#Mattheo Riddle x reader

[sabxynsweet]

more sweetheart!reader with mattheo

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

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

"Hmm?" He looks down at you.

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

"Good different?" He smirks.

"Very good different." She says quickly, making him laugh.

They don't hear Theo, Blaise and Enzo snickering at them a few seats away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The group nod and gasp in agreement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rositxespinosa]

<3

‘All I wanted was for you to love me’- Mattheo Riddle Headcannons!! (Sad & Soft)

• He had known that he wanted to be with you since 3rd year. It has always been that way, and it always will. When he saw you for the first time sitting at the great hall, talking and laughing, he knew he was in love.

• He had a very low self esteem, causing him to bottle up his problems about himself and fall into an episode due to these thoughts he has about himself. He’ll doubt himself every waking moment- finding something wrong with him if you even seem slightly out of place.

• He’s always hates his natural, curly hair. Always wetting it in the morning and throughout the day, but one time when he was sick and wasn’t able to constantly wet his hair, you saw it for the first time and thought it was the cutest thing. Ever since that one day, he has fallen in love with his natural hair.

• He surprisingly likes it when you lightly trace his scars with your nails or fingers. He likes the feeling of your nails gently scratching at his bare back, feeling your fingers go over and touch his scars.

• Mattheo has already made up his mind, once he graduates, he is running away with you to start a new life, a new chapter. He wants to start a family with you, give you his last name, call you His, and you call him Yours.

• He’ll never say it out loud but, when he sometimes wakes up before you do, he likes to look at you and just realize how lucky he is. He is thankful that he has you- and he’ll remind you that every single day.

• His hugs are some of the greatest things out there. He likes to give full body, strong, long and warm hugs. There isn’t a small, quick hug when it comes to you. He’ll hold you and hold you, he never pulls away first. Not even after an argument.

A knock is what woke him up from his light slumber. Without you by his side during the night, he couldn’t sleep well, he would wake up every few minutes. All he could do was toss and turn before falling asleep again, but once he saw you standing at his dorm door with your eyes slightly pink from all the crying that you did, your lashes wet from your tears, and your cheeks and nose tinted pink, he knew everything was gonna be alright. You had ran into his arms, clinging onto him- clutching your hands to his shirt, holding onto it as if he would disappear if you didn’t. He just held onto you, wrapping one arm around the back of your neck, bringing your body closer, and using his other hand to rake his fingers though your hair. You knew you were gonna be just fine.

• Smells like oak wood and vanilla- if you really smell him closely, you can smell the cigarette brand that he smokes on his hoodie.

[nottscherry]

every single time i see this picture of him, i immediately feel like he fits what would be dealer!mattheo.

dealer!mattheo who won’t even let you near a cigarette because it’s “bad for you.” he doesn’t even like you coming with for deliveries but when you refuse and get in the passenger seat anyways, he drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand gripping his glock.

he also forces you into the bedroom whenever he has customers coming over because it’s not safe for you. and if you sneak out of the room while he’s dealing, he’s fucking you into the mattress later that night, his hips slamming against your ass cheeks. “such a naughty fucking girl, aren’t you? you never learn...” he’d whisper in your ear, fistful of your hair, wondering why it was so hard for you to just listen.

and of course dealer!mattheo always makes sure his girl is taken care of well before his own needs are met. he lets you cum first, no exceptions. in fact, he makes you cum MULTIPLE times before he does. always giving you money to go treat yourself, taking you on vacations, anything you wanted. you had him wrapped around your little finger.

more dealer!mattheo.

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot (14) - Mattheo Riddle

-

The air at Hogwarts was crisp with January frost, snow clinging to the windows in delicate patterns as if the castle itself had been frozen in time. The buzz of returning students filled the halls — laughter, chatter, floating luggage, enchanted pets darting between legs — but it all faded when Enzo found you.

You had barely made it halfway down the corridor toward Ravenclaw Tower, scarf still looped loosely around your neck, when he came barreling toward you, looking more rattled than you’d ever seen him.

“Thank Merlin, you’re back,” he breathed, grabbing your wrist, his eyes wide with urgency. “We need you. He needs you. Now.”

You blinked. “What happened?”

“It’s Mattheo,” Enzo said tightly. “He’s…not okay.”

Your heart dropped like a stone.

“He’s been at Malfoy Manor the whole break,” Enzo continued, tugging you with him toward the dungeons. “With him. With all the fucking Death Eaters. They’ve—he’s—he’s been different since he got back. Cold. On edge. Like he can’t turn it off.”

Theo had sent a letter over break, hinting at Mattheo’s silence, but you hadn’t wanted to read too much into it. Now, you could feel it in your bones — whatever warmth Mattheo left Hogwarts with hadn’t made it home with him.

You didn’t speak the rest of the way down to the Slytherin common room. You didn’t need to.

———

The Slytherin common room was dim, lit mostly by green-tinged torchlight and the flicker of the fire. A group of younger students huddled silently by the far wall, whispering nervously. Theo was standing halfway between them and Mattheo, jaw clenched, arms crossed.

And Mattheo?

Mattheo Riddle stood dead center, radiating danger. His back was tense, his black cloak still damp with melted snow, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. There was something in his eyes — something shadowed, violent, barely contained.

He didn’t even look at you right away.

Theo noticed first. “Thank Gods—” he muttered, nudging Mattheo. “Mate. Look.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked toward you. At first, there was no change.

Then he blinked.

And then — his shoulders slumped, just barely. His jaw loosened. His fingers twitched.

Your name left his lips in a whisper, hoarse and low. “You’re here.”

You took a step forward, scanning him — the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his stance, the hollow weight in his expression. “Of course I’m here.”

He stared at you like he was trying to wake up from a nightmare. And for a moment, no one moved.

Then your voice sharpened. “You’re scaring people, Mattheo.”

Something flickered in his eyes — guilt, buried under rage and pain. But he didn’t argue.

“Come with me,” you said quietly, stepping closer. “Now.”

He obeyed without a word.

———

The door to Mattheo’s dorm had barely shut behind you before you reached for him. Your hands slid up his arms, into his hair, your fingers weaving through those dark curls like you were trying to ground him — because you were. And slowly, slowly, the walls began to fall.

Mattheo leaned his forehead against yours, breathing hard like he’d just run a marathon.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” he muttered.

“I had to see you,” you replied softly. “I needed to.”

He wrapped his arms around you — tight, desperate — and buried his face in your neck.

“They were all over my head,” he whispered. “Every second of every day. The way they talk… the way they think. It’s like poison.”

You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re not them.”

“I could be,” he said bitterly. “I look like him. I think like him, sometimes. I hear that voice in my head—”

“No,” you interrupted, firmly now. “You’re not him. You never will be. You fight every day to be better, and that is what makes you strong. That’s what makes you Mattheo.”

His breath hitched. His hands trembled where they rested on your waist.

You reached up and kissed his brow. Then his cheek. Then the corner of his mouth. Slowly. Carefully.

“I missed you,” you whispered, eyes wet now. “Every second you were gone.”

He finally smiled — the smallest, most broken little smile — and closed his eyes like he could feel himself starting to breathe again.

“I missed you more,” he said. “And I never want to go that long without you again.”

You pulled him down to sit on the bed with you, his head in your lap as your fingers ran through his hair in slow, soothing circles.

He looked up at you like you were the only light left in the world.

Then he blinked. “Wait—your gift.”

You tilted your head. “What gift?”

He reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a small, dark velvet box.

“I was going to give it to you on Christmas, but I couldn’t get away. I carried it every day. It made me feel…close to you.”

He opened it, and your breath caught.

A stunning emerald pendant glowed softly from inside the box — delicate, glimmering, and unmistakably enchanted.

“Mattheo,” you breathed.

He took it out and stood, brushing your hair back as he fastened it gently around your neck.

“It’s charmed to warm when I’m thinking about you,” he murmured. “So you’ll always know when you’re on my mind.”

You looked up at him, touched beyond words.

“Which,” he added with a smirk, “is pretty much all the time.”

You laughed through your tears, and he pulled you into his chest again.

“You’re my peace,” he whispered into your hair. “My home. My everything.”

And for the first time since the holidays began, Mattheo Riddle didn’t feel like he was suffocating in his father’s shadow.

He felt like he belonged to you.

[aur0ral1ghts]

Sex with Mattheo Riddle.

ɴsғᴡ.

ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ sᴇx ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ɪs ʟɪᴋᴇ.

• Either hates or loves foreplay. It just depends on his mood. When he is in the mood for it, he makes sure to kiss and worship every part of your body. When he isn't, the second you walk into his room, with your hand in his, he basically shoves you onto his bed, kissing you like a starved man, his hand toying with the hem of your tiny skirt.

• This man is turned on by literally anything. Like you could accidentally touch his hand, and he would go feral. In the bedroom, he would go rock hard from anything. Biting his lip during a kiss? Instantly Hard. Lifting off his shirt? Hard. Seeing you in your pretty lingerie set? Hard.

• He could be either dominant or submissive. It just depends on his mood. Or the girl he's with. With you, he could be the most submissive thing ever. He loves it when you tie him up, sucking his cock until he's sweating profusely. He also loves having control over you, he loves when your underneath him, screaming his name.

• His kinks would probably be tying you up. Seeing you underneath him makes this guy go absolutely crazy. Another kink of his is choking. He would love to choke you during spicy times.

• He loves the feeling of excitement of fucking you in a public place, like an empty classroom, knowing anyone could walk in and catch you guys in the act. His favorite place would definitely be the common room at night. He would shove a thumb in your mouth as he whispers, "Dont want to be too loud. You don't want people to catch us, doll?"

• He's either the most gentle or most roughest person you'll ever meet. Again, it just depends on his mood and the person. One day he can fuck your brains out, making you scream his name. And the next day he'll fuck you so gently, you'll feel so safe with him.

[viperifies]

HONEYYYYY RAAAHHHH

this was so delicioouusssss oh my god!??!?!!

the towel, one of his favorite outfits of yours, was draped nicely around your naked form, secured by a tiny corner tucked in between your boobs.

I am all for teasing roommate!mattheo ;))

“sure, sweetheart.”

the nickname would have sent me spiralling in an instant tbh.

it wasn’t just the towel. it was you. it was always you — the hypnotizing sway of your hips, the sweet smile, the way you called him matt with that honey-sweet voice. like you weren’t driving him completely insane.

why don't u come fuck us then, Matty???

there, suctioned shamelessly to the tiled wall, was a bright pink dildo.

WHEN I TELL YOU I GASPED, OH MY GOD??????

“so that’s why you were in such a good mood,” he whispered to himself, the tip of his cock already dripping precum. “fucking hell, darling…”

damn right, but I'd be in an even better mood if it was your cock :(((

your dildo — suctioned to the wall, brazen and sparkly under the bathroom light. your breath caught in your throat, your cheeks heating up instantly.

oh god I think I'd die of embarrassment.

“you need a real cock.” he hissed, his fingers mushing against your jaw even more. “longer. girthier. wetter.”

that's literally so freaking HOT ISJDFSTIFSIH

his fingers gripped your hips, moving you away from his body and spinning you around so your front faced the dildo. “please, sweetheart. i want to see it. ride it for me like the filthy little thing you are.”

