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suugarbabe · 2 years ago

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the secret | m.r x reader

Prompt: Can you do Mattheo Riddle x Reader best friends to lovers but where she is also the sister of Theo Nott. And Mattheo is also Theo’s best friend? The Nott family are hosting a Xmas party with all purebloods etc and Mattheo gets jealous? Thank you so much!❤️

Word count: 1.6k

Warning: angst, smut, 18+, MDNI below the line

An: not proofread sozz guys.

The first time it happened, you and Mattheo agreed it was just a mistake. A drunken mistake that no one would ever know about, especially your twin. It was just a drunken rendezvous, gnashing teeth, nails on skin, no marks left where others could see them. You were friends, he was Theo’s best friend. It couldn’t ever be anything more.

So why did you find yourself outside of his dorm room, fist hanging in the air while you debated knocking on the door or not. You lowered your hand, mumbling to yourself, “Merlin, y/n, you’re such an idiot.” You turned around, ready to take the shameful walk back when you heard the door swing open and your name being called, “Y/n/n?” You turned back round, cheeks aflame. You stuttered over your tongue, trying to come up with a good explanation, “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Mattheo cut you off, smirk slowly sliding onto his lips as he was stepping to the side, “Come in.” You walked through the doorway, him close behind you, muttering a locking and silencing charm. That time you were sober, you couldn’t blame not realizing where you were or who you were with. You sought this out, and Mattheo happily accepted.

It only happened two more times before holiday approached, but those two more times were all it took for you to be hooked on him. The first few days of Christmas holiday you just moped around, dutifully following your dads instructions, playing the role of silent obedient daughter. Every year the Nott household threw a Christmas party, inviting all the important pureblood families, all the Dark Lord’s most loyal and dedicated followers.

Normally thinking about having to interact with those type of people made bile rise in your throat, but fortunately enough you were not the only one with parents who were loyal to the Dark Lord. Actually, you were excited to see his son.

When Mattheo appareted to the Nott Manor with his mother Bellatrix, his instinct was to search for you. However what his eyes found was your father parading you in front of the Zabini family, Blaise and his mother.

What Mattheo couldn’t see was how disinterested Blaise looked as your father talked about the importance of joining your families, how much power it would bring the Dark Lord.

This was a common occurrence for the last several parties your father has thrown, trying to betroth you to another powerful family. To make sure that he looked good and accomplished for the Dark Lord. But Blaise knew you had fallen for Mattheo. He could see it in the way you two interacted, or more so strategically didn’t interact.

But Mattheo was a jealous man, as well as possessive. Though you had no interest in Blaise beyond friendship, that didn’t stop Mattheo from waiting for you in your room.

So when you were finally granted permission for a break from your father, walking into your room you were startled by Mattheo sprawled on your bed. He was lying on his head, one hand behind his head while his other was twirling his wand around his fingers.

“So when’s the wedding, Princess? Will I get an invitation?” Mattheo swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up now. His signature glare was pointed at you, his eyes seemingly dead but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, your heels clicking against the hardwood, “There will be no wedding, Mattheo. Blaise is not the first person my father has tried this with and he won’t be the last.”

Mattheo’s face only turned into more of a scowl. He grabbed hold of the back of your thighs, “Is that what you like, hmm? Being paraded around like a little house slut for some random dark wizard?”

His grip on your thighs tightened with his words, his possessive nature causing heat to pool in your centre. You ran your hands along his strong chest, “You know the only one I’m a slut for is you Mattheo.”

Your hands gripped onto Mattheo’s shoulders as you straddled his lap. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping on to your ass firmly, “Are you going to show me how good of a slut you can be f’me, Princess?”

You nodded, lips ghosting the shell of his ear, “Gonna be such a good girl for you, Teo.” You ground your hips down, feeling his hard cock straining against his trousers. A low groan emitted from his throat.

Without warning Mattheo flipped the two of you over, him now towering over you. His lips attached to your throat, finding the place he knew made you whimper. Mattheo’s hands explored your body, coming up to squeeze and knead at your breasts.

His fingertips followed the v cut of your dress before gripping and ripping apart the thin material. “What the fuck, Mattheo?” You tried to shout at him but it came out more of a moan.

“Don’t fret, darling, I’ll mend it after,” his lips now trailing down your chest, entrapping one of your nipples in your mouth. You decided that Mattheo had far too many clothes on, gripping and ripping open his dress shirts, the sounds of buttons bouncing off the hardwood floor.

You could feel Mattheo smirk against your skin, “Thought you were going to be good for me, Princess. Now you’re ripping my clothes?” Mattheo made a tsking sound at you, “Seems like I need to teach you a lesson now don’t I?”

You bit your lip, nodding. Without warning Mattheo was two fingers deep in your cunt, scissoring his fingers and stretching you out.

