#answer me this riddle. are you single?

[withered-tears]

pre-pretty lady..

[kazrz]

TEN YEARS TOO LATE ⛥ sirius black

ten years ago, bellatrix lestrange’s child was thrown onto your doorstep without warning. ten years later, you’re not sure if you’re living the life you’d wanted — but you do know that mattheo is your son, and no one else’s. [1.6k words]

TAGS: sirius is harry’s godfather, reader is a single mum to mattheo riddle, hurt/no comfort, angst, lovers to strangers/borderline enemies ngl, voldemort died after the first war, reader and sirius are both meanies

🐦‍⬛ — everyone say hi to my baby mattheo! I wrote this fic smiling and all but best believe I’ll never have a child in the future. too much work.

p.s. this fic is inspired by ‘he looks like his father’ by @/marauder-misprint! that fic changed lives and one of them was mine.

“He’s not your kid.”

You’ve endured many offensive questions about Mattheo’s parentage ever since you took him in. They sent you spiralling downward into the deepest depths of your mind, wondering why everyone needed to have their noses in your business. They made you second guess your parenting skills, doubting how you raised Mattheo and whether he truly is the boy you nurtured him to be.

While you weren’t normally so tongue-tied in these situations, it didn’t help that your old, repulsive Hogwarts fling was standing right before you — closer than he’d ever been in more than a decade — confidently claiming that your son wasn’t yours.

It was a huge, fucking relief that the kid had inherited his biological mother’s shamelessness.

Mattheo pushed past only a few irritated students and parents on his way to you. Sirius’ words were as clear as day to him. They ignited a flame that wasn’t known for its swift ceasing.

“Who are you to be the judge of that?” he gritted out, fingers clinging onto yours by habit. You smiled down at him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “Last I remembered Mum telling me, you ditched her after graduation and never reached out. You have no right to even be speaking to her.”

Your son’s words sizzled a hole into your heart. You hadn’t expected him to remember the measly details about a man who was irrelevant in his life. The last time you’d mentioned Sirius, Mattheo was merely five. He’d asked, “Mama, why don’t I have a dad?”

How could you not answer him?

Eighteen years ago, you would have laughed if someone said you’d be a single mother. Sixteen years ago, you would have laughed, along with Sirius, at the prospect of being parents.

Ten years ago, you held in your distaste for children and took in a three-year-old.

And you wouldn’t let the man who’d left your heart in pieces disregard the hard work you’d put in.

Sirius’ dry laugh left you clenching your teeth, hands itching to curl into fists and punch him square in the face. “Stay out of this, kid,” he snapped, not even bothering to glance at Mattheo.

You sent him a right hook straight to his chiseled jaw, hearing a soft crack sound at the impact.

Silence fell over the courtyard like a thick, suffocating blanket, but not before gasps echoed from every corner of the open space. Sirius held trembling fingers to his left jawbone, lips parted in absolute bewilderment. He stared off into the empty space beside Mattheo.

A few rustles sounded as someone shoved past students clad in their black robes. Harry froze, halting just before he ended up in the middle of the ongoing catfight.

A dazed Remus materialised from behind him, eyes widened as he took in the scene.

“YN,” the lanky man rasped, eyes flitting between you and his best mate. Sirius still had his hand pressed to the side of his insolent-looking face, but now he was glaring you down, brows virtually stitched together. “YN, you’re here.”

Mattheo tugged on your arm and you stepped back, the greater distance between you and your ex clearing the haze from your mind. You tried not to roll your eyes at Remus’ quite apparent observation.

“Yes, I am, Lupin.” The edge in your voice gave way to pure rancour, eyes hardening when Sirius righted himself with a groan. You had half the heart not to utter the next few words. “You’re not the only one with a child.”

By now, the prying eyes of passers-by had redirected somewhere else, no longer interested in your dispute with two of the Marauders.

Remus’ gaze lingered on Mattheo — his dark curls, his defined brows, his nose, the scar that marred his cheek intimidatingly. He looked close to nothing like you, save for his body language, graceful yet sharp, and his clothing choices, casual yet sophisticated.

Even if the kid wasn’t your blood, it was painfully blatant that he was raised by you.

The professor swallowed the lump in his throat. “Riddle’s yours?” The question was stupid, but he was too dumbfounded to think of another one.

Sirius groaned, running a hand down his face. You relished in seeing him wince at the pain that struck his jaw. Mattheo, on the other hand, seemed more than ready to rip him apart.

“You might wanna stop there, Moony, or she’ll have you puking out your guts,” Sirius sneered, the unfamiliar sound sending a tremble down Harry’s spine. His godfather had never been so agitated before. It might’ve just been your presence that irked him, given the woeful tone Sirius would adopt whenever he shared stories about your relationship back then.

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have someone claim your son isn’t really yours, would you? Because Harry isn’t your son. He’s your dead best friend’s son.”

A brief flicker of hurt crossed Sirius’ grey eyes. It tugged at your heartstrings, but you shoved the feeling aside. You had no compassion for him. He’d shattered you — how could you possibly go back to him?

Mattheo turned to you with a plea in his eyes. While he normally would contribute with some snarky comments of his own, he didn’t want you getting into a brawl. Especially when this was the topic at hand.

“Mum,” he tried, voice firm but holding a semblance of vulnerability he’d only ever show around you. “Don’t do this. He’s not worth it.”

At that, Sirius whipped out his wand and jabbed at your chest with the tip. Mattheo almost broke the man’s ribs, but you pushed him aside before he could get caught in the altercation.

The former Gryffindor looked nearly like a rabid dog with the way he snarled and growled, wand tip digging painfully into your collarbone.

“Not worth it? That’s what I was to you? What you told your son I was?” His voice sank deeper than the depths of the ocean. Harry didn’t recognise the man who looked like his godfather.

You gripped his wand tight, nearly snapping it in two if Sirius hadn’t yanked it away harshly. “The moment you abandoned me on my own doorstep, you became a stranger!” you raged, keeping your volume in check before another crowd formed. “When you didn’t call, or even send a bloody letter, I gave up waiting on you. What could I do? Cry all night because you weren’t there to hug me? Trudge around my house blindfolded because everything reminded me of you? I knew better than that. I moved away, and you weren’t there to stop me. So why are you here now, claiming my kid isn’t mine and acting offended that he thinks you’re of no worth to me?”

Mattheo held his breath when you spat the words you’d been holding in for years. He knew you were tenacious and resolute in all your glory, but he’d never witnessed you so livid. He had little to no knowledge of how Sirius had left you so wounded and exposed, though now, your words began assembling the puzzle pieces he’d collected over the years.

He noticed whenever you stopped for a moment, looking longingly at an object that meant nothing to him, but a lot more to you. You would sometimes, subconsciously, style his hair differently when it grew too long. Right now, as he glanced between you and Sirius with his waves, he realised why.

“Seriously, Sirius?” He heard the crack in your voice when your ex didn’t respond. Out of guilt or fury, he didn’t know. “You made your decision, and I have made mine.”

You shoved the dark-haired man off of you, causing him to stumble backwards and lose his footing. Remus darted forwards, barely managing to catch Sirius in his arms, sparing him from the unforgiving impact of the ground. Hushed whispers were exchanged as the latter righted himself, sending you a glare while holding his injured jaw.

It was only after a quiet, indignant huff that you turned to your son and placed benign hands on his shoulders.

Leaning down slightly, you brushed a stray hair away from Mattheo’s forehead, smiling as tenderly as you could. “Are you ready to leave, Theo?” you murmured sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous bite. The sudden shift in tone induced whiplash.

Mattheo flashed a charming grin that reminded Remus of your own. Whatever Sirius had said about the Slytherin boy not being your son was possibly the most erroneous statement ever uttered.

You mirrored his expression, though yours was gentler and didn’t reach your eyes. Your son’s enthusiasm flickered for a moment, but when you stood to your full height and led him away, Mattheo began cheerfully rambling about the recent happenings at Hogwarts and his own escapades.

Sirius couldn’t believe that he’d just seen you for the first time in more than a decade. He especially couldn’t fathom the fact that it had gone terribly.

He shouldn’t have said Mattheo wasn’t your kid. That isn’t something you say to your ex you’ve been thinking about for sixteen years after you ditched her. Now that he’d put it that way, he realised how horribly he had acted towards you and your son.

Your son. It was a foreign term to him, principally when it came to you. The you he’d known in Hogwarts had an unyielding repugnance for children. But, he figured, you were really only averse to the toddlers who didn’t listen. You must have raised Mattheo well.

“That was awful,” Harry quipped, raising an eyebrow at his godfather. Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face and wincing when his jaw decided it was too much.

He sighed, brows stitched together. “I know.” But what did it matter?

Remus patted him on the back. “If you’re lucky, you might see her again,” he reassured his friend, though skepticism snuck between his words.

“If she even wants to see me again.”

Harry had a feeling that you didn’t.

navigation ⛥ sirius black

[calcifiedunderland]

The Prefect’s Kiss~!

—When a Night Raven College housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia x gn! Reader

Riddle, Azul, Kalim ver.

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Leona Kingscholar

💛 “Are you sure he’s under a sleeping curse?” you asked, before Crowley shoved you through the Savanaclaw mirror without a second thought. You were left with more questions than answers. Namely, could you actually be his true love? It wasn’t like Leona really showed a lot of affection to anybody really. Sure, he didn’t chase you away when you bothered him in the greenhouse. And you supposed that he did help you a lot on your homework, even though he grumbled under his breath.

💛 Your own crush on Leona was painfully obvious. Sometimes you’d go out of your way to the greenhouses, or take some tasks from Ruggie to deliver things to him. You tried to keep your feelings in check. Despite his laid-back attitude and nonchalance, he was still a prince. And you were just a herbivore, as he always reminded you. Too bad you’d pout and look away every time - otherwise, you’d notice the soft look on his face when he called you that nickname.

💛 As you walked through the common room, you saw how panicked Jack looked, tail thumping against his legs. Ruggie lead you to Leona’s room without a single joke or clever comment, You noted how agitated he looked - his hair was a mess from running his hands through it.

💛 To be honest, if you didn’t know otherwise, you would’ve thought Leona was fine. But the moment you stepped foot into his room, you didn’t hear Leona’s light snores or see his chest moving as he breathed. He was completely still.

Sunlight streamed in, catching on Leona’s hair. You brushed some of it aside, thumbing one of his braids absently, “how long has he been like this?”

Ruggie sighed heavily, carding a hand in his disheveled hair. “Not sure. We… we all thought he was just napping.” He swallowed thickly, “just… get me if you need me. I have to wash his laundry.” You watched as Ruggie hefted a basket and left. Your attention went back to Leona.

“You’ve got everybody so worked up,” You bit your lip, surprising yourself as your eyes began welling up. “You’d probably think it’s funny. But I…” You gulped. “…miss you.”

You took a deep breath and softly slotted your lips against his. For an agonizing moment you thought it didn’t work. Until Leona groaned. “Hhh- hmm?” You pulled away quickly.

Leona’s ears twitched, and you felt yourself grow flustered when you made eye contact. You gawked, “I-it worked?” He shifted upright, giving you a lazy smirk. “Huh, never took you for the romantic type, Prefect. You went straight for True Love’s Kiss.”

You felt your face grow hot, but you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. Relief filled you, and you felt yourself relax as Leona loosely wrapped you in his arms. “Yeah whatever, you lazy lion.”

His hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. He brought his forehead to yours with a soft grin, “Ha, you really are just a herbivore,” he said fondly.

Vil Schoenheit

💜 The moment Rook burst into your dorm, Crowley suddenly vanished. Before you could react, Rook was already leading you down to the Mirrors, bringing you up to speed on what happened. The nervousness didn’t really set in until Rook began singing when you entered the dorm, “finally! Le Roi du Poison’s savior has arrived!”

💜 Apparently, Vil thought he was drinking apple juice from the fridge, but it was actually Epel’s mislabeled draught that he made as his potion. Oh how the tables had turned. At least Epel knew it worked. Task failed successfully?

💜 Everything you learned in Crewel’s class about Sleeping Death was swirling in your head. True Love was no small thing. Especially when it came to Vil. It didn’t matter that he seemed to soften whenever he looked at you, or that he paid extra attention to how you carried yourself. Or how often he had ‘extra’ beauty products and clothes that just happened to be your size.

💜 Epel was looked dejected when you saw him, and looked away from you. Rook solemnly led you to Vil’s room, and bowed as he opened the door “True love will prevail, mon cher trickster! I have no doubt in your abilities!” Thanks Rook, you’re not helping. Look, (Y/N) is even more nervous now.

Even in sleep, Vil looked picture perfect. You quietly padded into his room, perching softly next to him. He laid on his back, and hands were clasped over his torso. It looked like a scene out of a movie, you thought.

You gently brushed some hair out of Vil’s face, “it’s so unlike you to make careless mistakes,” you said out loud. Silence hung in the air. “Even Epel wants you back, y’know.” You frowned, pursing your lips.

“I… I really hope this works,” your voice cracked. You didn’t know what you’d do if it didn’t. You never thought you’d actually kiss a celebrity, let alone Vil, but somehow you were here. “Please don’t be too mad at me if… when you wake up.”

You took a deep breath and softly kissed him. You gasped and pulled away when you heard him breathe deeply, and Vil’s eyes fluttered open. “Prefect? What are you doing here?” Vil sat up and you felt your mouth grow dry.

You rushed out, “you were under Sleeping Death, and Rook brought me here-!” Vil shushed you gently, “so, you gave me True Love’s Kiss as the antidote?” You nodded hesitantly. Vil gazed at you, looking thoughtful.

He took your chin, looking at your mouth. “Hmm, it seems your chapstick wore off. No matter, you can use mine.” You were about to thank him when he snatched a tube of balm off his nightstand. You watched, dumbfounded, as he applied it to his own lips before capping it.

“This formula is my own blend,” he said casually before looking back at you with a glint in his eye, “and I’ve been wanting to test how it transfers.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head so you’d look at him. He had a soft, fond smirk, “you’ll help me, won’t you?”

Idia Shroud

🩵 Halfway through Crowley’s speech about True Love, Ortho burst through Ramshackle and began dragging you to Ignihyde. You probably would’ve been upset at the intrusion (and the bill to fix the door), but the robot boy looked so devastated. “You have to save big brother!”

