#stalker!mattheo

[yua0ra]

𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐬 𝐐𝐮𝐨

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

WARNINGS: stalker!mattheo x slytherin!fem!reader, creepy mattheo, stealing, invasion of space, slightly dark, obsessed mattheo, SFW, not proofread, english is not my first language. miscellaneous ☆

SUMMARY: Mattheo just can’t help it… he aches for you, he feels for you, he wants you. However, the only way to be able to tame those feelings is by getting a hold of you, whether thats physically or mentally, he doesn’t care.

WC: 3.1K AN: I would love to turn this into a series, what do you think?

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It’s wrong. So wrong. He knows it deep down, but his obsession overrides his logic. He wants to know everything about you—what makes you laugh, what keeps you up at night, what scents you love most.

The moment his fingers graze the cool, worn wood of your dormitory door, his heart pounds so loudly he swears someone must hear it. He pauses, forehead resting against the door for a brief second, his chest heaving as he struggles to calm his racing breath. That faint trace of your scent lingers in the air—soft, warm, and unmistakably you—and it pulls him in, headfirst, deeper than ever.

He tells himself, like he does every time, that this is the last time. Mattheo convinces himself that he’ll walk away, forget the weight of your presence, the pull of his obsession. But the darkness inside him whispers otherwise. His fingers tighten around the handle, and before he can stop himself, the door clicks open.

Stepping inside, Mattheo freezes, letting the stillness of your private room settle over him like a cloak. It’s quiet here, safe, untouched by the chaos of the castle beyond. Everything about this space is yours.

Intoxicating.

His eyes scan the room, drinking in every detail.

Your desk catches his attention first, a small chaotic corner that somehow still feels meticulously yours. A half-written essay sits beneath an open inkpot, surrounded by scattered quills and parchment. Books, their spines cracked from use, are piled carelessly to the side. He steps closer, his fingers trailing along the edge of the desk. The faint scent of parchment and ink mingles with the soft, citric notes of your perfume, and his breath increases uncontrollably, letting it settle inside him like a drug.

He stands, his jaw tight as he clenches his fists to stop himself from doing something even worse than curiously examine—something he couldn’t come back from. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t even think like this. But your existence has thrown him into chaos, and he’s never been one to walk away from destruction.

I mean, he’s crossing boundaries that would shatter any trust you had in him if you found out. But he’s far past the point of caring.

Your wardrobe catches his attention next. He hesitates, his hand hovering over the handle as his breath quickens. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows this is a line he can’t uncross, but the temptation is suffocating. Slowly, he pulls it open.

Inside, your clothes hang neatly in a row, each piece carrying your personality. His eyes roam over them, lingering too long. His fingers ghost over the fabric of your favorite jumper, the one he’s seen you wear on lazy mornings in the common room. He takes it off the hanger, holds it to his face, and inhales deeply, his jaw clenching as the scent overwhelms him. It’s intoxicating, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, letting himself imagine you wearing it, imagine you here, just inches away.

Moving to the drawers his hands make it over the more delicate tops. The ones you wear strictly with straight-leg jeans. The ones that you wear without a bra, because it makes you uncomfortable. The ones where every time he looks at you, he feels dizzy and restless, wishing you would wear them only for him.

A glint of something on your nightstand catches his eye, pulling him out of the haze. He sets the tops down carefully, almost reverently, and crosses the room. There, resting beside a half-finished book, is a small vial of your perfume. His fingers wrap around it, and he brings it to his nose, pressing the glass against his lips before admiring the delicate bottle. He feels like a thief, stealing pieces of you, but the thrill of it—the wrongness of it—makes his pulse race.

Mattheo gives up on the compulsion.

His fingers trail over the smooth surface, brushing against a stray quill and a crumpled scrap of parchment. The parchment bears faint traces of your delicate strokes, loops and lines that seem as intimate as a whisper. He picks it up and smooths it between his fingers, turning it over as if it will reveal some hidden secret about you. It doesn’t—it’s just a small sketch of a thestral, but that doesn’t stop him from folding it neatly and slipping it into the pocket of his blazer.

He turns to your bed, the final corner of your private sanctuary. The sheets are slightly rumpled, as if you’d been curled up there not long ago, and the thought sends a jolt of something crazy through him. He kneels beside the bed, his breathing shallow, as his fingers trail over the edge of the blanket, feeling the softness.

The air around the bed feels heavier somehow, like it holds the lingering warmth of you. His hand tightens on the fabric as he imagines you here—how you must curl up, how your head must rest against the pillow, the way you must look when you drift off to sleep, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through his mind right now.

Mattheo leans forward, his forehead nearly brushing the mattress, his dark curls falling into his eyes. The faintest trace of you clings to the fabric, subtle but unmistakable. It’s enough to make his pulse quicken, his chest rising and falling with shallow, unsteady breaths. He can’t stop himself from pressing his face into the blanket, letting the scent fill his senses. It’s maddeningly intimate, a glimpse into a world he knows he shouldn’t have access to, and yet here he is.

He stays like that for a moment, his hands clutching the blanket, his body rigid with the weight of his obsession. The logical part of him—the part that knows this is crossing every line imaginable—is drowned out by the darker part, the part that craves this closeness.

Sitting back on his heels, Mattheo’s eyes drift to the pillow, slightly indented where your head must have rested. His throat tightens, and before he knows it, he reaches out, his fingers brushing the edge of the pillowcase. It feels like touching a piece of you, a physical connection to the person who consumes his every waking thought.

Then he feels it.

The small leather-bound book lies partially hidden beneath loose parchment and messy sheets as if you’d meant to keep it safe but couldn’t bring yourself to tuck it too far away. Mattheo stops breathing for a moment, his gaze locked on it. He knows what it is. He’s seen you writing in it before, your brow furrowed in concentration, your quill moving furiously as though the words were spilling out faster than you could capture them.

Your poetry book.

Mattheo swallows hard, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches for it. His fingers brush against the cover, the leather soft and worn beneath his touch. He knows this is wrong—this is the most personal thing you own, a piece of your soul laid bare on paper—but the thought only fuels the fire burning inside him. He can’t stop himself.

Sliding the book out from under the parchment, he sinks further into your bed, cradling it in his hands. The cover creaks softly as he opens it, his eyes scanning the first page. Your handwriting is familiar—messy, rushed in places, but beautiful. The words feel alive, raw, like they’ve been ripped straight from your heart.

The first poem stops him in his tracks. It’s about longing—aching for something you can’t have, feeling isolated in a world that doesn’t quite fit. It’s so vulnerable, so real, that it makes his chest tighten painfully. His thumb grazes the corner of the page as he reads it again, slower this time, savoring every word.

Mattheo’s breathing is shallow now, his mind spinning as he turns to the next page, then the next. Every poem is a window into your soul, revealing pieces of you no one else gets to see. He feels like a thief, but that darker part of him—the part that craves you so desperately—feels something else entirely. Possession.

This is more than just words on a page. This is you. Your dreams, your fears, your quiet moments of joy and despair. Every line draws him deeper into your world, and he knows he’s crossing a line he can never come back from.

He forces himself to stop, his fingers tightening around the edges of the book. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t even be here. But the thought of leaving it behind, of walking away from this piece of you, is unbearable.

Standing abruptly, Mattheo clutches the book to his chest, his jaw clenched as he makes his decision. He can’t leave it. Not now. Not after this.

For a moment, he wonders what you’d do if you walked in right now. Would you scream? Would you demand answers? Would you even begin to understand the depths of his need for you? The thought makes him shiver, a twisted combination of fear and desire coursing through him.

He pushes himself up from the welcoming mattress, the room spinning slightly as he forces himself to step back from the bed. His gaze lingers on it for a moment longer, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It’s too much. This room, this space, this proximity to you—it’s all too much.

But as he glances down at the poetry book clutched in his hand, he feels the smallest flicker of satisfaction. He has this. He has a piece of you. And as he slips out of your room, the blanket’s softness and your scent still imprinted in his mind, he knows he’ll return.

He always does.

Mattheo’s heart pounds as he walks down the quiet corridors, each step feeling heavier than the last. His mind races with the memory of your room, can’t wait to get to his own.

When he reaches his dorm, he pauses at the door, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He’s alone now—completely alone, save for the things he’s brought with him.

The door creaks open slowly, and Mattheo steps inside. The room is dimly lit, shadows curling in the corners. His gaze falls on the small desk by the window, cluttered with papers and books.

His hands tremble as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the scrap of parchment you’d drawn on. He unfolds it slowly, as though it’s fragile, precious, a window into your world that he can’t let go of. His eyes scan the animal, though e meaning is incomprehensible to him now—he’s too caught up in the sensation of touching something that’s been close to you.

He sits at the edge of the bed, staring down at the bottle once again, his fingers dancing over it as if it’s a lifeline. He lifts it, unscrewing the cap carefully, and holds it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Your scent wraps around him, pulls him deeper into the haze.

His body feels too hot, too tight, like he’s on the edge of something he can’t undo. He pulls a curl of hair to his lips, thinking, feeling the strange thrill of it all—of possessing something that isn’t his. He thinks of what it would be like to see you walk into this very room, to watch you notice the way the room feels different, like it’s already been touched by you, even if you haven’t stepped foot inside. He shudders at the thought, his mind unraveling as he pictures your face, the way you would look at him if you knew what he was doing.

His hand grips the bottle tighter, his breath shallow. The craving gnaws at him, an ache he can’t soothe. With a shaking hand, he presses the nozzle and sprays your scent across his bed. A mist of it settles over the sheets, sinking into the fabric, clinging to his pillows. He moves to his blanket, his motions erratic but deliberate, until the air around him is saturated with you.

The scent invades his senses, filling the room, wrapping around him like an invisible tether. It isn’t enough, though. It never is. He sprays more, this time over his pajamas, soaking the thin fabric until he’s enveloped in the faint, exiting trace of you.

Mattheo lowers the bottle, his chest heaving as he takes it all in. His room feels different now, transformed. It’s no longer just his space—it’s yours, or at least, a warped imitation of it. He falls onto the bed, burying his face in the silky pillow. His hands clutch at the sheets, his fingers curling into the fabric as though they’re grasping for something tangible, something real.

He closes his eyes, his mind painting vivid images of you. He imagines you lying here instead of him, the scent wrapping around you as naturally as it clings to him now. He imagines how your hair would splay across the pillow, how your breathing would slow as you drifted to sleep. The image is so vivid it almost feels real, but the emptiness beside him quickly shatters the illusion.

The need claws at him, relentless and unyielding. He presses his face deeper into the pillow, inhaling again, the scent triggering that dark, possessive part of him. It soothes him and drives him mad all at once, fueling his obsession.

“I need you,” he whispers into the stillness, his voice raw, barely audible. The words hang in the air, unanswered.

Mattheo lies there for hours, unable to move, unwilling to let go of this fragile, stolen piece of you. The scent is fading now, sinking into the room, becoming part of it, part of him. And though he knows this moment won’t last, he clings to it, desperate to keep this connection alive, no matter how twisted it may be.

- ★、

Meanwhile, you make your way back to your dorm, all you can think about is sinking into your bed and letting the quiet of your private space wash over you. The familiar creak of the stairs under your feet is oddly comforting, a reminder that you’re almost there.

When you reach your door, you pause, hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, an inexplicable unease settles over you, like a faint whisper brushing the back of your mind. You glance around the corridor, but it’s empty—just as it always is this time of day. Shaking off the strange feeling, you twist the handle and step inside.

The room greets you like it always does, with the same quiet stillness you’ve come to cherish. Your desk is cluttered but familiar, your bed slightly unmade, your books and trinkets scattered in the way only you understand. Everything seems… normal.

And yet, something feels off.

You stand there for a moment, your bag still slung over your shoulder, scanning the room without really knowing why. The air feels heavier, thicker somehow, as if the walls themselves are holding their breath. You brush the thought aside and step further in, dropping your bag onto the chair by the desk.

The scent of your perfume lingers faintly in the air, but it’s stronger than usual, as if you’d just sprayed it moments ago. You chalk it up to your imagination, or maybe you’d applied a bit too much this morning. Either way, it’s not enough to hold your attention for long.

Still, as you move through the room, that strange unease lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You shake your head, trying to laugh it off. “Relax babe… you’re just tired,” you mutter to yourself, the sound of your voice oddly reassuring in the quiet space.

You quickly change into your pijamas sinking onto your bed, letting out a sigh as you get comfortable. But as you lay back, staring up at the ceiling, a strange thought crosses your mind, unbidden and unsettling.

It feels like someone’s been here.

