the messy precum already stain–”

“stop, please stop! i can’t listen anymore.” you felt blood boil up into your cheeks, the embarrassment getting the better of you. him reading a few sentences from the book was what tipped you over and made you want the earth to split and shallow you in that instant.

putting your hands on your ears and closing your eyes — in an attempt to completely block any input from mattheo — you smashed your forehead onto the table before you.

you were so done.

“now i understand why you said pleasure!” you faintly heard him say from behind you, probably still continuing to scan the pages. at this point, you hoped and prayed he will just leave the room and never come back.

a small thud resonated in the empty room, then some footsteps. and then silence. did he left? was the universe actually listening to your pleas? was it–

“were you touching yourself, princess?”

a deep seductive whisper sneaked between your fingers, hitting your right ear and making your entire body shiver. his voice, soaked with the most seductive tone you’ve ever heard, went down your spine, generating goosebumps all over your skin. something also did a backflip in your tummy at his lustful words, arousal pooling in your stomach and making your thighs clamp together.

“you are such a pervert, mattheo!” you snapped at him with anger, raising your head fast from the table to glare right at him.

“but were you?”

he was so close to you. so so close. and with his second question he reduced the distance between the two of you even more, now his nose almost touching yours, his eyes staring right into your orbs, trying to figure out your nasty secrets.

“no.”

“so if i check right now, i won’t find you allll wet and sticky?” he purred at you, lowering his gaze to your lower half. one of his hands wandered down there, sliding like a snake down your leg riiiiight above your knee.

your leg twitched underneath his palm, the heaviness of it making you needier.

“what does that have to do with me masturbating?”

the pads of his fingers made their way lower and lower towards your inner thigh, only stopping when they made contact with the material of your panties. the drenched material of your panties.

“i–it’s a biological reaction, even without me doing anything.”

a devilish, elongated oh, reaaaally? was whispered into your ear the moment mattheo dipped his fingers further down your clothed crotch. tapping you twice when he made contact with your sensitive clit, he signaled the beginning of slow circular motions.

“mattheo…” a sharp intake of your breath resonated in the room, joined afterwards by a breathy moan of his name. that made his shit-eating grin grow bigger, now smiling at you like a cheshire cat.

“see, it feels good!”

slow but hard figure eights were drawn against your hardened nub, making your legs all twitchy. if it weren’t for the big distance between you and the table, you would have surely knocked your knees against it a few times.

“doesn’t it, princess? how could you not–”

“n–no.”

“no?”

be it a cheeky retort or not, mattheo was actually angered by your little remark. gripping your right knee with his spare hand, mattheo forcefully opened your legs wider. your skirt was pushed away from your crotch, nicely folding around your stomach. now he had a clear view of your soaked panties sticking to your cunt, molded around your puffy folds and your clit.

“why are you lying to me, baby?” throwing your right leg over his lap, he continued his ministration on your pussy, right now with more precision. his thumb remained on your clit, pushing and prodding against it, while his other fingers were agonizingly tracing up and down your clothed slit.

“your pussy juices are all over my hand and you’re telling me it doesn’t feel good?”

oh, he was mad. really fucking mad.

his middle finger found your desperate little hole, needly clenching around nothing every couple of seconds. adding a bit of pressure with the pad of his finger, mattheo pressed the material of your panties in, creating a little valley for his curious digits.

“oh, i get it.” he said all of a sudden, abruptly ceasing all movement.

your tiny gasps of pleasure were interrupted by a long whine of dissatisfaction, but he paid it no mind.

“that’s not what’s happening in the book! right. riiiight.”

removing his hands from you, he stood up from his seat and moved away from the table altogether. you tried to turn your head towards him, to register his next moved, but did not have time. mattheo, with his muscular arms, managed to spin the school chair around and have you face him.

“you don’t want to be pleasured.”

he said through gritted teeth, somehow a bit offended, somehow a bit excited. keeping his eyes glued to yours, he slowly started to unbuckle his leather belt.

“you want to give pleasure!”

letting his pants drop to the floor with a small clanck, mattheo then opened the buttons of his shirt to give you that sexy manly torso you had been reading about in your stupid porn book. you were also graced with a nice view of his happy trail, fine patches of brown hair disappearing underneath his garments. his boxers were still on and, even though the blackness of the material did not offer much to the eye, your hungry gaze saw the stain of pre-cum.

and, of course, the outline of his hard cock.

“c’mon, sweetheart. you’ve read the beginning of the scene.” mattheo beckoned you to raise from your seat and kneel like a good girl before him.

“come suck me off.”

lust definitely possessed you. there was no other explanation as to why you, one of the most non-problematic students, was actually kneeling in front of mattheo, the top problematic student at your university.

“fuck, you look so good down there!” he groaned at the sight before him, his cock twitching in his briefs at the mere fact that he had you in such a position.

and when you did reach for his undergarments, pulling them down by the hem all the way to his ankles, his shaft slapped against his abs, smearing wetness all over his skin; but unlike the book, his cock then dipped downwards because of its weight, sitting now at eye-level with you.

“touch it, baby! it’s all yours to play.”

your embarrassment was beyond the roof, but so was your arousal. with delicate fingers, you grabbed the base of his cock and tugged it forward, closer to your lips. his red tip was so close to your warm mouth — he could feel your breath on it.

were you scared to take him in? maybe, after all you were a virg–

“oh, fuckfuck, shiiit.”

his soul almost left him when he felt your lips around him, a few inches already inside your wet mouth. your gooey tongue was tasting every single part of his cock, going flat along his sides and engulfing as much of his shaft as possible.

mattheo had to stabilize himself not to fall from the sudden pleasure, and thank god for an additional chair right by his side. gripping the edge of the wooden back, he continued to groan under his breath from your ministration.

“h–hollow your chee– oh my lord!”

there was no point in giving you instructions. it seems like you were connected telepathically with mattheo, already sucking in your cheeks and taking more and more of him in your mouth. a tear fell from your inner corner down towards your puckered lips, and that’s when you took him out of your mouth, short of breath.

your lips, wet from saliva and his precum, were still connected to his cock by a thick rope of wetness. you looked so pornographic before him, there’s no way he will not use this view in his future jerk-off sessions. and that lewd pop when the wet string broke… fucking sexy.

before letting you go back to business, he grasped the side of your head with his hand, palm sliding against your scalp and gripping at the roots of your hair. your eyes, sparkling with the desire to suck him dry, shot him the nastiest glare he has ever seen.

but he was curious of something.

“you’ve sucked cock before, sweetheart?”

he was sure you were a virgin. the whole university knew no one had a chance of getting in your panties. heck, he’s heard about people betting that you’d finish your studies still a virgin. yet, all this does not align with your exceptional head skills. surely porn books like that one weren’t that good of a manual, right?

your tiny nod of approval solved all the mystery.

your tiny nod of approval also ignited something in mattheo. and, this time, it wasn’t desire. something burned in his chest, something tugged at his heart the very moment you confirmed the fact that you did such a thing with another guy.

clutching your hair tighter, he tilted your face towards his. his brown eyes, still blown wide, were now piercing you with possessiveness and jealousy. his brows furrowed, his nose scrunched up, as he spat his next question right in your face.

“who was it? you better not lie to me, whore!”

keeping your face still, he shooed your hands away from his cock, grasping it with his own free hand. you cracked your mouth open, assuming he was going to ram his dick inside, but were only met with a wet slap. on your cheek. of his mushroomy tip.

“you don’t even talk to guys, so you must be– no.”

slap. your other cheek got the same treatment, your skin now stained with his arousal and your spit.

he remembered right in that moment that you have been paired with a guy for a project last week. but there was no way he–

“was it that four-eyed weirdo? potter?”

your eyes widened at his question, and he knew he got it right.

“you’ve sucked–”

slap.

“that nerd’s–”

slap.

“shrimp dick?”

slap.

“and here i thought you are a good girl.” his last slap landed on your lips, still slightly parted from before. nestling his tip between them, mattheo slowly pushed back into your mouth, this time not stopping at a few inches.

“open up, baby! i am gonna fuck that throat raw.” and he was going to keep his promise by the looks of it. not even stopping when you began to slightly choke around him, he stuffed you full of his cock. up to his very base.

your nose was now mere millimeters away from his happy trail; his shaft — a couple inches down your pulsing throat.

“i bet potter never reached that deep spot, huh?”

he was so mean, taunting you with your past experience with potter, while he swiftly started to thrust into your mouth. lips nicely enclosing around his girthy cock, they moved rhythmically and made mattheo feel like he was in heaven.

maybe, just maybe, he will forgive you if you let him cum down your throat.