🩵 Apparently, Idia thought he was mixing energy drinks together but he ended up putting Sleeping Death in his drink. Through Ortho’s explanation, Idia was pregaming for an all nighter of farming for the new SSR he pulled, and put the wrong drink in his exhausted-gambling-victory haze. You couldn’t say you were surprised. One of the things you liked about Idia was how passionate he could get.

🩵 Whether it was gaming, tech, or programming, it was always a treat to get Ignihyde’s resident shut-in to talk to you, the ends of his hair turning blush pink. Whenever you visited, Idia always had your favorite snacks and drinks. It came to a point where he had a whole gaming setup made for you, with your own chair and headset.

🩵 The two of you would spend hours gaming, taking the occasional break to watch anime or do snack runs. Idia always seemed a little more inclined to get out of his room if it was with you. During those times, Ortho seemed to hum with excitement. Some days, Idia even lent you one of his hoodies after you begged. Now, the lights of Idia’s screens were off, and the room felt even colder.

The only lights in the room were Idia’s and Ortho’s hair, glowing a soft blue in the dark. Ortho hovered anxiously as you walked to Idia. His hair illuminated his face, and he looked almost like a marble statue.

You suddenly realized how long you’d been staring at him, and became aware of Ortho when you heard his joints clinking nervously. “Hey, Ortho,” you said soothingly, “could you wait outside for me? It’ll just be for a few minutes. I’ll do my best to help.” You tried to smile like you had everything under control, but as Ortho left, you suddenly felt the weight of the situation.

Like a moth to a flame, your attention drifted back to Idia. The light from his hair softly cast a blue glow on him, and you sighed softly. You brushed your thumb against Idia’s cheek, moving your face closer to his. “Please wake up,” you pursed your lips, “for Ortho. For… for me.” Softly you pressed your lips against his.

You pulled away with a small gasp, inches apart. Idia breathed in deeply, face scrunching up. His eyes slowly opened, blinking blearily. “H-huh? Prefect?!” Immediately, Idia’s hair whooshed in dark blue flames tipped with scarlet, “What are you doing so close to my face?!” You pulled back immediately, eyes wide.

Ortho zoomed back into the room, “I sensed movement! Big brother! You’re awake!~” Ortho looked up at you innocently, “it looks like you’re his True Love after all!” Idia stared at you for a second, then his hair turned dark pink. “Wh-WHAT?!” The room suddenly felt several degrees hotter. Or maybe that was just your flustered face. Still, Idia’s nervousness lessened when he saw your eyes shine at Ortho’s words.

“S-so, uh…” Idia chewed his lip, “do you wanna stay over tonight?” Ortho looked excited, “do you want to stay forever?” Idia choked, “Ack- ORTHO!”

Malleus Draconia

💚 Saying you were shocked was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that the Malleus Draconia was under a sleeping curse, and you ran to Diasomnia before the Headmage could finish speaking.

💚 You’d thought it was strange that he didn’t show up last night. As per tradition, you’d wait up for him each night and the two of you would walk the grounds, enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes, Malleus would do small magic tricks - summoning balls of light, fireflies, even conjuring some thornless crimson roses and tucking them behind your ears.

💚 You began to look forward to seeing him. You’d watch in awe with your eyes sparkling, and Malleus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this euphoric. And it was all thanks to you. So he’d try to show it through gifts. A dragon never parts easily with their treasures, but at this point, Ramshackle seemed like his second hoard. Though secretly, you were the most precious jewel there.

💚 When you got there, you saw Sebek wailing and Silver with a panicked look outside of Malleus’ room. “We’ve failed our duty! My Liege!” Sebek nearly broke your eardrums but you couldn’t find it in your heart to hush him. Silver nodded to you solemnly, and let you in the room. Lilia was with Malleus alone. You approached them silently, never taking your eyes off Malleus.

“How did this happen?” You whispered, sitting on the other side of the bed. . Lilia sighed, patting Malleus’ hands, “I’m not sure. He simply went to bed, and…” You bit your lip, feeling your eyes well up.

Lilia watched you carefully, frowning. “Did the Headmage tell you it was Sleeping Death?” You nodded, “h-he said I was…” you swallowed, “he said I could help.” You badly wanted to help.

You sniffled, tears running down your eyes onto Malleus’ cheeks. You whispered “Tsunotarou… you have to wake up,” before pressing your lips to his. You felt the slow rise and fall of his chest, and you slowly pulled away, hopeful. To your dismay, he stayed still, and you choked a sob, shoving your face into Lilia’s shoulder. “Try again, he should wake up soon” he whispered, patting you gently. You slotted your lips on Malleus’ again, closing your eyes.

You weren’t sure how long you were there. At last, Malleus stirred awake, and you pulled away with a gasp. He blinked twice, before realizing you were there. The small smile he gave you made your insides melt, “Child of Man,” he breathed, “to what do I owe this kiss to awaken me?” You sniffled, laughing as Malleus’ hand wiped away the last of your tears.

“I-I thought you weren’t going to wake up,” you wavered, “they told me I had to kiss you awake.” You weren’t completely coherent as you threw yourself on him, making him fall back into the mattress as you clutched him. He rubbed your back softly, hushing you. “Thank you,” he murmured, “this means more to me than you know.”

You sighed, relaxing against him. Slowly, you felt your eyelids grow heavy as the stress of the day wore on you. As you drifted off to sleep, Lilia watched you both with a small smile. “You know Malleus, they were worried about you. And Silver and Sebek were, too.” Lilia suddenly had a small mischievous smile, “perhaps I should use my electric guitar on you, like when I try to wake Silver?”

Malleus hummed as he held your sleeping form, “well, I suppose my ‘Power Nap,’ as you call it, did last longer than the average hour.”

———

Last part is up!!! Hope you enjoyed this is mini-series 😄

Comments, reblogs, and likes are forever appreciated!! Take care shrimpies~~

Xoxo Calci

[ribbonedreverie]

💌 BSD Men & Handwritten Notes Hidden in Your Things ✉️

Because sometimes, love is found in the smallest details.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

💌 Osamu Dazai – Little Games, Little Confessions

Dazai’s notes are a game.

You find them in your coat pockets, tucked between the pages of books, slipped into your bag when you’re not looking.

Some are teasing.

“I saw you looking at me earlier. Falling for me already, bella?”

Some are poetic.

“If I leave before you wake, don’t think of it as me disappearing—think of it as me waiting for you in another moment.”

And some—the rare ones—are real.

A napkin from the café you both love, with only five words scribbled in his elegant handwriting:

“You make the world bearable.”

You never bring them up.

And neither does he.

Because Dazai will never say these things aloud.

But he knows you find them. He knows you keep them.

And that—that is enough for him.

💌 Chuuya Nakahara – What I Can’t Say Out Loud

Chuuya doesn’t write notes often.

But when he does—you keep every single one.

They’re never long, never dramatic—just small things, things he wouldn’t say aloud but still wants you to know.

Tucked inside your wallet:

“Buy yourself something nice. And don’t argue.”

Slipped under your coffee cup in the morning:

“You didn’t sleep well, did you? Take it easy today.”

And sometimes—the ones that mean the most.

Left beside your pillow when he has to leave for a mission before you wake up:

“I’ll be back soon. Be safe. I love you.”

(That one, you keep in your nightstand.)

Because Chuuya doesn’t say these things often.

But when he does—he means them.

💌 Fyodor Dostoevsky – Messages in Riddles and Ruin

Fyodor does not leave notes.

He leaves challenges.

You find them in the books he lends you—passages underlined, cryptic quotes with no explanation.

“Is it possible to love and still be cruel?”

“To know someone is to destroy them. Do you agree?”

Sometimes, it’s a chess move written on a torn scrap of paper, left on your desk, as if waiting for you to make the next move.

But one night—you find something different.

A letter, folded neatly, hidden under your pillow.

Not a riddle. Not a test.

Just one line.

“I will never ask you to stay, but I will always wonder if you will.”

And suddenly—you realize that even Fyodor Dostoevsky has things he is afraid to say.

💌 Nikolai Gogol – Do You Know the Magic Word?

Nikolai’s notes are pure chaos.

Scattered everywhere—on the fridge, in your shoes, attached to the ceiling somehow.

“What do you mean this isn’t the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you?”

“If I disappeared tomorrow, would you miss me? Trick question, I already know the answer. (You totally would.)”

“Do you know the magic words? (Hint: it’s ‘please give Nikolai a kiss.’)”

But then—there’s one that’s different.

No jokes. No games.

Just a single note, folded small, hidden in the sleeve of your coat.

“I know I make it hard to tell, but you are the only thing I’ve ever been afraid of losing.”

And for once—Nikolai does not ask you if you found it.

💌 Sigma – I Hope You Find This

Sigma’s notes are careful.

Neatly written, placed somewhere he knows you’ll find them but never where you expect.

Inside your favorite book:

“I noticed you like reading this before bed. Sweet dreams.”

Tucked into your luggage before a long trip:

“If you get anxious, just remember—I’m waiting for you to come back.”

And once—one that makes your breath catch.

A note he must have written long before he had the courage to give it to you, one that somehow ended up between the pages of an old journal:

“I think I love you. I don’t know if I should.”

When you ask him about it, his face flushes, his hands gripping his sleeves.

“You… weren’t supposed to find that one.”

But you’re smiling.

Because you did.

And maybe, deep down, he wanted you to.

💌 Ryunosuke Akutagawa – Words Are Not Easy for Me

Akutagawa does not know how to express himself.

So when you start finding his notes, you’re shocked.

A folded scrap of paper slipped into your bag before a mission:

“Be careful. Don’t be reckless.”

A small card tucked between the pages of a book he gave you:

“I don’t know what you like, so I chose something I thought was good. Let me know if I was wrong.”

A short letter, written in careful, deliberate strokes, as if he spent too long trying to make it perfect.

“I don’t understand why you stay. But I am trying to. I don’t know how to say this in person, but I… care for you. Even if I don’t always show it.”

(That one, you hold onto the longest.)

Because for Akutagawa, love is not spoken.

It is written.

In stiff, uncertain words.

In quiet, careful notes.

In ways he will never say aloud, but hope you understand anyway.

💌 Ranpo Edogawa – If You Need Proof, Here It Is.

Ranpo’s notes are ridiculous.

Written in crayon, scribbled on candy wrappers, left in your pocket when you aren’t looking.

“If you’re reading this, you owe me a snack.”

“I’m a genius, and you love me. What a great combination!”

“I know you miss me right now. Even if I’m in the same room. (Admit it.)”

But then—a different one.

Taped to the corner of your mirror, written more neatly than usual.

“I never write things down when I don’t have to. But sometimes, I like to remind you that you matter to me. Even though you already knew that, didn’t you?”

And when you ask him about it, he just grins, stealing a bite of your snack.

“What, you wanted me to say it in person? Too bad, I already wrote it down.”

But later—when he leans against you, his head resting on your shoulder—

You hear him mutter, “Just so you know… I meant it.”

And that—that is why you keep every single note.

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙

There’s something so endearing about the little notes left behind—playful scribbles tucked between pages, heartfelt words slipped into coat pockets, a simple “thinking of you” on a post-it by the coffee cup. Love doesn’t always need grand gestures; sometimes, it’s found in ink-stained fingertips and the quiet reassurance of I am here, I love you, I remember you. The smallest acts of love are often the greatest, not because of their size, but because of the thought woven into them—the gentle proof that someone’s heart lingers with you, even when they’re not there. ♡

[aur0ral1ghts]

ᴄʟᴜᴇʟᴇss

ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʜᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ʏ/ɴ, ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ʜᴀs ɴᴏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ. ʜᴇ's ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ sɪɴᴄᴇ 3ʀᴅ ʏᴇᴀʀ. ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ. ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ʜᴇʀ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs; ᴋɪssɪɴɢ. ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴɢ. ғʟᴜғғ!!

ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ.

Mattheo has been in love with Y/n ever since their 3rd year, and pretty much the second they met, Mattheo fell. Hard. But he couldn't help it, i mean, the way her dimples show whenever she giggles or the way her eyebrows furrow when she's confused. He noticed pretty much every single detail of you. Your favorite subjects, favorite candy, favorite color. He didn't mean to be creepy. He was just an observing person.

FLASH BACK...

"Give me my books book!" You had muttered, trying your best to stand up to the two 5th year students who had just taken your books, holding them up, over your head. "Not a chance." One of them smiled viciously, taunting you even more by swinging the books. Then, a flash of white light came, along with someone yelling a hex at them both, instantly knocking them down like dominoes. Your books had been knocked out of their hands, landing directly infront of your feet. You gasped as someone stepped out from behind them.

Mattheo Riddle.

You knew about Mattheo but never actually spoke to him. You knew he had a bad reputation. You knew better than to speak to him.

"Uh.. thank you.." You quickly muttered, picking up your books in a rush. "You're welcome." He says smiling like he's your knight in shining amor. "I'm Mattheo." He says, extending his hand. He didn't bother mentioning his last name in front of you. He didn't want to scare you off like he scared many other kids away. "I'm Y/n." You exclaim, hesitating for a second before shaking his hand. You always believed that there's good in everyone. "Uh, so, how did you manage to knock two fifth years off their feet!?" You question, genuinely curious. "I have my ways." He smirks, leaning against a wall, flashing a cheesy charming smile to you.

Throughout the week, you would constantly bump into Mattheo, leading him to start a conversation and follow you around. You genuinely enjoyed his company. He followed you, kinda like a lost puppy.

It was Friday, and you were minding your business, studying in the libary when Mattheo suddenly popped up, sitting down next to you. "You'll never guess what just happened today!" He says. "Mattheo." You pause. "If you really want to be friends, just ask instead of following me around." You exclaim, looking at him. "Uh, okay." He pauses, clearing his throat. "Would you want to be friends, Y/n?" He asks. You nodded. "Now it's official." You smile. "Anyways, what happened?" You asked him.

-

Ever since the 6th year, his crush on you began to grow every time you guys hung out. He tried to give you hints, like not paying attention to any girl but you, showing hints of jealously whenever someone would ask you out in front of him. He even asked you out on valentines Day! But you mistoke it for a friends-valentines day! "Oh, thank you, Mattheo!" You smile, taking the flower bouquet from him. "This is why you're my best friend!" You exclaim, patting his back. His smile turned quickly into a frown. "Yeah.. friends." He quietly muttered.

His stomach always dropped whenever you referred to you guys as simply friends. Mattheo always yearned for you. He didn't want to be just friends. He wanted to be more. He wanted you all to himself. His fists would clenched, his knuckles turning white as he thought back to urge to slam you into the nearest wall and kiss you every time you dared to utter the word "friend."