You try to dismiss it, closing your eyes and letting out a slow breath. It’s just the exhaustion talking, you tell yourself. Just your mind playing tricks on you after a long day.

And then—something catches your eye.

Your nightstand. It’s just across the room, simple and familiar, the little lamp on top casting soft shadows across the wood. But now, something feels different about it. The surface seems emptier than it should be.

You blink, leaning forward slightly. Your bottle of perfume—the one you’ve had for months, the expensive one, the one you treat like a small treasure—isn’t there.

The realization hits you in a jolt. You sit up quickly, a cold shiver running down your spine as you stare at the empty spot where the bottle should be. No, you didn’t misplace it. You remember exactly where you left it, right there, beside your lamp, the last thing you’d seen before heading out this morning.

Your mind races, a swirl of disbelief and confusion. Did I move it? No. You’re certain you didn’t.

You get up, your legs feeling heavy as you approach the nightstand, your pulse quickening. You touch the spot where the bottle used to sit, half-expecting to feel the familiar glass beneath your fingers, but there’s nothing. It’s as if it vanished into thin air.

The more you think about it, the more impossible it seems. The perfume isn’t just any bottle—it was a gift, something ridiculously expensive that you’d saved up for months to buy. It’s not the kind of thing you’d lose or forget. And yet, there it is—gone.

A cold lump forms in your throat as the unease from earlier comes flooding back, stronger now, twisting into something darker, more pressing. Your heart beats faster as your gaze flits to the rest of the room. The sense that something is out of place, something you can’t quite put your finger on, tightens around you like a vice.

You stand there, frozen, unsure of what to do. The silence of the room feels suffocating now, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Every part of you wants to believe you’re just imagining things, that it’s all in your head. But the missing perfume—that’s real.

Suddenly, a thought strikes you like a punch to the gut. Did someone take it?

The thought is absurd, impossible, but the longer you stand there, the more real it feels. Someone’s been in your room. Someone’s touched your things. And the creeping feeling that something—someone—is watching you tightens its grip.

You step back, the weight of the room closing in on you. You don’t know who or why, but one thing is clear: this isn’t just a weird feeling anymore. Something’s happening. Something that makes you feel, for the first time, truly unsafe in your own space.

Your eyes flick to the door, but it feels miles away. Every nerve in your body screams at you to do something—to search, to leave, to figure out what’s happening. But you stand there, rooted to the spot, as the unsettling truth sinks in: someone has been here, and it’s not just the perfume they’ve taken.

It’s you. Your privacy. Your space. Your peace. And now, it’s all slipping through your fingers.

[onlytenkos]

࣪ introducing stalker!mattheo˖ new au…

stalker!mattheo… who places claim on you the moment he lays eyes on you. slowly falling deeper into his own madness and obsession as the days go on, vowing to never let you out of his grasp, even if you don’t even know that you’re in it yet.

"The world isn't ready to see who I would become if this-" his thumb pressed on her pounding pulse "— ever stops."

stalker!mattheo… who is violent beyond belief when it comes to you, willing to kill or hurt anyone who disrespects you in the slightest. keeping dark eyes on you at all moments of the day and night, in silent promises to keep you his own twisted version of “safe”…

“I want you to be mine. Selfishly, thoughtlessly, mine.”

stalker!mattheo… who would willingly do ungodly things for your eyes to grace him even for just a moment. basking in the glory that is your attention.

“I never craved attention, until i tasted yours.”

stalker!mattheo… who acts as calm as he possibly can when meeting you for the first time, flashing dashing smiles, and charming winks but giving away how twisted he truly is in his soul with how his eyes glimmer at you in such malicious ways that he doesn’t even realize himself.

“I can lose everything, but not you… Oh god, not you…”

inspired by miss @nottsangel !

[deadghosy]

𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐍

pair: stalker!mattheo x fem!reader

genre: headcannons

Warning: slight suggestive, might be dark themes, murdering, kidnapping, and killing mentions.

inspired by @blondwhowrites 🫶🏾

Stalker!mattheo who sneaks into your dorm taking your underwear. He stuffs them in his pocket to feel closer to you

Stalker!mattheo who would kill any guy you date just so you can focus on him soon.

Stalker!mattheo who would kidnap you, break your mind into thinking he’s your savior and the only one you need.

Stalker!mattheo who could just rant about how you are his goddess and divine piece to his heart towards his friends. His friends are slightly concerned.

Stalker!mattheo who would never try to steal from your dorm room if you were sleeping. He may be a good stalker, but not the best stealthy person in the slightest.

Stalker!mattheo who does smell your underwear, clothes, sheets. You name it. The more he smells your perfume and natural scents. The better he is to track you down…

Stalker!mattheo who goes insane at the thought of someone else claiming you. He breaks down mentally, chewing the side of his mouth. He can’t help but what to break the person’s bone and their entire body.

Stalker!mattheo who would kill for you. He would die for you. Anything for you darling.

Stalker!mattheo who is obsessed with you to an extent where he may collect your toothbrush. Don’t ask what he does to it.

Stalker!mattheo who does smile when you look at him. He has a goofy smile to his face.

Stalker!mattheo who likes to think of the dynamic between you two is Hunter and prey.

Stalker!mattheo who has millions of pictures decked out in a hidden chest he bought so he can store the pictures.

Stalker!mattheo who had one time murdered a guy because he was being a douche. He can’t have that near you, not even the slightest chance.

Stalker!mattheo who watches you from afar. Breathing heavy at how beautiful you look from afar.

Stalker!mattheo who wouldn’t dare to hurt you. He can’t possibly think of hurting his princess.

Stalker!mattheo who always rushes to sit by you but never talk to you.

Stalker!mattheo who does lay in your bed when you aren’t there. Sniffing your perfume that drives him wild. He’s a sick bastard

Stalker!mattheo who could just ask you out after stalking your for years. But he gets all into a nervous wreck. You’re so gorgeous.

Stalker!mattheo who follow you from afar. Making sure you can’t see him in the shadows.

Stalker!mattheo who does pray on the downfalls of your so called “crushes.” But he might as well be the downfall when they show up missing to classes

Stalker!mattheo who watches you sleep. Your sleeping face would be the face he would wake up when he gets you one day.

[xoblondie]

Girls don’t want flowers.

Girls want Dark!Mattheo Riddle, stalking their every move when they are out with their friends. Lurking in the shadows. Slinking past you in large crowds. Sending shivers down your back as you feel like you’re being watched. All while your friends drag you into stores, oblivious to the eyes on them. They tell you that you’re just being paranoid and have you try on seductive clothing, that show off your curves, to get your mind off of those feelings. When you return back home empty-handed and late in the night, you open your bedroom to find the pretty clothes folded nicely on your bed (including extra lacey undergarments) with a note from your assumed stalker.

My pretty girl deserves the prettiest of clothes.

I can’t wait to see you in these Darling.

-M

<3

You would be terrified at the fact you were right, someone had been watching you. And he had broken in, knowing where you lived before you had even returned from your day. But as you hold up the clothing to your body, a smile forms on your lips. A smile that does not go unseen by Mattheo as he watches you from the small camera he planted in your room.

After all, he had to make sure you were safe, no matter where you were!

A/N: hey luvs!!! Happy October! I’m kinda posting this cuz guess who’s in the ER… hoping I’m out tomorrow though (I’m lowkey about to DoorDash food here omfg)

[slytherinsrule89]

them as your stalker !!!

Here you go lovely :) sorry it took so long

Tom

So many pictures of you in his dorm

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

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

He’ll know more about yourself than you do

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

Watches you sleep quite frequently

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

Blaise

He wants you to know he’s your stalker

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

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

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

Mostly your underwear

He’ll watch you through your window most times

Even going as far as putting a peephole in your bathroom

Theo

Insanely good at being low radar

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

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

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

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

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

Mattheo

Mattheo makes it quite obvious he’s stalking you

Always asking you about things you’ve never told anyone

Catching him staring 24/7

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

You started finding small cameras in your bedroom and bathroom

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

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

Enzo

Now Enzo on the other hand is very inconspicuous

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

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

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

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

[rotthepoet]

LMAO stalker!matty would be like "awww you’re afraid he’s gonna steal more of your panties? don’t worry baby girl, you can keep them at my place. i’ll keep ‘em safe 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻" and they’re covered in cum literally the next day

LMAOAKAHAIAHJA THIS MADE ME GIGGLE OUT LOUDDD

literally he’s so fucking obvious about it after you move in with him. He’s literally stopping and smelling your hair occasionally, “Oh you just smell good, dont worry about it.” Like wtf?? And he is SO creeping on you when youre changing, peering through the door you accidentally left cracked open.

Not realistic at all because Matty would NEVER let you be alone with another guy(“what if hes uour stalker and im not around to help?”) but If you somehow meet a guy you like during this time and go to your “old room” for privacy, mattheo will quite literally set the bedsheets on fire the next night and leave a singed note that says “hes next” Just to make a point!!! Hes so silly

[mysmuttyy]

VIRGIN

NERVES RUSH THROUGHOUT MY BODY, heart slamming against my chest. I inhale a deep breath, backing away from the tall man with the intimidating stare.

He laughs, only getting closer to me. Strong arms wrap around my waist, holding me still against his abs. “Scared?” Mattheo asks, smirking at me.

I shake my head at him, squirming to get free of his grip. He laughs again, only holding me tighter than before.

“I wanna know what you meant by that..” I whisper out, voice shaky. He lifts me up, placing me on the edge of the grass, feet still dangling in the water. “I know a lot more than you think i know, y/n.” He confesses, watching my eyes widen once again.

“Do you remember when Cho Chang called me a creep?” He asks, hands rested on the skin of my pale thighs. Breaths get caught in my throat, my only response being a slow nod.

“Do you remember punching her in the mouth?”

I lower my head, eyes focusing on either veiny hand rested against me. My heart flips, teeth digging into my bottom lip.

Butterflies stride around my stomach, stealing my confidence with each flutter of their wings. I’m sure the whole world shakes due to the thump of my heartbeat.

“I think that might’ve been when my obsession for you started, princess.” He says, tone dark and serious. My eyes flicker back to his and I’m no longer able to hold back any emotions, throwing myself right at him.

He kisses back, lips twisting with mine. Mattheo’s tongue grazes past my teeth, pushing at my tongue for dominance. I laugh in his mouth, wrapping my arms around him.

My fingers get tangled in his soft curls, pulling roughly at them. He moans in my mouth, strong hand pushing my thighs apart. I moan, hands rushing to his back.

He smiles into my mouth as I glide my hands along his soft, bulky skin. “Wanna know something?” I ask, pulling away from his lips.

Our eyes lock, once again and he nods. I smirk up at him, pulling his hand further down my thigh. His brows raise at my actions, clothed boner throbbing against me.

“I’ve been obsessed with you since second year, as well.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. I watch his chest rise, beautiful sounds falling from his mouth. “What’s so funny, huh?” I question, pressing my hand to his bulge.

I palm over him, smiling innocently as I bat my eyelashes. He groans, dropping his head into my chest. Lips press against my skin, soft kisses being placed on every piece of skin he can get to.

“You don’t think I know about your obsession?” He asks, moaning in between his sentence. I tug at his wet shorts, desperately attempting to pull them off him.

He pushes my hand away from him, catching his boxers in his pants. I toss them behind me, smiling at his cock that springs up to his belly button.

Pre cum leaks from his tip, giving me something to lather it with. I wrap my hand around him, staring up at him still.

“I felt your stares everywhere I went.” He speaks, swallowing his moans. I roll my eyes at him, reminding him of the way he’d stare more than I would.

The man bucks his hips, desperate for me to satisfy him. “Put it inside.” He demands, dark voice doing things to me. I roll my eyes, looking down at the denim shorts I wear.

He nods, quickly understanding me. My panties get caught in my shorts, just like his boxers got caught in his. A pretty pink tip slides along my folds, pre cum making me even wetter.

My nails dig into his back, whining at his teasing movements. He laughs above me, holding onto my hips. I lean down, wrapping my hand around it once again.

I push him inside me, eyes closing at the feeling of his girth pushing inside me. “I knew that you stalked me, Theo.” I moan out, throwing my head back.

He rolls his eyes, “Is that why you got naked any chance you could and made sure your legs were spread, just a little when you touched yourself?”

I wrap my legs around his torso, squeezing my thighs around his body. The man heaves, chest rising with deep moans.

I roll my eyes at him, “Perhaps, I wanted you to come in and fuck me?” I taunt.

He slides back, slowly and gently. I feel his breath fan against my chin, mouth getting closer to my ear.