“Oh, fuck, Mattheo,” your back arched, chest pressing further into him. Him working you with his fingers had you in such bliss you hadn’t even noticed him shedding his trousers. Not until you felt his fingers leave you, a whimper coming from your throat as you felt them replaced by the head of his cock rubbing against your folds, coating himself in your slick.

“Please, Teo, don’t tease,” you put on your sweetest tone as you bucked your hips.

“Patience, Princess. Before I really punished you,” he growled in your ear, slowly sinking himself himself into you until his hips are flushed to yours. When he feels you clench around him he gets the signal to move, slowly rutting his hips into you.

You raked your nails down the muscles of his back, “Harder, Teo. Need it, harder.” Mattheo lifted up ones of your legs, resting it on his shoulder as he started a brutal pace, one of your hands flying to hold yourself steady against the headboard.

You felt that familiar feeling you often got with Mattheo building in your stomach, every thrust bringing you closer to bliss. Mattheo’s hand had a vice grip on your thigh as his other rested on your lower stomach, just above your pelvis.

The pressure from his hand made the head of his cock hit that special place inside with every thrust, your jaw slack with silent moans. A devilish smirk displayed on Mattheo’s face, “Can you feel me right here, Princess? Feel me deep inside your pretty cunt? Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up.”

Your cunt clenched around him at his filthy words causing a gutters moan from Mattheo, “There she is, there’s my perfect little slut, you liked that don’t you? Like the idea of me fucking you full of my cum, feeling it leak out of you when we return back to the party?”

You nodded, too fucked out to respond properly with words, Mattheo’s thumb found your clit, rubbing tight figure eights. Your head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut seeing stars and you fell over the edge, coating Mattheo’s cock with your juices.

Mattheo’s wasn’t far behind, hips stuttering before stilling as you felt him coat your walls with warm spurts before nearling collapsing on top of you, his head on your chest as your hands came up to play with the curls as the base of his neck.

As Mattheo slowly pulled his softening cock from your cunt you whined as the feeling of emptiness. Mattheo kissed your cheek tenderly as he stood from the bed, grabbing his wand that he carelessly discarded on the floor.

He gave it a small wave, seamlessly cleaning you both with minimal effort, “Sorry, love. While I’d love to dote on you, even draw you a bath I know we’ve already been gone for too long.”

You nodded, a small smile on your face as you walked toward him on wobbly legs, “S’okay, Teo. There’s always later.” You gave him a teasing wink. Mattheo let out a low growl, “Don’t start something you know we can finish right now, love.”

You gave his cheek a loving kiss in apology. Mattheo took a step back, waving his wand once more so that you were both dressed again, looking as if nothing had even happened. “Well don’t you clean up nice,” you teased.

Mattheo walked toward your bedroom door, holding out his arm, “M’lady.” You giggled, walking up and looping your arm with his. He opened your door, beginning to walk you down the hallway.

“Mattheo, wait. Do you really think it’s a good idea for us to walk back in to the party together? I mean, what about Theo?”

Mattheo nodded, “See I’ve been thinking, who better for your dad to see you with, all cozied up and chummy than the Dark Lord’s son himself, hmm? Papa Nott would just love that arrangement wouldn’t he?”

You held on to his arm tighter, “You know I never tell you enough how brilliant you are?”

Mattheo chucked lightly, “No, love, you don’t. But that’s okay,” he leaned in close to your ear as you entered the main room once more, “I’ll teach you a lesson later.”

#Mattheo riddle x reader #Mattheo riddle x nott!reader #Mattheo riddle angst #Mattheo riddle smut

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heavenlybodies333 · 4 months ago

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Virgin Fucking Mary - M.R.

she told you she’s celibate, but she told me I can rail her shit

Theo had been your best friend since before either of you could properly walk, a bond that never wavered, even as you grew older and Hogwarts became your shared stomping ground. Your friendship was simple, easy—even if he did have a habit of oversharing details of his sex life that you could really, really do without.

You were sitting with Theo, Enzo, and Blaise at the Slytherin table, picking at your food while Theo recounted—far too enthusiastically, might you add—his latest escapade.

"Mate, I swear, I had her begging—"

"Merlin, Theo," you groaned, stabbing a piece of fruit with your fork. "Honestly, I don’t know why you put yourself in these positions when you know you're leading these girls on."

Theo just grinned, unbothered. “Can’t help it, darling. You know how they get when I—”

"You ever try talking to these girls first? Or is it straight to sticking your dicks down their throats?" Before you could roll your eyes, a presence dropped into the seat beside you. The scent of smoke and something inherently masculine curled around you, the unmistakable cologne of Mattheo Riddle invading your senses.

"What's this, then?" His voice was low, amused as he reached over, stealing a chip off your plate. "You giving Nott a lecture on morality, princess?"