-

It was Saturday, and previously Mattheo had asked you to go to Hogsmeade with me. You agreed.

So you sat at your vanity applying some blush to your cheeks, then you heard a knock at your door. You quickly jolted up to answer it.

"Hi Mattheo!" You smile. Mattheo quickly muttered a quick hello. He felt his cheeks heating up, and it hadn't even been 10 seconds. He smelt your familiar scent lingering in the air. "I'm almost ready. I just need to do my hair. Sit on my bed." You exclaim, going back to your vanity, Mattheo walked over to your bed, sitting down on the edge of it. He watched as you pulled out a hairbrush and a hairtie. He saw your reflection in the mirror holding the hair tie in your mouth as you tied up your hair. His breath hitched as you finally tied up your hair and grabbed your purse. "Okay, I'm ready." You say, heading for the door.

He nodded as you followed you out. "Your awfully quiet." You state, your hands behind your back as he walked beside you. "Oh, sorry. Just a lot on my mind." He forced an apologic smile. "It's fine. I get it." You replied back.

But you don't.

Mattheo wanted to say back. You certainly did not get how hard it was for him. "And before you ask - I'll buy you a ton of chocolate frogs." He chuckled. Every time you guys would go together, you will always beg him to buy you chocolate frogs. "Thank you." You smile, angling your head to look up at him. Mattheo was at least a foot taller than you. "You're welcome." He grinned.

You two arrived at Hogsmeade, the scent of butterbeer, and freshly baked pastries flooded your nostrils.

"Where should we go?" You asked. "Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop?" He suggested. You nodded, grinning. It was one of your favorite places in all of Hogsmeade. You two made your way to the shop, opening the door, a bell jingled as the worker greeted you. You looked at all the food, unsure of what to pick. "Mattheo, I need help. Should I get a pumpkin pastry or sticky toffee pudding?"

"Pumpkin pastry." He replied. You walked up to the counter. "Two pumpkin pastries, please." You said, handing the lady the coins. She quickly took the pastrys from the display and then handed them to you."

"Here." You said, giving Mattheo one. "Thank you, I'm starving!" He sighed in relief, taking a huge bite, devouring the whole thing in a single bite. "You're such an idiot." You chuckled as you took a much smaller bite of the treat. "Three broomsticks next?" You questioned. He nodded, mouth still full of the pumpkin pastry.

You walk in the three broomsticks, seeing some familiar faces from school. "Hi Luna and Neville!" You greet. "Wanna see the socks i bought?" Luna asks you, holding up a pair of fluffy socks with a ladybug pattern on them. "They're so cute!" You exclaim. "Thank you!" She thanks, as she takes a sip of her butterbeer, a mustache of whipped cream appearing on her cheeks. "See you around!" You wave, sitting down at a booth next to Mattheo. Your knees practically touching. The candle in the middle of the table lit up the stone bricks around it. You looked out the window next to you, just simply admiring the scenery. The many students coming out of honeydukes with a variety of sweets in their hands.

Mattheo took this time to his advantage. He sat there, a hand placed under his chin, just staring at you, his eyes burning into you. He saw a loose strand of hair. He extended his hand and placed it behind your ear, making you snap of your trance. You gave him a quick smile. Mattheo felt his heart beating. It was beating so loud he thought you would hear it. Suddenly, the waiter came up to you guys, smiling, her hair slightly greying. "What can I get for you?" She said, gesturing to Mattheo. Mattheo placed his order of a single butterbeer. "And what can I get for your girlfriend?" She smiled. Mattheo quickly slient. His pulse rushing. "Oh, uh." You butted in. "We're actually just friends. And I'll have a butterbeer aswell, thanks." You smiled back like it was the most normal thing ever. "Oh, I'm so sorry! And sure thing." She awkwardly said, writing frantically in her notepad. "No worries." You laughed. Mattheo stared dumbstruck at you. He just wanted to slam you against the table and kiss you. But due to your cluelessness, you would miskate it as a friendly act.

"Mattheo?" You snapped him out of his thoughts. "Oh, erm. Yeah?" He said. "Are you gonna try out for Quidditch this year?" You asked him, and your knee was awfully close to his. "Probably, as long as Blaise tries out." He shurgged. "If you do, I'll make sure to come watch with one of my friends." You exclaimed, fidgeting with your bracelet on your hand. He had previously given you the golden bracelet for your birthday. It was detailed with small gems.

The same lady came back shortly with two butterbeers in her hand. She placed them in front of both of you. "Enjoy!" She murmured, walking away. You reached out for the mug in front of you, and the mug was still chilly. "Wanna go back to Hogwarts after?" He asked. "Sure, besides, I need time to finish an assignment anyway." You replied back, taking a sip of butterbeer. "Maybe we can study together?" He said, also taking a sip, his hands wrapped around the mug. "Yeahhh, like you're not just gonna copy off mine." You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. "I won't!" He promised, holding his hands up in the air.

After 20 minutes, you finally finished your butterbeer, Mattheo finished his long before you did. He carefully sipped his drink while listening to your crazy stories. Mattheo was pretty patient when it came to listening to your stories. Even if they were a little silly, he found that time to stare at you without question, but he was paying attention, he would eventually respond, and you would take that time to take a chug at your drink.

"You ready to go?" Mattheo said, getting up from his seat. "Yup." You nodded, following him out. He held the door open for you. When you walked outside, a gust of wind blowed in your face, causing the two to lose strands of hair infront of your face to blow frantically. "Shit, its cold." You said hugging yourself. You only had a thin knit sweater on. "Here, take my jacket." He said, offering you his jacket. "Thank you!" You sighed in relief, standing in front of the three broomsticks. He put the jacket over you, his smell of his colange filled your nostrils as he stood behind you.

You noticed a rather cute boy walking past you. His charming smile caught your attention as he walked with a group of his friends. "Whos that?" You asked casually, as if it didn’t matter, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "Oh, he's in Slytherin like me. I think he's a 7th year." He shurgged, but it felt like his heart had been stepped on. He hated that you were eyeing another boy when he was right there. Waiting and yearning for you, he hated how you didn't realize it.

His eyes glared into the guys head, his stupid blonde curls framing his face. He was obviously jealous of him but didn't dare utter a word. "Do you reckon he has a girlfriend?" You asked absentmindedly while he walked into honeyduked with his mates. "Probably." Was all he could say.

"Stay put, im going to ask." You quickly said before dashing off to the store entrance. "Y/n, wait!" Mattheo mumbled, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you into the nearest alleyway. His breath is hot and heavy. "Mattheo, what?" you mumbled. "I can't keep this in anymore. Look y/n, i think you're the most stunning girl I've ever laid eyes on. I've been trying to signal to you ever since 3rd year- and my heart drops to my stomach every time you call us "just friends." I even tried to ask you out on valentines Day, and you just thought I was asking as friends!" He pauses. "Y/n..my heart yearns for you. It always has, please just understand..." he then leans in and gently kisses you. You don't respond or react. You just stand there, completely dumbstruck. Then he pulled away, his hand still on your waist. "Mattheo.." you stuttered out, reaching a finger to touch your lips. "I'm... sorry." He muttered, looking down, his cheeks red. "No, I'm sorry, and I'm sorry for being so blind-" You pause. "And I'm sorry for what I'm about to do.." you confess, kissing him again, both for your hands on his cheeks.

"Fucking hell, Y/n. You have no damn idea how long I've been thinking about doing this." He mutters in-between kisses.

-

A/n: I'm so sorry if this sucks, my metal health hasn't been the best. I think I might take a small break; but if you have any requests, I will do them, but I won't write any of my own ideas for a while.

This idea was really fun to write.

[slytherinboysvip]

love letter.

the slytherin boys seem to have quite the crush, shame they’re too nervous to tell you face to face

mattheo riddle 𓆩𓆪 : you were sitting in class when professor snape told everyone to get their textbooks out, as you opened up the book a folded piece of parchment fell to your desk and you opened it suspiciously, smelling cologne sprayed lightly on the paper.

‘y/n, i genuinely don’t know why i can’t just approach you like i can anyone else, but i just want you to know you’re different. not in a bad way, in an intoxicating way; i want to know you, explore you. i see the way you carry yourself and it makes me want to lift you off your feet and show you how you should be treated like a queen. you’re absolutely stunning and all i ask is one chance to show you what you’re worth. -m.r’

𓆙

theodore nott ୨୧ : as you were walking into your dorm you noticed a crimson envelope laying on your bed next to a single rose, you were utterly confused as to who it could’ve been from and how they got into your dorm, yet you were intrigued. cautiously walking over to it and opening the letter.

‘cara mia, you’ve captivated me. your natural beauty is unmatched and simply seeing you focusing during potions is enough to make my day better. i swear my eyes are always on you any chance they can be and im tired of taking things slow. i want you to be mine y/n, my girl, i’ll be at your dorm tonight at seven; check your closet for your outfit. hoping you answer the door when i knock. - with admiration, theo n.’

𓆙

tom riddle 𓆘 : as you arrived at the library for your and tom’s study session; mandated by professor slughorn, you were confused as to why he wasn’t there because he was always on time. rather than seeing him, you noticed a small box on the table you usually sat at and walked over to open it up. you audibly gasped seeing a ring with the most gorgeous emerald as the stone, and opened up the letter that was under it.

‘im sure you’re quite confused and surprised as to where i am y/n, but im not good with words face to face. i find i need time to think on what to say to get my point across correctly. whether the feelings are reciprocated or not keep the ring, it’ll look lovely on your hand. as for the purpose, you..infatuate me y/n. captivate me? im honestly not too sure what my feelings are however for some reason you make me not want to ignore them. i dont say these things often or truly know and understand affection, but id be a mad man not to notice how gorgeous you are. meet me at the astronomy tower when you finish this letter. - tom riddle.’

𓆙

draco malfoy ☘︎ : as you entered the great hall you were greeted with whispering heads and smirking faces towards your direction, looking around with a confused face you slowly walked over to pansy and sat down next to her, whispering what everyone was staring at. she giggled and pointed towards the huge bouquet of your favorite flowers that held a note adorned with the malfoy family emblem. you looked at her surprised and opened the note.

‘y/n, sorry if this is too much, i honestly don’t think it’s enough but i don’t wish to bombard you with things too soon; though id do anything to make you happy. im sure you have an idea of who i am based on the emblem, but just hear me out. we’ve known one another for years and ive silently admired your beauty each on of them. i dont wish to stay silent and regret anything in the future for not giving it a chance. you’re stunning and im an asshole who’s working on things, give me a chance? owl me, love. - yours truly, draco malfoy’

𓆙

lorenzo berkshire ིྀ: it was a usual day for you until you got to quidditch practice, walking into the house tent and going to your locker, when a note fell from the inside as you opened it. it looked like simple parchment but the handwriting was almost perfect, noticing a pink tulip inside your locker as well.

‘i know this is sudden but i can’t hold back my feelings any longer y/n. i thought playing with you would just help me see you as a friend, but merlin does it only make me want you more. your beauty and agility excite me, you excite me. i find myself looking forward to seeing you any chance i get even if it’s not even bloody directly talking to you. you’re an angel y/n and i would feel lucky just to treat you to one date; and hopefully more. i hope you feel the same and if not ill change your mind darling. - your favorite quidditch player enzo’

this better not flop i put my slythussy into this

[harunayuuka2060]

MC (?): Here are your keys. Please remember to always lock your door and avoid leaving your room unlocked.

Kalim: ...

Kalim: MC? How are you feeling?

MC (?): ...

MC (?): I hope everyone has a good rest. I’ll see you all tomorrow. *turns around and left*

Kalim: ...

Vil: Kalim, it's best not to get overly friendly with Potato's doppelganger.

Kalim: But... They tried to warn us...

Riddle: I would have to agree with Kalim here. While I don’t fully trust them, it’s still better to have someone we can gather information from.

Azul: That is... if they're not being restricted.

Malleus, Leona, and Idia: ...

Idia: By the way, aren’t we all staying in the same room? Why does everyone need a key?

Leona: I know.

Malleus: The doppelgangers... they aren’t carrying any keys.

Leona: These keys serve as our identification.

Leona: So you better not lose it.

Vil: You should tell that yourself, Leona.

Leona: Hmph.

Malleus (?): Precious, you've disobeyed the order again.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): I’m allowed to... provide clues. It’s entirely up to our guests whether they understand them or not.

Malleus (?): *chuckles*

MC (?): ...

Malleus (?): Are you still hoping to leave this place?

MC (?): No. This is where I belong.

Malleus (?): *smiles in satisfaction* That's right. *hugs them gently*

Malleus (?): Everything that you hold dearly is here.

MC (?): But those people—

Malleus (?): They can leave, of course—after the hunt.

MC (?): ...

Malleus (?): *chuckles*

The dorm leaders: *none of them could sleep*

Leona: Grr... I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched from somewhere.

Vil: That shouldn't be a surprise.

Riddle: Azul, what are you doing?

Azul: Checking if the door is locked properly.

Idia: Azul, you're being paranoid.

Azul: We are in a dangerous place. What do you want me to do?

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Al Asim, are you still thinking about that person?

Kalim: They look so sad... I feel bad for them...

Malleus: ...

Malleus: You only feel that way because they bear the face of the child of man.

Kalim: ...

Jamil (?): What are you doing here?

MC (?): I'm here to ask for a favor.

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): Aren't you getting tired?

MC (?): ...

MC (?): I've already given up, but I don't want any more people to experience the same thing.

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): Do you think I possess the same kindness as you do?

MC (?): You helped me once.

Jamil (?): And it failed.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): Jamil, are you...

Jamil (?): Yes. I will be executed soon.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): I am sorry.

Jamil (?): Well, it's a blessing to me. I'm tired of this life.

MC (?): ...

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): I dug a tunnel. None of the higher-ups know. You should look for it, but be extremely discreet.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): *smiles in gratitude* Thank you.

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): So you can still smile... It's a pity you haven't lost it yet.

MC (?): *covers their mouth*

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): You would've been lucky if you had never arrived at this place.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): ...

Kalim (?): *has killed Jamil (?) in front of them*

Kalim (?): Hm~? I thought Jamil was your precious friend. Was I wrong?

MC (?): *stares blankly*

Kalim (?): *giggles* This is a bit disappointing. I wanted to see you cry.

MC (?): *bows their head* My apologies.