“Did you get sick of doing it yourself?” He teases. I roll my eyes again, gripping his curls again. My body pushes against his, “Stop being a gentleman and fuck me, Riddle.”

His thrusts grow quicker and harder, cock resting deep inside me. I whine at his quick ability to find all my sweet spots, tip slamming against them, over and over, bringing me closer and closer to my high.

Our bodies meet half way, water splashing around us. The cruel wind hits me in the face, repeatedly. My eyes stare up at the sky, fingernails making deep scratches on his back.

“I’ve dreamt of you being my first.” He grunts, holding onto my arms. My eyes shoot towards his, mouth open in shock. Mattheo laughs at my reaction, white teeth glistening.

“Y-You don’t fuck like a virgin..” I whimper, letting my head fall onto his shoulder. He laughs again, pushing my body against the grass underneath me.

My back arches, lifting off the ground below me. I have nothing to scratch, nothing to hold onto but the delicate grass. The pieces snap in my hands, falling into the lake.

His hips snap against mine, somehow falling deeper inside me due to this new position he’s fucking me at.

“I’ve been saving myself for you.”

I scream his name, letting myself go on his cock. He groans, slapping my thigh angrily. “Fucking slut, fuck!” He shouts, pulling out just to turn me over.

He buries himself inside me, once again, balls slapping against my ass as he finds his much harsher pace.

My bra slides against the grass, causing me to whine. “I wanna go to your room!” I cry.

He leans down, pressing his chest to my back. In the blink of an eye, we’re in his dorm, my body pressed into the softness of his mattress.

Mattheo rails me better than anyone ever has, making me grow closer and closer to my second high. “Fuck, aren’t you close?” I cry, feeling embarrassed that I came so quickly.

He caresses my skin, kissing along my back. “I’ve needed to cum ever since you took your shirt off, y/n.”

There it is, I come again. He groans above me, slapping his hand across my bare ass. I squeal a muffled squeal into his pillow, pushing my head deeper into it.

“Please, cum inside me!” I whine, voice coming out as a cry. He does as I ask, letting his thick ropes of cum fill me.

“Mhmm, that’s it.. good fucking girl.” He moans, slapping my ass again. I whine some more, pussy filled with his warm liquid.

He pulls out of me, turning my body around, finally.

“Please, can I fuck your tits?” He asks, desperate eyes locking with mine.

—

A/N: Thank you all for the support on part two, omg 🥹 I hope you all enjoy this!

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN XOXO

[latenightwithpizza]

OMGGGGGG GIRRRRRRL

I’m not even really into dark shit like this… but holy shit. That was thrilling and exhilarating and the way you broke it down into slowly letting the reader get a glimpse of what was happening and and and THE FUCKIN BOOK AND THE DRAWINGS 🫢

KINKTOBER #1– DON’T BE SCARED / mattheo riddle

october 1st MDNI

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: you have no idea how to feel when you find out that one of your closest friends may have some feelings for you that go far beyond friendly admiration…

warnings: SMUT, dubcon, knife play, carving, slight masochism, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, piv, unprotected rough sex, spitting, squirting, slight degradation, dirty talk, dark!mattheo, obsessive and possessive tendencies — read at your own risk!

words: 6.5k (important: if you’d like to skip the plot and get to the smut, scroll down until you see the 🌶️ emoji)

a/n: PLEASE check the warnings before reading this. anyways, welcome to day 1 of kinktober!! hope y’all enjoy <3

navigation kinktober masterlist

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade. You walked beside Mattheo, your hands brushing briefly as the warmth of late afternoon slowly gave way to a crisp evening chill. You glanced at him, a familiar sense of comfort blooming in your chest.

Your boots scuffed against the ground as you moved further into the village, the scent of fresh pastries wafting from a nearby shop. The two of you were heading to the Three Broomsticks, the plan was simple—grab a drink, relax after a long day of classes, maybe complain about Professor Snape’s never-ending slew of potions homework. It was just a regular outing, and yet something tugged at the back of your mind.

"Thinking about something?" Mattheo's voice broke your thoughts, his tone casual.

You shook your head with a light laugh. "Just tired, I guess. Snape's been killing me with that essay."

He smiled, a crooked grin that you'd seen a hundred times before, though today it seemed to twist just a little at the edges. "Yeah, I bet. Maybe you should let me finish it for you."

Your eyes flicked to his, catching a glimpse of something beneath his playful offer, but you waved it off, smiling. "Tempting, but you’re just as behind as I am,” you muttered with a laugh.

Later that night, alone in your dorm, you sat on the edge of your bed, absentmindedly running your fingers over the soft fabric of your quilt. The silence of the castle was deafening, interrupted only by the soft rustle of the wind outside your window. You’d been feeling uneasy lately, a creeping sensation that someone had been in your room when you weren’t.

It started small—little things out of place. A book moved an inch from where you left it, a shirt from your wardrobe lying in the middle of your floor when you distinctly remembered hanging it up. And then there were the notes.

You leaned over, picking up a small piece of parchment from your nightstand, your fingers tracing the delicate, yet unnerving script. The note was brief, cryptic, and yet there was a strange intimacy to it:

"Thinking of you again. Your scent still lingers here. Until next time... Yours, truly."

Your breath hitched as you re-read it for the hundredth time, the soft flutter of your heart betraying the anxiety that clung to your skin. You didn’t know what to make of it—this was the fifth note you’d found in your room over the past month. The first few had been vague, unsettling, but this one… this one felt too close, too intimate.

It wasn’t just the notes anymore. Something had been missing lately—your favorite pair of panties, the ones you swore you had washed and placed back in your drawer. You’d torn your room apart looking for them, but they were gone, as if plucked from your very hands.

The days blurred into each other after that, each one marked by small but unsettling incidents that chipped away at your sense of security. Every night, as you climbed into bed, you felt the prickling sensation of eyes on you, the eerie certainty that you weren’t alone.

Your things continued to go missing. Another pair of panties vanished, and this time, you found a new set of lingerie in their place—black lace, far too revealing for your usual taste, but still pretty. Whoever he was, he knew exactly what you liked, or worse—what he wanted you to like.

“Sorry about your panties. Hope this makes up for it. Yours truly.”

The thrill of fear, mingled with something you couldn’t quite place, crawled up your spine as you read the note and stared at the lace set lying innocently in your drawer. You picked it up, feeling the delicate fabric between your fingers, and your heart hammered in your chest. There was something undeniably intimate about it, something that stirred a dark, shameful excitement deep within you. But just as quickly, disgust washed over you.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way—this twisted sense of thrill at the thought of being watched, of being wanted. This was wrong, dangerous. You shook your head, pushing the thoughts away, shoving the lingerie to the back of your drawer, hidden beneath layers of clothes you rarely wore.

The next day, you found yourself alone with Mattheo again, this time in the library. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t told him yet—it should have been the first thing out of your mouth, but as he sat beside you, so close you could feel the heat from his body, the words felt stuck in your throat.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, the familiar rasp soothing your nerves.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… I think I have a stalker.”

There. You’d said it. Finally.

Mattheo’s hand stilled on the page of his book, his expression unreadable as he turned to look at you. His eyes darkened slightly, but his voice remained casual. “A stalker? Why do you think that?”

You hesitated, glancing around the library to make sure no one could overhear. “Someone’s been… leaving me notes. And things are going missing—personal things. Like… like my underwear,” you admitted with an embarrassed blush. “It’s been happening for weeks.”

Mattheo’s lips twitched into a small smile, like he was holding back a laugh. “Notes, huh? Like love notes?”

“Something like that,” you muttered, feeling embarrassed. “It’s creepy. They know things about me, Mattheo. They’ve been in my room, I can feel it.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he chuckled softly. “What, you think your stalker is going to steal more of your panties?”

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. “What?”

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned in closer. “Why don’t you lend them to me? I’ll keep them safe for you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a strange, electric thrill rushing through your veins. It was a joke—just a stupid joke. Just Mattheo being his dumb, idiotic, flirty self. Right?

Right?

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, Mattheo’s words still hanging in the air between you, but his words somehow managers to get a laugh out of you.

"Very funny," you muttered, hoping to brush it off, to make the tension disappear. But Mattheo didn’t move away. Instead, he stayed there, his face too close, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite name.

"I’m serious," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "If you’re worried about this stalker, I could help you. Keep an eye on things for you."

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden intensity in his tone. For a second, your heart fluttered at the offer—it was sweet in a way, protective. But there was something else there too, something in the way he stared at you, unblinking, as if waiting for something more than just your thanks.

You shook your head, trying to clear the haze of confusion. "I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. It’s probably nothing, anyway."

But Mattheo didn’t look convinced. He reached out, his hand grazing your arm in a way that felt too intimate for the moment, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. "Just… let me know if you need anything, yeah? I’d hate for something to happen to you." His voice was low, velvety, and laced with a dark promise

The way he said it made your pulse quicken, but not in the way it should have. Something about the way he looked at you, the possessiveness in his eyes—it felt like he wasn’t offering to protect you from someone else. It felt like he was offering to protect you from himself.

The room was warm, the afternoon sun casting golden light through the window as you sat cross-legged on Mattheo's bed. The casual atmosphere between you both felt easy, natural, just like it used to. He was sitting close beside you, flipping through the pages of his sketchbook, showing you various drawings and doodles. Some were simple, lighthearted images—dragons, landscapes, intricate designs.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door. Mattheo stood up quickly, glancing over his shoulder at you as he crossed the room. “Be right back.”

You watched him disappear through the door, leaving you alone in his room. The weight of his sketchbook rested in your lap, its pages slightly worn from use, inviting curiosity. Mattheo had been showing you sketches of animals, abstract patterns, and even a few architectural designs, but there was something about the way he had kept skipping pages—flipping past them too quickly—that had piqued your interest.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the corner of the page he had left off on. Your curiosity got the better of you and with a small breath, you flipped through the book, turning page after page, until something stopped you cold.

There, scrawled in Mattheo’s messy handwriting, was your name.

The sketches had changed. No longer harmless doodles or intricate designs, these were disturbingly familiar. Images of you—detailed, painstakingly crafted sketches of your face, your body, your every expression. In some of them, you were asleep, peaceful and unaware. In others, you were undressing, your eyes glazed over in a way that made your stomach twist. But it wasn’t just the drawings that made your breath catch in your throat—it was the words.

"I envy the oxygen she breathes. Y/N is woven into every one of my thoughts, like some sick, twisted addiction. She’s everywhere, sewn into the fabric of my very being."

You froze, your pulse quickening as your eyes darted over the lines, the obsessive thoughts spilling onto the page.

“There’s something intoxicating about her. It’s maddening, really. The way she moves, like she’s made of something I can never fully grasp, but I will. I’ll have all of her soon enough. Her body, her mind, her soul. They’re mine for the taking, and she won’t be able to resist me. She was created to belong to me, to be consumed by me. She just doesn’t know it yet."

A cold chill spread through you, your hands trembling as you turned the page. Each entry was worse than the last. Paragraphs describing you—your movements, your habits, your quirks. He had detailed the way you laughed, the way you spoke, even the way you walked, as if he’d been studying you for years. But the words were laced with something much darker, much more dangerous.

"No one else even deserves her. She was meant for me—only me. Every part of her will bend to my will, whether she wants it or not. And the best part? She’ll love it."

You were shaking now, horrified by the realization that crept over you like a shadow. The stolen items, the missing lingerie, the notes left in your room—it wasn’t just anyone. It was Mattheo. He was your stalker.

Your breath hitched, your eyes wide as you flipped further into the book. There were sketches of you in positions you had never been in—drawings of your naked form, detailed and disturbingly intimate. In some, you were lying on his bed, your limbs tangled in the sheets, your body contorted in ways that made your skin crawl. In others, you were seated at your desk, working, completely unaware that someone was watching.

A creak at the door made you jump, slamming the sketchbook shut as Mattheo casually stepped back into the room. His face was relaxed, his usual charming smile in place as he sauntered over to you, his eyes flicking briefly to the book in your hands. “Sorry about that,” he said, his voice light.

“Who was at the door?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly as you placed the sketchbook back on the bed, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flushed your cheeks were.

Mattheo studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he sensed something was off. But then his smirk widened, and he shrugged. “Just some guy asking about homework. Nothing important.” His gaze lingered on your face, his eyes sharp, calculating. He stepped closer, and you instinctively scooted back, trying to put more space between the two of you.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was something predatory in his eyes now, a glint that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

You nodded quickly, laughing nervously. "Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all."