“breath for me, sweetheart!” it sounded like advice, but, truly, it was a signal that he was going to increase his pace. placing both hands in your hair, mattheo now had full control of your head — bobbing you up and down his length, matching his own hips stuttering inside your mouth.

“atta, girl! fuck, you feel amazing!”

the sloshing sounds of your wet cavity, combined with his stickiness, echoed in the entire room. it was great that the room itself was more secluded, otherwise people passing by would surely realize what was going down in there.

and despite the deafening sounds of his thrusts, mattheo picked up the ruffling of your lower body and the failed attempts of your hands trying to give yourself relief.

“you’re such a pathetic girl!” he laughed out loud, amused by your needy behaviour.

“here, baby, use this.”

knocking around with his foot the book he has dropped — pages down — a while ago on the floor, he slid his shoe between the open pages and moved it in front of you.

“hump the spine like the whore that you are.”

at your visible hesitation, his voice hardened, and a command was issued.

“rub that cunt on it! now!”

moving closer to his foot, you plopped your pussy right on top of the book. the hard cover of the backbone pressed deliciously against your sensitive clit and, without waiting for an invitation, you started rocking your hips against it.

“see? you can listen.”

now, with you chasing your high like a whore with your porn book, he was more enthusiastic about fucking your mouth. hitting the back of your throat without any shame, he lost himself in the feeling of your sticky tongue and tight airpipe.

and, shiiiit, your expressions were doing something to him: your teary eyes, staring at him like a dumb whore, your lips, so deliciously abused by his aggressiveness, going all the way down to his navel with every move.

“don’t ever let potter fuck this mouth again, you heard me?” your eyes were more and more teary and so unfocused, all glossy and blown out; you definitely did not hear him. but he will remind you later. “this is my mouth now.”

dropping his hands from your scalp to the sides of your head, he grasped you tightly, even encapsulating your mistreated cheeks, and dragged you all the way to his torso for the finale.

“take all my cum, sweetheart! all of it.”

you had no other choice but to do as he says, your head practically caged by his hands into his abs. rutting your clit faster against the book, you tried achieving orgasm at the same time as mattheo. the solid material of the cover was a great bonus, and you thank past-you for spending a few extra bucks for a hard cover edition.

the feeling of his thick cum shooting down your throat, together with his moans, did it for you, making your whole body convulse and release all your arousal around the book. completely ruining it with your cum. the book could definitely not be used after this little rendezvous.

but it was all worth it.

“swallow it all, baby!” mattheo groaned loudly while emptying the last of his load in your mouth, creaming you for good.

he set you free after his high passed completely, allowing you to take a biiiig gulp of air. the sudden volume of air knocked you up literally; you fell backwards on your butt, detaching yourself unwillingly from the book.

“messy girl! my messy girl!”

mattheo groaned, towering above you as he was carefully tucking himself in. he was taking in the image of your wrecked body, proud of himself that he ruined you so well.

by the looks of it, you were still a bit out of it; muscles still spasming, eyes still foggy. that was none of his business, however. you brought this all upon yourself the moment you decided to challenge him with that nasty attitude.

kneeling in front of you, he gazed right at your lips – you seemed to have caught your breath. good. so, without a warning, he gripped the side of your cheek, stretched his fingers across it up to your mouth, and hooked one digit under your lips to open you up for an examination.

“tongue out, sweetheart!”

the pain of him stretching your mouth made you conform to his order fast, cracking open your lips and sticking out your tongue for him.

“you actually swallowed it all? nasty fucking whore.”

“you said to, so–”

there was something about mattheo loving to interrupt you at every moment. this time, he didn’t speak over you, choosing to push down his thumb on your sticky tongue to silence you.

“let potter touch you one more time and i will make sure he won’t walk for weeks. understood?”

his thumb was pressing down against your wet muscle with more force; all you could do was nod. you knew what mattheo was capable of. you saw how his victims look after a fight — poor potter would be hospitalized for months...

mattheo seemed pleased with your answer, humming approvingly at you. swiftly removing his hand from your face, you though he was done with you for today. but he had one more thing to say before completely vanishing from the room.

“i will also make sure you won’t walk for weeks either.”

he dipped his head closer to your ear, hissing condescendingly the repercussion you will face. he won’t beat you up — god forbid. and he made it abundantly clear by the way his palm sneaked all the way down to your overstimulated cunt. with a small slap on top of your wet panties, your legs jumping at his touch, mattheo ingrained his little threat in your body.

“see you tomorrow, princess!”

©dearmisshoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

tags: @downbad4reid, @nottsangel

#~ 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘳 #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #smut #x reader #fem!reader #bully!mattheo #toxic!mattheo #possessive!mattheo #jealous!mattheo #slytherin smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin

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nottswitch · 2 days ago

Note

Hello lovely <3

39 with Puppy!Mattheo

39. describe your perfect type of foreplay.

mattheo’s eyes light up, and he shifts a bit on the couch, already growing hard just from the implication – but when isn’t he at least semi-hard anyway?

“theo says, ‘anything can be foreplay if you put your mind to it’,” he eagerly quotes. “i think… i think he’s right,” he adds, a rosy tint spreading on his cheeks as his thighs clench together. seems like theo’s right – even the question about foreplay somehow turns him on.

but mattheo doesn’t seem to mind. he’s already moving closer to you on the couch, his eyes wide and nothing less than pleading. it’s pretty easy to guess exactly what he wants – or what he’s ready to beg for.

get to know my aus.

#─ ꒰ 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚞𝚜 ꒱ ☕️ ˎˊ˗#omg pls keep ‘em coming #i wanna answer all of these for pup <3 #puppy!mattheo #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin boys imagine

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simp-for-love · 2 months ago

Text

Where the Fire Breathes Soft

DragonTamer!Mattheo Riddle x Teacher!FemReader

You take your class on a field trip to a dragon sanctuary, expecting chaos and maybe a little fire. What you don’t expect is Mattheo Riddle — charming, clever, and surprisingly gentle beneath the smirk. Between sunbathing dragons, wide-eyed students, and a tour that turns unexpectedly sweet, you find yourself falling, just a little, for the dragon tamer with a crooked smile.

Warnings: none, fluff to the bones

Word count: 1,7k

A/N: my very late work for week 1 of @acourtofchaos's au event. Hope to catch up with the rest of them soon ♡

You’re pretty sure this wasn’t in the job description.

Sure, it mentioned field trips, but it didn’t say anything about standing ten feet away from a dragon the size of a cottage while trying to look calm in front of twenty excited eleven-year-olds.

You’ve never seen a dragon up close before — unless you count the fold-out pages in Fantastic Beasts for Little Wizards. Even then, it was hard to believe something so majestic and terrifying could be real.

But here you are, standing at the edge of a wide, green field fenced with enchanted barriers, blinking at a sunbathing Norwegian Ridgeback. It looks like an overgrown lizard lounging in the afternoon sun, its dark, iridescent scales gleaming like opals. Around you, a dozen kids press against the barrier, gasping and arguing over which dragon is the coolest.

"Miss! Miss!" little Clara tugs at your coat, eyes wide with awe. "That one just sneezed fire!"

You give her a smile, even though your heart’s trying to climb into your throat. "Yes, dragons can do that, sweetheart."

"She sneezed!" Clara insists, pointing. "She’s like me when I have a cold!"

A warm chuckle comes from your right, deep and effortlessly amused.

"That would be Marigold. She’s a bit dramatic, but harmless. Unless you're a cabbage,"

You glance sideways and promptly forget how to breathe.

The man standing next to you is tall, dressed in a well-worn leather jacket that’s clearly seen its share of flame. His dark hair is tousled, jaw sharp, and eyes startlingly intelligent with a hint of mischief behind them. There’s a dragon-scale glove tucked into his belt, and something about the way he stands — casual, confident, like the dragons answer to him — makes your knees go a little weak. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, revealing strong forearms dusted with faint burn scars and inked runes. You catch yourself staring for a second too long.

"Oh," you manage. "Hello."

"Hi." He offers you a crooked smile, one that makes your heart do something unprofessional. "Mattheo Riddle. I work here."

You shake the hand he offers, and it’s warm, calloused, grounding. "I’m… You can call me Miss Teacher who is absolutely not terrified of dragons."

Mattheo laughs, low and easy, like sunshine on a cold morning. "Pleasure, Miss Teacher. You’re doing well for someone who looks like they might bolt."

"I’m just trying not to faint in front of the children."

"Good goal." He steps a little closer and lowers his voice. "Don’t worry. The dragons can smell fear, but they respect it. Means you’re smart."

"That’s comforting."

He grins wider, like he’s enjoying this, but not in a cruel way. Like he’s almost charmed by your honesty. “Which class is yours?”