You exhaled sharply through your nose, refusing to turn toward him. “Just asking if you whores ever have a conversation with a girl instead of thinking with your—” his hand reached over your plate once again, taking another chip.

"Now, where’s the fun in that?" he mused, popping it into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to engage. "Of course you would say that, Riddle."

Theo let out a loud, amused groan, smacking the table. "Alright, alright, calm down, Thou Holy Virgin Mary"

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

Blaise shook his head, laughed under his breath. Enzo snorted into his drink.

But Mattheo—Mattheo—practically collapsed against the table, laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his seat. "No fucking way," he wheezed, pressing a hand to his chest as he recovered.

Your cheeks burned. The heat spread down your neck, prickling against your skin, but you refused to let it show.

"You lot are laughing at me," you huffed, tossing your fork onto your plate, "but at least I don’t have to worry about pushing a fucking kid out of me anytime soon."

Mattheo snorted, his amusement shifting into something more smug. "Yeah, okay, princess," he drawled, leaning into your space. His voice was low, teasing, but his eyes were sharp, glinting with something dark. "No wonder you’re so uptight. Explains why you’re such a bitch."

That pissed you off.

You turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing, expression carefully composed despite the way anger coiled hot in your gut. The others had already lost interest, falling back into their own conversations.

“Oh, I’ll have you know, Riddle,” you said, voice low, syrupy-sweet. “A girl can take matters into her own hands.”

Mattheo blinked. Just once.

You didn’t wait for a response. You stood smoothly, grabbing your book bag, and just for good measure, you leaned down just enough to let your lips ghost near his ear.

"You’d be surprised what I can do without a man."

And then? You walked away. Swaying your hips. Feeling his eyes burn into your back.

By the time you reached the door, you dared one last glance over your shoulder.

And there it was.

Mattheo, still seated, still staring, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and fuck, I’m turned on.

It was late, the library was completely empty with the exception of those in the moving portraits keeping you company. Most students had long since gone to bed, leaving only a dim glow of candlelight flickering between the shelves.

And you weren’t stupid. You had felt it.

The shift in the air. The way the back of your neck tingled. The weight of a stare burning between your shoulder blades.

You knew it was him.

Still, you pretended not to notice. You turned the page of your book, eyes trained on the words, until—

“Taking matters into your own hands, huh?”

His voice was low. Smooth. Dark with something predatory.

You didn’t jump. Didn’t react. Just hummed, dragging your gaze lazily up to where he stood.

Mattheo leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, dark curls falling into his eyes.

You raised a brow. “Something you need?”

His lips curved. “I think you know exactly what I need.”

A slow heat curled in your stomach. You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What, Riddle? A book? Help with your homework?”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, caging you against the table. His hands found the wood, fingers curling against it as he leaned down—so close you could feel his breath against your cheek.

You refused to look up. Refused to acknowledge the warmth pooling low in your stomach.

But Mattheo? He knew.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he murmured.

His fingers brushed your thigh.

You swallowed hard. “And what’s that?”

Mattheo tilted his head, eyes flickering between yours and your mouth.

“You can show me,” he murmured. “How you take matters into your own hands.”

He saw the way your fingers twitched against the table. The way your lips parted just slightly, as if debating whether to let yourself fall or run. And, like the smug bastard he was, he waited.

“Nothing to say?” he mused, his breath brushing the side of your jaw. His fingers drummed against the wood, lazy, slow. “Funny. You had plenty to say at lunch.”

The heat between you was unbearable. His knee pressed between your legs, just enough to send a spike of need through you, but not enough to satisfy the ache building low in your stomach.

Mattheo saw.

Felt it.

And then—he pushed deeper.

“I bet you like it,” he murmured, dragging his nose along the curve of your jaw. “Being the good little princess. The one no one can touch. The one no one fucks.”

Your breath hitched.

“Bet you get yourself off thinking about it, don’t you?” His lips brushed just against your ear. “How desperate they’d be to ruin you?”

You clenched your teeth, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.

He saw it anyway.

Felt the way your body betrayed you, thighs squeezing around the knee he’d wedged between them, the pulse of your breath, the heat rolling off you in waves.

Mattheo hummed, pleased.

Then, before you could react, his hand slid under your skirt.

You gasped. “Mattheo—”

But he wasn’t listening.

“I mean, let’s be honest, yeah?” His knuckles brushed the inside of your thigh. “A girl can take matters into her own hands, sure—but it’s not the same, is it?”

He leaned in, lips barely brushing your ear. dragging his fingers higher, pressing against the damp fabric of your underwear.

“Look at that,” he mused. "Virgin Mary isn’t so innocent after all."

Your fingers curled against the table. "I will kill you."