He didn’t believe you. You could tell by the way he moved—slowly, deliberately—his body hovering closer to yours. He picked up the sketchbook and flipped it open. And then, with a knowing smirk, he glanced up at you.

"You know," he said, his voice dropping into something more dangerous, more intimate. "I’m not quite done with this one yet." He tapped a sketch of you, his finger tracing the lines of your figure. "I know you looked through my book."

You froze, your blood turning to ice. There was no point in denying it. He had caught you. But before you could respond, he closed the book, his gaze locking onto yours with a dark, twisted intensity.

"It’s alright," he said softly, a sinister edge to his tone. "You were bound to find out at some point." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Now you know how bad I want you. How bad I need you."

Your breath hitched, panic surging through you as you stared at him, the reality of the situation settling in. “Mattheo, I—”

He cut you off, his dark eyes glinting with something terrifying as he leaned back, arms crossed. "It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to be scared." He smirked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You’ll learn to like it."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you tried to steady your breathing. “What if I don’t want to be yours?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear.

Mattheo’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. He chuckled softly, his voice dark and mocking. “You’re already mine.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the walls closing in, your heart pounding in your chest as Mattheo’s possessive gaze remained locked on you.

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating you. Every part of your body screamed for you to get up, to leave, to run. But you couldn't. It was as if the intensity in his dark eyes pinned you to the spot, freezing you in place.

You forced yourself to look away, staring down at your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of everything-the stolen items, the obsessive notes, the drawings, his words. The boy you thought you knew never even existed.

You had to get out. Now.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you forced yourself to stand, your legs unsteady as you stepped away from the bed. "I should go," you muttered, your voice barely audible as you avoided his gaze. "I just remembered— have some homework to finish, so I'll-"

Before you could take another step, Mattheo's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip. "You're not going anywhere."

The way he said it, with such casual confidence, made your stomach twist. His grip on your wrist wasn't painful, but it was enough to remind you that he was in control here. You weren't leaving until he let you.

"Mattheo..." You tugged at your wrist, but his grip tightened. "Let go.”

Instead of releasing you, he pulled you back toward him, the sudden movement making you stumble slightly as you fell back onto the bed. His hands were on you in an instant, one gripping your arm, the other gently, almost tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The contrast between his possessive hold and the softness of his touch made your skin crawl.

His touch was cold, sending a shiver up your spine. He wasn't rough, but there was an unspoken authority in the way he held you, like he was reminding you that leaving wasn't an option.

He smiled, a slow, almost mocking smile, his fingers tightening just slightly around your wrist.

"Don't be scared," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "I would never hurt you, Y/N. You know that."

You shuddered at his words, the gentle tone doing nothing to quell the fear twisting in your gut. "Mattheo, please—this isn't right. You're my friend, we're—"

"Friends?" he interrupted, his voice dripping with mockery as he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Is that what you think we are? Friends?" He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered darkly, "You have no idea how I yearn for you."

Your body stiffened, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what was happening. This wasn't the Mattheo you knew—the Mattheo who had always been protective, teasing, and affectionate in a way that felt like a safe harbor. This was someone else entirely—someone whose obsession with you had festered into something dangerous.

"I've always been there, haven't I?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

"Always looking out for you, always keeping you safe. And yet, you never see me, Y/N. You never notice how much l've done for you, how much I've sacrificed. But that's going to change now."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest as his words cut through the air like a knife. "I see you, Mattheo," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I've always seen you."

He chuckled softly, his grip on your arm loosening just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to let you escape. "No, you don't. You see what I want you to see." His eyes darkened, his gaze flickering over your face with a twisted hunger that made your skin prickle. "But now? Now you'll see everything."

Mattheo's eyes lingered on your face, studying every flicker of emotion as if he were dissecting you, peeling away every layer. He was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint scent of smoke and cologne that always clung to him. It was overwhelming, suffocating.

Your pulse hammered in your ears, panic rising as you tried to pull your wrist from his grasp. But he held firm, his smile never faltering as he watched you struggle. It wasn't a fight—it was a game to him, and you were losing.

"Mattheo, please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I... I don't understand."

His smile faded slightly, his eyes darkening as he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your skin. "I think you understand perfectly," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're scared, Y/N. But part of you likes it. Part of you wants this."

Your heart skipped a beat, fear and confusion twisting together in a sickening knot in your chest. You shook your head, trying to deny it, but the truth was... part of you was drawn to him. Part of you had always been drawn to him. The way he looked at you, the way he made you feel, like you were the center of his universe—it was intoxicating.

And now, even though you were terrified, even though you knew this was wrong, that same twisted attraction lingered beneath the surface.

He saw it. He knew.

"See?" he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he let go of your wrist. "You love this, Y/N. And deep down, you know it."

You pulled back, your breath coming in short, panicked bursts as you tried to process everything. You had to get out of here. You had to leave. But as you stood, Mattheo's hand shot out again, this time grabbing your waist, pulling you back down onto the bed beside him.

"You're not leaving," he said softly, his voice low and commanding. "You can’t.”

Your heart raced, your mind screaming at you to fight, to scream, to do something.

But all you could do was sit there, frozen, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"You were made for me," he whispered, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I was made for you.”

smut starts around here 🌶️

Before you could protest, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing gently, his fingers inching dangerously high. The heat of his touch burned through your skin, leaving you breathless. You should have pushed him away, you should have fought—but your body betrayed you, sinking into the mattress as if every nerve was alive, reacting to him.

"You want this," he whispered, his lips grazing your neck now. “I can feel it, Y/N. I can feel how much you want me."

You whimpered, trying to deny it, but he was right. The truth settled deep inside you—a dark, shameful desire that you had buried for so long, now rising to the surface under his touch.

His hand slid further up, teasing the edge of your skirt as his breath ghosted over your skin, making you shiver. “Just say it," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Tell me you're mine."

Your heart raced, your mind screaming at you to resist, to pull away, but your body craved him in a way that scared you. You squeezed your eyes shut, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his fingers grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice dark and commanding, his hand tightening on your leg. "Say you're mine, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, the tension between you snapping like a live wire. The fear, the desire, the confusion—they all blended together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

The words caught in your throat, refusing to come out. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to run, to do anything but give in to this sick, twisted game he was playing. But your body wouldn't listen. It arched into him, craving more of his touch.

Deep down, you knew it was true. You were his. But you couldn’t say it. You wouldn’t say it out loud.

Mattheo's fingers stilled on your thigh, a frown tugging at his lips as you remained silent.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he slid his hand away from your leg, letting it fall to his side as he pulled back. His eyes met yours, dark and intense, burning with a fire that both terrified and thrilled you.

"No matter," he said softly, a dangerous undertone to his voice. "We have all the time in the world for you to come around."

A chill ran down your spine at the implication, and you swallowed hard. This wasn't over. Far from it. This was only the beginning—and deep down, some twisted part of you couldn't wait to see what came next.

You opened your mouth to speak, to demand answers, to threaten him with exposure—but no sound came out. Because deep down, you knew it would be useless. He held all the cards, and you both knew it.

So instead, you simply nodded, a tiny, jerky movement of your chin. Acceptance. Resignation. Defeat.

Mattheo smiled then, slow and triumphant, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. He reached out, cupping your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip.

"That's my good girl.”

His thumb traced your lower lip, a gentle caress that belied the darkness in his eyes. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. His free hand slid to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair, holding you in place.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

With that promise hanging heavy in the air, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

As their lips met, a jolt of electricity shot through you, a sensation so intense it took your breath away. His kiss was demanding, possessive, a claim that resonated deep within you.

You melted into him, your hands reaching up to clutch at his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he explored your mouth with a hunger that matched your own twisted cravings.

Mattheo groaned into the kiss, his control slipping as he tasted your sweetness once again. His tongue dueled with yours, each stroke and retreat sending sparks of pleasure coursing through his veins.

He pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin there. His hands roamed freely over your body, exploring curves and valleys with a growing impatience.

He needed more. More of your taste, more of your warmth, more of your submission. And he intended to take everything you offered and then some.

With a growl of frustration, he tore himself away from you, his breath coming in ragged pants. His eyes were dark with lust, his cheeks flushed with arousal.

"Stand up," he commanded, his voice rough with need. "Let's get these clothes off."

You blinked up at him, your body still humming from the intensity of his kiss. You felt dazed, disoriented, as if you'd been swept away by a tidal wave of emotions and sensations.

But you obeyed, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs. As you stood, you pushed your skirt down for it to fall to the floor, revealing your bare thighs and the lacy panties that clung to your hips.

You glanced down at yourself, suddenly aware of how exposed you were. But you didn't move to cover yourself, didn't even think about it. Instead, you looked back at Mattheo, waiting for his next command.

Mattheo's eyes raked over your form, taking in every curve and dip with an appreciative glance. The sight of you standing there, vulnerable and waiting, was enough to make his cock twitch with anticipation.

Without wasting another second, he stepped closer, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. With a swift tug, he pulled it over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. They were perfect, full and firm, with nipples that hardened instantly at his perusal.

He bent down, his mouth descending upon your left breast, his tongue swirling around the nipple before taking it into his mouth. He pinched the other, hard, drawing a pained squeal from your lips, but the pain only had you clenching your thighs harder. He sucked hard, relishing the moan that escaped your lips before pushing you back down on the bed, his mouth staying latched on as you moved.

You cried out, your back arching off the bed as his mouth worked magic on your sensitive flesh. Your fingers gripped uselessly at the comforter beneath you.

Your other breast throbbed, aching for attention, and you whimpered in protest when he released your nipple with a wet pop. But that was quickly forgotten when you felt his hands sliding down your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties.

In one smooth motion, he pushed the delicate fabric aside, baring your most intimate parts to his greedy gaze. You should have felt exposed, vulnerable, but all you could focus on was the heat building between your thighs, the slickness coating your folds as your body prepared for him.

Mattheo's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your glistening sex, the evidence of your arousal clear for him to see. A smug smile played at his lips as he settled between your thighs, his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

"You're so wet for me already," he murmured, his fingers tracing teasing patterns along your inner thighs. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?"

Without warning, he leaned in and dragged his tongue along your slit, groaning at the taste of you. He licked and suckled at your clit, his fingers spreading you open wider, allowing him better access to your dripping core.

He thrust two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm as his tongue continued its relentless assault on your sensitive bud.

Your head thrashed from side to side, your nails digging into Mattheo's scalp as waves of pleasure crashed over you. His fingers pumped in and out of you, stretching your walls, while his tongue danced across your clit, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your veins.

"Oh god, oh god," you chanted, your voice high and breathy, hips bucking wildly against his face. "That feels...it feels so good..."

Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Mattheo added a third finger, scissoring them inside you as he sucked harder on your clit.

“‘s too much!” you whined as you writhed around.

Mattheo smirked against your pussy, loving the way you squirmed beneath him. He could tell you were close, but he wasn't about to let you come just yet.

He continued his ministrations, his tongue flicking rapidly over your swollen clit while his fingers curled inside you, stroking the sweet spot hidden deep within your cunt. He could hear the desperation in your voice, the plea for release, and it only fueled his desire further.

He lifted his head slightly, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes. "Not yet," he growled, his voice muffled by your soaked pussy. "You're not allowed to cum without my permission."

His fingers curved deeper inside you, hitting that magical spot that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your trembling body. Your walls clamped down on him instinctively, attempting to suck his fingers deeper.

“Say it. Say you’re mine and I’ll let you cum,” he growled against your pussy, the way you’d refused to admit it earlier was clearly still lingering through his mind.

Mattheo waited, his tongue hovering just above your sensitive clit, refusing to grant you the relief you so desperately craved. The silence stretched between you, broken only by your ragged breathing.

He watched your face contort in a mix of pleasure and frustration, your hips straining upward in a futile attempt to chase the orgasm he was denying you. The sight only served to stoke his own desire, his cock throbbing almost painfully in his trousers.

"Just admit you were made for me," he purred, his voice low and husky with lust.

He traced lazy circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue, keeping just out of reach of the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Mattheo watched as you struggled to maintain control, your body shaking with need as he denied you the release you so desperately craved. He could see the conflict in your eyes, the war between your mind and your desire.

"I know you want to say it," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "I can feel it in the way your body responds to my touch."

He dipped his head lower, dragging the flat of his tongue along your dripping slit before circling your entrance with the tip. He savored the taste, the tanginess of your arousal mingling with the sweetness of your essence.

"No…” you whimpered, your walls clenching around nothing. “No.”

Mattheo ignored your denials, knowing full well that they were half-hearted at best. He could smell your arousal, see the way your body responded to his touches, how desperately you were trying to fuck his face.