"First-years," you say, glancing at the gaggle of kids giggling by the fence. "They’re obsessed with magical creatures right now. Their current theory is that dragons are just flying puppies with attitude problems."

"Not wrong," he muses with an amused grin. "Except for Blaze. Blaze eats puppies."

You gape at him in shock.

He blinks, then breaks into a laugh. The sound so warm and smooth that it makes your heart skip a beat. "Kidding."

You exhale the sigh of relief immediately. "Thank Merlin."

Mattheo chuckles again and gestures toward the enclosure. "Want a proper tour? I promise no incineration. Well, minimal incineration."

You arch a brow. "Do I get hazard pay?"

"No, but you get to walk next to me. That’s got to count for something," he says with a wink that sends a small stutter through your chest.

You laugh, caught off guard. "Charming, aren’t you?"

He gives you a little playful bow. "It’s in the job description," he said without any shame or second thought, grinning proudly.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ * ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ *

Mattheo turns out to be great with the kids. You watch from the edge as he kneels beside one of them, explaining the difference between ridge-back scales and horned-tail ones like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. He’s patient when they interrupt, gentle when they get overexcited, and firm when one of them tries to climb a fence.

You hadn’t expected that. You thought he’d be cocky, maybe even reckless. Swagger and smirks. But instead, there’s this quiet strength beneath all that charisma. Something solid and steady. And it makes you feel... oddly comfortable and safe.

You try not to stare too much as he gestures animatedly toward a Welsh Green gliding in a distant paddock. The sun catches in his hair, and for a fleeting moment, he looks like he belongs to the dragons. Not as their keeper, but their kin.

He catches your across the enclosure and winks again. You look away quickly, cheeks warm.

"Professor?" Clara tugs your sleeve gently to catch your attention. "Do you like him?"

You nearly choke at her question. "What?"

"You’re looking at him like my mum looks at the telly when the handsome prince comes on," she explained calmly with a child's simplicity.

You blink at her for a moment in silence, feeling the heat on your cheeks intensified. "Clara."

"It’s okay," she says seriously with a nod. "He’s handsome. You have good taste."

You consider for a moment whether it’s possible to sink into the earth and never return.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ * ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ *

Lunch is a picnic under the shade of a charmed willow tree. The kids are still buzzing, mouths full of sandwiches, declaring their dreams of becoming dragon tamers. Some sketch their favorite dragons with crumb-covered fingers. You watch their enthusiasm with tenderness and a hint of amusement in your eyes. Soon Mattheo finds you near the feeding pen.

"Enjoying yourself yet?" he asks, leaning casually on the railing beside you.

"It’s... actually better than expected. No one's on fire, so I’m calling it a win," you say with a smile tugging on your lips.

He unwraps a sandwich and glances at yours, still untouched. "Not eating?"

"I'm too enchanted. I mean—interested. In all this." You laugh awkwardly and a bit flustered. "I’ve never seen anyone so comfortable around fire-breathing monsters."

He raises his brow in amusement. "You’re a teacher. You’re surrounded by tiny monsters daily."

You chuckle softly. "Touche."

He gives you a sideways glance, smirking. "You’re braver than you look."

You hum quietly. "Is that a compliment?"

"It is," he says easily. "You strike me as the soft type. Sweet. But you didn’t flinch when Ember tried to lick your coat."

"I couldn’t. The kids were watching."

"Still, you didn’t run." His voice dips slightly, more thoughtful. "That counts."

You glance at him, studying the way the late sun catches in his hair, the curve of his smile that’s equal parts playful and kind. There’s something magnetic about him, something that makes your chest feel light and your stomach full of fluttering things.

"You’re not what I expected," you say quietly.

He arches a brow. "No? What were you expecting?"

"I don’t know. Arrogance? Recklessness? Someone who rides dragons without a saddle and uses bad pick-up lines."

He chuckles smoothly, eyes shine with amusement. "I do ride without a saddle, but I leave the pick-up lines to the desperate."

"I feel honored."

"You should." He nudges your elbow softly. "Besides, I don’t need pick-up lines. I’ve got dragons."

You laugh again, unable to help it. Something about him makes you feel safe and smile wider. "You really do."

For a moment, the air between you settles into something quiet. Easy and sweet. You don’t even realize you’re smiling until he says, "You should come back sometime. Without twenty tiny chaperones."

"Is that a professional invitation?"

"Only if you’re into professionalism."

You tilt your head slightly, looking at him. "And if I’m into dragons?"

He gives you a look that’s all charm and slow-burning mischief. "Then I’m very interesting."

Your heart does a little leap again. "I’ll think about it."

"You do that," he says softly, gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ * ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ *

The trip ends too quickly. The kids piling back onto the carriages with sticky fingers and loud voices, waving their goodbyes wildly at every dragon in sight.

Mattheo walks you to the gate, hands in his jacket pockets.

"Thanks for not letting us get eaten," you say with a small smile. You want to prolong this moment, to stay in this fairytale with dragons and Prince Charming for a little longer.

"Anytime." He looks at you, something warm flickering in his gaze. "You really were good with them. The kids."

You shrug a little shy, "It’s easy when you love them."

"I think they love you back."

"Probably because I carry sweets in my bag all the time."

He grins. "Might have to start doing that myself."

You look at him, heart fluttering again. "Do you flirt with every teacher who visits?"

He tilts his head as if considering your question. "Only the ones who make dragon farms feel like fairy tales."

You blink, looking at him with wide eyes. "That’s—"

"Too much?" he asked with slightly bashful and boyish smile.

"A little," you admit with a smile. "But I liked it."

He steps a little closer, just enough for you to catch the warmth of him, the faint scent of smoke and leather.

"Come back," he says quietly and softly. "Next week. Or whenever you like. No pressure. Just... I’d like to see you again."

You bite your lip, trying to hide the silly smile his words cause. "Maybe I will."

"Maybe?"

"Okay. Definitely."

He smiles like you’ve just handed him something valuable. And the shine in his eyes is utterly disarming. "Good."

You linger for a second longer, then turn to follow your class, heart full of butterflies and something almost as fiery as the dragons behind you.

As you step onto the carriage, Clara tugs your sleeve again and whispers, "He definitely likes you."

You glance back to where Mattheo stands by the gate, one hand raised in a lazy wave. His eyes locked on you.

You wave back. "Yeah," you whisper with a silly grin on your lips. "I think I like him too."

#kat's write #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

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riddlesrizzler · 4 months ago

Text

Love, Luck, and Ladybugs

pt. 2 of Girl in the Bumblebee Tights

summary: Mattheo Riddle never cared for luck, until he met a certain Hufflepuff characters: mattheo riddle. hufflepuff! reader. mentions of slytherin boys warnings: none, just cute fluff of matty falling for a hufflepuff. word count: 2.0k

Mattheo was not the type of guy to go out of his way for anyone. If he wanted something, he took it. If something-or someone-intrigued him, he made them come to him. That was just how it worked.

Until you.

You, with your whimsical clothes and dreamy expressions, drifting through the halls of Hogwarts like a soft breeze, entirely unbothered by the sharp edges of the world.

You, with your quiet hums and distracted little twirls, always getting lost in your own thoughts.

You, with your absurd collection of trinkets, bumblebee-striped tights, and firm belief that certain objects could bring fortune.

And now, Mattheo-a boy who prided himself on never chasing-was actively seeking you out.

At first, he told himself it was just curiosity. Something about the way you floated through life made him want to get closer, to see what made your mind tick.

That was before he started doing utterly ridiculous things just to get your attention.

Like wearing socks that didn’t match.

Today, they were obnoxiously bright-one orange with tiny broomsticks, the other purple with crescent moons. A hideous combination, and yet, you had complimented them the moment you slid into your seat beside him in class.

“Oh!” You had gasped, eyes widening as you pointed at his feet. “Those are brilliant.”

Mattheo smirked. Hooked you. “Yeah?”

You nodded your head with excitement before asking him where he had purchased them, so you could get some of your own.

And just like that, he was completely gone for you.

The next week, he made it a point to sit next to you in every class. Not that you seemed to notice what he was doing.

No, you just gave him that same sweet, absent minded smile every time, like he had always been there.

Then he started showing up in places he didn’t normally go.

The greenhouses. The library. Merlin help him, he even went to Divination, sitting stiffly in a chair while you babbled excitedly about tarot cards and the movement of the stars.

Draco, Theo, Enzo, and Blaise had a field day teasing him.

“You’re pathetic,” Theo drawled, watching as Mattheo not-so-subtly followed you out of class.

“I think it’s sweet,” Blaise smirked. “Our little Mattheo, whipped.”

Mattheo shot them a glare but didn’t deny it.

Because it was true.