Riddle (?): You're bullying them again. Don't you get tired?

Kalim (?): Nope! And don't you try to act concerned, Riddle. You enjoyed their tears too.

Riddle (?): ...

Riddle (?): Yes, but now, they can't even shed a single tear.

MC (?): ...

Kalim (?): Ah, MC~ Clean this mess. *points at Jamil's (?) lifeless body*

MC (?): ...

Kalim (?): Answer.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): Yes.

[sinnaminsuga]

riddle me this - changbin x reader

wc: 4,400

cw: mostly fluff but then it gets NSFW. SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: changbin is your favorite barista who makes an effort to make every mundane morning coffee order a little more intriguing.

a/n: i wanted something soft and sweet and playful with binnie but if you know me i can't control my need to be a degenerate!

as always thank you to @httpdwaekki for helping me map this out (PLS BE PROUD OF ME FOR FINDING MY OWN PICS) and i'm including a tag for @thefantasyden because she is changbin's wife after all.

sw: dirty talk, talk of somnophilia, cockwarming, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), oral sex (m and f receiving), deepthroating, idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

Stopping at the little cafe down the street from your apartment on your way to work had become somewhat of a ritual for you. You looked forward to the coffee sure, but also the man making it for you. The barista who worked the morning shift, Changbin, was not only handsome but incredibly kind and sweet. In the weeks you’d been frequenting the little spot, you had developed a fun rapport with each other that you really looked forward to each day. It started off as simple hellos and exchanging of names but had developed into him no longer writing your name on your cup and instead opting for funny jokes, questions, or trivia facts. The trick though was that he always wrote the answers on the bottom of your cup so you couldnt find out the answer until you were done with your drink that day. Not only did it make the little game suspenseful but it also kept your mind coming back around to thoughts of the handsome man who started it.

Today was no different, you walked into the shop, saw Changbin behind the counter, caught his eye, drank in his gorgeous smile at your arrival, and approached the counter to order.

“Well well well, if it isn't my favorite customer!” he greeted you, leaning forward onto the counter. You couldn't help but glance down at his arms, they were so distracting sometimes with all that muscle on display. Quickly you averted your gaze to the menu board but unbeknownst to you, Changbin caught your appraisal of his body. He grinned secretly to himself before speaking.

“I don't know why you're looking at my board like you're going to order anything different than your usual.” he joked.

You put on a fake pout and turned to him. “I hate that you’re right. Whatever, coffee jockey. Just get me my drink!” you teased, poking out your tongue at him. His head dropped and his shoulders shook with the laugh that bubbled out of him. He wagged a finger at you and turned to make your drink.

You would never say it out loud but when Changbin turned around to make your daily beverage, it was one of the best parts of the interaction. It gave you nothing but time to feast your eyes upon the expanse of his wide back, the subtle tapering of his waist to his hips, and of course the curve of his ass. Hey, he is the one who put the tight pants on okay, he was practically begging you to look! Or at least that's what you told yourself. You were so lost in thought about what might be hiding under his signature form fitting black t shirt that you almost got caught gawking.

Changbin turned back to you, classic to-go cup in hand and you noticed his familiar handwriting on the side of the cup. His grin had you speculating what today’s joke or question might be. You took the cup from his hand and spun it to start reading it.

“ ‘What's the best thing you can do with 10 single digit numbers?’ ugh not fair, I hate math, I’ll never figure this one out!” you whined and stomped your foot. This prompted him to laugh again, carding one hand through his dark wavy hair while the other pushed his glasses back up the delicate bridge of his nose.

“There's nothing to figure out, I always give you the answer! Just think of me as your own personal snapple cap.” he retorted, eyes glimmering.

You huffed playfully and took a sip of your coffee before narrowing your eyes at him. “Alright well one day, I’m gonna know the answer all on my own and impress you. Just you wait!”

“You already impress me…” Changbin murmured just low enough you could barely hear it, but you did. For his sake though, you just pretended not to. “Anyway, this one is on the house, I’m feeling generous today. See you tomorrow?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“Same time as always Bin,” you said as you turned to leave, “but be ready for me to have a witty response to today's question though!” you called over your shoulder with a smile.

***

All morning you pondered what the hell the answer to this number question would be. You cursed yourself for not asking for an iced drink instead so you could just chug it and look at the bottom of the cup.

After a while of typing, you reached out for your coffee and took the last sip cheering internally because now you could finally find out the answer!

When you lifted the cup and your eyes fell on Changin’s neat and tidy handwriting, your mouth dropped open. Surely this was a dream, right? You couldn't take your eyes off the numbers, his phone number, and the words “Call me!” in his personal script.

Almost mindlessly you picked up your phone and tapped out the numbers, your thumb hitting the call icon. After just two rings Changbin’s voice traveled into your ear.

“Hello?” he asked casually.

“Hi, Bin? This is you, right? You questioned, almost expecting it to be a prank.

“Ah, I see you've finished your drink! This might have been my best idea yet.” he chuckled. “Takes you a while to drink your coffee huh? I assumed you’d be quicker to finish, what with all the energy you have.” He flirted, and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the gasp at his innuendo. It didn't work though and he just ended up laughing louder.

“I’ll have you know mister Seo Changbin, there's a lot of things i'm quick at…and finishing is not one of them.” you quipped, this time you were the one hearing the gasp from the other end of the call. You couldn't help the grin on your face, talking to him just felt so easy and the flirting was so fluid and felt so good. It had been a long time since you felt this good talking to a man.

“So as much as I love our little coffee cup game, I'd like to buy you a different kind of drink. And dinner to go with it if you’ll let me.” Changbin said, a quiet apprehension coloring his voice like he was worried you might reject him.

“That sounds wonderful Bin, I'd love that. When?” you asked, already trying to plan what to wear.

“Tonight? Or is that too soon? Shit, I sound too eager don't i? Oh whatever fuck it, i am eager. I've been wanting to ask you out for forever!” he hurried out, his voice laced with humor and excitement. You took a few minutes to exchange information regarding the date and decided he would pick you up at seven. You said your goodbyes and hung up before tracking down your supervisor to tell her you weren't feeling well and leaving early to start the weekend. She didn't need to know you were really going home early to prepare for your date, that was your business alone!

***

Seven o’clock came quicker than you expected but luckily you were just slipping on some shoes when the doorbell rang. You took a deep breath to calm yourself before swinging open the door. Changbin looked gorgeous. You'd never seen him out of his apron before so it was a feast for your eyes. He went monochromatic in his look for the evening with black pants and a black button up shirt and it was enough to almost make you whine. He looked so damn good you couldn't stop yourself from making a joke to distract from your glaringly obvious staring. “Wow, I can't remember the last time I went on a date with a man who actually tucked his shirt in.” you quipped, making him laugh. “I'm concerned about where you're finding these men, tucking in your shirt is maybe the most work a man has to do in the getting ready for a date process.” he said, leaning against the doorframe grinning. “Now let's get this date started.” Changbin said, offering his hand to you and leading you to his car.

***

“You can't just drop insane lore on me like that and not explain! Start talking!” you hissed from across the table. “There's not much to tell! I was young with no work experience and I needed a job!” Changbin said, throwing his head back laughing.

“You can’t seriously tell me you believed it was a paid position on a dance team, he was so clearly pedaling a “Magic Mike” situation Bin!” you were wheezing at this point.

You had been talking about anything and everything for what seemed like hours and you had asked him how he got his current job. The story being that he used to go to the coffee shop every night before they closed to get his caffeine buzz for his job at a club downtown. He was a bouncer but the original interview hadn’t been for that. A man had scouted him on the street one day and asked him to come audition to be a member of a “dance team he was putting together”, and Changbin had been so sweet and naive that he believed him and went.

“Well I definitely knew what kind of “dance team” it was after he told me to take my pants off!” Changbin whined, covering his face with his hands as you cackled.

“Anyway, I told him I couldn't do that but I would work the door as long as he never asked me to strip again. Then I decided one day that the night shift wasn't for me and I just applied for the barista job and worked my way up.” he said, rightfully proud of himself and his accomplishments.

The waiter stopped by and delivered the coffee you ordered after dessert and scurried away again. You lifted the cup and took a sip, not enjoying it even a little. Your face must have shown it because Changbin huffed a quiet laugh before saying “The coffee sucks huh?”

With a shy smile you replied, “I’ve definitely had better.” A light blush tinged his face, knowing you were talking about the drinks he made for you every day. He reached across the table to take the cup from your hands and when his fingers brushed yours you swore there were sparks. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Oh babe, it's not just bad. Its fucking burnt!” he said, scowling at the mug like it had insulted him.

“Let's get out of here. I’ll make you a better one.” He said, tossing some money onto the table for your dinner bill and offering you a hand to lead you to his car once again.

***

When you pulled up in front of the coffee shop you were confused. When Changbin offered to make you a drink, you assumed it was a flirty line and a way to get you into his apartment. But apparently he was serious when it came to the coffee.

You stood behind him as he unlocked the door and then he ushered you in.

“Bin are we supposed to be in here?! It's after hours! Won’t you get in trouble?” You whispered, trailing behind him as he flicked on a few lights and went behind the counter. When he turned to look at you his eyes were twinkling like he was in on a secret you had no idea about.

“Sweetheart, I own this place. And my apartment is upstairs, I can do whatever I want!” he said, shooting you a proud smile as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

Your jaw dropped at his confession. You quickly schooled your expression and leaned on the counter. “So allllllll those times I playfully threatened to tell your manager you were messing with me, you were the manager the whole time?!” you screeched at his back while he prepared your coffee.

“Well...yeah i guess so!” He chuckled as he poured some espresso into a small cup. He finished making your beverage and turned to hand it to you. He looked so good with his sleeves rolled up, his hair a bit messy, and his glasses sitting just right, you couldn't help but stare at him for a moment. When he blushed again, you shook yourself out of your trance and took the cup, bringing it to your lips to take a long sip. Your eyes closed and you hummed a sound of satisfaction at the drink, he always made it just right. When you opened your eyes again that's when you noticed the writing on the cup. Looking at the side of it, you noticed he was continuing your usual game so you began to read it aloud.

“You can use me to say hello, and to say goodbye. I’m not as good when I’m too dry. I can be quick or I can be slow. What am I?” you spoke, curiosity coloring your tone. At the same time you were reading the riddle, Changbin was rounding the counter to stand in front of you. He reached out and took the cup from you, tipping it back and downing the rest of the liquid before handing it back to you. Your heart pounded as you tipped it back and read the two simple words on the bottom of the cup out loud.

“A kiss.” you breathed out. And then it happened. Changbin’s hands fell on your waist and pulled you toward him, your lips meeting gently. His mouth moved against yours as his fingers gripped your hips. Your pulse was racing and the only thing you could think of in this moment was how badly you wanted him. It had been months of playing around this attraction and it was all coming to a head. It seemed like Changbin felt it too because it was as if he couldn't get your body close enough to his even though you were pressed together. He was grabbing at any bit of you he could get his hands on and sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you gasped. It was the hottest kiss you’d ever had and your brain just chanted “more, more, more”.

He hiked your leg up over his hip and his thigh rubbed at you just where you wanted it to. You threw your head back as you panted for air but Changbin never slowed. His lips fell to your now exposed neck and shoulder where he alternated between kissing and sucking at your skin. You squeezed his biceps as his teeth grazed your pulse point. Then a thought pierced through the lust addled fog and you realized where you were, the coffee shop. In full view of the big glass windows facing the street.

“Bin…Bin hold on! People will see us!” You squeaked, horrified at the notion that any random person walking by might see you being taken apart by this man.

“Don’t care. Want em to see. Mine.” He panted against the skin above your breasts, rocking you against his thigh. The motion sent you reeling for a moment, the delicious friction against your center almost too good.

“Bin, take me upstairs. Please?” you whimpered against his mouth after pulling his face to yours.

“Yeah. Yeah youre right. Okay c’mon.” He mumbled, realizing maybe the idea of being seen wasn't the best idea for business reasons. He took your hand and pulled you to the back of the shop and lead you up the stairs. When you crossed the threshold of his apartment you didn't have much time to take it in but from what you saw it was very cute with some unique furniture pieces and light fixtures. Changbin weaved you through his apartment to his bedroom where as soon as you were in it, he had you against the wall with his lips attacking any sliver of skin he could get to. Your chest was heaving as he made quick work of your clothes and stripped you down to your bra and panties. He stepped back with a hand over his mouth, his breathing heavy as well. You felt very exposed as his eyes raked over you so you tried to make a joke.

“I’m almost naked and you're still fully clothed. Doesn't seem very fair, Binnie.”

“Fuck, say that again.” He groaned as he rushed back to you.

“Binnie?” You questioned.

“God, I love the way that sounds comin’ out of your mouth.” He pulled you to the bed and laid you down before reaching down to remove your panties. He gently pushed your legs apart and a low rumble resonated from him. “So fucking pretty. God damn, even prettier than I dreamt.” He groaned.

“Been dreaming about me huh? Why don't you have a taste and find out if I live up to your expectations?” you flirted as you brought your hands up to remove your bra.

And he didn't need to hear anything else. He dropped to his knees and drove right in. Immediately his lips latched onto your clit and he sucked, hard. Your back bowed up off the bed and a scream tore out of you at the unexpected intensity. Two of his fingers began rubbing at the wetness seeping out of you, and then he slowly pushed them inside. It felt like he was everywhere all at once and you were on complete overload. He continued lapping and sucking at you as his finger pumped lazily in and out of you, scissoring every few thrusts like he was trying to stretch you out. When your moans increased in volume and your hands fisted the sheets, Changbin curled his fingers and pressed against the spongy patch inside you. He rubbed over the spot repeatedly and gently bit down on your clit making you wail as you fell apart.

He removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth to suck them clean. The shine on the lower half of his face was all you and it brought you a sick kind of joy seeing yourself all over this beautiful man.

Changbin quickly removed his clothes until he was standing in front of you only in his boxers. You slid off the bed and onto your knees in front of him. When you looked up at him he was already staring down at you and it made you feel so good, knowing he enjoyed seeing you like this. You reached up and slowly drew his boxer briefs down, his cock springing free and slapping at his stomach.

“Jesus fuck.” You breathed, in awe of his size and the pretty leaking tip.

“What? Is everything okay? We can stop!” he hurried out and nervously pushed his glasses back up his nose as they had started to slide down from the angle he was looking at you from.