"Admit it," he commanded again, his voice laced with authority and raw desire. "Tell me you belong to me."

He plunged his fingers deep inside you once more, curling them up to stroke that sensitive spot within your depths. The action elicited another moan from you, your body desperately convulsing around his hand as if begging for more.

"Or do I need to drill it into your head in a different way?”

And with that, he retracted his fingers from your quivering pussy. In one swift motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, positioning you just right, the new angle leaving your ass up and presented for him.

Mattheo gripped your hips tightly, his gaze fixed upon your plump ass exposed to him in such an alluringly degrading pose.

Splattering a generous dollop of saliva onto your trembling hole, he pressed his hands against the mattress next to your head. With his legs on either side of yours, he pressed the broad tip of his cockhead firmly against your entrance. With the push of sheer primal desire, Mattheo drove his hard shaft into your pussy for the first time, filling your tight space completely.

You arched your back, pushing your ass higher against him, silently urging him to move, to claim you fully.

As Mattheo began to thrust, you couldn't help but moan, the sound muffled by the pillow as you buried your face in it. Each powerful stroke sent waves of ecstasy crashing through you, your pussy gripping him like a hungry fist, desperate for more.

"Yes...fuck me..."

Mattheo groaned deeply, reveling in the way your cunt gripped him so tightly. His large hands roamed over your plump ass cheeks, smacking them with enough force to leave marks. A sick satisfaction coursed through him as he heard the loud slapping sound echo throughout the room, knowing it would be visible evidence of what the two of you had done.

"You love this don't you?" he hissed into your ear, his voice rough with desire. "Taking it like a good little slut."

Each word was punctuated by another vicious thrust, deeper, harder than before. Mattheo felt his cock twitch inside you, anticipating the impending climax that promised to be explosive.

“Fuck..." he grunted, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. "Your pussy's so fucking tight around me."

Your body moved instinctively, meeting each of his thrusts with a matching rhythm, your own hips grinding back against him. You could hardly form coherent thoughts, let alone words, but the moans and whimpers escaping your lips spoke volumes.

"Oh god..." you breathed out, the words barely audible above the symphony of flesh slapping against flesh. "More...please... Harder…”

The sight of your reddened ass bouncing with each thrust was almost too much for him to handle. With a dark chuckle, he gripped your hips with bruising force, using the leverage to pound into you even harder.

“That’s my girl. So polite even when she’s being fucked dumb out of her mind.”

As he continued to brutally rut into your sopping cunt, he wrapped a strand of your hair around his finger and yanked sharply, forcing you to arch your back further.

"This is what you needed, isn't it? To be ruined by the one person who’s dreamed of having you like this for so long."

He released your hair only to grip the swell of your ass harder, pulling your back against his pelvis as he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you once more.

"I'm going to fill you up until you're dripping with it, mark you inside and out as mine."

Just as Mattheo was about to reach his peak, you suddenly clenched around him like a vice, your inner walls fluttering wildly as you came undone. A gush of warm fluid squirted out around his pistoning cock, drenching his balls and the sheets below.

“Fuck!" Mattheo growled, his thrusts becoming erratic as your orgasm triggered his own. With a final, brutal slam of his hips, he buried himself to the root inside your spasming cunt and erupted, pumping stream after stream of hot cum deep into your womb.

For several moments, you remained locked together, Mattheo's softening cock still lodged inside your twitching pussy as you both struggled to catch their breath.

Panting heavily, Mattheo slowly withdrew from your spent body, his cock sliding free easily. He flipped you onto your back before reaching for his nightstand drawer.

Still so worn out, you struggled to make sense of what he pulled out when suddenly, the blade of silver became visible.

Mattheo's grip on the knife tightened as he brought it into view, the steel glinting menacingly in the dim light. He pressed the flat of the blade to the underside of your chin, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make his point clear.

"I love you,” he said softly, his tone belying the dangerous intent in his eyes. "And because I love you, I’m going to make sure you never forget that again.”

He trailed the knife downwards gently, following the valley of your sweat and saliva covered breasts before resting the tip against your lower abdomen. The cold metal contrasted starkly with the heat of your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake.

Your breath caught in her throat, your heart pounding erratically against your ribcage. “What are you doing, Mattheo?” you whispered.

"Don’t worry, baby," he purred, tracing the knife lightly over her stomach. "You know I’d never hurt you… At least, not in any way you won't enjoy."

With a sudden movement, he yanked you closer by the thighs, gently trailing the knife over your inner thighs.

As soon as the words left his lips, Mattheo brought the knife down, ready to leave his mark upon your shaking thigh.

"I swear I love you, Leo" he whispered, bringing the blade down in a smooth, steady motion. "I just want you to make this easier for yourself and love me back.”

With a resigned whisper, you let out a soft, “Okay.”

The knife bit into your skin, carving a perfect 'M' into the tender flesh of your inner thigh. Your quiet cry echoed through the room as blood welled up from the wound, trickling down your leg. And it was then that you realized, even if you could stop him right now, you wouldn’t. Because something about this pain, the pain only he could give you, felt good.

It wasn’t long before there was a red outline of the letters, “MR,” on your skin, searing with both pain and pleasure.

He ran his finger along the freshly carved letters, a sick sort of satisfaction washing over him at the sight of your branded flesh. He leaned down to press his lips over the wound, almost as if it were a simple paper cut that would feel better with a kiss.

When he pulled away with your blood smeared over his mouth, his palm covered the red skin firmly, applying pressure to somewhat ease the pain you felt.

Mattheo rose back up from his place near your thighs so he could plant a kiss on your forehead, his free hand tenderly brushing the hair out of your face, his demeanor completely flipped. “You took that so well, my love. So perfect. You’re going to be okay. You’re okay, yeah?”

kinktober taglist: @mattheoriddles-slutt @theeslutintheroom @esmerai-artemis @gigival @cloudyyydayzzz @sn000py @abeoavita @yesiamthatwierd @shaquilles-0atmeal @roseofsharron438 @iouinotes @romantasyreader28 @daenerystorgayren @emma-grace0 @tori-303 @ilovehpb0ys

[nottsangel]

how would different theo’s au’s react to you asking them to be a little louder, cuz that turns you on?

toxic!theo — scoffs. “oh, you want me to be louder? ‘s that what gets you off? then beg for it first.” makes you work for it like the cocky asshole he is before giving you what you asked for.

stepbro!theo — “you really want the whole house hearing how good your big brother fucks you?” says it with a sly grin, then groans right against your ear while his deep thrusts make you grip the sheets.

stalker!theo — oh girl, you probably don’t even have to ask ‘cause he’s already loud asf. this man is in heaven!!!!!

dealer!theo — “you just love hearing how fucked out you make me, huh?” teasingly says before he makes sure you get exactly what you asked for. as always, anything for his sweet girl <3

brother’s bsf!theo — deadass rolls his eyes, like it’s the most outrageous request ever. “yeah? so your brother can barge into your room and kill me? i think the fuck not. tsk, stupid girl.”

bsf!theo — “you want to hear how much i love being inside you?” gives you soft, desperate moans and sweet words that make your toes curl. just so. much. praise.

military!theo — pauses for a second, just to register it, then gives you the filthiest string of deep, gravelly groans and muttered praises— you don’t have to ask him twice. “yes, ma’am.” 🫡

new girl au theo — immediately smirks, cocky as ever, feeling proud that you want mattheo and lorenzo to hear you two have sex. “you like the sound of me losing it over your pussy? i gotchu, baby.”

[prythiansprincess]

DELIRIUM | a stalker! theo fic.

"you're so fucking special; I wish I was special."

word count: 5,662.

warnings: please read all trigger warnings before proceeding. dead dove do not eat, noncon, murder, coercion, stalking, assault, manipulation, gaslighting, knife play, blood play, abusive behavior.

author's note: I don't say it lightly when I say that this fic is very dark. I fully understand that the topics and themes discussed are not for everyone, so please be mindful of the warnings before engaging. special thanks to @writingsbychlo for proofreading and encouraging my over all psychophathy.

♫ creep - radiohead. nav. stalker! theo.

There was something wrong with Theo Nott. 

Perhaps it was a result of his traumatic upbringing or perhaps it was simply encrypted into his genetic code, but whether nature or nurture was to be blamed, this simple truth was certain: a sick, twisted, and insatiable monster lurked within him and its hunger could be satiated by one thing and one thing only — you. 

In the deepest and darkest depths of his inky black heart, Theo knew that he was completely and utterly fucked up. This thing inside of him — this madness — rendered him incapable of forming healthy relationships. Time and time again, his passions and proclivities hinted towards a more sinister nature. Some called him deranged, delirious, delusional, but Theo simply thought of himself as a hopeless romantic. 

Theo was not the type of man to harbor a crush or entertain a fling or succumb to a fleeting infatuation that eventually faded over time. When he loved, he loved with his entire being. He loved until it became a fixation, a compulsion, an obsession. This has and always will be his fatal flaw. 

From a young age, Theo learned that he was not normal. When he presented Pansy Parkinson with the front teeth of the boy who dared knock her off the swings, that was not normal. When he gifted Daphne Greengrass the rotting carcass of a bird that had kept her up with the incessant tapping of its beak against her bedroom window, that was not normal. When he offered to carve the initials of Mattheo Riddle into his skin to prove his loyalty, that was not normal. 

Theo was bereft when his friends cried and fled from him, feeling distraught and disappointed by their reactions. After all, he had only done those things to make them happy. Why couldn’t they see that?

When his mother found him crying in the Nott Manor gardens, she explained to him that he was a very special boy. That his capacity for love would be misunderstood by those around him because they simply could not feel the way that he did. The intensity of his emotions surpassed their understanding; they didn’t know what it was like to be irrevocably consumed by love. His devotion could be misconstrued, his affection scorned, which is why it became imperative for Theo to shield himself from the world until the right person came along. 

So, he conformed, he adapted, he survived, but Theo knew it was only a matter of time before his carefully constructed mask slipped. 

In the back of a crowded restaurant, Theo swirled the glass of wine in his hand before taking a long sip. The waiter had recommended the red vintage, droning on and on about the quality of the 1978 Barolo Montorfino and the meticulous aging process of the Nebbiolo grapes to produce this particular bottle. Theo fought the urge to roll his eyes. He already knew all of this, given that the wine was produced by his family’s vineyard in the Italian countryside. 

The complex flavor danced on his tongue. On any other occasion, he might have savored the hints of cherry, roses, and truffle peeking through its rich-bodied profile, but Theo tasted nothing but ash in his mouth. Because across the rooftop sat the woman of his dreams, drinking and laughing and dining with another man. Theo gripped the stem of his glass until his knuckles turned white. 

Needless to say, the night was not going as Theo intended it to. It was supposed to be him feeding you little bites of tagliatelle, topping your wine off with a wink, and listening to your melodious voice recount silly anecdotes about yourself. Instead, Adrian fucking Pucey was blattering on like a bloody twat, failing to appreciate the goddess seated across from him. The stupid prick was probably too busy gauging whether or not he was going to get lucky tonight. As if Theo would ever let that happen. 

No, that simply wouldn’t do. 

Sure, he had enjoyed the game of cat and mouse between you over the past few months. Since the day you moved into the house next to his, there had been this constant push and pull between you. The flirtatious banter as he helped you carry your dresser into the foyer after he found you struggling in the yard, the freshly baked goods you presented to him as thanks after the fact, the shy way you smiled at him every time you crossed paths when you departed and arrived back home. 

Something awakened within him the second he laid eyes on you. Something dark, something dangerous, something that he thought was long buried in the depths of his depraved soul. 

It wasn’t all in his head. Hell, you had invited him in on that very first day. You wanted him there. You wanted him near you. You wanted him.

All the darkness that he tried so hard to push down seemed to resurface all at once. Suddenly, Theo found himself falling back into old old habits. Watching you through your bedroom window while you undressed, sneaking into your house while you were away at work, planting cameras in every room without your knowledge, and even going so far as stealing your lingerie. 

But Theo wasn’t stalking you. 

No.

He was merely keeping an eye on you. 

Clearly, you needed someone to look after you if you were putting your trust in a man like Adrian Pucey. You were too soft and sweet and innocent for this world. Theo wanted to protect you. In his eyes, Pucey was a threat to your relationship and there was only one way to deal with a threat — eliminate it. 

The opportunity presented itself after that sordid dinner. After dessert was served, Theo quietly slipped out ahead of the happy couple. Well, the two of you wouldn’t be happy for long. Not if he had anything to do with it. 