But then he found out about Neville Longbottom… it seemed like all hell would break loose.

“Wait,” Mattheo said flatly, cutting Theo off mid-sentence. “Who?”

Theo snorted. “Neville Longbottom. You know, the Gryffindor? The one who keeps fumbling through Potions?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know who he is. What about him?”

Draco smirked. “Oh, nothing. Just that he’s been following your little Hufflepuff around like a lovesick puppy.”

Mattheo stiffened. “What.”

“Seen them chatting between classes,” Enzo added. “She likes him, I think.”

And just like that, something hot burned in Mattheo’s chest.

Because, oh no, no.

You were his.

Mattheo needed help. Which meant doing something he never thought he’d do-asking Luna Lovegood for advice.

Luna, your best friend, was just as whimsical as you were. Maybe more. She drifted through life like a ghostly little moonbeam, spouting strange facts and wearing radish earrings.

She also, unfortunately, knew everything about you.

Which made her the perfect person to go to.

Mattheo found her in the courtyard, seated on the grass, reading upside down.

“Lovegood,” he greeted.

Luna slowly turned her book the right way. “Mattheo,” she said serenely.

“I need information.”

She blinked at him, expression unreadable. Then, without missing a beat, she said, “You want to know how to win her over.”

Mattheo scowled. “Am I that obvious?”

Luna hummed. “Only to those who see things others don’t.”

“Right,” Mattheo muttered. “So? Got anything useful?”

Luna studied him for a long moment before smiling. “She loves luck.”

Mattheo frowned. “Yeah, I know that.”

“But do you understand it?” Luna tilted her head. “She sees luck in the little things. Socks. Stars. Coins on the ground. The world is full of lucky signs, if you just notice them.”

Mattheo considered that.

Luna continued, “If you want to make her happy, get her something lucky. She'll take it as a sign.”

Mattheo’s brain spun.

And then-an idea struck.

Usually, Mattheo Riddle did not do gift-giving.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it-his family had more than enough money-but the idea of getting something heartfelt for another person was just… foreign. He had never needed to try before. People fawned over him regardless.

But you? You were different.

Which was why he was standing in the middle of Hogsmeade, scowling, as he mentally went through everything Luna Lovegood had told him.

"She loves luck," Luna had said. "If you want to make her happy, get her something lucky. She'll take it as a sign."

That had been maddeningly unhelpful. Mattheo wasn’t some mystical force of fate-he was just a boy with a sharp tongue and an even sharper wand.

But you-you saw the world differently. You found meaning in the smallest things. The moon on a pair of socks, the way the wind blew through the trees, the way certain numbers seemed to follow you.

You believed in luck.

And he wanted to give you something that made you light up.

But what the hell was lucky enough?

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he strolled down the street. Every shop he passed seemed wrong.

Quidditch gear? No. Jewelry? Maybe, but you weren’t the type for expensive trinkets. Chocolate? Too simple.

He needed something meaningful.

Then, he saw it.

A tiny, tucked-away shop with an old wooden sign that read Brood and Peck. The windows were cluttered with mismatched objects- crystal balls, antique books, potion bottles of questionable origins.

It looked like the kind of place that probably sold cursed items alongside regular ones, but it also seemed like the type of place you would love.

Mattheo stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming.

The shop was dimly lit, the scent of old parchment and dried herbs filling the air. He wandered through the shelves, scanning the odd assortment of items.

And then-he saw them.

A neatly folded pair of red tights with black spots.

Like a ladybug.

His lips twitched.

He could hear your voice in his head, bright and excited: "Do you know how lucky ladybugs are? They’re extra fancy luck!"

It was perfect.

He grabbed them immediately, heading to the counter where an elderly witch peered at him over her glasses.

“A fine choice,” she said, eyeing the tights with a knowing look.

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Just ring me up.”

She chuckled but did as he asked, wrapping them carefully before handing them back.

As he stepped outside, the cold air biting at his cheeks, he found himself smiling.

Because he knew-the moment he gave them to you, you were going to light up like the bloody sun.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d finally realize how much he adored you.

Later that day, Mattheo found you in the courtyard.

With Neville.

Mattheo narrowed his eyes as he approached, heart thudding as he caught the tail end of your conversation.

“…ladybugs,” you were saying, voice warm. “They’re good luck, you know.”

Neville chuckled nervously. “I-I didn’t know that.”

Mattheo cleared his throat, stepping between you both with an easy smirk. “Sorry, Longbottom. Borrowing her.”

Neville blinked. “Oh. Uh-”

You tilted your head, blinking up at Mattheo. “Borrowing me?”

Mattheo threw an arm around your shoulders, steering you away before Neville could protest. “Yup.”

Neville frowned. “Oh, um. Alright then.”

Once Neville was out of earshot, you looked up at Mattheo, entirely unbothered. “Was that necessary?”

Mattheo grinned. “Extremely.”

You didn’t argue, just hummed thoughtfully. “Well, what are we doing?”

“I got you something.”

Your eyes widened. “A gift? For me?”

“Obviously.”

Mattheo reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly wrapped package. He handed it to you, watching as you carefully unwrapped it.

The moment the fabric was revealed, you gasped.

“Mattheo!” you squeaked, holding up the tights. “They’re red with black spots! Like-”

“Like a ladybug,” he finished.

You beamed, eyes practically glowing. “Do you know how lucky these are? Ladybugs super lucky! I was just talking about this with Neville! It must be a sign or something!”

Mattheo smirked. “Figured you’d like them.”

“Like them? I adore them!”

And then, before he could react, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tight.

Mattheo froze.

Then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, sinking into the warmth of you.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, happy eyes. “These are better than my bumblebee tights!”

His heart stuttered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, voice rough.

You nodded, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

And Mattheo...

Mattheo knew, right then and there, that he was completely and hopelessly in love with you.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter #slytherin aesthetic #my works #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #hufflepuff!reader #hufflepuff

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westcanaan82 · 11 months ago

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Anyone up for a hike? Mattheo ensures you’ll have a mastiff good time, no bones about it. 🐾 🌳 🥾

#ai generated #ai #ai art #slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #benjamin wadsworth #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #dudes and dogs #puppy love #dog days #nature hikes #to be honest he makes me bark too

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yua0ra · 3 months ago

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𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐨 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭™

(𝐟𝐭. 𝐚 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧-𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

WARNINGS: downbad!mattheo x slytherin!fem!reader, SFW, english is not my first language. not proofread | fluff ☏

SUMMARY: Operation: Matty Falls in Love™, where the plan is very much in motion—even if Mattheo is pretending it's not.

WC: 2.4K AN: Here's part 2! Enjoy...

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

The first Monday back after the weekend hit like a hex to the face.The castle felt like it had been dipped in ice overnight, your breath curling in little clouds as you trudged down the corridor toward Advanced Potions, clutching your book bag like it could shield you from the cold—and the overwhelming dread of homework returning.

You weren’t expecting much out of the day. Maybe some leftover holiday biscuits if you were lucky, and a chaotic lesson in Potions if Theo was feeling particularly dramatic.

What you definitely weren’t expecting was to walk into class and see Mattheo Riddle already at your shared table.

And not just at it—claiming it.

He had your usual seat pulled out, a folded scarf over the back of the chair like a little cushion, and—most shocking of all—a warm, steaming mug sitting in front of it.

He spotted you before you could fully compute the situation, his eyes flicking up, then widening like he’d just remembered how to breathe. His mouth opened, then closed again. And then opened again.

“Hey,” he said, voice a little rough from the cold—or nerves? “Uh. Morning. I, um… I made you tea.”

You blinked at the mug. “You made me—?”

“It’s peppermint,” he said too quickly. “I think. You said once you liked it. I mean—you were talking to Pansy, not me, but I was… nearby.”

There was a pause.

Then: “I’m not creepy.”

You blinked again, then smiled softly, touched and a little stunned. “That’s actually… really sweet. Thank you.”

You slid into your seat, fingers brushing the warm ceramic. The tea smelled perfect—minty, calming—and you tried to ignore the way Mattheo’s shoulders visibly relaxed when you took a sip and smiled at him again.

He looked like a puppy who’d just been told he was a very good boy.

Meanwhile, across the room…

Operation: Matty Falls in Love™ was in full, silent-screaming effect.

“Target accepted tea,” Theo whispered like a MI6 agent, ducking behind a stack of cauldrons. “Repeat, tea has been accepted. We’re a go.”

“She smiled. Look at that smile!” Enzo hissed, elbowing Blaise. “That’s a real smile. That’s a 'maybe-I-want-to-wear-his-hoodies' kind of smile.”

Blaise was scribbling notes like a madman. “That’s a level six emotional reaction. Possibly seven. We’re talking soft-giggle territory.”