He just laughed, dark and low. "Yeah? You gonna do it with my fingers in your cunt, or after I fuck you stupid?"

Your brain short-circuited.

Mattheo used your stunned silence to his advantage, slipping his fingers beneath your underwear, dragging them through the slick pooling between your thighs.

"Fuck, Mattheo—"

He hums, watching your face, the way your lips part, the way your brows pull together in pleasure.

"You’re soaked," he smirks. "Thought you didn’t like me."

"I don’t like you," you pant, back arching as his fingers move faster, working you open, leaving you breathless.

He laughs. "Sure, princess."

He pulls his fingers out, and you whimper at the loss, at the emptiness. But then he’s undoing his belt, pushing his slacks down just enough, and your stomach tightens at the sight of him—thick, hard, leaking at the tip.

Mattheo catches your gaze, smirking. "You’re staring."

You roll your eyes, even as you hook your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Are you gonna talk all night, or are you gonna—fuck—"

Because he’s already sliding inside, pushing into you inch by inch, stretching you open in the most devastating way.

"Shit," he groans, hands gripping your thighs. "So fucking tight."

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, head falling back as he fills you completely. You feel everything—the way he pulses inside you, the way his breath stutters against your neck, the way he’s holding himself back, barely resisting the urge to ruin you.

"Mattheo," you whisper. "Deeper, please—"

Something in him snaps.

His grip tightens, and then he’s fucking you—hard, deep, brutal. Every thrust shoves you harder against the wall, knocking the breath from your lungs. You cling to him, nails raking down his back, thighs trembling.

"That what you want?" he rasps, snapping his hips forward, making you cry out. "You want me to fuck you deeper?"

You can’t answer. Can’t think. All you can do is take it, take him, let him fuck you so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat.

"Should’ve known," he mutters, biting down against your shoulder. "All that attitude—just a needy little slut underneath, huh?"

You whimper, gasping his name, digging your heels into his lower back, urging him closer, deeper.

Mattheo groans, pulling back just enough to look at you—your lips swollen, your pupils blown wide, your expression absolutely wrecked.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You look so good like this. Bet Theo would kill me if he knew."

You’re too far gone to care.

"Don’t stop," you plead, voice breaking.

He doesn’t.

He fucks you through it, fucks you until you’re falling apart around him, nails dragging down his spine, thighs squeezing tight around his waist as your orgasm rips through you.

"You feel that?" His voice was wrecked, panting, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he buried himself inside you. "That’s what it’s like when a real man fucks you, sweetheart."

Mattheo groans at the feeling, his pace stuttering, his grip bruising. And then he’s spilling inside you, breathless and wrecked, pressing his forehead against yours as he cums, his thrusts erratic as they slowed.

You were still catching your breath, skirt bunched around your waist, Mattheo’s hands gripping your thighs with a possessive kind of desperation. As he finally pulled out, breath heavy against your ear. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back, taking in the sight of you—disheveled, marked up, and absolutely wrecked beneath him.

His fingers brushed over your thigh before he whispered, “Was that your first?” His voice was dripping with smugness, already assuming he knew the answer. “Did you like it?”

You tilted your head up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. Oh, Mattheo…

“Do you really think I’d lose my virginity to you?” you mused, voice laced with sweet mockery as you reached for your skirt, slipping it back on with slow, deliberate movements. You adjusted it, smoothing out the creases, completely unfazed by the way his expression darkened.

Mattheo’s smirk faltered. “What?”

His expression shifted—something sharp, something dark. "What the fuck does that mean?"

You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder with an easy smirk. "It means, sweetheart," you said, voice dripping with faux sympathy, "that you really should have a chat with Theo sometime."

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering before realization settled in like a slow-burning fire.

"Oh," you mused, tapping your chin like you were deep in thought. "You don’t know about him, do you? About how he doesn't really get the whole 'kiss and don’t tell' thing?"

You slung your bag over your shoulder, taking your time fixing your hair in the reflection of a nearby window. turning to face him, "I don’t kiss and tell—but unfortunately for you, Theo definitely does." you said sweetly.

His brows furrowed. "Theo—what the fuck are you talking about?"

You leaned in, just close enough that he could smell the faint hint of perfume on your skin, the remnants of whatever sin you two had just committed. "Ask him about me sometime," you murmured, a smirk playing at the edges of your lips. "I’m sure he’d love to share the details."

You turned to leave, but not before tossing one last dagger straight at his ego. “Oh, and Mattheo?” You glanced over your shoulder, giving him one last look-over. "Next time, try lasting longer."

Then you walked out, leaving him alone in the dim glow of the library—jaw tight, fists clenched, drowning in the bitter aftertaste of his own ego—because for once in his life, Mattheo Riddle wasn’t the one doing the ruining.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: slut me out

here’s part 2 for you whores

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