Surrounded by silence and darkness, Theo laid in wait until he heard the tell-tale sounds of the front door unlocking. He observed in quiet rage as Adrian kissed his girl. The door snicked shut, but the two of you barely noticed as you stumbled through the foyer, his lips sucking at your neck, his hands roaming underneath your dress, his cock pressing against your core as you mewled for him. Theo couldn’t stomach a second more of this. The sound of Pucey’s name falling from your lips was enough to awaken the monster within him. 

A sickening thud echoed through the house as Pucey dropped to the floor. With wide eyes, you scrambled in the darkness, blinking in disbelief at the sight before you. The silk strap of your dress fell from your shoulders at the abruptness of the attack. Your pupils, which were previously blown from desire, now shifted into fear. 

“T — Theo?” Disbelief colored your expression as you looked up at your neighbor. Dressed in all black, his tall and lithe form blended in with his surroundings. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t really think I’d let this prick weasel his way into your bed, did you?” 

You blinked in confusion. On the floor of your living room, Adrian nursed his broken nose, trying and failing to staunch the blood flowing through his fingers. 

“Do you know this asshole, Y/N?” 

“He’s my neighbor,” you answered. Theo’s face twisted in anger at your response. You cowered under his gaze and scooted backwards against the wall. “Theo, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?” 

Theo sneered. “Isn’t it obvious, bella?” Your blood ran cold when a flash of silver appeared in his hand. “I know why you went on this date tonight. You wanted me to fight for you, so here I am. I love you and I won’t let anyone keep us apart.”

“What are you talking about, Theo?” You cried as he stalked towards you. “I barely know you. We’re neighbors, just neighbors, that’s all.” You pleaded, begging for him to listen to reason. “Please, just stop this. You don’t have to do any of this.” 

“Shh, my sweet Y/N,” Theo cooed as he wiped a stray tear away with his thumb. His blue eyes bore into you with such intensity that it made you shiver. There was something lurking behind that dead eyed stare and you feared for whatever it might unleash. 

Theo caressed your cheek with reverence while you trembled in fear. “You just don’t know any better, cara mia. But don’t worry, I’ll show you how much I love you. I’ll protect you; I’ll keep you safe.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to take care of this. He will never come between us again.” 

Before you could protest, Theo had already rounded on Adrian. The brunette threw his hands up as Theo pulled him up by his collar. “I almost feel sorry for you, you know,” Theo taunted. “You probably thought you were so smart, preying on someone as sweet and innocent as Y/N. You never deserved her.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adrian retorted, crimson staining his dress shirt as he struggled against his captor’s hold. “It was just a few harmless dates.” 

“A few harmless dates?” Theo repeated in a mocking tone. “Christ, you can’t truly be that stupid, can you? You don’t even understand how lucky you are to have gotten the chance to be in her company. She’s a fucking goddess and you — “ Adrian groaned when Theo yanked his hair back to give him a proper view of you. “Well, you’re nothing.” 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I was just lookin for an easy fuck — “

Fury simmered in Theo’s gaze. The careless words that Adrian spoke cut you deep, but not nearly as deep as the blade that sliced his throat open. The crimson river flowing from Adrian’s neck bathed Theo in blood, covering his face, his hair, and his clothes. 

You screamed as Adrian slumped to the floor, his lifeless body discarded onto your cream rug as his vacant gaze stared at nothing. The gravity of his death sent a surge of adrenaline in your veins. You needed to get the fuck away, The instinct to survive kicked in and you darted for the door, but unfortunately, Theo was quicker. 

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, hauling you away from your only form of escape. You struggled in his hold, clawing and kicking and screaming as Theo dragged you through the living room. 

“You killed him!” You screamed while you continued thrashing. “He’s dead, you killed him, oh my god — “

“Don’t be like that, cara mia,” Theo said in a soothing voice. “I thought you would be happy. With our little problem out of the way, we can finally be together.” 

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” 

With a swift kick to the balls, Theo stumbled backwards which gave you time to frantically reach for your purse. The slick blood that coated the wooden floors now sullied your dress, but you pushed the thought away as you recovered your phone. As you tapped on the screen, it came alive with a bright light. With shaking hands, you tried to swipe up to dial emergency services, but the screen buzzed with static before completely dying out. 

“No!” You screamed in frustration as you pressed the dead screen over and over again. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” 

Behind you, Theo sighed and shook his head in disappointment. Crouching down before you, the warmth of his palm felt like a slap to the face as he cradled your jaw.

“You’ve been a bad girl, bella,” Theo purred. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.” 

Your eyes widened as he produced a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “No, please, you don’t have to do this. Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” 

“Let you go?” Theo repeated in a cold, menacing voice as he clamped the handcuffs over your wrists. “After all that I’ve done for you, do you really think I would be capable of just letting you go?” He tutted in disapproval as he tugged you towards the stairs. “You’re all mine now, you’re not going anywhere.” 

The short walk to your bedroom felt like a march towards death. You began to shake violently as Theo guided you towards the bed, instructing you to lie down as he tinkered with the handcuffs. Tears blurred your vision as your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you whispered. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Theo said with a scoff as he rearranged the cuffs and chained you to the bed. “You wouldn’t be any fun if you’re dead.” 

Fear gripped every fiber of your being in a chokehold. Theo leaned back and admired his work. The intensity of his gaze felt like a brand against your skin as he drank in the sight of you spread out for him. The silk of your dress was stained with blood, the fabric nearly see through from how soaked it was. 

“You’re such a pretty little thing all tied up like a present for me, principessa.” 

His blue eyes were nearly black as he gazed at you with unadulterated desire. The pale moonlight streaming through the window casted sinister shadows on his face. 

“If you’re not going to kill me, then what do you plan on doing?” 

“I’m so glad you asked,” Theo declared with a deranged smile as he brandished his knife. “I plan on worshipping every inch of your body.” The cold edge of his blade traced the curve of your jaw. “I plan on making you see God with my tongue, my fingers, my cock.” The knife continued its path down the valley of your breasts. “I plan on possessing you, owning you, and ruining you for every other man.” 

“You barely even know me,” you pleaded, shying away from the blade that now rested on the hem of your dress. “I’m not yours, Theo.” 

The air left your lungs all at once as his hand wrapped around your throat. The lack of oxygen made you dizzy and you grew limp against the bed, barely even registering the blade caressing your skin. 

“I’ll carve my name into your thigh if that’s what it takes to get it through your pretty little head that you are mine.” 

You coughed as he released his hold, disoriented by the sudden rush of air into your lungs. “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me, oh fuck —“ 

Your hips jerked at the sudden cold sensation between your legs. Theo watched in amusement as he pressed the hilt of his blade against your clothed core, drinking in the way you writhed underneath him. 

“What was that, bella?” Theo teased. “I can’t hear you over all that moaning.” 

Your cheeks burned with shame as you continued his ministrations against your clit. It was a purely physical response, but it felt like your own body was betraying you. This wasn’t supposed to feel good. You hated the way you reacted to his touch, his words, his gaze. You hated him. 

“You’re a sick fuck,” you yelled as you tugged at your restraints. Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or pleasure. “This is vile, this is evil. I hate you. I fucking hate you —“ 

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged your panties to the side and slipped the hilt of his blade through your folds without warning. “Then why are you so fucking wet for me?” 

“I’m not!” In all your life, you had never felt more degraded and humiliated. The conflicting emotions warred in your mind, but the truth of the matter was that you had absolutely no control over your own arousal. “I’m not.” 

“You are,” Theo growled as the handle of his blade squelched in your slick. “But by all means, keep lying to yourself. In fact, I quite prefer it if you put up a fight. I like it rough.” 

You groaned, delirious with need as he fucked you with his knife. “When I make you cum, I know that I’ve earned it.” 

You bit down on your bottom lip until blood filled your mouth. The horror of the scene unfolding before you filled you with dread yet you couldn’t stop the moans and whines that escaped past your lips. When you looked up, Theo was transfixed by the sight of your greedy cunt taking his knife.

“That’s it, Y/N,” hummed Theo. “This will be a lot easier if you just stop fighting it. You want this. You want me.” 

“I — I don’t! I don’t want —“ 

“I —I don’t want,” Theo mocked. “How fucking pathetic. You can’t even finish that sentence without moaning.” He pulled out his knife and slid two fingers in without warning. His cruel laugh echoed in the bedroom when the sound of your slick filled the silence. “If you don’t want me, then why are you riding my fingers like this, hm?” 

There was no answer as he plunged the hilt of his knife into you again, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way. His thumb rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves in tantalizing circles, pushing you towards the edge of pleasure. 

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an orgasm, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no stopping the intense pleasure that barrelled through your body. As you crested over the finish line, your vision went dark. The depravity of the act filled you with mortification and indignity. Theo, on the other hand, looked euphoric. 

“You’re so beautiful when you cum,” he whispered softly. 

You wanted to claw and scratch and hit him for the way he made you feel. Theo presented the knife to you with reverence. The blade was soaked in blood, but the hilt dripped with your cum. His tongue darted out and licked and lapped at your arousal with long, languid strokes as his eyes rolled back in euphoria. The way he moaned when he tasted you was obscene. 

“You taste so sweet,” Theo rasped in a choked groan. “Such a good girl for me.” 

This was beyond fucked up. 

Theo was beyond fucked up. 

You watched in alarm, waiting for disgust to overwhelm your senses, but it never came. Instead, your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight. What the fuck was wrong with you? 

Theo leaned over you, his brown curls brushing against your nose as he smirked. “Don’t I get a kiss as a reward for making you feel so good?” 

The absence of pleasure finally made you come to your senses. “Fuck you.” 

The depth of his blue eyes was swallowed by a void that threatened to suffocate you. The man before you transformed into a monster as he growled and held his knife against your throat. “Let me rephrase that,” he hissed as the blade nicked your skin. “If you don’t kiss me, I’ll slit your fucking throat.” 

You whimpered as the blade dug deeper into your neck, causing small droplets of blood to stain your sheets. Theo stared at you with malice, his face hovering a few inches from yours as he waited for your next move. His cool breath fanned over your skin while his lips ghosted over yours. 

“Please, Y/N?” Theo pouted as he blinked down at you through his thick, dark lashes. “Just one kiss, please.” 

It was apparent that he wanted you to make the first move. As if it would absolve him from this abhorrent act. As if it would exculpate him despite the threat he made on your life if you refused to comply. In some sick, twisted way, you knew that the second your lips touched his, Theo felt absolutely vindicated. 

The growl that crawled out of his throat was purely animalistic. It spoke of need, of desire, of lust that had simmered underneath the surface for far too long. The taste of you, soft and supple and sweet, was better than anything Theo could have ever imagined. His cock strained against his pants as he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping over the seam of your lips to demand entrance. 

A part of you wanted to fight back, to pull away from him, but it was nearly impossible when he harshly grabbed your jaw and forced his way in. You opened for him reluctantly, but that was all he needed. Theo was the type of person to take a mile when given an inch. His hands roamed your body while his tongue massaged yours, moaning, panting, licking the roof of your mouth with unabashed glee. Theo squeezed your tits and gripped your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist. He felt like a dog in heat as he rutted himself against your clothed cunt. 

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. 

Dazed and drunk with desire, Theo pulled away, his gaze sweeping over your kiss bitten lips and flushed cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

It was fucking horrible, horrendous, atrocious. You wanted the deepest pits of hell to open up and swallow you whole. Because that kiss had lit a fire in your belly despite your disgust for the man forcing himself on you. 

Before you could think twice, you reared back and spit right into his face. Theo blinked in surprise. You expected anger, but amusement greeted you instead. The motherfucker was enjoying this. 

“You’re a feisty thing, aren’t you?” Theo drawled as he unclasped his belt. The sight caused panic to grip you from all sides. “Don’t worry, principessa. I’ll fuck the fight right out of you. I will break you until you become the good girl that I know you can be.” 

“Theo please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed and begged. “Don’t do this, please.” 

Theo chuckled darkly. “You’re not sorry,” he said as he cut your dress open with his blade. “But you will be.” 

Exposed and vulnerable, you struggled against your restraints as Theo trailed kisses down your torso. His lips were a searing brand against your skin, sucking and biting and marking your skin as though he was staking his claim on your body. His deft fingers unhooked your bra and his pupils were completely black as he ogled your chest. 

With his lips latched around your nipple, Theo blinked innocently up at you. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” he murmured as he flicked his tongue over the stiffened peak. “You make me crazy, Y/N.” 