HELLOOOO???? Mattheo?? I see you😉😏

you nodded vigorously, lips brushing against his sensitive skin. “please, matt. i need it­– need your cock, your cum… please…”

me when I am ovulating tbh

“fucking hell.” he leaned closer, forehead against yours, lips brushing, breath hot. “you only want real cock in that pretty little mouth, huh? one that can fuck your throat and paint it white?” “yes– yes, mattheo, please– i love your cum, i love it, please let me taste it–”

me when I am ovulating pt 2. nah but fr this is so hot??? honey wtf are you doing to me??? help???

“do it.” mattheo groaned into your neck. “cum on my cock like a good girl. show me you don’t need that toy ever again.”

SJDFHSFHSSK plssss omg?? imma throw that toy away IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!

as always, this was so freaking amazing and I loved every second of reading this. your smut is honestly so good I am shocked. now come and do the same to me.

suctions and sanctions

synopsis. you are always so attentive when leaving the shower, cleaning after yourself with maximum attention. this time, you somehow forgot to pack away a very important object — your dildo. your roommate mattheo stumbles upon it by accident and he doesn’t let the opportunity slip between his fingers. next time, be more careful, sweetheart!

pairing. roommate! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, roommates!au, flirty!mattheo, gymrat!mattheo, pervert!mattheo, kinda soft!mattheo, dom!mattheo, caring!mattheo, a bit of subspace (?), dildo-fucking/toy usage, voyeurism, oral (m receiving), slight spanking, shower sex (but the shower is not on), wall fucking, cum play/kink, tummy bulging, slight size kink, teasing, degradation, praise, dirty talk, name-calling (sweetheart, darling, pretty girl, but also slut, cumslut, cockslut), raw sex, thoatpie, creampie

word count. 4.4k

a/n. i am down bad for roommate!mattheo! i love him, he is very versatile! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

“ah, perfect timing! i was just done in the bathroom.”

your joyous voice chirped the moment mattheo entered your shared apartment, the honeyed words hitting his partly-covered ears — his headphones were dragged immediately down around his neck — and making him smile involuntarily.

his grin grew in intensity when he saw the state you were in: indeed, you’ve just got out of the shower, as you were only wearing a towel around your damp body.

the towel, one of his favorite outfits of yours, was draped nicely around your naked form, secured by a tiny corner tucked in between your boobs.

you had a lot of fate in that flimsy corner, huh?

your tits were pushed upwards thanks to the pressure of the towel, the soft roundness of your chest making his adam apple bob. the towel was quite big, so your beautiful silhouette was not shown to his curious eyes; yet it had one perk — it was short.

the towel barely covered your ass, clawing at your exposed thighs and slightly riding upwards with each and every move of yours.

and, oh, you loved to move around, skipping away from the bathroom door, coming closer to mattheo in the hallway, only to stop before the full-length mirror to pat at your hair with another smaller cloth.

“not that perfect, if you ask me.”

his voice was low, husky — thick with amusement and something darker underneath.

your eyes flicked to the mirror, catching his gaze lingering on your body in the reflection. his dark eyes roamed your figure with the kind of hunger that made your skin burn hotter than the steam you’d just walked out of.

mattheo wasn’t subtle, never was — he always made sure you knew how attractive you are in his eyes, be it through shameless flirting, intense staring or delicate brushings against your skin.

never full-on touches.

no matter how starved he was, he never initiated something with you, his kind and sweet roommate.

and it drove you crazy, to say the least.

“and why is that?” you asked, keeping your eyes glued to his face through the mirror. “do enlighten me, mattheo.”

voice dripping in sultry tunes, you continue to absorb the water from the roots of your hair. the raise of your arms made your towel dangerously close to slipping, hanging for dear life around your tits. the swell of your ass poked more from underneath the fluffy material, and now mattheo had evidence you were indeed not wearing any panties.

“if the timing was perfect…”

mattheo hummed as he dropped his gym bag to the floor, removing in the process his headphones. instead of finishing his explanation, he tugged his sheer tank top off in one smooth motion, clutching the edge around his neck and dragging it off forwards. his muscles flexed through the motion, biceps pumping under the tension, back littering with harsh muscular indents.

he was now shirtless right behind you, his tank top only a ball of material between his fingers. sweat still clung to his skin, making him glow beautifully, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth went a little dry, your thighs a little moist.

“… we would’ve showered together.”

he said flirtatiously, flashing you a devious smirk. mattheo definitely knew his advances had a great effect on you, be it through your body language or simply through that lust-filled glimmer in your eyes.

“going now.”

mattheo announced his departure with a small sigh, pretending he was hurt by your solo shower session. his wandering fingers ghosted over your hips as he passed, brushing so lightly it almost felt accidental — almost. he may have guided you out of the way so he could pass by easier, but the hallway was definitely big enough for the two of you.

what a fucking tease he was.

you stood there, heart thudding, watching his manly frame stride towards the bathroom. his back muscles were practically calling your name, asking for your fingers to dug in and leave crescent marks all over it.

your throbbing cunt was calling him too, pulsing with need the more you looked at his well-built body.

“um, matt!” you cleared your throat, coughing away your sudden arousal and calling him one last time. “let me know if i’ve missed any hairs. i will come clean it up.”

you’re always careful to leave the shower clean for your roommate, paying special attention to the hair falling from your head. be it short pieces or longer strands of hair, you do your best to collect them and throw them away before mattheo uses the bathroom. yet, hair is sometimes hard to see against the patterned tiles of the shower, so you always remind mattheo to point them out for you.

“sure, sweetheart.”

his voice boomed from the bathroom before the door was closed shut behind him.

mattheo barely had the patience to kick off his sneakers before tugging down his joggers, his thick cock already twitching with need at the sight of you in that fucking towel. and when he fully stepped into the bathroom, the steam hit his senses hard — the scent of your body wash was deliciously clinging to the dampness like a sinful reminder of what he'd just seen.

mattheo rubbed a hand down his face, groaning low. “fucking hell.” he muttered, turning on the water.

it wasn’t just the towel. it was you. it was always you — the hypnotizing sway of your hips, the sweet smile, the way you called him matt with that honey-sweet voice. like you weren’t driving him completely insane.

he pulled the curtain back, ready to enter the shower and wash away his sweat and sins– but stopped.

there, suctioned shamelessly to the tiled wall, was a bright pink dildo.

glistening. wet. proud.

mattheo blinked.

he stared at the toy for a few seconds, cock springing to full attention against his leg, jaw going slack as a filthy smirk curled his lips. his mind constructed a scenario faster than he could breathe — you, braced against the wall, moaning under your breath, hot water running down your spine as you fucked yourself back into that fake dick.

“so that’s why you were in such a good mood,” he whispered to himself, the tip of his cock already dripping precum. “fucking hell, darling…”

he ran a hand over his chest, muttering a shaky, amused laugh. it was funny, really, to catch such a sight knowing damn well what his roommate was doing before his arrival. but it was also so damn arousing, to see the nasty secret of his gorgeous roommate. the desperation. the carnal desire.

his hand gripped the base of his cock as he stepped under the water, eyes still locked on the toy. his brain was yelling at him one and only one command, and mattheo was adamant in fulfilling it. his fingers brushed over the silicone — still faintly warm — but he did not detach it from the wall.

“oh, shit, sweetheart.”

mattheo moaned out loud as he slowly aligned his cock next to the toy, pushing the mushroom tip as close to the suction cup as possible for an accurate measurement. and when he saw how much shorter the toy was, how the silicone head was nowhere close to his navel, he groaned again.

his cock was bigger than that stupid toy and definitely more efficient. to think that you were forced to use this thing because he hadn’t stepped in to give you something better.

“could’ve just asked for my help.” he murmured to no one, his hand now wrapping around himself.

with one slow and tight pump, mattheo knew what he had to do.

closing the water and stepping out of the shower, he hurriedly searched for his towel. and, recklessly wrapping his lower body with it, he called out for you.

“sweetheart, can you come here for a second?”

you walked towards the bathroom instantly, brows furrowed in concern. “did i really forget hairs?” you called gently, adjusting the towel around you on your way. you hated being careless about cleanliness, especially since mattheo was really attentive when it came to shared spaces.

but when you cracked the bathroom door open, you froze.

mattheo stood just outside the shower — damp hair sticking to his forehead, towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. his v-line was prominent against the clutches of the towel, and so was his happy trail, slowly dipping beneath the edge. his chest was still shimmered with droplets — sweat and water, you assume.

his dark orbs were instantly locked onto you, with something heated behind them.

your gaze dipped lower automatically, and then stopped.

his towel was tented. very obviously.

your voice wavered, “i– did you find something?”

“oh, i sure found something.”

his tone, so condescending, made your knees weak. and that dangerous, smug kind of drawl made your heart skip, and your thighs press against each other.

“come here.” he beckoned with two fingers, guiding you further into the bathroom and into the shower enclosure.

you stepped closer carefully, now unsure if this was still about your hair.

until you saw it.

your dildo — suctioned to the wall, brazen and sparkly under the bathroom light. your breath caught in your throat, your cheeks heating up instantly.

shit.

mattheo watched your expression shift from confusion to mortification, a delighted smile spread across his lips.

“so, this is what you do when i leave for a few hours?” his steps were slow, controlled, as he stalked towards you in the shower cabin.

“you get yourself all worked up, fuck yourself stupid on this–” he gestured to the dildo. “–and then greet me at the door, acting like nothing happened?”

you fumbled, cheeks burning harder, eyes hiding from mattheo’s. “i–i didn’t mean to leave it–”

“not what i asked.” he growled in your ear, and at this point you realized how close he actually was.

“i asked if that’s what you do when i’m gone.”

“y–yes.” you answer lowly, and, if it weren’t for the close proximity, mattheo wouldn’t have heard you.

“that’s why you were in such a good mood, huh?” he cooed, voice dropping lower, breath hovering closer to your face. “humping your pretty little toy like a needy slut, moaning your heart out because i wasn’t home.”

your knees almost buckled. “mattheo–”

“shhh.” he moved to the side in one swift step, his hand reaching up to grip your jaw and forcing you to look him in the eyes. “no lies, sweetheart. tell me the truth.”

you tried not to tremble when he leaned down, whispering near your lips yet another sinful question.

“was that little toy enough for you?”

your throat was bone dry. you could barely manage a whisper. “n–no.”

“of course it wasn’t.”

mattheo groaned so close to your lips, you even felt the warmth of his breath. you joined his groan with a whimper of your own as his towel brushed the nakedness of your legs, as his harsh erection poked against your thighs.

again and again and again.

“you need a real cock.” he hissed, his fingers mushing against your jaw even more. “longer. girthier. wetter.”

he was describing his own shaft, there was no way you could deny that. the towel was catching any sort of precum leaking from his tip, but you were definitely feeling the length and the girth of his cock as he was slowly rocking it into your leg.

“isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“yes, m–matt.”

“good fucking girl.”

mattheo's praise made your stomach twist in the most delicious way, your thighs clenching as heat pooled between them. the absence of panties made your arousal drool onto the towel and down your legs.

“but first” he rasped, mouth brushing against your cheek as he leaned in. “what exactly were you doing in here, sweetheart? walk me through it.”

you swallowed thickly at his order, face flushed with heat from humiliation and lust. it was so embarrassing to confess to your roommate your neediness. “i… i got in the shower, and–”

“mhm?” he mumbled in approval, urging you to continue, as his fingers removed themselves from your jaw to tug ever so slightly at the tucked corner between your tits, loosening the towel. “go on.”