“No! No we are not stopping, fuck no. It’s just…you've got the biggest dick I’ve ever personally seen. Took me by surprise for a second is all, even though it shouldn't have. I should have known from how you carry yourself. Major BDE.” you explained and he started to laugh.

You leaned forward and in one go, took as much of him into your mouth and throat as you could, punching a sound out of him you'd never heard before but were determined to get him to make it again.

“Fucking hell baby, that was a lot. God damn it, your mouth is so hot.” he moaned out as his hips started to move. His hand weaved into your hair to hold your head still as he shallowly thrusted into your eagerly awaiting throat. Your eyes almost rolled back as you savored the taste and weight of him on your tongue.

All too early it seemed, he withdrew from your mouth. He started to chuckle but you didn't know why until he spoke. “You're pouting sweetheart. I took my dick out of your mouth and you look disappointed. I might be the luckiest man alive.”

“I like it. Helps me turn my brain off. And you taste good.” you mumbled. His hand came down to caress your cheek. “God, youre an angel huh? Sent just for me. C’mon, up.” he said as he helped you stand.

Changbin got on the bed first before motioning you to climb on top of him. “Wan’ you on top first. Easier for you to control how much of me goes in at once. Will you ride me baby?” he asked.

“First?” you questioned, still standing beside the bed. He looked at you confused.

“You said you want me on top first. You gonna be movin’ me around a lot?” you asked with a grin.

“Baby, i’m going to have you in so many ways tonight. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He said as you threw a leg over his lap.

You reached forward to take his glasses off for him but he stopped you. “No. I wanna see you, perfectly. Now go on, put me inside pretty girl.” And who were you to argue?

You reached beneath you to grab hold of him and line him up with your entrance. As you slowly sank down on him you watched his face. He stared at the spot where your bodies were now joined for as long as he could bear before you were fully seated on him and his head shot back. His hands wrapped around your thighs were squeezing you so tight you wouldn't be surprised to see bruises in the morning. You planted your hands on his pecs and thats when you saw it, the tears spilling out of his eyes that were slammed shut.

“Bin? You okay baby?” You cooed.

“Uh-huh. Jus’ feels s’good. Been waiting for this, for you, for months. God, feels so good it almost hurts sweetheart.” he whimpered on a shaky breath.

“It’s okay, M’gonna make it all better okay? Promise.” you said, leaning down to kiss him as you started to rock your hips. Gradually you picked up speed and were riding him in earnest, desperate to get him as deep as possible.

“Ughhh Binnie, feels so good. So big too, stretches me out so perfect.” you moaned.

“Yeah? You feel me so deep huh? Fuck youre so warm inside. Feel like im gonna bust like a fucking teenager.” Changbin groaned as you fucked him hard and fast, riding him like you had something to prove. You kept at it for a few more minutes until he stopped you to change positions.

He flipped you onto your stomach and pushed one leg up so you were flat on the bed but your legs were spread enough for him to settle between them. You felt the head of his cock prodding at you and then he sank inside in one fluid thrust. It was lucky you were already flat on the bed because if you hadnt been, you were sure your knees would have given out. He fucked into you like that for a few minutes and then he slowed down again. He leaned over you and pressed his chest to your back.

“I’m gonna try something, if you don't like it just tap my arm twice okay?” he asked and all you could do was moan out what you thought was an “okay”. Suddenly he looped his arm underneath your neck and bent it at the elbow effectively putting you in a headlock. He started thrusting into you again at a steady even pace and slowly he increased the pressure of his bicep and forearm against your airway. The obstruction of your airway was enough to send your brain into a foggy cloudy space and you loved it. It heightened the sensations of everything else. You could feel his sweat slicked chest sliding against your back, you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and you could feel the heat in your lower belly building.

“Youre so fucking pretty like this baby. A beautiful doll just for me to play with huh?” he said. “Yeah you like it like this don't you? Quiets your brain for a while doesn't it? Makes you so cockdrunk you can't think of anything else. So beautifully mindless just for a little while. Binnie will take care of you baby, don't worry.” he spoke softly and you could feel that heat inside you skyrocketing. Who knew this sweet man was so nasty in bed? “Why dont you cum for me baby, hmm? Give it to me sweetheart, wanna feel this tight little pussy sucking me in.” he encouraged as he kept moving inside you. “C’mon…c’mon baby. Yeaaaah there it is. Good girl.” he coaxed as you exploded around him with a yelp. He released your neck from his hold and used both hands to pull your hips up.

“Can’ hold myself up Binnie. You have to do it.” you whined, exhausted and boneless from your second mind blowing orgasm of the evening.

“S’okay baby, I got you. Don’t worry, I'm so close, keep squeezing me like that. Yes yes yes…” he mumbled as he continued to batter your insides with his huge dick. About four thrusts later he was spilling inside you, laying claim to your walls with his cum.

Changbin was over the moon and not ready for this to end so he stayed inside you and rolled you both over onto your side into the spooning position. He reached over you to grab the blanket and cover you both.

“You wanna stay inside me Binnie? You want me again soon?” You yawned out, exhausted from the vigorous activities.

“Mhm…feels so good. Feels right, like i belong there. That okay?” He asked, his voice gentle as his hand stroked the soft skin of your thigh.

“Mmm yeah. Like it. Fuck me again when you wake up though okay? Even if i’m still asleep. Wan’ wake up to you drilling me.” You mumbled, fully about to descend into sleep safe and warm in his arms. Changbin groaned and bit down on your shoulder before he responded.

“God youre fucking perfect aren’t you pretty girl? Sure, as soon as i wake up I’ll fuck you into the mattress. Whatever you want baby, Rest up. I’m far from done with you.”

The End

[nottswitch]

— moondust ; part I

summary: as the school year starts, you notice a familiar presence in your life. mattheo riddle has never said a single word or made a sound in your direction, yet his shadow constantly lingers at the corner of your eye.

pairing: mattheo riddle x ravenclaw!reader

cw: hbp timeline, events might deviate from canon, mentions of cedric’s death, cursing, smoking, a lot of ravenclaw dynamics, hints at terry boot x reader

wc: 1.6k

a/n: the first part of this series that i’ve been thinking about for a while now. this one’s pretty short, sort of introductory. very excited to share it with y’all, it’s gonna be a wild and angsty ride. also, peep me bringing in ravenclaw representation (gotta do what you gotta do for house pride)

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; mattheo m.list ; series m.list

The weather at the beginning of September is usually the biggest traitor. The sun seems to be beaming high up in the sky, pearly white mountains of clouds covering it for the briefest moment before it starts heating the air up again. And yet, the wind grows colder, invisibly, discreetly; you only notice when you walk out into the world in your usual skirt and a t-shirt, and then a sudden breeze makes you shiver and look for the nearest person you can snatch a cover-up from.

In your case, it’s Terry Boot. He’s already waiting, leaning against a large tree, arms crossed on his broad chest as he chats animatedly with Cho about something that only interests one of them, and it’s definitely not the girl. Cho’s eyes light up when she notices you approach, and she swats Terry’s chest to shush his endless rambling, pointing at you with her chin. Terry follows her gaze and grins, his eyes starting to sparkle with playfulness when he sees your annoyed face.

“Isn’t that a look, babe,” he drawls, teasingly, which makes you scoff and swat his arm, almost a repeat of Cho’s actions. You hug both of your friends, trying to ignore the way Terry’s hand lingers on the small of your back. You decided a while ago to simply dismiss it and hope it goes away, which so far has failed spectacularly. Worse than that, you’re about to do something that will undoubtedly fuel Terry’s delusions about his affections being reciprocated.

“Care to help, big boy?” you tease, a whiny undertone to your voice. You tug at the sleeve of Terry’s fleece shirt, and he chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, what’s that, huh? Caught the chill?” he asks, pretending to be surprised, even though his hands already reach for the edge of his shirt to pull it over his head. You roll your eyes and snatch the item from him, earning a short laugh from Cho and a smirk from Terry. His eyes roam over your body as you slide your arms into the sleeves, wrapping the fabric tightly around your front – the wind is really picking up now, yet the sun is still blissful and calm, blinding everyone’s eyes with its joyful brightness.

“So, how was the tutoring?” you ask Cho, pretending that Terry’s eyes aren’t currently fixed on your thighs, bare under the skirt, goosebumps covering your skin. Thankfully, he seems to get the hint (for now) and lifts his head up, focusing on the conversation at hand.

“Don’t even.” Cho snorts lightly at your question, her hands landing on her own hips in a manner that seems stubborn, enough for a passerby to think that the girl belongs to Gryffindor, of all houses. For you, it’s nothing but a sign that your usually sweet friend is annoyed, and pretty badly. “Third years are the worst!”

Terry chuckles somewhere from your side, as if it’s not the first time he’s hearing that, and it is very likely that it’s not. He stays silent, though, having enough decency to let Cho have her little rant.

“They are? Why’s that?” You raise an eyebrow, even though the answer to the question is obvious enough, judging by the way your friend glares.

“They have a Hippogriff’s ass for a head!” Cho whisper-yells, taking a step back, then forth, the memory of her students seemingly fresh and bothersome in her mind. You shake your head along with Terry, both of you amused by the fact that she got so riled up by some measly teens.

“Not a single thought in their stupid little heads,” Cho continues, looking up at the sky, groaning as her eyes get hit by a particularly strong ray of sunshine.

“Trust me, love, they do have thoughts,” Terry chimes in, a sly grin spreading on his lips. “And I know exactly the kind.”

The suggestion in his voice is hard to miss, making you and Cho wrinkle your noses in unison.

“Ew,” she mutters, pretending to barf. “I’m not getting anywhere near them ever again.”

As all of you laugh, you can’t help the strange, uneasy feeling that you’ve been caught up in ever since you stepped outside. You didn’t think much of it at first, the conversation with your friends being a great distraction, but it seemed to grow minute by minute. You think for a moment that you’re being paranoid; it’s not uncommon to imagine things these days, with the tensions in the Wizarding World rising every passing day. But soon enough, your doubts clear out – the source of your discomfort catches your eye as soon as you glance around.

Mattheo Riddle is sitting on the grass, a hand resting lazily on his propped up knee, the other one holding a cigarette at his mouth. His back is leaned against a tree, much like the one you’re standing next to, and his whole demeanor just screams ‘untouchable’. You swallow, quickly looking away before you get busted for staring, but Mattheo’s presence lingers thickly both in your mind and peripheral vision. It’s hard not to notice him; the aura he exudes seems to swallow the air around him within a radius of several miles. You’re almost glad you’re standing the furthest away from that tree; a step closer, and you’d easily suffocate or burst out in flames.

Unfortunately, Terry seems to be in tune with the smallest of your actions, his eyes drifting to where yours just were. As soon as they land on Mattheo, he lets out a scoff – it’s filled with disdain, and for some reason, you don’t like it. You barely hold back a frown, daring to look at Mattheo again. His posture hasn’t changed – he looks exactly like a statue carved out of marble, the only sign of him belonging to the living being clouds of smoke swirling around his head. His cold gaze is fixed straight ahead, and for a split second, you wonder what it would feel like to be its subject. A shiver at this thought is unexpected, yet it’s difficult to will it away.

“Some things never change,” Terry mutters under his breath, eyeing Mattheo pretty intensely. “Much like some people.”

Cho also glances at the boy, looking away as quickly as you do, but for an entirely different reason. You understand, you’ve always done – despite her constantly assuring you she’s over Cedric’s death, it’s clear that she isn’t, at least not as completely as she wants everyone to believe. The sight of Mattheo is a constant reminder of the person – the monster – that took the life of her first love. She’s been trying hard not to judge, her open mind being one of the prominent qualities that brought her to the house of Ravenclaw in the first place, but she’s still a person and a girl in love at heart, which is why you give her the benefit of the doubt.

And you really should, for your conscience is not clear either. You have to admit that back in your fourth year, you got caught up in the Mattheo Riddle hate train as well – it was too easy to latch onto the most obvious target and guide all your fears and anxiety at him, the son of the wizard who murdered an innocent classmate and a good friend of yours. You didn’t express your frustrations as openly as a lot of others, Terry included, who nearly got into a fight with Mattheo the next day after the Triwizard Tournament ended. But ever since, you have kept your distance from him, the quiet anger you felt at the start dissolving into the careful indifference over the course of the summer break and your fifth year. And yet, his presence has been a constant in everyone’s lives; he carried a certain emotional weight with him each time he passed by in the hallways, every time he sat in class, emanating heavily loaded energy from his usual seat at the back. It was impossible to escape him entirely, no matter how hard you tried.

A firm hand on both your and Cho’s shoulders brings you out of your thoughts. Terry’s eyes, etched with concern, dart between the two of you, then back to Mattheo, who seems completely unbothered, the bubble around him as impenetrable as a stone wall.

“Want me to go punch him?” Terry asks, a frown creasing the space between his eyebrows. “I can just–”

“No.” Cho sighs and puts her hand over his, trying to calm down the possibility of an outburst wafting from your friend in waves. “Let’s just go. It’s getting colder anyway.”

You nod, hoping that the situation won’t unfold into something Terry – and all of you, really – might regret later. It’s a well-known fact that messing with Mattheo Riddle has never ended in favor of the other person, and you definitely wouldn’t want to be caught in the crossfire. Terry huffs, but a look at your worried expression seems to soften the tension in his body. Reluctantly, his hands fall to his sides after giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Let’s,” he mutters, casting one last glare at Mattheo before throwing his arms around you and Cho, stirring you in the direction of the castle.

The wind starts howling louder, the tree crowns of the Forbidden Forest in the distance swaying from its force. A large purple cloud is closing in from the mountains, the sound of thunder rumbling through their peaks. Groups of students make their way through the courtyard towards the castle as well, chased away from the outside by the possibility of a storm. And yet, Mattheo never moves from his spot, his fingers ashened by the burned down cigarette stuck between them.

As you approach the familiar comfort of Hogwarts, you can’t shake off the feeling of someone staring right into your back.

[rafesslxt]

HII<33 i love ur work and i was wondering if you could write one where matt sees u with another guy and gets really really jealous and it ends with mattheo like really hard core fucking the reader like bend over and stuff? (can u tell i’m ovulating?)