You moaned as he sucked fervently, losing himself in the heat of your skin and the scent of your perfume. Roses and vanilla. Sweet and simple, just like his pretty girl. Theo groaned as he lavished your other nipple the same treatment. 

There was such reverence and awe in the way that he touched you. For a brief moment, you forgot how truly vile he was because the second his fingers slipped inside of you and curved against that sweet spot, every ounce of common sense abandoned you. 

“I bet Adrian would’ve never gotten you this wet, huh?”

Your eyes snapped open at the reminder. Somewhere underneath you, Adrian’s lifeless body was still bleeding out on your wooden floors. “You’re fucking awful — o —oh —“ 

The involuntary whimper that crawled up your throat was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. Theo had ripped your panties to shreds and positioned the head of his cock over your folds, teasing and taunting at your entrance as you continued to resist. 

“Theo, Theo, please,” you pleaded as he began to breach your cunt. You kicked your legs in the air and tilted your hips away from him, anything to keep him away from you, but it didn’t work. 

Theo held your hips down, his large hands forming bruises on your skin. “Stay fucking still,” he growled against your neck before biting down hard. 

Shocked, you stopped struggling and cried as the sting broke skin. Theo took the opportunity to push the head of his cock inside of you, making your eyes water from the sheer length of him. He was too big, it didn’t fit, it fucking hurt. But the desperate pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as Theo fully sheathed himself in your warmth. 

“So fucking tight,” Theo grunted as he slowly dragged his cock out of your pussy, entranced at the way your bodies melded together, watching your cunt clench around nothing before slamming all the way in. Your teeth clattered together from the force. “Dio mio, you feel so fucking good. I want to ruin you.” 

Once more, he pulled out and pushed into your warmth, savoring the way you squeezed around him. The sensation made you dizzy with desire. Try as you might to fight it, every breach of his cock only stretched and filled you even more, the filthy sound of your pussy squelching with every thrust echoing in the room. 

“Wanted this for so long,” Theo grunted. “You have no idea what it’s been like for me, cara mia.” His hips snapped against your ass while he drove deeper and deeper, thick cock kissing the tip of your cervix. “But now I finally get to have you all to myself.” 

Your knees buckled, every brush of his cock within your snug walls weakening your resolve as he fucked you into the mattress. His pace was relentless, punishing, and it was all you could do to lose yourself in him completely. 

“Don’t fight it, bella.” Theo murmured as he hiked your legs up over his shoulders. “I could be so good to you.” He punctuated his statement with a slam of his hips. “I know everything about you. Probably better than you know yourself. I’ve watched, I’ve waited, I’ve wanted.” Another slam caused you to writhe and arch your back off the bed. “No one else could ever love you like I do.” 

A breathy moan pushed its way past your lips without your consent. Self-loathing made you flush with embarrassment; your body was betraying you in the worst way as your own slick dripped down your thighs while Theo angled your hips to sink in deeper. He had spoken true about knowing you better than you knew yourself, because he seemed to know how to caress you, how to kiss you, how to command you until you were teetering off the edge once again. 

His long fingers circled your clit, stroking the sensitive bud in the exact same way that he had watched you touch yourself over the past few months. Theo was diligent in every sense of the word; his studious nature pushed him to perfection. The focus in which he devoted into pleasuring you was singular. He was obsessive and possessive; he was determined to make this good for you. His pretty girl deserved nothing but the best. 

“You can’t deny that we’re a perfect fit,” he murmured, dead-eyed gaze drinking in the sight of him slipping in and out of you. You tried to avert your gaze, but Theo gripped your chun and forced you to watch. “Look how well you’re taking me. It’s like we were made for each other, my love.”

Words failed you at the heat of the moment and even if you regained the ability to speak, you wouldn’t know what to say. Theo took your silence for submission, his lips pressed against yours, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip while he pounded into you. 

The instinct to fight dimmed with each urgent thrust, buried deep within the recesses of your mind. All you could do was moan in pleasure and Theo eagerly drank in every gasp and pant and whimper, studying your face as though he was committing every detail to memory.

“Please, please,” you panted. You weren’t quite sure whether you were begging him to stop or urging him to continue, but either way, Theo seemed to know exactly what you needed. 

His kisses were open mouthed and filthy, swallowing your protests with the flick of his tongue. You jerked when Theo slapped your pussy, chuckling against your mouth before he kneaded his thumb against your tender nub harder and faster. 

“Theo —“ The realization that your climax was near filled you with both excitement and indignation. 

“Be a good girl and come for me, Y/N.” 

You clenched as Theo squeezed your throat in his fist, momentarily robbing you of oxygen. Somehow its absence intensified the sensations. The combination of Theo pushing his cock into you again and again while his thumb stroked your clit harder and harder sent you barreling over the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, making your legs shake and your walls spasm around his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Theo cursed, his resolve close to breaking. “Just like that, cara mia. Squeezing me so tight, milking my fucking cock dry.” 

Stars burst behind your lids as his balls slapped against your clit, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you. Your mind went fuzzy with static. A faint ringing echoed in your ears while you trembled and convulsed. 

“Such a good girl,” Theo grunted as he chased after his own pleasure. You were limp and boneless underneath him, unable to respond save for a pathetic whimper. “I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up with my cum, bella. You’re going to let me, aren’t you?” 

You started to shake your head, but Theo paid the action no mind. “Take it, cara mia,” he said forcefully. “Take my cock, take my heart, take all of me.” 

Your tits jiggled as he fucked you through his own orgasm, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled his thick, hot cum inside of you. His eyes rolled back at the thought of filling you and stuffing you full of his seed. It overflowed past your sensitive, puffy folds and dripped down your thighs. Even when he pulled his softening cock out of you, Theo made sure to push it all back in with his fingers. You whimpered at the sensitivity between your legs as he leaned back to admire his work. 

Theo seemed to take pity on you, tutting at the red circles around your wrist. “M’gonna take the cuffs off now, okay, bella?” 

You nodded, trembling slightly when he finally unchained you from the bed. Theo cooed over your raw wrists, kissing and fawning over the sensitive skin. Taking full advantage of the distraction, you snatched the knife Theo had carelessly discarded by his thigh and drove the blade into his shoulder. 

Theo hissed in surprise, his blue eyes widening. “You fucking stabbed me,” he declared incredulously. “You really fucking stabbed me.” 

“Oh my God —“ you sobbed, regret flooding you all at once as your hands shook over the blade. “Theo, I didn’t mean — fuck, are you okay —“ 

The shock caused you to let your guard down, tears streaming down your face as the realization of what you had just done crashed over you. Despite the blade sticking out from his shoulder, Theo seamlessly switched positions so that you were straddling his lap. 

Your right hand was frozen in place, still holding the blade while shaking violently. You expected anger and fear, but Theo only flashed you a lovesick smile as he wrapped his slender fingers around your wrist. “Don’t be shy, Y/N,” Theo teased. “You can do better than that, can’t you?” 

You screamed as Theo drove the blade further into his shoulder, the wound splattering a rain of blood all over your face and hair. “Stop, stop it! Don’t. Theo, stop, please —”

Theo tilted his head and examined you with a curious expression. His gaze softened as you sobbed and trembled in his lap. In his silky voice, he whispered soothing words in your ear and stroked your back to calm your growing hysteria. 

“Aw, you’re worried about me? That’s cute, bella.” The timbre of his voice almost sounded proud. “I wouldn’t waste your tears, though. I'll be fine. It’s just a silly little nick. Besides, now that I’ve had you, it won’t be that easy to get rid of me.”

You gasped as his hardness poked against your ass. How could he be fucking hard at a time like this? There was goddamn knife sticking out of his shoulder, for fuck’s sake!

“Look at you, crying over me.” His voice was husky with need as he rolled his erection against you. It seemed that not even a murder attempt could faze the man underneath you. If anything, Theo seemed turned on by it. God, he was so fucked up. “It’s a good sign, bella. It means that you care. To think, just moments ago, you said you hated me, but here you are concerned for my well being.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to listen to him speak. It only confused you more. Theo kissed your tears away and caressed your cheek. His violation of you earlier was a direct contradiction of the way he handled you with such gentleness and care, almost like you were something precious to him. You couldn’t reconcile the warring versions of him in your mind. 

“Please, stop,” you murmured as you tried to cover your ears. “You’re confusing me.”

“There’s nothing to be confused about,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Clearly, you care about me. Otherwise, you would have aimed for my heart.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you whispered in a broken sob. “I just wanted — I wanted —” 

In truth, you didn’t know what you wanted. It was all too traumatic and taxing to fully process. Theo pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Shh, hush now, principessa. I told you, I’ll take care of you. You never have to worry about anything ever again. You can trust me, I promise. I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. I’ll kill anyone who tries. I love you so fucking much.” 

Theo gently pried your wrists away and kissed your fingertips. “You don’t love me yet,” he admitted in a wistful tone. “But you will, bella.” 

[yuunarii-arii]

𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘏𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘴 '𝘐 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶'

word count: 823 pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader warning(s): soft!mattheo, reader is assumed to have hair long enough to tie, just fluffy fluff! summary: Mattheo refused to say the words 'I love you,' until he's properly shown you his affections in other ways.

Mattheo Riddle wasn’t the type to bend over backwards for something as foolish as love. In his eyes, it was a weakness, a vulnerability, but every little thought he believed in was washed away in an instant after a glimpse of your sickeningly sweet smile.

He had fallen deep into this obsession for you, he starved for your smile like he needed air, he dreamt of your lips, your touch, until he awoken in an empty cold bed. You occupied his mind every second, every minute of the day, from dawn to dusk, he could only think about you; and when Mattheo Riddle falls in love, it isn’t subtle, he wouldn't declare it with the words ‘I love you’ at first. He needed to prove to you that he could love you like no other, and possibly proving to himself as well, that he truly is capable of loving.

The way he knew you better than anyone else. Mattheo Riddle memorized everything about you, every little detail, from the way you make your tea to each freckle and scar that adorns your skin. If there was a class only about you, he’d pass with flying colors. And the weird part is, he wasn’t even trying, remembering these little things simply came easy to him, because if it’s from you—no matter how small the detail—it was worth remembering.

He watched as you ran into class, your hair disheveled with clothes just barely tidy enough to be called a proper uniform. With a quiet grin, Mattheo thought to himself, oh she overslept again, you must have stayed up reading all night, which he didn’t doubt it to be the reason for your tardiness, knowing you had a love for books. He could recite the exact excuse you’d use to explain for your lateness and wouldn’t miss a single word; it may sound a little stalker-ish, but we’ve already established that this man is obsessed with you, there’s no backing out now.

Teasing that wished for more to come. It was known throughout the school that Mattheo enjoyed getting a rise out of you. Stealing your quill and books, holding it over your head just to watch you attempt to reach for your belongings; sometimes snatching your hair band, just so you’d chase after him to take it back, or the days when you sat beside him in class and he played with your hair under the guise of simply annoying you, yet the truth was he loved feeling the strands of your hair between his fingers, it grounds him, as if he stopped you might disappear; if he could he would hold your hand and never let go, but he couldn't, not yet. Every little tease or taunt that he had made was simply an attempt to receive your attention, the Slytherin didn’t know any better ways, so he chose to irritate you on a daily basis. However, that doesn’t mean he’d take it too far—Mattheo would rather kiss a niffler than to ever see you genuinely upset—he knows his limits and wouldn’t dare to cross the line with you.

The small acts that anyone could overlook. You never knew why things just appeared when you needed them, it was like magic really—quite ironic, coming from a student of Hogwarts. It happened so often that you assumed you were being watched over by some fairy godmother. What you had never realized was that a certain Slytherin had your every move planned in his head.

Mattheo took pride in making sure your favorite seat was free just for you, no matter the numerous students he had threatened to keep it empty, nothing was out of line when it came to you; and he’d even leave a snack at your desk if he knew you overslept. They were simple, quite minuscule gestures, but they meant the world to you; once you found out it had been Mattheo’s doing, you weren’t quite sure how you felt, but you knew it didn’t do well to ease the butterflies within your stomach...

This would be his 'I love you', just until... Mattheo Riddle was born into a cruel world, void of love or feelings of any kind, but you made him want to learn, he sought out in his own unique ways to show you he cared. Although, at times his feeling weren’t clear and you probably wanted to smack that smirky face of his, but he’s getting there, and he would continue his advances until he finally says “I love you.” They were easy words to say for most, but on the tongue of Mattheo Riddle, they held so much power. It wasn’t easy, It certainly was not something he could say blatantly to your face on a school day; he needed it to be special, no one had ever uttered those three words to him in his life, nor has he told anyone them before. So, until the day Mattheo caresses you in his arms, forehead resting against yours, whispering sweet nothings and sleepy declarations of love, you would continue to receive hidden candies and loving taunts from Mattheo Riddle.