“i was thinking about you.” you breathed out, chest heaving as the truth spilled. “i kept thinking about, how you look so good after you work out. and the way you look at me, and your voice…”

mattheo groaned under his breath, the sound low and feral. with your confirmation of your sins, he completely unraveled your towel and threw it out on the bathroom floor.

you were bare. trembling. completely on display for your dangerously hot roommate who hadn’t stopped staring since you opened the bathroom door.

your nipples hardened under his hungry gaze, the relatively cold air prickling at your skin and making goosebumps arise. your hands raised up automatically to cover up, but mattheo was quicker than you and gathered them into his hand, trapping your wrists in a harsh lock.

“don’t do that, darling. let me see you.” his voice was softer than expected, more of an encouragement than an order. his other hand shot upwards and grasped your chin, redirecting your eyes back to his own.

“and then?” he pressed, voice sharp with need, urging you to continue your story.

you flicked your eyes briefly to the toy suctioned to the tile, only to return your gaze back on mattheo’s blown-out orbs. “i needed something– anything. so i used that.”

he clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly as his eyes dragged down your naked body.

“that cheap little thing?” he tutted, smirked barely contained. “you really got yourself off to that? when i was just a call away?”

you bit your lip, shame burning through your belly. “i didn’t want to force you…”

he laughed — a cruel, amused sound that made your toes curl.

“force me?” he repeated, hand sliding from your chin down your side to grip your hip and push you more into him, into his still-covered bulge.

“sweetheart, i walked in here and nearly fucked the wall because of the thought of you riding that toy.”

“ah– matt–…”

you gasped in pleasure and surprise as his hands wrapped fully around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his cock, hot and hard behind the towel, digging into your leg shamelessly. his towel was hanging by a thread around his hips, and the slightest movement would definitely make it meet the floor.

“you make me go crazy.” he rasped, pulling you tighter against him, his voice a dangerous mix of possessiveness and want.

your breath hitched as he reached between your bodies, the towel around his waist finally unwrapping with a flick of his torso, revealing his cock in all its glory — flushed, thick, already leaking.

so much bigger than your toy.

so much better.

“see this?” mattheo murmured, grabbing the base of his cock and pressing it against your stomach, letting you feel the sheer length of it. letting you see how deep it will reach when inside you. “you did this to me by simply breathing.”

“and that stupid dildo, shit–” he growled, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes for a few seconds to compose himself. “this is what you need. not some flimsy pink plastic.”

“y–yes, mattheo, please–”

“darling, will you do something for me?”

as much as he wanted to take you there against the cold tiles of the shower, as much as he wanted to bury his cock in that drenched sweet pussy of yours, he craved something else first.

“anything, anything.”

oh, so desperate, so pliant.

“show me how you were using it.”

your lips parted in a soft moan, embarrassment surging in you yet again. “what?”

his fingers gripped your hips, moving you away from his body and spinning you around so your front faced the dildo. “please, sweetheart. i want to see it. ride it for me like the filthy little thing you are.”

humiliation and need swirled in your belly, mattheo’s plea making more of your arousal gush down your thighs. the toy was still there — suctioned to the wall, exactly where you’d left it… you hesitated, but one sharp smack to your ass made you yelp and step forward instinctively.

“fuck, let me see you bounce against it.” he growled. “c’mon.”

your hands pressed to the tiles as you carefully spread your legs, lining yourself up, inching back until the silicone tip kissed your soaked entrance. mattheo groaned at the sight, cock twitching, heavy and flushed between his tensed legs.

you sank back with a slow, needy moan, the stretch familiar, but not nearly enough — not after hearing him speak to you about his cock, not after seeing it for yourself.

and there it was, right in front of you, so close to your lips, yet so far away. it was weeping with precum, throbbing visibly. tempting you to take it in your mouth. 

“fuck,” you whimpered. “m–mattheo–”

he stepped closer, letting the tip hover over your face as he slowly fisted his cock to the rhythm of your erratic hips. you looked so desperate, jutting your cunt and swallowing at that pathetic dildo, all while eyeing his shaft with drool dripping down your chin.

you looked so fucking beautiful; he almost came on the spot.

“yeah, darling? does it feel good?”

“n–no, 'want you.”

“want me? to do what, sweetheart?”

mattheo’s fingers gripped your chin, angling your face upwards so your eyes locked with his. his cockhead pressed against your parted lips, a thick drop of precum beading at the flushed tip, and trailing down into your hungry mouth.

you did not answer him verbally, choosing to stick out your tongue and lick at his leaky tip instead.

“beg for it. show me how much you want a real dick.”

you blinked, eyes wide and watering from need, your hips still rolling back against the dildo pathetically — seeking more friction, more satisfaction, but getting none. your cunt squelched with every grind, soaking wet and twitching, clenching around the stupid silicone instead of the thick, real cock in front of you.

“mattheo,” you gasped, breathless, your body trembling with desperation. “please… please let me suck your cock.”

his groan was guttural, guttural and deep — but he wasn’t giving in just yet. he wanted to see you dirty that innocent mouth of yours with your nastiest thoughts.

“you want my cock in your mouth that bad, darling? gonna beg like a desperate little slut just for a taste?” he stroked himself slowly, teasingly, letting another drip of precum spill down his shaft and onto your hungry tongue.

you nodded vigorously, lips brushing against his sensitive skin. “please, matt. i need it­– need your cock, your cum… please…”

he stilled, hand stopping at the base with a harsh tug. “oh?” his freed thumb dragged along your bottom lip, pressing down slightly. “do you suck that dildo too? wrap your pretty lips around it when i’m not here?”

your eyes widened, humiliation crashing over you like a wave. “n–no…”

mattheo’s smirk deepened. “no?” he repeated, thumb pushing harder against your lip. “why not?”

your voice was a breathy confession, barely above a whisper. “it… it can’t cum.”

and there he was, thinking you couldn’t become any sexier.

cum?

that made him moan. it was low and ragged, broken and feral, like your words physically affected him.

“fucking hell.” he leaned closer, forehead against yours, lips brushing, breath hot. “you only want real cock in that pretty little mouth, huh? one that can fuck your throat and paint it white?”

“yes– yes, mattheo, please– i love your cum, i love it, please let me taste it–”

he growled, shoving his cock forward until the tip pressed fully to your lips.

“go ahead, darling.”

you didn’t need to be told twice.

your mouth opened wide, lips wrapping greedily around the head of his cock, tongue swirling instantly to collect the precum. you moaned, loud and unrestrained, just the taste alone making your eyes roll back.

“fuck, sweetheart– just like that.” mattheo hissed, overwhelmed by the feeling of your tongue.

you bobbed your head with vigour, mouth slick and warm, suckling like your life depended on it. one of mattheo’s hands gripped the back of your head, guiding you gently at first — but that didn’t last long. his hips gave a slow, brutal thrust, pushing his cock deeper between your lips, making you gag around the length.

“that’s iiiiit.” he groaned. “god, you look so fucking pretty like this… all cum-hungry eyes.”

he began to fuck your mouth with more urgency, watching as tears bubbled up in your eyes, spit stringing from your lips to his shaft every time he pulled away. and you took it all like a champ, while also rocking your hips against the dildo.

what a good and obedient slut you were.

“shit.”

mattheo’s voice was low and tight, a clear sign he was on the verge of cumming. that and his hips furiously shoving deeper into your face, cock stuffed down your throat harder and faster than before.

“fuck– you're gonna take it all, yeah? gonna swallow every last drop for me like the good little cumslut you are?”

you whimpered around him, nodding as best you could with your mouth stretched wide.

and that was all it took.

with a loud, broken moan, mattheo pushed his cock deep inside your throat and came. thick, hot spurts painting your tongue and your throat in rapid shots. you swallowed desperately, greedily, trying to get it all, not letting a single drop go to waste. your hands were clenched tightly across his legs, keeping him in place with the little force that you had left in your arms.

no cum escaped your hungry mouth.

when he finally pulled out, panting and dazed, he looked down to see your dazed eyes, your cum-coated lips, your drool-covered chin.

“goddamn…” he murmured, thumbing some of the mess from your cheek and smushing it back against your lips. “you’re perfect.”

“did it taste good, sweetheart?”

“s–soo good.”

you were still trembling, grinding against the dildo helplessly, drooling with need. even with a load down your throat, your cunt was still aching for another turn.

mattheo could see that. could see the hazy look in your eyes, the restless movement of your hips. could see the mess you’ve made on the shower floor because of that dildo. you too wanted to cum, and that silicone toy was not cutting it.

“let me help you too, darling.”

it’s all he said before scooping you up from your position, hands stationed underneath your arms so he could lift you up and away from the toy. now you were in his arms, naked chest pressed to naked chest, as mattheo carefully moved you to the opposite shower wall.

“c–cum, i want to cum so badly.”

you were a bit lost, whining against mattheo as he pressed your back to the cold wall. the tiles made you shiver and arch back into his body, but they also helped you cool down a bit and regain a sense of clarity.

“i got you, my pretty girl. i am here.”

keeping you up against the wall with one arm, the other secured your legs around his torso. he’s never fucked anyone against a shower wall before, but thankfully there was no danger. the only thing drenched and slippery was your puffy cunt, gushing your creamy arousal all over his cock and getting it wetter than your mouth did.

“there we go, sweetheart.”

he glued his forehead back to yours, keeping constant eye contact as he nicely eased his cock into you. mattheo managed to slip in in one swift motion, the dildo having opened you up enough to welcome the majority of his shaft.

“all good?”

“yeshh– please, matt, please, more.”

and he did, hips stuttering against you as he finally plunged his entire cock into you. the difference between the toy and the real thing was visible, as you immediately gaped your mouth open and moaned from the stretch. your head tipped backwards, hitting the wall, but the pain was not registered as mattheo started to fuck into you.

“my goddd, please, please.”

his rhythm, restless and unwavering, picked up the abandoned orgasm from before. your legs were already trembling against him and if it weren’t for mattheo’s strong build, he too might have faltered under the pleasure.

your mouth was divine– but your pussy? it was so hot and sticky, the walls clamping down around his cock and sucking every drop of cum he still had left in his balls.

he wasn’t going to last long.

“fuck, that’s it– just like that,” he gritted, jaw clenched, curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat.

mattheo was so deep you could feel him bulging your belly, splitting you open and filling you up all at once. his thick cock plowed into your soaked cunt like it belonged there.

your fingernails clawed at his shoulders and back, marking him as you wanted, the pleasure too intense to stay still. “i–i can’t hold it, i’m gonna–”

“do it.” mattheo groaned into your neck. “cum on my cock like a good girl. show me you don’t need that toy ever again.”

your walls fluttered around him, drawing another low, animalistic growl from his chest. he was unyielding, fucking you harder now, chasing both of your highs, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing through the bathroom.

“pleasepleaseplease, i’m cumming–”

your orgasm slammed into you like a wave, hips twitching, back arching off the wall as your pussy oozed around him. mattheo cursed under his breath, arms locking tighter around your waist, keeping you safe.