[sorry for the late answer but I’m cleaning my drafts and requests right now and since I have so many I‘m gonna keep them a little shorter, hope u still like it 🫶🏻]

+ i already had something similar in my drafts so i mixed it

jealous jealous jealous you | mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo wants to make you jealous but you‘re way ahead of him

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, spanking, doggystyle, jealousy from reader and mattheo, different house reader

words: 1,2k

Mattheo thought he had the best plan ever. He knew you liked him, he saw the looks you gave him when you thought he wasn‘t noticing. The way he could always get under your skin with his annoying comments, your cheeks heating up when he whispered them into your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin.

But he was just as stubborn as you. So of course he wouldn‘t just admit he liked you. He wanted to make you say it so he had a plan.

Tonight it was a party where all the houses gathered together to celebrate. You knew Mattheo would be there ao of course you wore the shortest and tightest dress you owned with cute little heels on your feet. When you entered the party, it didn‘t took long for you to find Mattheo, dancing with Pansy. But what they both didn‘t knew was, you knew that Pansy liked your best friend Jane so it was obviously what kind of game he played.

But two can play that game. It didn‘t take long for you to find someone to dance. There was that boy Colin from your house that eyed you up and down so you took your chance. He pulled you towards him while dancing, your hips moving to the music and your ass brushing his jeans when you turned your back to him while dancing. You stood perfect, exactly in sight for Mattheo who looked at you over Pansy‘s shoulder.

You smiled at him provoking, leaning forwards and shaking your ass in front of Colin. That‘s it. That was all it took for Mattheo to let go of Pansy and storming towards you. Without a single word he grabbed you by your arm and pulled you away from the party.

"Let go of me Mattheo!" you groaned, but he didn‘t answer and didn‘t stop walking either. He took you up to the astronomy tower, pushing you against the railing so you where squeezed between it and his body.

"I‘m so fucking done with your games." he whipers angrily into your ear while he places his hands on your hips. "Don‘t know what you mean." you answer him with a cheeky smirk. He scoffs, turning you around with one swift motion, pushing your upper body over the railing.

"Mattheo!" you gasp loudly as your hands hold themselves at the metal beneath you. "I‘m gonna teach you a lesson now baby. It‘s called 'nobody‘s allowed to touch you besides me' understand?" be asks while slowly pushing the little fabric of your dress over your ass. You hear him groan behind you, his hands instantly on your skin.

Suddenly a sharp sting goes through you, making you gasp again in shock. You look over your shoulder and see Mattheo already smiling at you, them his hand coming down again on your cheek, leaving a mark. You bite down on your bottom lip trying to hide the moans that wanted to leave your mouth.

But soon he hits harder and you feel the wetness between your legs. "I said: Do you understand?" he repeats himself with such a sharp hit on your ass this time that a short scream left your mouth.

You feel him pulling your panties down and also hear him groan at the sight of your wet pussy. "Fuck I should have done that way earlier. Who could have known that our perfect little princess is that desperate huh?" His fingers wander over your wetness, teasing your clit in a circling motion.

Whimpers leave your mouth, wanting nothing more tham to feel him inside of you. "Please.." you start begging and wiggling your hips against him. "What was that princess? Couldn‘t quite hear you." he says in a mocking tone, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. "Please fuck me, need you, please." little whines leave your mouth which make his cock harder every second.

He pushes two fingers inside you, making you moan desperately. He leans forwards until his mouth is next to your ear again and whispers "I‘m goimg to fuck you so hard that you won‘t even remember anything from today but my cock inside your wet little pussy."

His fingers pumping and his thumb teasing your clit made you lose your mind, making you a brainless mess. "Shit look at you already so stupid just from my fingers. What‘s gonna happen when I fuck you with my cock?" he says in a devilish tone.

"Mattheo Please.." you beg again. "Need you inside me." You hear him fumbling with his belt, opening his pants and pushing them down with his boxershorts. He rubs his cock against your ass and chuckles. "Feel this princess?" You bite your lip and nod.

He breathes out, excited to already feel you. "I‘ve waited so long to do this.." Slowly he drags his tip through your wet folds, grunting at the feeling. Then he pushes in, inch for inch, biting his lip too.

"Oh fuck you‘re so tight baby. Just waited for me to pound that pussy." he moans as he feels your walls clench around him, sucking him in. Your eyes roll back and your hands tighten around the railing.

His hands grab your hips even tigther, fucking you from behind. One of his hands goes around your body finding your clit to bring you even closer to your high. His other hand finds your throat and squeezes it, smiling when he hears your moan and your walls around him tightening.

"It feels so good Matty.." you mumble, your eyes already closed with parted lips. His fingers against your clit worked even faster, making you tremble in front of him. "Oh baby I know, and guess what?" he leans forwards again whispering into your ear. "I‘m gonna be the only one who touches you. Never ever will anothet man touch you. You‘re mine princess. And I am your‘s." His touch got a little softer around your throat as he says this. "I- I‘m yours Mattheo." you moan, feeling your heart swelling in your chest.

"That‘s my good girl hm, now come for me on my cock." Your eyes squeeze shut as his hips thrust harder and faster, his fingers still working on your clit until you see stars.

You grab his arm behind you squeezing it as you come around him with a lout and broken moan. "Oh fuck.." Mattheo smiles down on you and groans as he feels your walls spasm. "Come inside me." you mumble quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

"You sure baby?" he asks again, biting his lip when he feels his climax nearing. You nod your head, feeling powerless after your orgasm. With a final thrust he stops inside you and comes inside you and let‘s out a short and quite whimper, groaning afterwards to conceal it. But you heard anyways and smile already ready to tease him.

When you both calm down again, all sweaty and a little shaky, he pulls you off the railing against his body, kissing you for the first time. "Should have done that way earlier too.." You laugh lighty and look up into his eyes. "You have all the time now to do so.." "hmm i hope so." he answers, leaning down to kiss you again with all the love he had in him.

thank you for reading 🫶🏻

taglist: @sofa-couch26 @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username

xoxo sarah <3

[nightmareweaverz]

What Is Love? (Mr. Gap x GN!Reader)

(Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me)

This contains spoilers!!

CW: brief mention of murder, one single swear word, romantic gestures but it's all SFW, reader is a serial killer Word count: 1923

Hi, hello, I ended up writing fanfiction for this game after all. And it's for Mr. Gap because I love this dumb void creature obsessed with body parts. He's a love interest in the game, don't boo me, I'm right. Might continue this one later, maybe? Not sure if it's a one shot or not yet.

How long has it been since you’d decided to return to the other world indefinitely? You’re not entirely sure. Time is hard to measure here. You sleep when you are tired and you eat when you’re hungry. You’re at least certain you’ve slept many times since then. Sometimes you wonder whether decades go by as you remain here, among ghosts and monsters. 

If you’re entirely honest, it isn’t so bad. You can massacre whoever you please and nobody bats an eye. There’s no need to hide bodies, build alibis, get rid of evidence. 

Yet, at the same time, with every new set of hallways and decaying rooms, you begin to sympathize more with the likes of Mr. Stitch and Mr. Machete. You’d once wondered why someone would give away clothes for free or play hairdresser in this world. Now you find yourself yearning for something similar, a purpose or at least a way to pass the time. 

At least you aren’t alone. Mr. Gap has become an expected presence in every crevice, hole and gash you gaze into. He’s still a mischievous little jerk, of course, but there is comfort in knowing someone nonthreatening is at your side at all times. And he keeps your boredom at bay sometimes. 

One day (or perhaps night), you’re walking through the maze of hallways and rooms of the Other World, searching for a way to entertain yourself. You hope to encounter a new face. Or perhaps an old one. Part of you still hopes you’ll run into Mr. Crawling or Mr. Chopped again, as unlikely as it may be. 

Room, after room, after room, you walk. Until, eventually, your legs grow tired and, with a long sigh, you lean against a wall. Mr. Gap’s face appears in a nearby hole. 

“What wrong?” he inquires. 

“Bored,” you confess. 

“Me fun. Give your heart.” 

You scoff. “You not fun.” 

He shoots you a disgruntled look of disbelief, which begrudgingly makes you snicker. He thinks too highly of himself if he believes constant demands for body parts is considered entertainment. Messing with him on the other hand… 

You set your crowbar aside, then curl your palms in the shape of a heart, which you then present to Mr. Gap. 

“What you do?” 

“This is heart.” 

“That is hand.” 

“No, this is heart. Above world heart.” You grin mischievously. 

He looks entirely unimpressed and partially confused. “That not heart.” 

“This heart humans show when lots of like someone.” 

He goes quiet for a bit, still staring at your hands like they’re an unsolvable riddle. Then he stares at your face, even more confused. “You lots of like me?” 

Oh. You hadn’t considered that’s how the explanation would come across. You were only trying to poke fun at him. How do you talk your way out of this one? Would he get mad if you said no? Would it even be true to say no? You don’t think you’re ready for that type of introspection. 

“That…” you search for the right words in the very limited vocabulary of the Other World’s language. “Not… know…” you finally force out. 

“Why this heart show?” 

Now it’s your turn to grow frustrated with him. “Why you want heart?” 

He’s already given you an answer to that question in the past. Because it’s fun. Something you failed to comprehend. Perhaps the same way he failed to comprehend your idea of “like.” So before he can answer, you grab your crowbar and march off. 

Unfortunately, the question pops into your mind again as you continue to wander aimlessly. Can someone like you fall in love? 

You've taken so many lives, simply because it was fun or convenient or you got sick of their attitude. You've done the same thing in this world. 

The hunched over figure of Mr. Crawling pops into your mind. Then, the smiling face of Mr. Chopped. And, eventually, Mr. Gap's annoying grin. Those are people you wouldn't kill. They are people you want to keep around. Perhaps people you would kill for instead, if needed. But does this attachment go deep enough to be called love? 

Perhaps you aren't sure of what that feeling is anymore than Mr. Gap and it’s all feigned knowledge. 

Your feet are hurting by the time you finally find a proper place to rest. You've lost track of time. 

Though your body is tired, your mind remains restless as you set aside your crowbar and sit on the bed. This is a far cry from the entertaining activity you’d hoped to find. 

“What wrong?” a familiar voice inquires beneath the sheets. You lift them up to reveal Mr. Gap’ face once again. 

How do you even explain your issue to him? 

“Feeling not know.” 

He goes quiet for a bit. “Teach me lots of like?” 

Is he saying he wants you to explain love to him? How do you even begin to do that? Perhaps you can narrow it down to romantic love at least. 

“When lots of like, person special. Say nice words. Want to protect. Want to follow. Do special touch. Help person when need.” 

The limited vocabulary makes it especially hard to put it into words. You aren't sure how well you'd explain it to another human either. 

As expected, Mr. Gap looks puzzled. “Nice words? Special touch?” 

He's focusing on the more romantic aspects, it seems. You prop your head against your hand, thinking. “Nice words not have here language. My language have nice words.” 

“I see…” he murmurs. “Show special touch?” 

You pout at him. “Why?” 

“Want to know.” 

So he's just curious. Or, knowing him, he heard the word “special” and decided he wanted it to be about him. He does have a bit of a big ego, always taking pride in startling you, often shoving pages of articles about him in your face. You cross your arms and turn your back to him. 

“What wrong?” 

“You bad. Me need help, you want heart. Me need help, you want hand, you want head, you want leg. Me not show special touch.” 

“Me nice,” he says, sounding offended. You don't have to turn around to know he's giving you that astonished look he makes whenever you criticize or baffle him. 

You laugh mockingly. “Not. Goodnight.” And with that, you shove down the sheet, blocking him from view. He's always poking fun at you, it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine. 

. . . 

When you wake up, Mr. Gap is nowhere in sight. It isn't entirely unusual. He has moments when he's off doing his own thing. Deciding to do the same, you take off in search of something interesting to occupy yourself with. Preferably not another mind boggling question. 

Hours pass, probably. Residents appear every once in a while, some friendly, some hostile. None of them scare you anymore. You only interact with them to pass the time. Until you eventually come to a stop in a room full of debris and objects from the human world. There, you sit down and begin to search for anything worthwhile. Maybe something to read. 

To your luck, you gather several magazines and books. Your arms are full by the time you feel a tremor shake the room. Another earthquake. You waste no time getting out of there with your new haul. 

But as you stop to set everything down, you realize you've left your crowbar behind, in the now collapsed room. A few curses rush out under your breath. 

“Hello.” 

You turn around to find Mr. Gap peeking out of a hole in the wall. “Want attack tool?” He waves the tip of your lost crowbar around. “Take, take.” 

“Take? You not want heart?” 

“Not want!” 

Huh. Maybe he took your criticism yesterday to heart. You grab the crowbar and mutter a “Thank you.” 

That wide, unnerving smile of his spreads over his face before he fades off into the darkness. What is he planning now? 

For the next few days, he continues to go out of his way to bring you things, take you places and fulfill any requests you might have without demanding any body parts in exchange. Relying on him almost becomes a habit. However, you have a slight suspicion he's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart or because he felt particularly sad about your accusations. These nice gestures must be leading to something. 

And surely enough, at some point, during one of your breaks from wandering, he appears before you, looking particularly delighted. 

“Me nice. Show special touch.” 

How typical. You narrow your eyes at him. 

“No?” he asks, the smile fading from his face. 

Part of you wants to lecture him on doing all that to prove a point. The other part suspects it won’t do much. 

“Okay okay. Me show,” you give in. Maybe this will make him act nicer overall. You can't deny the fact that he's helped you a lot lately. 

“Thank you.” 

You position yourself directly in front of the hole in the wall and then point at him. “Hand.” 

He blinks. “Not give my hand.” 

Of course he thinks you want his severed hand. 

“Me touch your hand,” you clarify. At that, he finally understands and sticks one of his hands out. 

His palm feels cold and damp to the touch when you press yours against it, but his skin is oddly soft. You interlock your fingers. His own remain limp in the air for a moment. Then, upon observing what you're doing, his fingers press down against the back of your palm, mimicking yours. It's not an unpleasant feeling. 

Are his nails naturally black or does he paint them, you wonder. The image of Mr. Gap painting his nails makes you snicker internally. 

“This one touch,” you explain. “Human person do this with special person.” 

He stares at your interlocked hands, intrigued. “You know more?” 

Naturally, you do, but you hesitate as the next gesture comes to mind. Your own curiosity is beginning to kick in, ushering you to try it. Will it awaken anything in you? 

Driven by that curiosity you say: “Yes.” Then, reach into the opening in the wall with your free hand. 

His cheek is just as cold and damp as his hand, perhaps the effect of dwelling inside crevices and hollows all the time. Gently, you tug him towards you and he follows, gaze flickering between your hand and your face. You lean closer as well. 