↬Disclaimers

©yuunari-arii 2025. All works & moodboards posted under my name belong to me. Please do not copy, claim, republish, or translate my work anywhere else.

[unstablereader]

Why does Mattheo look like he's forced Ghostface to look at the camera and smile?? 🤣🤣🤣

ghostface!slytherin boys

thought i was joking when i said that i wouldn't stop until every fictional man i liked had a ghostface au? think again. i've posted the first three, but now all 6 are done, i wanted to share them together. enjoy!

[dracosangelsworld]

Reading list part 2

Showerhead by @rafesslxt

The serpent's flame by @hisfavegirl

The letter by @spectorgram

Baby fever by @anawritez-posts

Nemesis by @cherriexpie

Babydoll! Reader by @sweetiechichi

Honey, are you coming? By @nottswitch

Clingy sleepy boyfriend by @anawritez-posts

Fescennine by @gibsluv

Our missing piece by @sectumsempraaa

Stuck with me forever by @anawritez-posts

Anonymous flowers by @mattyriddlesbitch

Succumb to the lust by @pizzaapeteer

Slytherin boys react to animagus!reader by @deadghosy

Best friends right? By @viperify

Her name is riddle by @anawritez-posts

Winnie the pooh by @riddlesrizzler

What's my name? By @agreeewrites

Leona Hawthorne's ficmas by @lushleona

If you've been nice you get by @nottswitch

Bsf!mattheo x angel!reader by @winnie1emon

Dec 17, Tom riddle by @iniquitousyearning

Plaything by @mattyriddlesbitch

Deck the halls by @writingsbychlo

Frission by @gibsluv

Accismus by @cherrixpie

Ex bf theo x fawn! Reader by @winnie1emon

Clingy like father like son by @anawritez-posts

In the world of boys he's a gentleman by @adiraargent

Dec 31st ,Tom riddle by @iniquitousyearning

So pretty when u cum for me by @riddleswhcre

Breathe darling by @yuaOra

Slytherin boys by @rafesslxt

Sundress by @dearnott

Animagus bunny by @kaciebello

Guess who by @slytherinboysvip

Sleeping after an argument by @vipwinnie

The way dark lord apologized by @anawritez-posts

For the first time by @vintagebishx

That look on your face by @yasministration

Drunk on jealousy by @riddlesbunny

Bloodlines by @chipheress-to-kpop

Peonies by @amiableness

Breaking boundaries by @ribbonflame

Something there by @lovesincerely

Just breathe by @bunny-1111

Kiss or dare by @belovedenzo

Secret admirer by @cloudybarnes

Rumours by @riddlesbunny

Pussydrunk Theodore Nott by @mmeskywalker

I'm not sorry by @papercorgiworld

Skull and bones by @heavenlybodies333

Family tree by @lqveharrington

I got you by simp-for-love

Dinner and dietribes by cherrixpie

Run baby run by cruel-seduction

Unspoken by simp-for-love

Stalker Theodore Nott by nottsluvv

For the rose and the pearl by illbegottenfaith

A birthday gift for the sweetest witch by lushleona

Venus in Libra by nottswitch

Behind closed doors by luvrrszn

Like he belonged there by distantdarlings

Veridis Quo by yuaOra

Breed me by mommynott

Ps I love you by redeemingvillians

Rewritten by lov3notts

To die in your arms tonight by cherrixpie

Bother me by the-riddlerr

Wrong drink by theosbabydollx

Just friends by slytherinsmuse

Porcelain by dearmisshoney

Reading list part 1

Reading list part 3

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Model

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warnings: Like one dirty comment

You knew Mattheo a little from classes. You shared a few here and there throughout the years and would talk when you were sat next to each other. You wouldn’t exactly classify him as a friend, more like an acquaintance. You, of course, knew his reputation-the fights and drinking and smoking, being the Dark Lord’s son. It wasn’t exactly good and pure. Yet he was always kind to you when you spoke, making jokes to make you laugh. You didn’t exactly see him as this purely evil boy that people make him out to be. Sure, he got into fights and did things he wasn’t supposed to, but don’t most guys do that anyways?

You noticed a lot of things about him, just from observing him. Things like he preferred sweets over anything else, he always loaded his coffee with sugar and creamer, he befriended some of the animals around Hogwarts like the stray cats and crows, anytime he got new converse, he would draw on them the first day. None of these things exactly screamed “evil” to you.

The one thing you never noticed about him though, would be in the classes that you did have together that you were apart from each other in, he would draw you. He liked how focused you looked in class as you took notes. He liked how the pen looked in your hands. He liked how your legs looked, especially the softness of your thighs when you sat down. He liked the little bit of your chest he could see when you unbuttoned the top buttons of your shirt when it was too hot. He liked how soft your hair looked and the small strands that fell whenever you’d put your hair up. He liked how you’d pull the school robe around you whenever you got cold in class. He liked you.

So, instead of focusing on class, he would sketch you. It could be your hands, or your face, or the back of your head, or your legs when you crossed them under the desk. Whatever he could see or whatever caught his attention the most. 

His friends would joke around and call him creepy or a stalker, but he just thought you were too beautiful not to draw. How could he not when you just looked so…he had no words to really describe how he thought. Beautiful was okay. Gorgeous, maybe. Ethereal? Yeah, that would be the closest he could get to how he felt.

“You know, you could easily be a model.” Mattheo said as he was sat across the desk from you in one of your classes, his head resting in his hand as he looked at you.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks, but I’m not sure about that.” You said, looking up from your work to look at him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t think I’m that pretty.”

He raised his eyebrows. That was just absurd to him. “Would you mind modeling for me anyways? I’d like practice drawing from a live model.” He asked, biting back the urge to tell you how wrong you were.

“You wanna draw me?” You asked with a bit of amusement and disbelief.

“I’d like to try something new rather than just drawing nature.” He said, and it was a half lie. It definitely wasn’t new to draw you, but it would be new to draw you posing for him.

“I suppose I can do that. What’s in it for me?” You asked, tilting your head with a small, teasing smile.

“My company.” He smiled back, just as teasingly.

“And what makes you think I would want that?”

“Who doesn’t? I mean, look at me.” He leaned back in his seat and gestured to himself.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Not a ‘no’, though.”

“How about you get me some butter beer next time we’re at Hogsmeade and you got a deal?” You say, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Are you proposing a date with me, Miss (Y/L/N)?” He teased, his smile growing.

“No, simply saying you owe me, Mr, Riddle.”

“Deal.” He said just as class ended. “Meet me tomorrow after breakfast in the courtyard, yeah?”

“Okay.” You said as you both were putting away your things. “See you then.” You shot him a smile as you stood up and left the classroom.

The next day was Saturday, so there were no classes. You ate breakfast in the Great Hall before heading out to the courtyard and spotted Mattheo standing under the tree. He was smoking, but immediately put it out as soon as he saw you walking towards him.

“Smoking this early?” You asked teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah. I know the speech. It'll kill me, I should stop, find another outlet.” He said sarcastically.

“Am I that predictable?” You joked, smiling at him as you stopped just a couple of feet away from him.

“How about you drop the sass and just sit here and look pretty for me?” He cocked his head, challenging you.

“So bossy. You're gonna draw me out here?” You asked, looking around.

“Best lighting here this time of day.” He said. “You're not backing out on me now, are you?” 

“I didn't say that. Where would you like me?” You said as you looked back at him.

“Here.” He gestured to one of the stone arches where you could sit.

You sat down on the arch, crossing your legs. “How would you like me?”

He tilted his head as he stared at you for a moment. “Lean back on your hands.” He said as he sat down a little away from you.

You leaned back on your hands, otherwise not changing anything else. “Like that?”

“Yeah.” He nodded as he grabbed his sketchbook from his bag. “Now just sit and look pretty for me.” He gave you a cheeky smile before starting to draw you.

You sat there for a few moments, just letting him draw before speaking up. “You know, when you asked me to model for you, I thought you were gonna try sneaking in some way to get me naked.”

“I was gonna work my way up. Earn your trust.” He said playfully, smirking as he glanced up at you.

You took a pinecone next to you and threw it at him, just grazing his arm, before getting back in the pose.

“Hey! I was joking!” He laughed, brushing the dirt from the pinecone off of his sleeve. “Though, I definitely won't complain if you did wanna pose naked for me.”

“You're disgusting.” You shot back in a teasing manner.

“Okay, okay, I'll leave it alone.” He said before going back to drawing. “Now sit still.”

“Demanding.” You muttered.

“You know, most models don't talk when they're being drawn.”

“Is that your way of telling me to stop talking?”

“I was trying to be subtle.”

“Rude.” You muttered again and he gave you a playful glare, but made no further comment.

You let him draw you in silence from there, minus his quiet mutters to himself. He loved being able to look at you with an excuse, he loved admiring all the small details-any scars, freckles, moles-all the imperfections that he thought made you look perfect.

He finally finished, looking between you and the drawing, making sure he got everything.

“Alright, I'm done. You wanna see it?” He asked, giving you a moment to stretch.

“Yeah, let's see it.” You said as you stood up, walking over to him.

He turned his sketchbook around towards you, looking just a little sheepish.

“Woah.” You took the sketchbook from him to get a better look. “Are you sure this is me? This person is way too beautiful.” You chuckled.

“That's how I see you.” He shrugged, trying to make it seem like it's not a big deal.

“You think I'm this pretty?” You asked, looking up at him now.

“I don't think I could ever do you justice, if I'm honest.” He admitted, the slightest blush dusting his cheeks. That was so embarrassing to admit for him.

“You mean that?” You asked softly.

“Yeah.” He said and stood up. “I, um…I’ve always thought you were pretty. Well, ‘pretty’ doesn’t even begin to cover how I think.” He gave you a cute, but embarrassed smile, rubbing the back of his neck as the blush deepened.

You could feel your own face heat up. “Well, I think you did a really good job with the drawing. This definitely does me justice.” You said, turning your attention back to the drawing.

“I could always use more practice, you know.” He said, not looking away from you.

“Are you asking me to model for you again?” You asked, eyes flicking back up to him.

“Yeah.”

You smiled, looking back at the drawing for a second before looking back at him. “Fine, but that means you’ll owe me two butter beers.”

“I guess I can do that.” His smile widened.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddleluvbot @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@delulugirl2000 @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore @sweet-afternoon

@ilovehpb0ys @satosugu4-ever @rcailleachcola @mattiesgirl

@alwayslatetothefandoms @satosugu4-ever @whydoireadanymore @dustie-faerie @mcdonaldshelppage

@shaquilles-0atmeal @gillyweeds @pluto-9456 @jooniebluesworld

@hereticdance @cindyss @saint-marvel @atadoddinnit

@simpforromance @yours-truly-5 @kenjikishimotoswifey @fallingblackveils @simpforromance

@strxwberri-s @nickirae @esmerai-artemis @blu3b3rrymuff1ns @m1lilachp

@roseofsharron438 @abeoavita @rafesba @ter-luer @slutsluvpaola

@lhotse8801 @eneywey @suna-rintired @maxsisly @ur-local-wizard

@notavailibles-world @tantrumbaby @peonies-and-unicorns @dorkyfangirl24

[acourtofchaos]

SLYTHERIN BOYS FIC RECS II

TOM RIDDLE

OBSERVATIONS* | PART TWO* by @fatesundress

THE DISPLEASURE IS ALL MINE by @pasukiyo

THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT* by @slytherinslut0

SPIDER by @writingsbychlo

BLAISE ZABINI

A NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM by @pizzaapeteer

CAUGHT* by @mattyriddlesbitch

THEODORE NOTT

GOOD THINGS FALL APART by @obsessedwithceleste

NOVOCAINE by @theonotti

FRANÇAISE VS ITALIANÓ* by @fuckaperioddrama

LITTLE DRAGON by @retrobutterflies

SO THIS IS LOVE by @amourane

DRACO MALFOY

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES by @draco-dormiens

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

TAUNTING* by @distantdarlings

RUN* by @slytherinslut0

MATTHEO RIDDLE

THE DEVIL CAN BE BEAUTIFUL by @tomriddleslove

WATCH YOUR MOUTH* by @pizzaapeteer

STALKER!MATTHEO by @sylviaonyx

*indicates smut

[xoblondie]

The winner will be out tonight <3

I spent all last night editing this one, my shorter blurb and a Theo fic 😼