“that’s it, sweetheart, make a mess all over me.”

he followed just seconds later, cock pulsing deep inside as he filled you with hot, thick cum. it dripped down your thighs instantly, mixing with the remaining shower water and the slick already coating you both.

•••

“a–ah, guess i got my wish, huh?”

“what wish?”

“we get to shower together now.”

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

tags: @theodoresvalentine, @cafechichay, @lov3notts, @nottslove

[nottswitch]

꒰ bodyguard!mattheo, rich girl!reader & jealousy issues (on vacation) ft. instagram ꒱

au. more.

[lov3notts]

happy 1k!! 🥳 congrats again amora! you deserve all of this and so much more, can’t wait to see you grow even more 🤍

for cupid’s arrow, can i request mattheo riddle with the prompt,  “but i miss you...” “hon’ i just left fifteen minutes ago.” 

congrats again bb!!

1k Celebration!!! ;Navigation

couldn’t have done it without your help on my first fic<33 also i have so many versions of your request😭

He had no shame.

None. Zero. It had been—he checked the time—six minutes since you walked out the door, and Mattheo was already lying flat on his bed like a man in mourning. One hand dramatically tossed across his forehead, the other clutching the hoodie you left behind like it was a lifeline.

The silence in his apartment was unbearable.

So he did what any completely rational, emotionally well-adjusted boyfriend would do.

He called you.

You answered with a knowing lilt in your voice. “Hey, babe.”

Mattheo didn’t even hesitate.

“I’m dying.”

There was a pause. Then, your voice came through with a smirk so obvious he could hear it.

“Oh no. Tragic. Should I alert the Ministry?”

“I’m serious,” he mumbled, rolling onto his back dramatically. “You left and now this place is a ghost town. There’s a chill in the air. I think my soul left with you.”

You made a sympathetic noise that was anything but sincere.

“Wow. Must be horrible having a moment to yourself.”

He could hear your footsteps, the breeze in the background. You were still walking. Rude.

“It is” he groaned. “It’s awful. I think the bed’s colder. And my heart? Hollow.”

“You poor thing.”

“I am!” he insisted, tossing an arm over his eyes. “I was just lying here thinking, ‘Wow. If she doesn’t come back, I might never smile again.’”

You hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno. You seemed pretty alive and well when I left. Standing up, fully functional, smirking at me while I walked out the door.”

“That was before the loneliness set in.”

You laughed, cruelly unbothered. “Sounds intense.”

He grinned at the sound, clutching the phone closer like it might pull you through the screen. He dropped the fake suffering for just a second, voice quieter now—sincere in that rare, boyish kind of way you always managed to pull out of him. Then—softer—he said,

“But I miss you.”

And that’s when you really broke. Your smile softened through the phone, and your voice dropped to a teasing drawl.

“Hon’ I left fifteen minutes ago.”

Mattheo blinked at the ceiling, completely unbothered. “Yeah. And I’ve missed you for all fifteen.”

You snorted. “You’re hopeless.”

He grinned. “Hopelessly in love with you.”

“Obviously.”

He paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Come back?”

Another pause. Then you sighed. “Be where I left you.”

“I never moved,” he promised, already flopping back on the bed. “Still dying. Better hurry.”

“Mattheo…”

“yes?”

“I miss you too.”

He grinned. “Knew it.”

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

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

[riddlesrizzler]

Sparkles and Eyeliner

summary: It started with a box. characters: teen dad! mattheo. toddler daughter. mentions of blaise and draco. warnings: none! just fluff word count: 610

It started with a box.

A sparkly, plastic, slightly cracked pink box she’d gotten from Theo last Christmas-filled with child-safe makeup in colors no adult would ever willingly wear. Neon blue eyeshadow. Lip gloss that smelled like watermelon gum. Blush with enough glitter to blind a man.

And it was treasure to her.

She had it spread across the floor, legs crossed, tiny fingers sorting through sparkly tubes with intense concentration. Mattheo had just sat down on the floor with her after a long day, stretching out his legs and reaching for one of her books when she looked up at him with that face.

Wide eyes. Head tilted. A hopeful little smile.

“Daddy.”

“Yeah, bug?”

“Can I do your makeup?”

Mattheo blinked.

“I dunno…” he started slowly.

“Please?” she said, dragging it out like a song. “I’ll make you so pretty.”

He smirked. “I’m already pretty.”

She giggled. “You’ll be sparkly pretty.”

Mattheo sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the rug like she’d just defeated him in battle.

“Fine. Make me beautiful.”

She squealed.

He sat patiently while she got to work, kneeling over him with her tiny brow furrowed like a professional. She pressed blush onto his cheeks with an oversized cotton ball, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration.

“Hold still,” she muttered as she smeared shimmery eyeshadow across one of his lids.

Mattheo winced. “What color is that?”

“Blueberry sparkle.”

“Terrifying.”

“Shhh.”

She switched to lip gloss next-applying an alarming amount and somehow getting it just above his lips and all the way to his chin. Then she leaned back, hands on her hips.

Mattheo blinked at her, glittery and dazed.

“Well?”

She grinned. “You look fabulous.”

“Do I look like a fairy princess or a villain in a soap opera?”

“You look like Daddy. But like...a shiny version.”

He laughed, pulling her into his lap, careful not to smudge the masterpiece. “You did great, bug.”

She touched his cheek, serious all of a sudden. “You always let me do fun stuff.”

Mattheo’s heart tugged.

“Of course I do,” he whispered. “That’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re the best job-daddy.”

He had no idea what that meant, but he’d never felt prouder in his life.

Later, when Blaise and Draco showed up to drop off some groceries and caught sight of Mattheo in blueberry sparkle and watermelon gloss, they stared.

Mattheo, completely unfazed, pointed to the proud little girl at his side and said, “She’s accepting clients. You want in, or are you cowards?”

Draco turned around and walked out.

Blaise sat down and said, “Only if I can have the gold glitter.”

[acourtofchaos]

thank you so much lovely!! I'm so happy you enjoyed it!! 🖤

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None of them came.

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

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

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

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

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

Typically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t turn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You planned on cracking it wide open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he knew that you had him.

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

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

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

You frowned. "Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had your head spinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t though.

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

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

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

“I'm a fantastic judge of character.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted. “You're ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you.”

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

You settled for kissing him instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I need to feel you."

And fuck, how could he ever deny you anything.

How could he have ever tried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sabxynsweet]

thinking about downbad!reader and evenmoredownbad!mattheo / sweetheart!reader

You sit in the back of your charms class checking your appearance in your small hand held mirror before you frantically put it away when you notice him walk through the door.

Mattheo walks in with tired eyes and a crooked tie, you break out of your practiced nonchalance to smile and wave at him. The corner of his lips tilt up in an almost-there-smile and he joins you in the seat that just happens to be free.

"Hi." You say, with the most saccharine voice. Your entire body straight and upright despite how early it was.

He nods and it's the closest thing you get to a greeting until he opens his mouth. "Hi."

He turns to face the front and you desperately wrack your brain for something to say if only to keep his attention on you for a little bit longer.

"Did you sleep well?" You ask suddenly, your head resting on your palm as you stared up at him, he turns to you slowly.

"Did I sleep well?" He repeats slowly, you panic.

"Yeah, 'cause it was raining yesterday and there was thunder - which was so loud - and you told me that your dorm had a really big window so maybe the thunder kept you up?" You wanted to kick yourself, you were so obvious it was getting past embarrassing.

There's a pause, he looks at you with a flicker of amusement.

"Yeah, I slept alright, thanks." He says, with the smallest of smirks. "You?"

"I slept okay." You murmur with wide eyes.

He grins before the professor walks into the classroom.

Behind you, you were certain Mattheo's friends were laughing at you - though with no real malice. You were too sweet for them to truly be cruel to.

During class, you found yourself glancing over at him far too often before you quickly averted your gaze to Pansy who was a few seats behind you. She sighed, shaking her head.

You like him so much, it's almost tragic.

But Mattheo doesn't like anyone, and you're the only exception to that. He thought it was a shame you didn't realise it yet.

[lushleona]

when you come back/have the time or energy (whenever that may be with absolutely no pressure queen!!) can we please get a drabble/fic of mattheo with a pet play kink? need that man to put me on a leash and call me his puppy fr omfg😭😭

the way i instantly removed petplay from my request rules when i saw this LMFAOO ig you never know what will unlock a new kink! also tw daddy kink is in this too

"that’s it, puppy. on your knees."

you drop instantly, bare thighs already sticky with anticipation, eyes wide and glassy as you look up at him. he’s still fully dressed, black long sleeve rolled to the elbows, belt hanging loose around his waist. the other’s tangled in your hair, pulling you in close like he owns you.

because he does. tonight, you’re nothing but his.

he lets the leather leash dangle in front of your face, teasing. the collar’s already snug around your throat, locked with a tiny silver padlock he keeps the key to. it jingles softly every time you shift, a perfect reminder of who you belong to.

“good girl,” he murmurs, dragging the leash down your cheek like it’s a caress. “look so pretty when you’re desperate. drooling for it, fuckin’ begging to be used.”

your lips part on instinct, and he smirks, tilting your chin up just to watch your tongue loll out, like you’re waiting for a reward. it makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

“you gonna bark for me, sweetheart?” he taunts. “gonna hump my leg like a needy little mutt?”

you whimper, thighs clenching together.

he laughs, dark and low, and pushes you down onto all fours. the leash clips onto your collar with a sharp click, and he yanks it once, just enough to make your mouth fall open.

“that’s what i thought,” he growls, crouching behind you. “now be a good puppy and stick that pretty ass in the air. daddy’s gonna fuck you like the filthy bitch you are.”

[belovedenzo]

kiss or dare || mattheo riddle & enzo berkshire

bf! mattheo x reader x enzo

summary; Your boyfriend, Mattheo loses a game of kiss or dare. After a passionate kiss between him and Enzo, you’re left with curiosity for Lorenzo’s lips.

words; 3k

warnings; matty x enzo, suggestive content but no smut, cussing, kissing, poly themes, sharing

notes; this has been eating my brain so enjoy <3 feedback is appreciated!

The rules are simple- do the dare or you have to kiss somebody in the group that’s playing. Since Pansy came up with this ridiculous game a couple months back, it’s been played in this common room a thousand times.

  It’s always a night like this, a dimly lit fire burning in the cobblestone pit behind a group of you and your bestest mates in Slytherin. A bottle or two is being passed around, making everyone feel nice and easygoing. That’s usually when the suggestion for kiss or dare comes up.

 Something about the alcohol mixed with the excitement and mystery of possibly kissing one of your best friends makes it a very enticing game when you all sit here alone- only the fireplace and small lamp lighting your vicinity. 

 “Theo- come on!” Pansy complains from her seat on the floor beside you. 

 A groan emits from the other side of the room. “I’m almost done!” Theo shifts in his seat for a moment before standing quickly to attention. He shoots a grin towards her direction and promptly walks over. A joint, filled to the brim with muggle weed is presented in the palm of his hand for everyone to see. “Rolled.” He declares with a proud huff.

 “Snape is gonna smell it in the morning when he comes in here.” Your boyfriend Mattheo lets out a sigh, fighting the shit eating grin that threatens his lips. 

 “Fuck it- who cares?” Theo laxly shrugs his shoulder before walking over to the burning fire place for a light. 