Draco, ever cool, sipped his coffee with a smirk. “He’s going to ruin it in three… two…”

Back at your table, Mattheo was passing you ingredients without you even having to ask, murmuring the correct stir count under his breath and keeping a hawk eye on the flame.

He was calm. Focused. Controlled.

Until you leaned in.

Just a bit. Just enough to check the potion’s color, your face close to his, the scent of your shampoo completely wrecking his ability to do basic math.

His elbow bumped the ladle.

The ladle knocked over a vial of powdered moonstone.

The vial plopped into the cauldron.

The cauldron erupted.

Glitter. Pink fizz. A puff of heart-shaped steam and a high-pitched honk like someone had charmed a goose.

Slughorn let out a scandalized shriek and leapt backward. Half the class screamed. A few ducked under tables.

You coughed through the pink mist, eyes wide—then started laughing.

Not mockingly. Not nervously. Like it was genuinely the funniest thing that had happened all day.

You grinned at Mattheo, who looked like he might actually melt into the floor from embarrassment. He was covered in glitter. His fringe was stuck to his forehead. He looked like the aftermath of a Valentine’s Day explosion.

“I think,” you said between giggles, “you just invented a love potion for unicorns.”

Mattheo stared at you for a second, dazed. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“Well,” you shrugged, cheeks a little pink. “Unicorns deserve love too.”

You were still smiling at him—glitter and all—when Slughorn finally regained control and started yelling about “reckless behavior” and “inappropriate potion glitter.”

Mattheo didn’t even flinch. He just kept looking at you like you were the only thing in the room worth watching.

Across the classroom, the boys were losing their minds.

Draco stood and bowed sarcastically. “Ladies and gents, he’s dead. He’s in love. It’s over.”

“I have never seen a man combust with such grace,” Theo declared, writing “chaotic glitter potion = success???” in Blaise’s notebook.

“His hair’s sparkling,” Enzo said reverently. “Even his hair wants to impress her.”

Blaise closed the notebook slowly. “Phase two complete. We move to Phase three tomorrow: hallway proximity and accidental shoulder brushes.”

Draco smirked. “Don’t forget the book drop.”

“Ah yes,” Theo nodded. “The classic oops let me help you pick that up while our hands touch and soft music plays.”

Back at the front, Slughorn assigned Mattheo a week’s worth of extra clean-up duty for “unauthorized potion experimenting.”

You leaned over and whispered, “I’ll help, if you want. I mean… it was sort of my fault too.”

Mattheo blinked, stunned. “You… would?”

You gave him that same shy smile, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear. “Of course. I like glitter. And unicorns.”

Mattheo was silent for a moment. Then, very quietly: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened.

His eyes widened more.

“I MEANT—not in love! Just… love. Like. In a—LIKE GLITTER LOVE. PLATONIC—"

You were laughing again. He buried his face in his hands.

From across the room: “Phase three is writing itself,” Theo whispered dramatically.

- ★、

The glitter eventually faded (thanks to three different Scourgify charms and Theo’s aggressive commentary), but the effects of the “unicorn love potion incident,” as it was now being called in the halls, definitely did not.

By the time lunch rolled around, Mattheo was already on high alert. Blaise had winked at him four times that morning. Theo kept humming love songs whenever you were in a ten-foot radius. Enzo tried to accidentally lock the two of you in the corridor near the Astronomy Tower “just to see what would happen.”

And Draco? Draco was just having the time of his life being smug.

Mattheo flopped down at the Slytherin table with the energy of a man who had survived war. His hair was still a bit sparkly. His soul? Cracked.

"You're all insane," he muttered, stabbing his mashed potatoes like they personally offended him. “Completely deranged.”

"You're welcome," Blaise said cheerfully, peeling an orange with the precision of someone plotting a six-month seduction arc. “You're getting more one-on-one time with her than ever. That’s not deranged. That’s strategic.”

Theo leaned forward across the table, eyes glinting. “Exactly. And today’s strategy is… drum rolls please!: Shared Library Timeeeee!. Blaise has already rigged the schedule—”

“I did no such thing,” Blaise said, looking wildly guilty.

“—so you’re both paired for this week’s Herbology research project,” Theo continued, ignoring him. “Ms Sprout gave you both the same topic: Mandrake root temperament shifts in cold weather. Romantic, innit?”

“Yeah,” Draco deadpanned. “Nothing gets the blood pumping like magical screaming vegetables.”

Mattheo groaned and let his forehead hit the table. “This is going to kill me. I’m going to die in the library. She’ll find my cold, glittery corpse next to a mandrake diagram.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Enzo said, nudging him. “We’ll make sure you look good for your funeral. All black. Silk cravat. Maybe a single red rose.”

Meanwhile, you were sitting with Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent a few tables down, trying very hard not to smile as you kept catching snippets of their ridiculous whispering. You could feel Mattheo glancing your way every few seconds—even when he pretended not to—and you couldn’t lie… it was cute. Like really cute.

“Honestly, they’re so obvious,” Daphne said, smirking behind her goblet. “Mattheo looks at you like you’re a sacred artifact.”

“Or like he’s seen the face of Merlin himself,” Pansy added. “You breathe and he blushes.”

You flushed, nearly choking on your juice. “Okay, stop. It’s not like that.”

“It is exactly like that,” Millicent chimed in, casually shoving a bread roll into her mouth. “Boys don’t brew peppermint tea unless they’re in love or about to propose.”

You set your drink down carefully. “He’s just being nice.”

Pansy raised a brow. “Sweetheart. This morning he let you pick the dragon scales first during Potions. That boy is ready to die for you.”

Before you could respond, Mattheo stood from his table, clearly unaware of the spectacle he was making just by existing. He looked across the room, caught your eye—then promptly tripped over the bench.

“Yep,” Pansy said, sipping her tea with zero sympathy. “Utterly doomed.”

- ★、

By the time the last bell rang, you were already gathering your things, heart doing those tiny, ridiculous flips it always did now when you knew you'd be seeing Mattheo. You kept telling yourself it was just the Herbology project. Just a bit of partnered research. Academic. Professional.

But the butterflies in your chest clearly hadn't gotten the memo.

The library was quiet, soft candlelight casting golden puddles across the ancient oak tables and high shelves. And there he was — already seated at your usual corner table near the back. You stopped for a second in the doorway without meaning to, just… staring. Mattheo hadn’t seen you yet.

He was nervously organizing parchment into neat little stacks. Then reorganizing it. Then messing it up and trying again. His quill rolled off the table once — he caught it mid-air with a muttered, "Bloody—" — and then he immediately sat up straighter, clearly fighting some sort of internal battle about whether he looked too slouched or too stiff. He tested both. Adjusted his collar. Rubbed the back of his neck. Stared at his ink bottle like it had personally betrayed him.

You bit your lip, a smile tugging at the corners. It was kind of criminal, how adorable he was when he thought no one was looking.

And then… he spotted you.

Mattheo blinked like he was seeing a mirage. Like he genuinely couldn’t believe you were walking toward him. His mouth parted, but no sound came out for a full five seconds — and then he scrambled to his feet so fast he bumped the table and knocked over a stack of parchment.

"Hi," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you sat down across from him. Your voice was gentle, a little hesitant, but warm.

“Hi,” he said, finally, voice rough like it had been hiding under a blanket all day. He was staring, his gaze flicking across your face like he was trying to memorize something. “Um. You look… warm.”

You paused, mid-quill unzip. “…Thank you?”

“I mean—like, not hot. Not like that. Not that you’re not—hot,” he said, voice rising an octave in panic. “I just meant… you have a scarf on. And, um. Sweater. Layers. Seasonally appropriate.”

You stared at him.

He stared back, a deer caught in wandlight.

“…Thank you,” you said again, trying not to laugh as you tucked your scarf a little tighter. “You’re very… observant.”

Mattheo let out a long, painful sigh and dropped his head onto the table with a thud. “I am so bad at this.”

You giggled, opening your notes. “At conversation?”

“At everything involving you,” he mumbled, forehead still pressed to the wood. “I swear Theo jinxed me. Or cursed my brain. Or poisoned my pumpkin juice.”

You tilted your head, lips twitching. “Is that what this is, then? Flirting?”

Mattheo’s head jerked up like you’d poured ice water down his back. His ears instantly went pink.

“I… I mean. I would, if I knew how,” he admitted, voice barely louder than a whisper.

You smiled — and not the usual, polite sort. No, this one was soft and quiet and just for him. You reached over and gently tapped your quill against his, like a tiny little kiss between ink-covered friends.

“Maybe I could teach you.”