His lips are dry against yours. And you feel no breath from him. Whether it's because he's holding it in or he never breathes to begin with, you aren't sure. You don't linger for long, but something odd stirs your insides for the brief moment you spend kissing him. 

How suitable, for someone like you to be exploring love with a sinister void dweller who knows even less about it than you do. Oddly enough, you don't dislike it. 

“This lots, lots special,” you explain after you've pulled away and let go of his hand. 

He uses his now freed hand to touch his lips. A smug look is slowly overtaking his face. This arrogant little jerk. 

“Me special,” he concludes. 

“Not,” you argue. “You ask. Me show.” 

You have a bit of a staring contest between your glare and his smug grin. 

“Me want your heart,” he says finally, still with that smug look. 

“Oh, fuck you!” 

It's going to take a long time if Mr. Gap is to become anything akin to a lover.

[viperify]

Oneshots | ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Next Saturday, same time.

Short summary: Your Defence Against Dark Arts professor, Tom Riddle, was less than pleased with your academic performance. When he then called you in to discuss your grade, his true intentions came to light.

Warnings: 18+ only! Sir kink, praise kink, degradation kink, orgasm denial, rough sex, manipulation, impact play

All characters in this story are adults.

A/N: So sorry for not posting in over a week, school’s been keeping me busyyy. While I am fighting for my life with no escape pt 2 y’all can have this. ;)

wordcount: 3,7k

“Good evening, miss. Please, take a seat.”

Cautiously you entered the tiny office and sat down on the chair, opposite of him, resting your hands on the smooth surface of your professor’s wooden work desk. He studied you intently, lowering his gaze to watch how your fingers fidgeted with a loose thread of the grey sweater you were wearing. One of your favourites, not revealing too much, yet showing the perfect amount of cleavage to be okay to wear around school. His eyes wandered, quickly stopping at the exposed skin of your chest, until his eyes finally met yours.

“Do you know why I called you here today?” he questioned, voice just as strict and controlled as you were used to.

You shook your head, innocent eyes staring back at his strict expression, your lips turning into a slight pout. He huffed, the corner of his lips twitching slightly, carefully laying the quill he had been holding in his right hand onto the desk. Your eyes followed his long, slender fingers, admiring the veins decorating his pale skin. He was wearing his signature Gaunt family ring, an heirloom, which had been intriguing you ever since the first time you saw it. The brunette clearing his throat tore you out of your thoughts.

Right, he probably expected a vocal answer.

Of course, you knew why he had called you in. Your grades had been miserable, failing all three exams you’d had. Now, you weren’t necessarily a bad student, however Professor Riddle was the strictest and most unforgiving teacher at Hogwarts. One single word he didn’t deem as fitting and your whole answer was wrong. On top of that, just to pass most people studied for hours on end, starting two weeks before the exam. You did too, yet it had never been quite enough. 

That’s how you ended up getting an owl from your professor, telling you to meet him after dinner in his office that day. Obviously, you didn’t think much of it, except being humiliated once more for your grades. Professor Riddle was notorious for hating bad students after all.

“No, Sir. I don’t know.” 

“You haven’t noticed your horrific grades? I must say, I expected better of you, miss.” the brunette replied, his disappointment sounding authentic, though you knew for certain it wasn’t. He didn’t care whether someone passed or not, for him it was the pleas to not let them fail that spurred him on.

It was sick, really.

Though, nobody ever had been called into his office solely for that reason. And you knew just how many girls would have loved to switch places with you. He was the youngest and most handsome professor at Hogwarts, there was no denying that. In fact, many girls stayed behind after class to ask completely unrelated questions to his lessons, just to have his attention for themselves for a minute.

His answers though were mostly simple and straight to the point, his cold exterior void of any emotion. Most of the girls were disappointed, but that didn’t keep them from trying again next lesson. You never asked anything, not wanting to give him the satisfaction you knew he felt deep down at his admirers, even if he didn’t show it.

“I have noticed that. However, I don’t think that is entirely my fault, Sir.” You started, carefully at that. What you didn’t want is to insult his ego. Somehow you would have to convince him you are worthy of passing the subject after all.

His answer wasn’t what you had expected. A slight grin forming on his face, eyes flickering to what seemed like your exam papers in front of him. “And why is that, if I may ask?”

You were certain you had never in your life seen that man smile, Merlin forbid grin. Either he was in a very good mood that evening, which you heavily doubted, or he was already envisioning your tear-stained face after he would have you fail.

Yeah, that pretty much summed up what kind of professor he was. You had thoroughly messed this up already.

“No- please don’t understand this wrong, Sir. I- I just thought your exams in comparison with other subjects were quite high effort, making it harder to study and pass.” You stuttered, trying to find the right words to get you out of trouble.

“Well, miss, what can I say?” he leaned over the desk slightly, his eyes meeting yours again, “I am unlike other professors. My lessons are demanding. If students wish to pass, they will have to set their priorities straight. Which clearly isn’t the case for you.”

You cursed yourself. There it was, exactly what you thought was going to happen. He would let you fail if you tried making your case.

“No, Sir, please. I will do more for your lessons from now on. I can’t afford to fail your subject.” You cringed at how pathetic your begging sounded. So desperate. Especially to a professor who was known for finding joy in their students’ pleas, but you had no other choice. You had to at least try.

He nodded slightly, the corner of his lips perking up. “I fear it is too late to make promises for the future now. Though, what are you prepared to do to fix your past mistakes?” The brunette asked you, his eyes hinting at your exam papers in front of him.

“Anything, Sir.”

The energy shifted at your words, tension lingering thick in the air. He exhaled sharply, getting up from his seat. “Anything, hm?” You managed a shy nod as he walked around the desk to lean against it besides you.

His head sank, adjusting a button of his black suit as he nodded. After what felt like an eternity, his hot gaze met yours, and you felt as though his eyes were burning right through you. Finally, he spoke. “You know just how long I have wanted you in this position? Eager to do anything to fix your grade? It’s been miserable, really.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion, staring back at him. “Sorry, Sir, I don’t think I understand?” He surely didn’t intend to say what you thought he did.

Again, he nodded, a sly smirk forming on his full lips. “Oh I think you do, darling.”

He inched closer to you, dangerously close for your liking. In fact, you had never seen him that close before. Every single detail about his exterior was neat, suit fitting him like it was hand-tailored just for him. Knowing how highly he valued his appearance, it probably was too. His brunette curls perfectly styled, falling beautifully onto his forehead like they always did.

“I am sorry, Sir but I really-“

“Always running that pretty mouth of yours.” He mumbled, interrupting you, as he ran his thumb over your soft lips. You breath hitched at the sudden contact, yet you didn’t stop him. Never would you have expected this to happen, but here you were. Sat in front of your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor as he caressed you. He stopped at the center, gently pressing down, urging you to part them for him. Naturally you obliged, pushing his finger into your warm mouth, instinctively starting to suck on it. As you looked up to him through your lashes, you saw a small crease forming between his eyebrows, a small groan slipping from his slightly parted lips. “Such a dirty girl. I knew you had it in you.”

You didn’t know why you even gave in to him. Shame rushed through you, your cheeks heating up. You really shouldn’t be doing this with your professor. However, you needed to fix your grade. And maybe, just maybe… you started to see his appeal. Which didn’t change the fact that it was wrong. So wrong.

“Come on, get up now.” He demanded as he withdrew his thumb from your mouth, pulling you up by your arm in a quick motion so you were stood up in front of him. His gaze wandered up and down your body, taking in your curves he had yearned to touch ever since the first time he had noticed you. Again, his eyes locked onto the exposed skin of your cleavage, hand travelling from your waist your shoulder, running his finger along your clavicle.

“Wearing such a short skirt in combination with that sweater when expected by your professor, should have let you fail merely because of that.” He muttered, taunting you. His hand guided yours towards the dent in his trousers, letting it brush against it slightly. The brunette’s breath was hot on the side of your face as he leaned in, causing you to shiver. “You feel this, doll? That is what you do to me.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” You stammered, unsure of what to say. Were you really going to do this?

He didn’t leave you any time to think about it.

“It’s time to punish you for all these indecent thoughts you have been causing me.”

“Tell me,” he started, grabbing your chin to make you look him in the eyes while he spoke to you. “How is it that I can’t resist you?” The tone of his voice was softer than you were used to, yet the strictness remained.

“I could have any girl at my feet with a simple snap of my fingers. Yet I yearn for no one more deeply than I do for you.”

You were lost for words, staring back at his unreadable expression. If you had to describe it, it would have been a mix of pain, anger and desire – positively too many emotions at once for someone like him.

“I-“ You tried, though immediately cut off by him. His hand softly wrapped around your throat, slightly furrowing his eyebrows as his darkened eyes warned you. “No more talking. You have done enough damage. Making me feel all these things I was certain I would never get to experience.”

With that, he pushed you backwards until you hit the rough edge of his desk, trapped between his body and the wooden furniture. His palm slowly travelled up your thigh, halting when he reached the hem of your skirt. He leaned down, his lips just barely hovering over the crook of your neck as you could almost feel the conflict in his mind. “Tell me you want this too. Say it.” His breath shallow against your skin, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Your mind was reeling. You shouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t get flustered from your professor’s touch. You should have never even allowed him to get you into this position. Yet, you couldn’t deny the excitement rushing through your veins at the thought of what he was going to do with you. What he would ask of you to fix your grades.

“I want it too. P-Please, Sir” you whispered, exhaling sharply as he planted a soft kiss on your skin, goosebumps rising on your skin at the contact.

Unsure of what to do, you reached out to hold onto his arms, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. The brunette lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours. Clearly, you must have read his expression wrong, because when you drew closer to kiss him he stopped you, tightly squeezing both of your arms.

“No kissing. Don’t you-“, his fingers roughly lifted your chin, making you meet his stern expression. “Listen to me. Don’t you dare try doing that ever again.”

At first, his words stung, causing tears to well up in your eyes. You quickly blinked them away. His voice, which he had intended to come off as rough, told you there was more behind what he was ready to admit.

You knew he wanted the kiss too.

And you were right.

The look of his eyes betrayed him, his usual controlled demeanor threatening to shatter. It took him everything there and then to make it sound like he despised the idea of kissing you. After all, kissing meant love. Love meant vulnerability. And Tom hated vulnerability.

Early on in his life, when he was residing in the orphanage, people around him used vulnerability to hurt others. The intelligent boy he was, he caught onto that quickly. Shutting down emotions had always worked well for him. He was quite certain that by doing so for years he had lost the ability to feel entirely.

Until you entered his life.

Completely wrecking the idea of what person he was, of what he wanted to become.

It only played into his cards when you then started failing exam after exam. It was like a gift from Merlin himself. He would finally have an excuse to meet you privately, to manipulate you into thinking you were doing this for a grade. When all he wanted was to finally let out all that pent-up frustration and anger on your poor body.

And there was part of him who wanted to love you. To hold you, tenderly care for you. But that part was somewhere so deeply hidden in his soul, he didn’t even acknowledge its existence. All he wanted to do was make you pay for the turmoil of emotions he was feeling. How could you do something no one else was capable of, not even himself?

Make him feel. Like a human.

Kissing you wouldn’t fix anything, but rather make his suffering worse. He wouldn’t kiss you. Never. Today, you would pay.

His hands reached out to tug on your sweater, pulling it over your head, before cursing something under his breath, unzipping the back of your skirt, letting it drop to the floor next to your sweater. His hungry eyes roamed over your body, your silk underwear hugging your curves perfectly. You suddenly felt exposed at the way he was leering at you and attempted to cover your bare skin. “Sir, I don’t know if it’s a good idea, I mean-“

Tom snatched your wrists. “You want to fix your grade, don’t you?” He growled, the muscles in his jaw stiffening. You nodded quickly, disregarding your doubt.

“That’s right. Stay all nice and quiet for me now.”

With a quick motion he flipped you around, palm pressing down between your shoulder blades to have you bend over his desk as he was standing right behind you. A yelp was all you managed, surprised by his sudden roughness and the cold material beneath you.

“This is for failing your exams.”

Smack

“This is for wearing these disgraceful outfits around school.”

Smack

“And this is for messing with my head.”

Smack

He let his palm repeatedly come down on your barely covered ass, the intense sting of the impacts having tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, small gasps escaping your lips.

“W-what do you mean, Sir?” You croaked, lifting your head to search for an answer.

Smack

“I told you to keep your mouth shut. Do you ever fucking listen?” He growled, delivering another harsh smack to your already reddened skin. If he wasn’t angry before, he was now. Making quick work of your panties, he let them pool around your ankles, pressing his erect length against your now bare skin, making you inhale sharply. Even clothed, he felt big.

He undid his belt and instructed you to put your hands behind your back, to which you obliged. “Going to make sure you aren’t going anywhere, darling.” The brunette mumbled as he wrapped the leather around your wrists, securing them tightly.

You lay there, so beautifully exposed and helpless in front of him, just like he wanted you. Looking so innocent. His hand reached out to caress your back, though he stopped himself in time.

No affection.

He would only check whether you were ready for him, nothing more. This wasn’t for your pleasure after all, it should be a punishment. Really, nothing more than that.

Yet, when he heard your soft moans as his hand rested on the curve of your behind, thumb lazily playing with your puffy clit, he almost changed his mind. Your sweet voice, the one he was used to hearing only when you were laughing and giggling with your friends during his lessons, aroused him even more than he already had been, almost painfully so. His finger swiped through your folds, gathering your wetness just to push it back inside of your dripping hole. He exhaled sharply at the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him, slowly opening up for him.

“Want more please, Si- T-Tom” you mewled, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate to feel him inside of you. Knowing you couldn’t see him, he grinned. He got what he wanted, having you bent over his desk, all needy and desperate for him and only him.

Smack

“We will keep the formalities, hm?” He taunted, withdrawing his thumb from your aching cunt just to replace it with his tip, not yet entering you. He was savouring every second of this, the first time he got to be inside of you, have you under his complete control.

“Please, Sir.” You whined, and though you still weren’t 100% convinced this was the right thing to do, you wanted him so badly. Your professor, who just mere seconds ago almost made you come only by the touch of his fingertip.

Tom couldn’t take it anymore. You shouldn’t want this so badly, you shouldn’t want him. His palm landed one more hard smack on your soft skin before he steadily pushed into your warm core, which was sucking him right in.