 Pansy had dared Theo to light a joint in the middle of the common room and smoke it- something he’ll probably get screwed for later. But as per usual, Theo doesn’t care. You’ve learned that he will truly do anything if he’s dared to. It’s safe to say that Theo hasn’t locked lips with anyone in the history of kiss or dare. 

 A chuckle or two can be heard, which only fuels him further. As carefully as he can, Theo lights the joint with the fire burning in the fire place. Once it’s lit he walks back over to the lot of you on the ground- a prideful smile spread across his face. Without a word he brings it up to his lips and takes a drag once he’s sure everyone is watching from the floor. Smoke fills the room, the cherry of the joint lighting up the dimly lit space.

 “So who’s next?” Are the only words that left his mouth before the group bursts into a fit of laughter. He quickly takes a seat next to Enzo- who has been sat in the circle across from you and Mattheo. The joint gets handed off to Enzo, starting its cycle through the rotation of half consumed liquor bottles. 

 “One day I’ll get you to say no to something and then you’ll have to kiss me.” Pansy grumbles sarcastically before taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. 

 Theo makes a face at her and they both laugh- clearly already too far gone for the night. In fact, the more you look around at your friends… they’re all there along with them. The longer you sit, the more you feel yourself inching closer as well- yet you still accept the joint being passed to you.  

 “Matty!” Theo says in a sing song tone, his attention now directed right towards your boyfriend sitting next to you. “It’s your turn.” An almost diabolic laugh comes from his throat. 

 Mattheo rolls his eyes before sitting forward to lock in. “Merlin- yeah.” His face sits in his hands for just a moment before making eye contact with Theo and accepting his fate. “Lay it on me.”

 You could tell from your lovers expression that he was feeling it just as much as the rest of them, so there’s no way Theo could come up with something bad enough for him to decline…

 “I dare you to go wake Draco up in a fucked up way- or you have to kiss Enzo.” Theo bites back a chuckle as he gives Mattheo his dare, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

 You watch as the boy next to you stiffens- eyes going wide as saucers. You also were quite shocked- sure, at first that sounds like nothing but… is it really? Draco had just went to bed an hour earlier, drunk as a skunk with an awful headache. It’s well known that the blonde doesn’t take very kindly to being woken up, especially abruptly. But in these conditions? Mattheo may not make it out of that alive. 

 You look over at Theo as Mattheo is left speechless, only to see a smirk staring back at you from Enzo’s lips. 

 “Are you trying to get me killed or?-“ This may sound like a dramatic question for your boyfriend to be asking but no body wants to deal with that version of Draco Malfoy for the foreseeable future. 

 Theo laughs along with Pansy from beside you. Then you hear a chuckle that sounded like Enzo’s. “What? You don’t have to do it, you could always just kiss Enz.” The laughing proceeds higher as Theo teases Mattheo.

 You now can’t help but also let out a laugh, watching Mattheo become flustered. Any of your friends would know that what happens in kiss or dare stays in kiss or dare and a little kiss between your boyfriend and one of his best friends wouldn’t upset you. Mattheo knows this too as you can practically see the cogs turning in his pretty little head, weighing the options of waking up the beast or kissing his mate. 

 From what you can see, Enzo is slightly amused and almost seems to enjoy the fact that Theo chose him. You wouldn’t put it past him in the state he is in- he wants Mattheo to kiss him. When Enzo is drunk he’s been known to kiss just about anybody who wants it.

 It’s just a moment before Mattheo goes to speak again and seal the dare. A quiet sigh passes through his lips before any words can- his thoughts getting caught in his throat. It seems like he has made his decision but remains hesitant with sharing.

 “If you wake Draco up, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Pansy retorts from next to you through the patient silence that filled the room as you all waited for Mattheo to speak. She also seems to want this kiss to happen.

 All this does is make the curly headed brunette groan aloud and cross his arms. “Yeah whatever-“ he shrugs his shoulders with another annoyed huff. “You got me.” You’ve always known your boyfriend to be a competitive person and you’re sure the idea of losing the game is what burns him the most. He’s the first out of him and Theo to crack and accept the kiss.

 “This means you gotta kiss Enzo!” Theo shouts and immediately points a teasing finger in Mattheo’s direction. He smirks wide and sly, accepting the crown of kiss or dare king while all his friends erupt in amused laugher around him. 

 You decide to look back at Enzo through all the chaos of their drunk commotion. Theo, Blaise and Pansy continue to gawk at Mattheo- who by now is red as a cherry but trying to keep face. Enzo however is sat back on his hands, a satisfied expression on his face. 

 His smirk was different than before, now that he’s sure Mattheo has to kiss him… he seems more excited. 

 You watch as their eyes meet, in fact you could feel their eyes meet- it was electric. You were surprised to see Mattheo fold beneath Enzo’s gaze, his mouth hesitating to part and form words.

 “You wanna kiss me, Matty?” Enzo asks in a lewd and confident way, like he had been waiting to say it. He watched your boyfriend shift in his seat at his question and squirm beneath his flirtatious nature. Just like he wanted. 

 You never took Enzo as completely straight, you’ve seen him kiss a male ravenclaw or two after a few drinks but the way he looked at Matty made you feel like he really wanted it. Maybe it was the taboo of kissing his friend- in front of said friends girlfriend at that, but he seemed into it. 

 He gets up from his position on his hands and leans in towards the center of the medium sized circle you all had formed earlier in the night. “I can kiss you if you want.” His voice was smooth, almost causing a blush to appear on your own cheeks and match the boy next to you. 

 Mattheo opens his mouth again, the struggle for words showing across entire expression. This time though, he speaks. “If your gonna kiss me just do it-“ 

 With a quick shuffle forward, Enzo’s long torso is leaning over your boyfriends where he sits. His hands grasp the sides of Mattheo’s face once he is comfortably sat in front of him, leaning over the space between them.

 It’s quick before you register that Enzo’s lips are pressed against Mattheo’s, hands gripping the sides of his jaw and neck. The kiss was anything but a peck as their lips molded together. 

 Pansy lets out a soft gasp, followed by a giggle from the other side of this view before you. A small blush does creep onto your cheeks this time, a blush your sure is on her cheeks as well but your eyes are too trained on the their lips to check. 

 Mattheo’s eyes flutter closed the moment Enzo connected their lips. He seemed to relax under his hands, like it felt good. His hands that were formally up in a nervous defense had fallen to his sides like a rag doll- he’s fully submitted to Enzo’s kiss. 

 They stay like this for a moment, moving together in sync. The room had went silent, in shock probably. You on the other hand were feeling all kinds of things from what you were watching. 

 Enzo gave him one last yearning movement of his lips before pulling away with a quiet pop. There was no rule on how long you had to kiss someone if you lose a game of kiss or dare but no body expected the kiss to be that long and passionate. That kiss almost made you wanna kiss Enzo. 

 Everyone watched as Enzo took his seat back next to Theo like nothing had happened, like he didn’t just rock Mattheo’s world in front of the entire friend group. “You’re a good kisser, Matty.” He speaks affectionately, a short moment of embarrassment showing in his eyes as they dart away, but his grin returns. 

 Mattheo coughs on nothing, filling the space of his own embarrassment. He looks now over to you, it had taken a few moments to gain courage to do so but when he finally did, your expression bewildered him. 

 This man knows you better than you probably know yourself, so there’s no sense hiding any emotion from your face. You liked it. You obviously really liked what you had just seen. His eyes widen as he makes this realization. 

 “You’re such a whore, Enz.” Theo practically chokes out his words, taking a swig of liquor to stop his fits of obnoxious laughter. “And you liked it!” He motions to Mattheo in a dramatic way. 

 This would usually make you laugh as well, but all you can do is stare at Mattheo with eyes of intrigue. You’d accepted the pool of warmed that has entered your tummy, and you may also have to accept that it’s because of your boyfriend kissing a hot guy in front of you.

 Mattheo lets out a short chuckle- looking you up and down in amazement due to your depravity. “Yeah, maybe I did like it a little bit.” He responds to Theo, however still keeping eye contact with you. He scoots over and leans in, diminishing all space between you two. “I think you liked it a little bit too.” 

-

 A week passes and the image of Enzo kissing your boyfriend has still not left your mind. Late at night it seems to find itself in the forefront of your mind- sending your imagination to places you don’t want to admit to anybody. Since that game of kiss or dare you’d be lying if you said you can’t look at Enzo the same. 

 The veins in his hands, his teeth when he smiles, the smell of his cologne as he walks by- these were all things about Lorenzo you didn’t think about twice just last week.

 You know Mattheo can see it too, the look in your eyes when Enzo speaks to you and the way you look at the two boys when they are together. You haven’t decided yet however how Enzo feels about any of it, or if he even feels anything at all. Can he tell you want him?

 Mattheo and you never spoke further about the kiss they shared, part of you hopes that he doesn’t notice that your thoughts and curiosities still linger but the other part of you wants to see more. 

 It wasn’t until today, when you sat in yet another circle with that same group of friends on a late Friday night. That same fire is burning in the fireplace and everyone around you is drowning their school sorrows in the bottle and smoke. What better than a game of kiss or dare? 

 The game is fun and easy until it’s your turn. You now find everyone’s eyes on you as they wait for you Mattheo, who is again sitting next to you- to choose your dare. Waiting for him to decide your fate is gruelingly slow and is bringing all of your nerves to a boil. 

 When he does finally decide his face lights up and you know you’re screwed. He lets out a short cackle before the words spill from his tongue in anticipation. “I dare you to cut Pansy’s hair off with scissors while she sleeps. If you don’t- you gotta kiss Enzo.” 

 A gasp practically leaves you, did you just hear him right? Merlin knows that you’d never want to upset your best friend Pansy. Right now she’s probably sleeping like an angel and the last thing you’d want to do is ruin her life like that. Mattheo knows good and well that if you did something like that it would be detrimental. There’s simply no way you’d cut off Pansy’s hair while she’s sleeping! 

 “Mattheo!” You practically yelled, your hand reaching to swat him. “You know I wouldn’t do that!” Amusement covers his face but you are not amused. 

 “Oh yeah?” Your mates stay out of it while Mattheo speaks. “Then kiss Enzo.” 

 You scowl until his words set in, the reality sets in. You realize what’s going on. Your face drops, eyes darting over to Enzo in a heartbeat. Merlin- that same smirk from last week appears to be on his face once more. 

 “Enz? Can you do that?” You hear from next to you- Mattheo’s voice smooth with confidence. 

  Your eyes shoot back to your boyfriend in disbelief. “Yknow, since she won’t do the dare.” He smirks as he speaks to Enzo but keeps his eyes trained on you. 

 Cheeks burning red, eyes wide- you watch everyone around you watch Mattheo in surprise. As far as everyone is concerned, Mattheo has always come off as a jealous individual who wouldn’t share but what they don’t know is that since the kiss he has also not been able to stop thinking about it.

 The idea had come to his mind a few days ago. He’d set you up for failure so that just like him, you’d have to kiss Enzo because admittedly he wants to see it. He wants to watch one of his best friends kiss his girlfriend. 

Enzo watches the two of you look at each other- he’s starting to understand what may be going on here. No body is safe from the Berkshire charm, not even his closest friends. “I can do that.” He finally responds.

 This makes everyone’s eyes dart straight for him, including your own. You both locked eyes for a moment, a moment that would continue- because now that he has you, he won’t let go. 