Mattheo looked like he’d been hit with a Confundus charm. His cheeks were full-on red now — a deep, brilliant shade that made his freckles stand out like stars. He swallowed hard.

“Okay,” he said, almost shyly. “I’d really like that.”

Meanwhile, a few aisles down, Theo ducked behind a shelf of Magical Fungi Through the Ages and hissed into a rolled-up scroll like it was enchanted for secret messaging.

“Target is giggling. I repeat, Target is giggling. Operation Matty Falls in Love is in full motion.”

On the floor beneath a nearby table, Blaise sipped from a contraband coffee thermos and replied into his own scroll. “Phase shared library time: Confirmed. Proceeding to next phase: ‘Oops, our hands touched while reaching for the same mandrake diagram.’ Timing window: approximately five minutes.”

“Copy that,” came Draco’s voice from the far end, hidden behind a decorative tapestry and looking deeply unimpressed. “But if you make me read one more page of Herbal Sex Magic just for cover, I’m calling it off.”

“Worth it,” Blaise said, grinning.

Back at your table, you and Mattheo had actually managed to start reading through the research notes, though your knees kept bumping beneath the table, and each time they did, Mattheo jolted like he'd been hit with a Stinging Hex.

“So… Mandrake temperament shifts,” you said, glancing at him, trying to focus.

Mattheo nodded, looking determined. “Right. Mandrakes. Loud little bastards. Not romantic.”

You laughed softly. “You don’t have to keep pretending you’re not adorable.”

Mattheo blinked. “I—I’m not pretending. I mean—I am pretending. But only because you’re you.”

You tilted your head. “And what does that mean?”

He looked down at the parchment, fiddling with the corner of a page. “Means… I don’t want to mess it up. Being around you. It’s like…” He trailed off, glancing sideways, his voice a little hoarse. “It’s the only time I want to do things properly.”

You froze for a beat — not because he’d said anything loud or dramatic, but because it was genuine. Sweet. Scarily earnest, for someone who usually pretended he didn’t feel things. It made your heart thump, wild and soft and very, very real.

“Matty?” you said gently.

He glanced up, eyes wide.

“I think you’re doing just fine.”

He beamed. Blushed again. And you both bent your heads over the same page, shoulders nearly touching now.

Across the room, Theo silently held up a victory fist.

Blaise high-fived him behind a bookshelf with dramatic flair.

Draco sighed into his book.

#⋆. 𐙚 ˚ yua0ra’s works #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizarding world #harry potter #hp fanfic #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle oneshot #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo fluff

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lushleona · 3 months ago

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WICKED BOY. mattheo riddle.

mattheo riddle x fem!reader. part one. → part two.

summary ; part two of wicked game. words ; 4.9k warnings ; violence/fighting, mentions of blood, swearing, degradation/public-ish humiliation, light angst (?), read part one first or you’ll be confused!!

navigation. masterlist.

Monday comes with a beatdown you hadn’t prepared for.

The weekend passed by in an agonizingly slow fashion, like water dripping from a broken sink. After that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. It was like the air had thickened between you and Mattheo, and while you thought you might have been imagining it, the space between you two grew colder, quieter. He hadn’t come near you again after the door had slammed shut.

You hadn’t tried to reach out either. You knew better than to try when he was in that headspace. But he didn’t try either, and that was the hardest part to ignore.

The entire weekend, he avoided you. It was almost as though he’d vanished from your life completely, no brief encounters, no accidental brush of shoulders in the halls, no stolen moments in dark corners. Nothing. Just empty, awkward spaces filled with silence.

You never expected it to be easy, but this? This was different. This felt like a break. A real one, not the temporary disconnection that came with his usual emotional walls. He was deliberately keeping his distance, and you knew it. Like that night was different from all the others you’d spent together. Because you’d said things you couldn’t take back. Because he called you his and the word engraved itself into every part of your skin, into your brain and your heart.

Your first thoughts had been simple: maybe it was a fluke. Maybe he was still wrapped up in whatever demons had him spiraling every other time. But the longer it stretched on, the more you realized it wasn’t. He didn’t want to face what had happened; what he’d let slip out between you two. He couldn’t deal with it. You could tell by the way his eyes would dart away when you passed each other in the hall and it made you want to scream, because everything between you was supposed to be fucked-up—messy and painful, yes—but never this frozen.

You didn’t know what to think of it, couldn’t decide if you were pissed or relieved or even confused. You hadn’t expected him to want to talk about the night—God, no. But this? The silence? This left a taste of something more bitter in your mouth than you were ready to admit.

Still, you let him do his thing. You didn’t try to force anything, didn’t chase after him like some lost puppy. It was his game to play, and if he wanted to play it alone, then fine.

But the rumors, whispers, and sidelong glances? Those you can’t ignore.

You feel it the moment you step into the Great Hall.

At first, you think it’s your imagination. A bad night’s sleep, maybe. Residual nerves from how things were left hanging with Mattheo. Your brain playing tricks on you. But the longer it goes on, the harder it becomes to lie to yourself. The glances feel deliberate. The silence feels like teeth behind pursed lips.

You keep your head up as you make your way toward the Ravenclaw table, ignoring the heat crawling up the back of your neck. It’s not like you’re new to whispers. You’ve heard them before—especially since getting tangled up with Mattheo. But this is different. This isn’t the usual speculation. This feels… targeted.

You pick at your food disinterestedly, your appetite gone. Your instincts are screaming at you to fidget, to check your hair, to glance around at who’s staring, but you force yourself to stay still. There’s an underlying feeling of destruction, like the calm before the storm.

It’s not long before Rowan slides in beside you, his tray clinking against the wood a little louder than necessary. He doesn't greet you like he usually does, no quiet morning, no warm smile, and something about that already makes your stomach turn. He doesn’t look at you when he sits.

“Didn’t see you around much,” you say carefully, testing the waters.

Rowan hums, noncommittal. “Yeah, well. Busy weekend.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, watching the way his jaw tightens. His voice is calm, but there's something different in it, something off. It doesn't sound like him. Not the version of him you’ve come to know, at least.

“Right,” you murmur, trying not to frown. “Me too.”

Another silence stretches between you, made louder by the distant clatter of cutlery and low murmur of conversation all around you.

Then, he says, casually, “Glad to see you made it out of Riddle’s bed in time for breakfast.”

Your spoon clatters against your bowl, and your head snaps toward him. His voice is still light, almost playful, but you know sarcasm when you hear it—and you know Rowan. Or you thought you did.

“I— what?”

He finally turns to look at you, and there’s something sharp in his eyes. He doesn’t seem sad or even angry. Just plain… mean. “Nothing,” he says with a smirk. “Just impressed you’ve got the energy to sit upright after all that.”

Your stomach drops, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. You search his face for any trace of the boy who brought you tea when you were sick, ho let you fall asleep on his shoulder in the library, who told you you deserved better.

He shrugs when you don’t respond. “Guess I underestimated you.” He stabs a piece of egg and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. “You know,” he says between bites, “it’s funny. You used to blush just holding my hand. Acted like you were so sweet, so fucking innocent. Guess that was just for show.”

You blink, stunned. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

His eyes flick to yours, and for the first time, you see it clearly; resentment. Cold and coiled, pressed tight behind his teeth. “You tell me,” he says with a tight smile. “Seems like you had a pretty eventful night on Saturday. Or is it nights, plural? Can’t keep track of how many times you’ve fucked him, can you?”

Your breath catches in your throat. You feel the eyes on you before you even look around and it’s like your ears are ringing, blood rushing so fast you can barely hear over it. The laughter at nearby tables feels distant, distorted. You suddenly feel like you're glowing with heat, like shame is written across your forehead in neon.

You grit your teeth, voice cracking with disbelief. “Who told you that?”

He lets out a low chuckle. “You’d be surprised how many people saw you two in the hallway. Kind of hard to miss the way he shoved you up against the wall and then dragged you upstairs. Real subtle.”

Your face burns, the image hitting you like a slap—that moment. When everything had been a blur of want and desperation and pain, and now it was being dissected and passed around like a rumor.

“I didn’t think you were like that,” Rowan adds softly, mockingly. “But hey. Guess even the good girls like it rough sometimes.”

Without realizing, your hand falls to the table, the silverware clattering atop it, but he doesn’t even blink.

You want to say something, anything, but your mouth won’t cooperate, your throat feels thick. It’s the tone in his voice more than anything—the absence of empathy, the disdain dripping from every word.

Rowan tilts his head at you, eyes glittering like he’s happy in this fucked up moment. “Did you like it when he choked you? Bet you begged for it.”

Your stomach flips. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” you whisper, shocked.

He just smiles, looking satisfied.

You stare at him, jaw slack, breath shallow, like you’ve just been shoved under ice water. He’s enjoying this. Every word, every flinch you make, it’s like he’s waited for it, for the moment he could stop pretending.

“I don’t even know who the fuck you are right now,” you mutter, voice hoarse. “What is your problem?”

It’s a dumb question and you know it. His problem is that he found out he got played; even though that was never your intention. Still though, you’d never been exclusive with him.

Rowan doesn’t respond at first. He just reaches for his glass and takes a slow sip, as if you’re not sitting next to him, unraveling completely.

He shrugs again. “Maybe I got tired of playing dumb. Or maybe I just got tired of pretending to be into girls who let anyone shove them into a wall and fuck them in the hallway like a common whore.” Then, quietly, “I just didn’t realize I was still sharing you. Thought you were done fucking around with him ages ago.”

“I never promised you anything,” you bite out, your hands curling into fists under the table.

“Didn’t have to,” he says smoothly. “You made it pretty clear what kind of girl you were trying to be. Guess I was stupid enough to believe it.”

You suck in a breath. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“No, I didn’t. But I do now,” he scoffs

You feel something fracture in your chest, splintering out sharply like tree roots. He’s not yelling or making a scene. But somehow, that makes it worse. Every quiet insult feels like it was carefully sharpened before he slid it beneath your ribs.

“Tell me, does he talk to you after?” Rowan murmurs, leaning in like he’s sharing a secret. “Or does he just use you and toss you aside like the dirty little toy you are?”

You recoil like he’s slapped you, heart hammering. Those words hit harder than they should, not just because of what he’s saying, but because there’s a grain of truth in them. Because Mattheo did disappear after that night, because part of you does feel discarded, no matter how much you try to deny it.

Your throat is tight. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

Rowan grins, all teeth. “Why not? Is that what this is now? Are you his?”

You glare at him, tears slowly forming in your eyes. “You don’t get to speak to me like this.”

“Why not?” he repeats mockingly. “You weren’t so defensive when you were crawling into my lap last week.”

The blood drains from your face, and you know he knows exactly what he’s doing—dragging you out into the open, reminding you of every blurred line you crossed, every mistake you made, every choice that came back to haunt you.

Rowan leans back, stretching out like he’s finally comfortable now that he’s stripped you bare. “Don’t worry,” he says casually. “Everyone already knows. Just figured I’d help them get the full picture.”

Your heart’s beating so loud you almost miss it: the subtle shift in the atmosphere, the growing awareness of eyes turning toward your end of the table. Something is happening, something you’re on the cusp of, but not quite in yet. And then you hear a voice behind you, deep and familiar and already laced with warning. “What’s going on here?”

Your head snaps up.

Mattheo.

Your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

He stands a few feet away, dressed in a white button up with the wrinkled collar pulled down, his tie loose like he didn’t bother finishing the uniform properly. He looks the same—cold and unreadable—but there’s something simmering beneath the surface.

His eyes aren’t on Rowan. They’re on you, and they narrow slightly when he sees the way you’re sitting—rigid and small, like you’re trying to disappear into the bench, like you’ve been cornered. A lost puppy that’s been kicked to the curb. You don’t answer; you don’t have to.

Rowan doesn’t look away. Just lifts his chin in that smug, unbothered way he always did when he thought he was holding the high ground.

“Oh, hey,” Rowan says, as if they’re old friends bumping into each other on the street. “Didn’t see you there.”

Mattheo’s expression doesn’t change. “Yeah?” he says, voice flat. “Because you were too busy running your mouth?”

You feel Rowan stiffen slightly beside you, but he doesn’t back down. “Just having a little chat,” he replies smoothly. “Nothing she hasn’t heard before. Isn’t that right?”

His knee knocks into yours deliberately under the table and you shrink even further. Mattheo's gaze finally cuts to him and the weight of it is punishing. “Funny,” he says. “Doesn’t look like she’s enjoying the conversation.”

Rowan laughs under his breath. “You know, I always thought she was a better actress,” he says idly. “Sweet little thing, pretending to be shy, quiet, innocent. Turns out, she’s just like the rest of them. Just a slut, two-timing any guy dumb enough to get near her. Guess I should’ve known better, huh?”

You freeze, unsure whether your heart has stopped beating or if it’s just beating so fast that you can hardly feel it.

He says it like it’s a joke, like it’s nothing, but it makes your stomach drop. Mattheo doesn’t respond right away, just staring.

And then, voice low and almost casual—which is somehow even more worrisome—he says, “You want to say that again?”

The tension stretches tight across the table. Conversations around you slow, but still, no one moves. Rowan smiles, like he thinks he’s still in control of this. “I said she’s just like the rest of them,” he repeats. “Spreads her legs for the right guy with a tragic past and a pretty face, and suddenly thinks she’s got depth.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut because they’re so public.

You blink at your plate, vision blurring. You can’t speak, can’t breathe. Every cell in your body is screaming to disappear, but you’re stuck here, nailed in place by humiliation and rage and disbelief.

You feel it coming before anyone else does; the way Mattheo shifts gives it away, because he looks like a predator that’s done waiting.

But Rowan doesn’t see it coming. not until it’s too late. Not until Mattheo lunges.

He moves before anyone else even registers it. One second he’s standing a few feet away, and the next he’s got Rowan by the collar, dragging him up from the bench with a force that sends the surrounding students scrambling back. Your chair screeches against the stone floor as you jolt to your feet, heart hammering in your chest.

“Mattheo—” you start, voice catching, but he doesn’t even glance at you.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about her,” Mattheo snarls, leaning in close, his nose almost touching Rowan’s. “You think because she let you sit beside her at breakfast, because she was kind to you, you get to talk about her like that? She doesn’t owe you shit.”

“She sure gave you a lot more than kindness,” Rowan snaps, voice cracking under pressure. “Funny how fast she dropped her standards for someone like you.”

It’s not the insult to him that sets Mattheo off. It’s the way Rowan looks at you when he says it, as if you're nothing, as if he didn’t sit beside you every morning for weeks acting like you were worth something.

He yanks Rowan forward, slamming him down flat against the table. Plates clatter, a cup tips and spills pumpkin juice across someone’s bag, and students on either side scramble to get out of the way as Mattheo leans over the bench in front of you and drives his palm down into Rowan’s chest to keep him pinned. His other hand curls into a fist and crashes down into Rowan’s jaw again, then again, and again.

“You don’t fucking talk about her like that,” he snarls, loud enough for the whole hall to hear. “You think you can run your mouth and get away with it? Huh?”

Rowan’s nose is gushing blood now, pooling across the table and staining his sleeve as he tries to wipe it away. He’s trying to twist away, kicking wildly, but Mattheo has him locked down with brutal efficiency, the muscles in his back flexed tight beneath his shirt, eyes wild.

“You don’t fucking look at her. You don’t think about her.”

“Mattheo—” you try again, voice breaking, but he’s in his own world. You’re not sure he can even hear you.

“You think you know anything about her?” he growls, punching him again so hard the entire table shakes. “You don’t know fucking shit.”

By now, nearly the entire Great Hall is watching. Some are too stunned to react while others are happily watching, a few shouting for a professor, but no one moves fast enough. Mattheo is a storm let loose, and he’s not done.

“Say it again,” he hisses, yanking Rowan’s head up by the hair just enough so he can slam it back down again. “Go on. Call her a slut again. I fucking dare you.”

Rowan makes a weak, garbled sound, but there’s no wit left in his voice. No clever jabs or smug grins. He’s bleeding, dazed, his face turned to the side and his cheek mashed against the wood as Mattheo grips him like he’s seconds away from doing something far worse.

You’re frozen, heart in your throat, hands shaking, half in awe and half horrified. You should stop him, say something, pull him back, but the truth is, you’re not sure you could even reach him like this. And some part of you, the darker part you usually try to deny, doesn't want to, because for once, he’s not ignoring you. For once, you’re not invisible, not an afterthought or a regret. He’s fighting for you—even if it’s brutal and fucked up and probably going to get him suspended.

You’re not the only one who sees it. The whole school is watching now, and Mattheo still doesn’t let go.

A few feet away, Professor McGonagall is storming down the center aisle, wand in hand, her voice loud and sharp as she shouts for order, but Mattheo doesn’t hear her. Not until someone physically pulls him off—Theo, or maybe it was Blaise—you’re not even sure anymore with the blood pounding in your ears.

Rowan’s crumpled on the floor, face red and already swelling, nose likely broken, and the crowd that had gathered is slowly beginning to part as professors rush in. Mattheo is breathing heavily, arms restrained but eyes still locked on Rowan like he’s ready to go another round.

And you… you're in shock.