 “Can I kiss you?” This makes your heart stop for just a moment. No amount of confidence could save you in that moment, all that you can do is nod in agreement.

 His grin widens as you nod your head softly- but he won’t take that for an answer. “Use your words, please.” His politeness is faux, a ruse to come off as more gentle and sweet than he really is. 

 “Y-yeah. You can kiss me.” It spills from your mouth like word vomit, nerves pushing them out the door. You can feel Mattheo’s eyes boring into the two of you speaking in front of him. He’s watching like a hawk.

 This time, Enzo accepted that answer and just like he did with Mattheo, makes a swift movement towards you. Before you know it- he’s in front of you, hands coming up to hold your small face in his large hands. 

 “I want you to kiss her just like how you kissed me, Enzo.” This comment from Mattheo, along with the proximity of you and Enzo made that pool return to your stomach, hotter and larger than before. The knot in your gut ached at the feeling of his warm fingers brushing against your skin- rubbing small circular patterns.

 “It’s almost like you wanted this. I think Matty knows that.” He mutters, only loud and eligible enough for you to hear, just a soft whisper but you hear him clearly. This is the last thing he says before colliding his lips with your own.

 It felt just as erotic as you had imagined. His lips are soft, warm and move at the perfect speed to make you yearn for more. A moan threatened to choke from your throat but you swallowed it back down, remembering you are surrounded by your mates. 

 He kisses you with the same passion he showed your man. Exactly what you and Mattheo both secretly wanted. Enzo is just happy to oblige, intrigued by your sudden interest in his lips after seeing them on Mattheo’s. 

 The kiss felt like forever but in a good way, in a way that makes you wish it never ended. He hesitated when pulling away, like he indeed felt the same. 

 Mattheo’s presence grew closer as he leaned in, your eyes still trained on Enzo in both shock and desire. Your boyfriend’s breath graced your neck as he spoke, sending goosebumps across your already sensitive skin. 

His voice woven with silk and suggestion.  “He’s a good kisser… isn’t he?” 

luv, spell

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[riddlemelater]

Last Call - M.R (Part 2)

masterlist | nav | part 1

⚠︎ all characters 18+ | MDNI ⚠︎

warnings: alcohol use/dependency, mentions of war, death, depiction of injury/blood, dark themes, post-war vibes, implied trauma. etc.

w.c: 3.8k

summary: Mattheo Riddle was sharp, charming, and haunted. Now he’s just a shadow at the bar—drunk, quiet, unraveling. You don’t know why you care. Maybe it’s who he used to be. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you like he doesn’t expect kindness anymore. But one things certain: you won't turn your back on him, not like the rest of the world already has.

a/n: SURPRISE! Turns out I'm too excited to hold back. Thank you to all you lovely people who've reblogged and left your comments on part 1. I hope you're all ready to lock in... <3

feedback, reblogs, likes + comments are so greatly appreciated <3

"Say, Albion?" you asked curiously, eyes fixed on the far corner of the pub where a familiar group of elderly wizards sat. "Who's the one over there with the bushy brows? What's his name again?" Your head nodded over in their direction.

"Old Silas?" Albion huffed, glancing between the group and you as he dried a glass. You nodded as his eyes narrowed in thought, watching the man for a moment as if trying to place him.

"Silas Wimbly's his name. A Ravenclaw, if I remember correctly. Bit of a toff, came from old money. Parent's spoiled him rotten too, always sent him these massive parcels of sweets— And it was the good stuff, mind you. Liquorice Wands, Pepper Imps. You name it, old Silas had it." Albion shook his head dismissively, scratching at his chin. "Why d'ya ask, love?"

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. "No reason. Just curious s'all."

Albion's eyes settled on you, watching as you wiped over the bar for the third time in ten minutes. Pretending not to feel his gaze burning between your shoulder blades as you worked.

`'Hang on a minute. This isn't about that Riddle lad again—is it?" He asked in an accusatory voice. "I told you before not to go getting mixed up with him." His arms folded across his chest disapprovingly, head canting to the side as you avoided his gaze.

Albion was giving you his sternest Dad look. The older man had taken on a sort of father role when you'd first started here. With no children of his own, the pub was all he had, and as old age was beginning to catch up with him, he'd had no choice but to hire someone else. It'd just so happened that you, freshly out of Hogwarts, a year late due to the war, had been job hunting at the time.

He'd agreed to take you on, temporarily, until you worked out what was next and he'd found someone to train up to take his place. But that had never really happened, and instead, he'd trained you as his assistant of sorts. The plan had never been to stay long, but it seemed that life had other plans for you both. You didn't want to go back into education, and Albion didn't want to find someone new. It was as simple as that.

But now the look Albion was giving you worked all too well, and you sighed and let go of the rag you'd been cleaning with, turning to look at him guiltily.

"I just can't stop thinking about him. It's been three weeks Albs, what if—"

Albion shook his head fiercely, a hand gripping onto your shoulder to steady you. He bent slightly to meet your eyes, and as he did, that familiar pressure began to coil in your chest—guilt and worry rising fast, impossible to swallow.

"What if he's perfectly alright, hmm? Did you think of that?" He said softly, "Listen, I won't pretend I'm fond of the boy, Salazar forgive me. But you're the only family I've got, kid. If it really means that much to you, I'll ask around— Alright?"

Your eyes met his, noting the crooked smile and warm look on his face. Gratitude began to swell in your eyes and you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders thankfully.

"Thank you Albion," you murmured quietly into his shoulder, squeezing tightly. "You have no idea how grateful I am."

Albion chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and patting your back gently. Your cheeks warmed slightly as you pulled away from him, and he fixed you with a serious look once more.

"Look, you don't get far in my line of work without knowing where to ask." he said, and a smile spread across your lips. "I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best. And in the mean time, you just worry about pouring pints." He patted your arm encouragingly and winked.

You nodded feeling like a weight had been lifted from you. As if just knowing that you were doing something, anything, to find out where Mattheo had disappeared to, magically made things better.

The days trickled by, slow and uneventful. You were antsy, constantly fumbling for a task to distract you. You were showing up even earlier than normal, and you didn't leave till Albion himself was heading upstairs to his flat above the pub.

You didn’t ask for updates, mostly because you were too afraid of what he might say. But every time the bell above the door chimed, some part of you still hoped it would be him. Mattheo. Bleary-eyed, mumbling some half-arsed excuse, dark curls a mess from wherever he'd vanished to.

But it never was. And you were beginning to worry once more.

It was nearly a week later, just after last call, when Albion finally said your name the way someone does when they don’t want to be heard. There was a scarce few customers in, mostly nursing dregs of Dragon Barrel Brandy or Odgen's Firewhiskey. Quiet enough that no one would bat an eyelid at a hushed conversation.

You glanced up from the taps, anxious and expectant. But his expression was already answer enough.

"I asked everywhere I could think to ask,” he said, voice low, reluctant. “Nothing. No one's seen him." Albion frowned, placing a hand on your arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to let you down but it's like he's gone off the grid."

You swallowed, staring down at the bar blankly. "It's okay." you nodded, "Thanks for trying anyway, Albs."

Your voice wavered slightly, Albion didn't mention it, but you knew he heard it too. He'd just sighed wearily, the way old men do, and tried to soothe you quietly.

"He'll turn up, love. Try not to worry. Probably just had to get out of London for a bit, a change of scenery. Merlin knows this time of year is hard on us all. Him especially." Albion spoke gently, but you barely even registered his words. You just nodded, agreed with him despite knowing that your mind was already made up— You had to find out for yourself.

"I think I'll head early tonight, if that's alright with you? Try and get some rest." You murmured, wiping a hand across your tired face, "I'll be back in for my shift tomorrow, I can come in early if you need me."

Albion agreed, though clearly reluctant to let you out of his sight, "Alright love, you take as long as you need. I'll sort this lot myself." he said, throwing a glance over to the customers still sat with their near empty drinks.

"Thanks Albs, I really appreciate it." You replied, already untying your apron and turning to hang it on its peg. "See you tomorrow." you added, grasping your wand from beneath the bar and pocketing it.

Before Albion could say another word you'd already called a quick goodbye to the few regulars still left, and left the pub without another word.

You shivered, pulling your coat tighter as you walked along the street. Your mind was in overdrive, thoughts swirling around in your head like smoke. Mattheo had to be somewhere, you reasoned, in half a mind to turn up outside his flat unannounced. You would’ve already, if only you knew where he bloody lived. But you didn’t—and Albion knew even less about him than you did.

Someone had to know where he was.

Your mind flitted to his friends, to Theodore or Blaise, hell you were even considering writing to Draco Malfoy for information on his whereabouts. The only thing that stopped you was that you didn't have his address either, and you were certain the Magical Law Enforcement department wouldn't be best pleased with you wasting one of their top Auror's time with a suspected missing persons case.

That, and, you weren't so sure many people at the Ministry would consider Mattheo Riddle to be deserving of any official MLE resources.

There was one person you could ask, though, and it seemed your feet had already led you there against your better judgment. Your gaze flitted up towards the sign, which hung limply outside the dark pub, swinging gently in the breeze. Straightening your jacket once more, you slid a hand inside your pocket, pulling your wand out and slipping it up your sleeve.

Just in case.

It was risky, you knew it was, but you were desperate. And it seemed that no one could give you the answers you were looking for. So, seeking them out yourself was the next best option. A couple staggered out just as you approached, laughing too loudly, the smell of smoke clinging to their cloaks. One of them paused to eye you curiously, and you glanced away quickly, fingers tightening on your wand. Once they passed, you exhaled a deep breath, pushing open the door to the Leaky Cauldron and stepping inside.

Unlike Albion's pub, the Leaky Cauldron was still busy. Packed with witches and wizards, and all sorts of magical creatures— goblins, hags, vampires. You tried not to pay anyone attention, nodding politely towards Tom, the barkeep, as you brushed through the crowd and headed to the back door.

It had been a few months since you'd ventured into Diagon Alley, but as you tapped the brick, three up and two across from the rubbish bin, with the tip of your wand, you felt the same rush of nostalgia. Recalling the first time you'd ever come here, fondly.

The street unfolded before you in a familiar dance of moving bricks and old magic. Revealing shop fronts and cobbled streets, you'd spent the majority of your teenage years wandering in awe. But it didn’t feel like it used to. Back then, Diagon Alley had shimmered with promise. Now, under the haze of doubt and nightfall, it felt like a ghost of what it had been. Still alive. Just different.

During the war, many of the shops had been destroyed in Death Eater raids, including Olivanders wand shop. Though rebuilt to look like it once had, you could tell it was different now. Subtle details sticking out like sore thumbs, signs that had once been charmingly weathered and flaked, now sparkled bright and pristine. Like everyone was desperate to forget the way they'd been splintered and marred by pure evil.

It felt clinical now, off-puttingly so. But you weren't here to pick out every minor discrepancy you spotted; you were here for answers.

Summoning up the courage, you began to walk, ignoring the way your heart raced in protest. Albion would kill you himself if he knew what you were doing, but he didn't need to know. You'd be quick, in and out, no distractions.

You swallowed down a nervous breath as you spotted the sign for Knockturn Alley. Oddly enough, it was the most normal thing about Diagon Alley now, untouched by the raids, the paintwork was still as flaky and dull as you remembered it. Glancing up and down the street, you checked for familiar faces, just in case someone spotted you heading down into the heart of dodgy schemes and lingering dark magic.

You moved swiftly, back straight and wand clutched tightly up your sleeve. Prepared for anything— and anyone— you might encounter. The difference between Diagon and Knockturn was noticeable immediately; the cobbles underfoot became filthy and uneven, feet stumbling as you grew used to the terrain.

"Lost are we, dear?" A voice called out in a croaky voice. "I could help you find what you're looking for, you know."

Your head turned slightly, and you came face to face with an old woman, or at least, what you thought was a woman. Considering she looked exactly like the hags described in your old school textbooks.

Her face was covered in warts, teeth jagged and yellow, and she was hunched over against the wall as if unable to stand without support. Your eyes scanned over her briefly, taking in the long, spindly fingers that twisted together menacingly, her dirt-covered, splintered nails made you want to gag.

"I'm fine on my own, thanks." You hissed confidently, despite feeling very out of your depth, and swept past, continuing down further into the darkened streets.

She called after you faintly, and your face soured as you forced yourself to keep walking, keeping your eyes focused on finding what you were looking for. As you ventured further, you began to realise why you'd been so heavily warned to avoid Knockturn as a child.

Each figure you passed seemed to get worse and worse as you walked further, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up in apprehension.

Your eyes scanned across the shop fronts, skin crawling as you spotted a shop named Arachne’s Attic selling giant, black spiders all tangled in a vast web in the window display. The shop next door, aptly named The Shrunken Shrine, held large glass cabinets filled with shrunken heads and skulls, as well as various paraphernalia which could only be associated with dark magic.

You grimaced and hurried on, spotting Borgin & Burkes, the shop which had allowed Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts in your sixth year, thanks to the efforts of one— now reformed, Ministry Auror— Draco Malfoy, and the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement.

The discomfort of Knockturn was enough to put you off ever returning again, containing yourself as you passed yet another shop, named, rather tamely, Still Life. Selling taxidermies of two-headed ravens and what looked suspiciously like Grindylow Skeletons.

Still, you walked further. Finally, you reached the street where you knew the illegal vendors liked to set up shop. You'd recalled the Weasley twins talking about it once, having managed to wrangle it out of Mundungus Fletcher at some point in an attempt to procure some ingredients for their Skiving Snackboxes.

Your chest heaved a little as you thought of Fred— his ill-timed jokes and contagious smirk that had everyone laughing. Yet another person who'd died in the name of peace, that thought only spurred you on, though. Mattheo was still missing, as far as you were concerned, and you'd already come so far.

Wordlessly, you scanned a few of the vendors; a young witch with black teeth selling human fingernails, another selling jewellery you were certain was either cursed or stolen. Or both.

Until finally you spotted him, sitting on an old soap box with his goods stocked messily inside an open suitcase. Mick Tolliver looked exactly like the kind of man who traded secrets for sickles and would never think twice about it.

He sat slouched behind a warped, half-collapsed stall that seemed to have grown out of the alley itself, the wooden frame rotted and sagging under the weight of cursed trinkets and unlabelled jars. The tarp hanging from the roof of the stall was threadbare and looked more like old clothes, sewn together to create a makeshift canopy.

His clothes were greasy too, and like the stall, had many patches of mismatched material sewn over holes, like he'd tried to preserve them for as long as possible. He had the posture of someone who'd once been taller, but he was thin, sullen even, as if he'd lost a lot of weight quickly and his body hadn't been able to stay upright.

A wiry beard hung from his chin in uneven tufts, stained yellow near his mouth from years of smoking, and it was evident by the smell that lingered around him, he wasn't fond of washing either. His eyes, though— his eyes were sharp. Beady and watchful, flickering over you like one of his cursed items, he was already tallying a price for.

"Lookin' for something specific, sweetheart?" he drawled, voice low and oily, "Or has something caught your fancy?" He grinned, and you wished he hadn't. His teeth were yellow, and even from a distance, you could see bits of food stuck in them.

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed, face soured with disgust, but determined not to leave his stall without information.

"I can assure you nothing I'm seeing takes my fancy." You retorted sharply, hand grasping onto your wand tightly, still hidden up your sleeve and at the ready in case he tried anything.

His grin dropped, and his eyes dragged up and down your body. You felt sick just looking at him.

"What're you doing down here then, my sweets. Not exactly Knockturn material, are you?" He drawled, straightening up ever so slightly. His beady eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, "You an Auror? ‘Cause I swear everything I’m sellin’ is legit this time!"

You ignored the pet name and the blatant lie about his stock, despite how much you wanted to hex him into the middle of next week.

"I was looking for information, actually." You cleared your throat, stepping closer, "Heard you're an expert in that kind of thing, stuff not everyone knows."

His sickening grin returned once more, and he relaxed, a chuckle escaping him like you'd just told a joke. Your face remained serious, focused. Grimacing slightly as his laughter turned into coughs, his hand dipped into his pocket to produce an even filthier rag that he coughed into.

"Well, well, well, lovely... then you've come to the right place," he wheezed, suddenly intrigued, "what 'dya wanna know? It'll cost you, though, mind."

Your lips parted, ready to ask him what exactly he knew about Mattheo when his fist thumped down on the makeshift counter of his stall, eyes narrowed once more.

"Ah-ah-ah. Cough up, first. Then you get your answers," he demanded sharply. "Too many people givin' me the run around, not paying up when I tell them what they want to know. Company policy, you see." he grinned, sleazy and pleased with himself.

You sighed, reaching into your pocket with your free hand, then slapped five galleons down onto his table. But before he could reach out and take the gold coins, you grasped them tightly in your hand.

“Ah-ah-ah. Information first,” you said coolly, tightening your grip on the coins. “Gotta check if what you know’s worth it. Personal policy, you see.”

You weren't sure where the sudden bravery came from, calling the shots in Knockturn Alley was hardly what you'd expected when you'd wandered in. However, you were desperate, and this place had your skin crawling from the moment you entered.

He laughed once more, coughed a few times too, then sat back against the wall. "Now... I like you," he rasped, wagging a filthy finger in your face. "So what are you after? Cheating boyfriend? Some bloke not answering your owl? I can be real convincing, for the right price."

Your head shook, "Mattheo Riddle. What do you know about him?" You questioned directly.

Immediately, Tolliver's face paled— his sleaziness cut dead as his finger dropped limply. He no longer had that seedy look about him, instead, it was replaced by something else. Fear.

"Don't know nuffin about nuffin." He answered quickly, arms folding over. "And anyone who says otherwise is a bleedin' liar."

Your head tilted, eyes narrowed. You knew he was lying; no one became that defensive if they had nothing to hide.

"Come on now, Mick. I know you know something," you pressed, reaching into your pocket once more, "I'll make it worth it," you added another three galleons next to the pile.

That seemed to entice him slightly. His head twisted as his eyes flickered between you and the money, like he was on the fence. Sighing frustratedly, you reached down into your pocket and pulled out another two galleons, slamming them down for effect.

That seemed to do the trick.

"Alright, fine!" he grunted, leaning forward and sparing a glance up and down the street, "s'long as you don't tell anyone, I told ya."

"Deal. Now what do you know?"

He nodded again and glanced around, like he was trying to reassure himself.

"He's not dead, not like the rumours are sayin'." He whispered, "But he needed to disappear for a bit. Get away from it all."

Your pulse thudded quicker, "Disappear? Why?"

Mick scratched at his beard nervously, leaning closer again like the shadows might be listening. “All I know is, he was involved with something dark. Not just Knockturn-deep—worse. Real old stuff. Ancient magic. Blood debts. Curses that don’t leave a mark.”

You chewed your lip, a million thoughts racing in your mind. You'd read about Blood Magic before, briefly, whilst studying for your Ancient Ruins N.E.W.T.S. It was ancient magic, belonging to another world, long before this one. Before Hogwarts for sure, and even older than wand magic itself. Whatever it was, you knew it was serious.

You frowned, "Blood Magic? I thought that stuff had died out years ago. Way back in Merlin's time?"

He shook his head grimly, "There are some kinds of magic that don't go away, no matter how hard you try." He shifted again, glanced around at the other vendors and shivered. "Word is, he’s got people after him now. Not Aurors. No. Not even hit wizards. People who don’t show up on any bloody registry, if you catch my drift."

You blinked, a cold sensation trickling up your spine. "Well, where is he now?" You questioned, your nerves shot and begging to show. You pushed the feeling down again.

"I dunno. But if I were him, I'd be long gone. Somewhere far away and heavily warded. Keep them away for as long as I could."

His eyes narrowed, the greasy grin flickering back. “You close to him, sweetheart? Because if you are… You might want to stay out of it. Fellas like that? They don’t come back clean, that's for sure.”

Summoning your last ounce of courage, you shook your head, "Concerned party is all."

Tolliver hummed skeptically, as if he didn't quite believe you. And you didn't blame him, you hardly believed yourself.

"How'd you know all this, then?" you questioned, shooting your own skittish glance up and down the street, like suddenly you could feel the weight of more eyes fixed on you. Watching.

Mick only smirked smugly, crooked and not at all comforting like Albion's smile. "Ah, now that'd be telling, wouldn't it?"

One of his bony hands reached out to grasp at the galleons, instinctively, you pulled back, watching him bundle them away inside a ragged, cloth bag. He hummed to himself as he did it, tucking them away in an inside pocket in the lining of his coat.

"You didn't hear none of this from me." He spoke, standing hurriedly and closing over the suitcase that held his merchandise. "Word of warning, sweets. If he's alive, and you go sniffin' around... they'll come for you, too. Best give up on him now, your boyfriend's neck-deep in something no one crawls out of alive."

Before you could say another word, he disapparated with a loud crack that made you flinch. Mick Tolliver was gone, leaving you alone to stare at the ruined stall—and his warning lingering in the air.

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[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot (13) - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: so the start of this is based of an ask, but then I’ve also had a few people ask me about making more intimate content featuring Y/N and Mattheo, so I’ve given it a shot. This is my first time writing smut so please be gentle with me, but I’d really appreciate your feedback ❤️

18+ MDNI

-

Duelling Club was always a dramatic affair.

Hosted every other Wednesday in the cavernous, echoing expanse of the Great Hall, it was a hub of competition, rivalry, and overly theatrical wand flourishes. Students from every house gathered to show off their skill—or at the very least, try not to get hexed into the wall.

You usually came to watch.

Not because you weren’t capable—but because you were a Ravenclaw. Calm, clever, and more inclined to outwit than overpower. You had nothing to prove.

Besides, most people assumed you only showed up to sit beside Mattheo. The duelling club was practically his domain. He, Theo, and Enzo were the most dominant trio on the floor—ruthless, fast, and theatrical.

So when you stepped onto the platform yourself, there was an audible shift in the room.

Someone actually laughed.

“Wait—her?” a fourth-year Gryffindor muttered. “She’s just here to swoon over Riddle, right?”

Mattheo’s expression didn’t change, but his jaw twitched. Theo snorted. Enzo whistled lowly, like, you poor bastards don’t even know what’s coming.

The person who stepped up to challenge you was a tall, wiry Hufflepuff with an arrogant smirk.