You don't know where to look. Not at Rowan, who’s groaning on the floor like a victim, not at the dozens of students staring at you like you’re the reason any of this happened, and definitely not at Mattheo, whose face, still burning with fury, softens only when he glances at you, like he just remembered why he started swinging in the first place.

Mattheo’s gaze lingers on you even as Professor McGonagall finally snaps him out of it with a barked command. He tears his eyes away, jaw locked tight as he lets himself be hauled out of the hall, blood smeared across his knuckles like war paint.

You don’t move; you can’t.

Everything feels muted, the noise, the movement, even your own thoughts. The only thing you register is the hollow pit in your stomach and the unmistakable burn of too many eyes on you.

Mattheo doesn’t look back at you as he’s escorted out of the Great Hall, but your feet are moving anyway, like they’re tethered to him. You duck away from the Ravenclaw table and slip through the crowd before anyone else can corner you. The last thing you want is pity, or worse: judgment.

You don’t go to class. You don’t go to your dorm. You just wander—through empty corridors and abandoned staircases, trying to will the rush of everything to slow down. Your hands are still trembling, heart still rattling too hard against your ribs.

You don’t know what he was thinking or why he did it. You don’t know if it made things better or infinitely worse, but the only thing you know for certain is this: you need to talk to him.

By the time you find him, it’s nearly dusk. The sky is tinged in a soft purple and the castle is quieter now, students lowly chattering in the halls. He’s sitting on a low bench in a corridor not far from the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, knuckles scraped raw.

You stop a few feet away, unsure what to say. He doesn’t look up at first, like he sensed you before he saw you, so you wait, heart caught somewhere in your throat.

Finally, he speaks. “They gave me two weeks' detention.”

You breathe out softly. “Not surprised.”

His tongue presses to the inside of his cheek, still avoiding your eyes. “I’m guessing they gave him nothing.”

“He’s playing the victim.”

Silence stretches between you again. He picks at the skin around his knuckles, where it’s torn and scabbed, like he doesn’t know how to sit still in his own body.

You take a tentative step forward. “Why’d you do it?”

This time, his eyes flick to yours, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t answer right away, but the look he gives you is enough to make your pulse jump. It’s not anger or guilt, but rather something far messier; something you know because you feel it too.

He sighs through his nose and stands up, slow and stiff like his body aches all over. “Come on.”

You blink, eye filling with surprise but following his movements nonetheless. “Where?”

He starts walking. “Somewhere we won’t be watched like animals in a fucking zoo.”

He leads you down a winding staircase that opens into one of the empty classrooms no one uses anymore, dusty and quiet, the windows hazy with spiderwebs. The door clicks shut behind you, and then there’s just silence again, thick and heavy, humming with everything unspoken.

He leans against the edge of the old professor’s desk, arms crossed, gaze low. You stay standing, unsure whether to scream at him or fall into his chest.

“You shouldn’t’ve done that,” you say, even though you’re not sure you believe it.

His jaw twitches, a show of emotion that you can’t read no matter how hard you try. “He shouldn’t’ve fucking said it.”

“He was being a dick, yeah, but— Mattheo, you beat him in front of everyone.”

“I know.”

“Everyone’s talking.”

“I know.”

You press your lips together, trying to hold back the tide of emotion surging up your throat. Anger, confusion, a quiet, painful swell of something that feels like hope but could just as easily be heartbreak.

He finally looks at you—really looks—and whatever flickers behind his eyes in that moment, it’s raw, unfiltered. It cuts you open.

“You defended me.”

His brows furrow, corners of his lips turning down in a slight frown and his eyes softening, as though he’s devastated that you would ever think he wouldn’t defend you, but then he quickly realizes that he hasn’t given you a single reason to trust him. His eyes harden again, turning into that emotionless shell you’ve gotten so used to staring into.

“It wasn’t like that.”

The mask is back up, and you notice instantly.

“No. No, don’t do that. Don’t you fucking dare block me out, Mattheo. Not right now when we need to talk more than ever.”

His eyes stay solid, not allowing you to see into his mind, but inside, his heart is beating wildly and rapidly, slamming around the walls of his ribcage with a violent fervor, like it’s trying to break free. Trying to break free so it can land in your hands, leaving you to do with it as you please.

Whether that meant tearing it viciously by the seams or gently stitching the bloodied, broken thing up, he didn’t care. Not as long as it was you.

“You think I don’t want to talk to you?” His voice comes out quiet, dangerous—not in the way that scares you, but in the way that tells you he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I haven’t been going fucking mad thinking about it?”

“Then why didn’t you?” you shoot back, your own voice trembling with heat. “Why didn’t you say anything? Not even a look. You acted like I didn’t exist after— after the other night.”

He exhales through his nose, slow and sharp, like it stings to breathe. “Because I didn’t know what the fuck to say.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“I know it’s not.”

You clench your fists at your sides. “You don’t get to pick and choose when you care, Mattheo. You don’t get to touch me like that and say things like ‘you’re mine’ and then just disappear.”

He looks at you then, and it’s almost unbearable—like staring directly into a storm of lightening. “You think I disappeared because I don’t care?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you admit, voice cracking. “I don’t know where I stand with you, what I mean to you, if I mean anything to you outside of sex.”

His lips part, like he wants to argue, but no words come out, instead swallowing hard, running a hand through his hair and gripping the back of his neck like it hurts to hold his own head up.

“You mean—” he starts, then cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Fuck. You mean too much.”

Your breath catches, but he keeps talking before you can say anything.

“I was trying to protect it. Whatever it is. However fucked up and fragile and wrong it feels sometimes. Because if I said it out loud, it wouldn’t just be mine anymore. It’d be real. And real things…” He glances away, jaw clenched. “Real things die.”

Something in your chest twists painfully. “So you’d rather hurt me first. Shut me out before I get the chance.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just presses the heel of his palm into his eye like he’s trying to force the feelings back inside. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.

“And I do?” you say, stepping closer. “Do you think I’m not scared too? That I haven’t spent every second since the first time we touched wondering if I made it all up— if you felt anything at all?”

“I did.” The words rip out of him like they physically hurt. “I do.”

You take one more step forward, enough that you’re right in front of him now, your voice softening just slightly. “Then show me, Mattheo. Let me in. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be fucking honest.”

He stares at you like you’ve asked him to do the hardest thing in the world. And maybe, to him, you have. “I’m not good for you,” he says finally, quiet and hoarse. “I’m selfish and angry and half of me is still living in a world that’s gone.”

“I don’t need you to be good,” you whisper. “I just need you to be real.”

He’s still for a long moment. Then, finally, his hands come up—tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away—but when you don’t, they settle on your waist. His forehead dips to yours, and you feel his breath hitch against your skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already have,” you murmur. “But I’m still here.”

He swallows hard, and his voice breaks on the next words. “I don’t know how to fix that.”

You press your palms to his chest, right over where his heart thuds violently under your touch. “Then let’s just start with not running.”

Mattheo’s brow furrows against yours, and his breath shudders out of him, uneven, like the effort to stay composed is too heavy for him. “I’m not built for this,” he says finally. “For… feelings. For closeness. I didn’t think I’d even survive the war, let alone be standing here trying to— fuck, trying to care about someone.”

You don’t say anything, just letting the words hang there, heavy and tender between you.

“I’m angry all the time,” he continues, voice low and frayed. “I’m paranoid. I wake up in the middle of the night convinced I’m still bleeding. And when you look at me like that—” he cuts himself off, eyes flicking to yours, “like I’m worth saving— it makes me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“You’re not,” you whisper. “You’re just scared.”

He nods slowly, jaw working, and you can tell he’s holding back a thousand things. But when he speaks again, it’s softer. “You make me want things I told myself I could never have. Peace, safety… you.”

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, and he lifts his hand to brush it away, gentle this time, his thumb swiping under your eye with a kind of reverence you didn’t know he was capable of.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

“You don’t have to be anything right now,” you say quietly. “You just have to try.”

He looks at you like you’ve just asked him to step out onto ice he’s sure will crack beneath him, but then, slowly, his hand finds yours. He laces your fingers together, his palm rough against yours, but his grip tentative and unsure. The squeeze is barely there, but it’s real, just to say: I’m here. I’m trying.

You look down at your joined hands, and then back up at him. He looks away quickly, like he can’t bear to see the expression on your face, but you squeeze his hand, grounding him, and he doesn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet.”

You smile, soft and bittersweet. “Then don’t make me regret it.”

His thumb brushes across the back of your hand, almost absentminded, and for the first time in what feels like months, the tension in your chest loosens even if just a little.

Not everything is fixed, but something is starting.

And for now, that’s enough.

reminder that reblogs, feedback, and comments are very appreciated and make me smile :)

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