“Hope you’re not too nervous,” he said, adjusting his sleeves. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Your eyebrow twitched, but your expression stayed serene. “How kind.”

He chuckled like he’d already won.

Mattheo’s arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against one of the columns, watching with an infuriatingly smug look. His eyes didn’t leave you for a second.

“She’s going to destroy him,” Theo muttered, nudging Enzo.

“She’s so calm,” Enzo said, blinking. “It’s terrifying. Like a cat before it pounces.”

“You three look oddly relaxed,” Blaise observed from nearby.

Mattheo smirked. “That’s because we know her.”

———

Professor Flitwick raised his wand. “On the count of three…”

You stepped gracefully into your stance, eyes focused, fingers loose on your wand like it was an extension of your hand.

Your opponent looked… amused. Poor thing.

“Three—two—one—BEGIN!”

The Hufflepuff was fast.

You were faster.

His first spell barely made it past his wand before you deflected it with a shield charm so smooth it looked choreographed. Then came your opening shot—clean, sharp, and surprisingly powerful for someone everyone thought just read books in the library.

A Stinging Hex shot toward him and hit square in the shoulder. He stumbled, blinking in confusion.

Then your second spell hit his feet, and he tripped backwards with an undignified squawk.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Mattheo’s smirk deepened. “Atta girl.”

The Hufflepuff scrambled to his feet, now red-faced and muttering curses. His next two spells were wild, poorly aimed, clearly rattled.

You sidestepped the first, spun, and with a flick of your wrist, his wand flew from his hand and clattered across the stone.

Silence.

Absolute, stunned silence.

And then…

“Holy shit,” Theo whispered, wide-eyed.

Enzo was already clapping. “Oh my Gods.”

Professor Flitwick beamed. “Wonderful technique, Y/N. Textbook precision.”

Your opponent blinked, dazed, still trying to comprehend how he was flat on his arse and weaponless while the sweet-faced Ravenclaw was calmly twirling her wand between her fingers.

You stepped off the platform, expression still demure, like nothing remarkable had just occurred.

———

Mattheo was already there, meeting you halfway. His eyes were wild—hungry—and that stupid smirk had deepened into something absolutely sinful.

“You’re lucky I don’t take you right here,” he murmured in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Mattheo,” you warned, breathless from the adrenaline.

“No, I’m serious.” He pulled back to look at you. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

You laughed, and he caught your chin between his fingers and kissed you hard, like he couldn’t help himself. His hand gripped your waist possessively. You were still on fire from the duel, still buzzing, and his lips on yours only added fuel to it.

“Okay, nope!” Theo announced, hands flying up. “Take it to the dorm.”

“Okay,” smirked Mattheo, grabbing your wrist. “We’re leaving.”

His voice was low. Dangerous. Hoarse with the effort it took to keep himself from losing it in front of everyone.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was tugging you through the crowd, ignoring the whispers, the stares, the “wait—where are they going?” comments flying behind you.

“Riddle!” Theo called after him. “Mate—the club’s not—”

“Don’t care.”

“But the next duel—!”

“Tell them she forfeits,” Mattheo growled, not slowing down for a second.

Theo just stood there with his hands half-raised.

Enzo snorted. “Man’s about to combust.”

———

Mattheo didn’t stop until you were halfway down the empty east wing, slamming through a heavy wooden door into an unused classroom. He turned, kicked it shut, and before you could even breathe—

You were pinned.

Against the door, breath stolen from your lungs, your wand still clutched in one hand as his hands landed firmly on either side of your head.

His eyes were black. Completely wild. Barely restrained.

“Mattheo,” you breathed, heart still racing from the duel. “What—?”

“You can’t—” He broke off, jaw clenched like he was trying to tether himself to reality. “You can’t just do that and expect me to sit there like a normal person.”

“Do what?”

“Destroy someone like that,” he rasped. “You walked in there like you were just humoring them—and then you obliterated him. You didn’t even blink.”

You blinked now. “Was that… bad?”

He actually laughed. Low, disbelieving. “Bad? No. Fuck no. It was…” He shook his head, stepping in closer. “It was the most insanely hot thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Mattheo—”

“I mean it. I’m done. You’ve ruined me.”

One hand slid to your waist, dragging you forward, the other trailing down your arm until his fingers found the edge of your wand and plucked it gently from your grip, placing it behind you on a desk like he couldn’t risk you accidentally stunning him next.

Then he crashed his mouth to yours.

It was raw. Heated. Desperate. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like if he didn’t taste you right now he’d self-combust. Your hands fisted in his shirt as he pressed you further into the room, mouth moving urgently against yours, jaw tight with restraint he was clearly losing by the second.

You gasped into him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You,” he growled. “It’s you. You just turned into this vengeful, elegant, terrifying creature and acted like it was nothing. Like—like you didn’t just make everyone in that room scared and obsessed with you at the same time.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you whispered.

“I’m not.” His hands were all over you now—your waist, your back, cupping your face like he needed to feel you to believe you were real. “I’ve never wanted you more. You walked in there like a dove and walked out like a goddess.”

You smiled against his lips. “So, you liked it then.”

“I’m feral, sweetheart. I’m a wreck. I’m in pieces.”

Your laughter lit up the room, and Mattheo’s eyes fluttered shut like that sound alone could undo him.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “They think I’m the storm in this relationship. But you… you’re worse. You hide it better. That’s why it’s dangerous.”

You slid your hands into his hair. “You like dangerous.”

He looked at you, gaze molten. “I like you. Every version. But this one? This one’s my favorite.”

Then, with zero warning, he scooped you up and dropped you onto the professor’s desk behind you, stepping between your knees and pulling you forward like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Mattheo,” you whispered, wide-eyed.

His grin was wolfish. “Tell me not to, and I’ll stop…”

You didn’t say anything.

So he kissed you again—slow now, deeper. Worshipful.

His hand disappeared under your skirt, fingers trailing upwards until they found their destination.

You let out a soft, startled moan that echoed off the stone walls like a secret neither of you meant to let slip.

And Merlin, if it didn’t undo him.

Mattheo stilled, just for a moment, breath trembling against your lips. Then he laughed — not cruel, not amused — but wrecked.

“You can’t do that,” he said, his voice a rasp of disbelief. “You can’t sound like that. Not now. I’ll fucking lose my mind.”

You pulled him back in, lips chasing for his, your fingers clasping at his belt and starting to undo it.

He growled.

“Fuck, you could destroy me,” he said into your mouth, voice so low it made you shudder. “And I’d let you. I’d crawl on my knees and beg for more.”

A beat of silence.

“Then beg.”

Mattheo pulled back to look at you.

Your eyes were wide, pupils blown, but you looked dangerous. Not in the way he was — not with fury or chaos or dark magic in your veins — but with intent. Like you knew exactly what kind of power you held over him. Like you’d just discovered you could command the monster and he’d thank you for it.

Mattheo didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

He just watched you. Waiting. Wanting.

“On your knees, Riddle,” you said softly, and your voice was silk over steel.

He blinked — slowly, like he hadn’t heard you right. Or maybe like he had, and it was undoing him cell by cell.

A flicker of something hot and dangerous danced behind his eyes — but he dropped. Smooth and silent, knees hitting the cold classroom floor like he belonged there.

The sudden shift in the power dynamic between you was electrifying.

You smirked and slid backwards on the desk — slow, deliberate — and let your legs fall open, spreading them with purpose. You hitched your skirt up just high enough to tease him, to show him exactly what was his prize was.

He choked on a breath.

You leaned back on your palms, your voice like velvet and dominance all at once.

“You want this?” you asked, head tilted in mock curiosity.

He choked on a breath.

He looked wrecked — a trembling breath escaping his lips as his gaze flicked between your eyes and the bare skin you’d offered him.

“Please,” he whispered, eyes wide and reverent. “I’m begging, darling. I’m begging. Let me have you. Let me worship you. I swear—fuck—I swear I’ll be good.”

You let the silence hang between you for a few moments, making him squirm, making him earn it.

And then, you spread your legs further, the movement slow, devastating, final.

His mouth parted like he’d just been punched in the gut.

“Because you asked so nicely,” you whispered teasingly.

Mattheo didn’t need telling twice. He dove forward, burying his face between your thighs. He’d tasted you a hundred times before, but this? This was something else.

He continued with a fevered hunger, losing himself in the bliss of your taste and the noises you were making beneath him.

You arched your back, whining loudly as you managed to croak out “I’m so close, Mattheo. Please.”

Something shifted in him at your admission.

You felt it — like magic changing direction, like heat rolling off him in a sudden wave. His shoulders tensed. His breath hitched — not with fear, not even with desperation.

With possession.

He looked up at you from between your legs, mouth wet, face flushed, and his expression had changed.

Gone was the desperate, trembling Mattheo on his knees.

In his place was something darker. More dangerous.

Mattheo rose slowly, licking his lips, dragging his hands along your thighs without asking this time. His voice was low — smooth and dark and feral.

“You think you’re in control right now?” he murmured, eyes hooded. “That’s cute.”

You blinked — your breath catching as he stepped between your legs, hands gripping your waist, fingers digging in like he couldn’t get close enough.

“You made me beg,” he whispered against your throat, kissing up the column of your neck — slow, open-mouthed, claiming. “And I let you.”

He kissed you — deep, possessive, devouring. Not asking now. Taking.

“Now,” he growled, dragging his lips across your jaw, “I’m going to remind you why no one else should dare even look at you. Why you’re mine.”

His voice was barely human — low and rough and reverent, as if even he was shocked by the depth of his obsession.

You were breathless, dazed — but grinning.

You loved this side of him. Loved when the storm cracked open and he stopped holding back. Loved knowing it was for you and you alone.

“Good,” you whispered, fisting your hand in his shirt and yanking him down. “Because I’m yours. So take what’s yours.”

That was it.

He groaned — low and guttural — and his hands were everywhere, gripping, tugging, lifting you like you weighed nothing as he laid you back against the desk. His eyes were wild, but his movements were precise — reverent in their urgency. He was kissing you like he needed it to breathe, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world.

Your hair was splayed out around your head like a halo — soft and wild and glowing in the flicker of the classroom’s candlelight.

He hovered over you, palms braced on either side of your hips, his breath ghosting across your face. “You look like a fucking angel,” he whispered, voice rough. “But you ruin me like a demon. I’m so fucking ruined for you. There’s nothing left of me that isn’t yours.”

“Then show me,” you whispered back, voice hoarse.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes shining with something terrifyingly pure — devotion that bordered on madness.

“I’m not going to be gentle now,” he warned, voice shaking. “Not after that.” Without waiting any longer he slid his length into you.

The noise you made was sinful.

Your hand reached up, fingers brushing his jaw, your smile wicked and loving all at once.

“I don’t want gentle,” you said, breathless. “I want you.”

And gods, he gave you everything.

Every ounce of his darkness. Every violent, burning piece of his soul. And all of it belonged to you.

———

When Mattheo finally slowed down, he held your face in both hands and kissed your forehead with the softest touch of the night.

“I’m still shaking,” he admitted, resting his forehead against yours. “I thought I’d have to protect you from everyone. But now I’m wondering if I need to start warning people to protect themselves.”

You smiled, breathless.

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

And he looked at you like he’d never heard anything more dangerous.

“Then Merlin help everyone else.”

Taglist: @hisonlyobsession @loonyladystardust