“You are so-“ you whined, body tensing at the intrusion, “so- big, Sir” The stretch radiating a painful sting from your core. “I know. Can barely fit inside of this tight cunt of yours.” The brunette growled, not letting you adjust to him as he mercilessly snapped his hips into yours, the sound filling his tiny office room.

You cried out in pleasure as the pain faded, disregarding his orders to stay silent. The way his veiny cock dragged against your sensitive walls made your mind go blank, making you a moaning mess under him. His hand wrapped around your throat as a warning, shushing you.

“Going to ruin you for everyone else. This pussy is mine, isn’t it, darling? He spat, holding onto your tied wrists for leverage as he hit your cervix with particularly deep thrusts. “Sir, please- Merlin-“ you moaned, your hip bones repeatedly hitting the edge of his desk, sure to leave bruises that would still remind you of him for days.

“Keep quiet- fuck- can’t you ever just-“ he groaned, his eyes darting around the place looking for something, anything. He clutched the nearest object he could find – which happened to be one your exam papers – and shoved it into your mouth, hand covering it to make you keep the provisional gag in, muffling your voice. “That’s  better.”

He felt his orgasm approaching in big steps, the feeling of how your warm, wet walls so perfectly gripped his length having him on the edge of sanity. He longed to have you clench around him, milking him. That’s when his hand snaked down your thighs, though before they reached your clit, he remembered what this was about. Even when you weren’t able to speak you drove him crazy, and he despised you for it. So, instead of rubbing your clit, he added another smack to your sore ass.

“So-“ thrust “fucking-“ thrust “tight.” thrust

You whined and as his hand finally left your mouth, you spit out the now damp paper, coughing. The way he was mercilessly pounding into your aching cunt had you see stars, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “S‘ too much- please-“ you managed to croak out, trying to wriggle away from him, his fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back and steady you.

“No, you better stop squirming. Fuck- I am going to break you just like you broke me.” He hissed, slightly bending over your form, making you take him to the hilt. You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut, yet you had no other choice than to take what he was giving you.

Just a few thrusts later he felt himself desperate for release, though he wouldn’t grant you the honor of coming inside you. He pulled out of you right as he was about to finish, spilling his seed on your lower back instead with a low grunt. A small whine escaped your lips at the feeling of his cum on your skin.

Both of you stayed like this for a while. Your mind was still fuzzy from his rough handling, barely able to form a coherent thought. You wondered what he was thinking about. Did he regret it? Although it was a dangerous game you two were playing, you loved it. More than you had thought you would.

And him? He got what he wanted after all. Taking out his anger on you. But now it wasn’t any better. Tom sought after more. If he could, he would have you bend over that damn desk every single day. However, he would have to let you go. For now, at least.

The brunette freed your wrists, helping you stand up straight. With a wide smirk on his face, he wiped his release off your back with your panties. “What the-?” You asked, snatching it out of his hands. “Filthy girl, filthy panties.” He shrugged. “Put them on, get dressed and go back to your dorm. If you speak to anyone about this, consider yourself expelled. No one will believe you.”

There was something you still wanted. Something he denied you.

“What about my turn to finish?”

Sitting back down behind his desk, hair damp with sweat, he stared at you as though you had just said something outrageous. “Girls like you don’t get to come. This was for fixing your grade, not for your pleasure.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What about my grade then?”

“Come back next Saturday to find out.”

You scoffed. “I am not going to.”

He knew you would.

And he was right.

feedback is as always appreciated <3

[birdofwildness]

୨୧✧˚Secret smokes

୨୧✧˚Tom Riddle

summary:: reader's father invites professor Riddle over. He doesn't know his Well behaved daughter is dating her professor.

warnings:: professor x student, age gap, filthy af smut lmao, 18+

The classroom breathed in shadows. Dust motes wandered lazily through the golden afternoon light, as if time itself hesitated to pass through these walls — reluctant to disturb the stillness that had settled over desks ink-stained and solemn.

Y/N sat motionless, eyes fixed on the half-filled parchment before her, though their mind drifted far from words and wandwork. There was a weight in the air — not from the lesson, but from him. From the way he moved between rows like a thought that wouldn’t let go, silent and precise, all darkness and deliberation.

Tom Riddle did not speak often, but when he did, the room listened as though the walls themselves leaned closer.

“Time,” he said at last, his voice smooth and quiet, like the first drop of ink on clean parchment. “Essays. Leave them here.”

The scrape of chairs followed — the familiar shuffling of escape. A soft murmur of relief. But not for Y/N.

As she rose to leave, hand brushing the cool wood of the desk, his voice reached her again. Lower this time. Private.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said, his tone carved from curiosity and something harder. “Remain.”

The door sighed shut behind the last departing student. Silence, again — but a different kind now. Closer. More intimate.

Y/N turned, slowly, like someone called back by name in a dream.

He stood with the elegance of a blade resting on its edge, one hand resting lightly on the desk, the other folded beneath it — posture relaxed, yet coiled.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

She didn’t answer immediately. The word avoiding was too deliberate. Too sharp.

She leaned back against the door after closing it behind her, her fingers still resting on the brass handle, as if measuring the weight of the silence before her.

“I’ve been breathing,” she said at last. “That’s not the same.”

Tom’s gaze flickered to her face, then back to the shadows between them. He didn’t move. He never did when he held the advantage.

“And yet,” he said quietly, “you look like someone who’s been holding her breath for days.”

She crossed the room slowly, not in surrender, not in defiance, but in something more dangerous: knowing. The kind of knowing that only exists between two people who’ve spent nights unraveling each other in silence and in heat, and who’ve learned to fear what follows the morning.

“You want something,” she said, stopping just beyond reach. “You always do.”

Tom didn’t deny it. Instead, with the slow, precise motion of someone revealing a move long prepared, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and produced a single envelope.

The parchment was heavy, elegant. Ministry seal. Her father’s signature in unmistakable, impatient strokes.

He held it out to her as if it were nothing more than a passing curiosity.

She took it without a word, fingers brushing his — brief contact, deliberate tension. Her eyes scanned the contents, each line tightening something inside her chest.

Dinner. A formal invitation. Her father, all formality and veiled curiosity, inviting Tom Riddle to their home like he was just another promising young man and not the living embodiment of all the unspoken things she could never admit out loud.

“‘I would be honoured to receive you this Thursday at seven. I believe we have much to discuss,’” she read aloud, voice flat.

Riddle watched her — not smug, not triumphant. Just quiet. As if waiting for her to catch up to something he already knew.

She turned the letter in her hands, once, twice, then looked up. “Why?”

A single word, precise, level. But beneath it, a hundred unspoken questions.

Tom tilted his head slightly. “Why what?”

“Why did he invite you?” she asked, sharper now. “My father doesn’t do polite gestures.”

“No,” Tom agreed. “But Horace Slughorn does.”

The name landed between them like a dropped stone.

Her fingers tightened on the parchment. “Slughorn.”

“Who else?” Tom’s voice was smooth, unhurried. “He collects people. And when he can’t keep them, he introduces them to others who might.”

Her father.

The realization clicked into place like a lock turning, and Tom saw it—saw the moment she understood.

She didn’t speak for a long moment, only watched him — carefully, quietly. Then a corner of her mouth curved upward. Not a full smile. Just the beginning of one.

“You’re nervous.”

Tom blinked. “I’m not.”

“You are,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re doing that thing with your thumb again.”

He looked down without meaning to — his thumb pressed just slightly against the side of his index finger, a motion so small it was almost nothing. But not to her.

She grinned, all wicked amusement now. “You want to impress him.”

“I want access,” he corrected.

“Which means,” she said, tilting her head, “you want to impress him.”

He didn’t answer. That was answer enough.

She touched his collar, adjusting it like she had every right to. “Don’t talk too much. He hates people who sound like they’re proving something.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “I am proving something.”

“Exactly,” she said sweetly. “That’s why you have to act like you’re not.”

A pause. Her voice softened, but only a little: “And don’t smile unless you mean it. He’ll know.”

He looked down at her, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “Are you trying to help me or sabotage me?”

She leaned in, lips just near his ear.

“Who says I can’t do both?”

Tom let his gaze linger on her face a moment longer, then said, “And what’s he like? Your father.”

She let out a dry breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re asking me now?”

He said nothing — just waited.

She stepped back, arms loosely crossed, as if needing distance from her own answer.

“What do you think?” she said. “He’s exactly what you’d expect from a blood supremacist Slytherin who clawed his way up the Ministry like it was his birthright.”

“Charming,” Tom murmured.

“Oh, he is,” she said, sarcasm curling at the edge of her voice. “In that cold, immaculate, politically untouchable sort of way. He speaks in veiled threats and thinks compassion is a weakness you beat out of children by age twelve.”

Tom tilted his head slightly. “So you’re saying we’ll get along.”

She met his gaze. “I’m saying he’ll recognize you. Even if he doesn’t know what you are, he’ll know that you are.”

He smiled, slow and sharp. “I’ll take that as encouragement.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her — softened, despite herself.

“You would,” she muttered, stepping closer. “You always do.”

Tom didn’t move away. His smile faded into something quieter, something less practiced.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. She reached up — a small, almost absent motion — and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. Her hand lingered just long enough to mean something.

Then she leaned in and kissed him — not hungry, not dramatic. Just warm. Familiar. The kind of kiss that wasn’t asking for anything, only marking the space between them as theirs.

When she pulled back, she said, “Don’t be charming tonight. Be dangerous.”

He looked at her, the ghost of a smirk returning. “Darling, I never stopped.”

...

The dining room was exactly what Tom had expected. Dark wood. Crystal decanters. A silence so carefully maintained, it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

Her father sat at the head of the table, back straight as a blade. Not a single hair out of place. Not a single expression wasted. He looked at Tom as one might examine an antique wand—valuable, but potentially volatile.

Y/N sat to the side, in quiet observation, glass untouched. She wore nothing expressive, and yet she seemed to burn brighter than the candles.

“Tom,” her father began, voice low and steady, “Slughorn speaks of you often. I must admit, I was curious.”

Tom inclined his head with just the right degree of humility. “That’s generous of him. Professor Slughorn has always had an eye for talent.”

Her father gave the barest nod, the kind that said: And I’ll decide for myself if he was right.

They spoke of inconsequential things first — the rise and fall of this or that department, a new magical regulation Tom pretended to be concerned with. But every word was a test. Every smile a blade.

“You seem quite... forward-thinking for one so young,” her father said, sipping his wine.

“I don’t see much use in looking backward,” Tom replied. “History only teaches what happens when people lack vision.”

Her father smiled — faint, almost approving. “Indeed.”

Y/N said nothing. But she watched Tom closely, like someone watching a storm from behind glass.

At one point, Tom caught her eye. Just for a second.

She raised her brow, subtle, amused.

You're enjoying this, it said.

And maybe he was.

Her father set down his glass with the precision of someone who disliked unnecessary movement.

“And how is she in your class, Mr. Riddle?” he asked, voice casual in the way a dagger might be considered a decorative accessory. “I assume she participates.”

Tom didn’t even glance at her. “She’s exceptional,” he said, smooth and immediate. “Sharp. Focused. Rarely distracted by the trivial.”

Y/N gave him a sideways look, one brow lifted just slightly. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I’m not,” he said. “But your father might be.”

Her father didn’t react — not outwardly. He turned his gaze to her instead. “I expect excellence, you know that.”

Y/N leaned forward just enough to meet his eyes. “And yet you never ask me how I’m doing. Just whether I’m performing.”

The room stilled. A pause, long and deliberate.

Tom spoke then, softly: “She’s not just performing, sir. She’s outpacing most of the class.”

Another silence — deeper now. Not awkward. Just heavy.

Her father nodded, but it wasn’t praise. It was acknowledgment. “Good.”

Y/N picked up her wine, sipped it slowly, and said, “You don’t have to worry. He trains us well.”

Riddle’s mouth twitched — a flicker of amusement. Her father didn’t catch it. Or chose not to.

The conversation had drifted back to policy — some dull bureaucratic reshuffling that neither of them had any real interest in.

Y/N didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Instead, her hand moved — slow, deliberate — beneath the linen of the tablecloth, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of Tom’s trousers. Just resting, at first. Casual. Almost dismissible.

Tom stiffened the slightest degree — a flicker, nothing more. His jaw tightened as he turned his wineglass slowly between his fingers, saying something polite about international Floo network regulations.

Her hand moved upward. Barely an inch.

He glanced at her, just once, from the corner of his eye — a look that said, Now? Really?

She didn’t look back at him. Didn’t even smile.

Another inch.

He inhaled through his nose, a breath so soft it wouldn’t register to anyone else — except maybe her father, who had spent a lifetime reading the smallest changes in men’s composure.

But Tom didn’t flinch. He didn’t stop talking. He just gave her a look — one raised brow, mouth set in that tight, don’t test me line.

And still, she moved higher.

He placed his hand — calmly, purposefully — over hers, halting her progress. Squeezed once. A warning. A promise.

She finally looked at him then, eyes bright with something between mischief and triumph.

Dinner ended not with dessert, but with dismissal. Her father folded his napkin with military precision, then stood.

“Riddle,” he said, voice crisp, “join me for a cigarette.”

It wasn’t a question.

Then, to Y/N, sharp and final: “Bed. Now.”

She opened her mouth — not to protest, but to say something, anything — but Tom caught her gaze, gave the barest shake of his head. Not here.

She lingered a second too long, then rose. Her footsteps were quiet as she left, but her presence clung to the room like perfume.

The terrace was cold and dark, lit only by two hovering orbs of enchanted light. Her father took out a silver case, offered it silently. Tom accepted, wordless.

The first inhale came with silence. The second with smoke. The third, finally, with words.

Her father spoke without looking at him. “You have plans.”

Tom exhaled slowly. “Of course.”

“Big ones, I assume.”

“I don’t bother with the small kind.”

That earned him a small grunt of approval. Or recognition. Hard to say.

“What field?” the man asked, flicking ash into the dark. “Ministry? Academia? Power like yours doesn’t stay long in classrooms.”

Tom’s gaze lingered on the horizon. “Classrooms are useful. People don’t watch you closely when they think you’re just a teacher.”

“And when they start watching?”

Tom smiled faintly. “Then I’ll already be somewhere else.”

A beat.

“You don’t want a post. You want position.”

Tom turned to him now, face calm. “I want reach. I want leverage. I want freedom.”

“Freedom?” the man repeated. “Strange word, coming from someone who follows so many rules so precisely.”

Tom met his eyes. “Rules are tools. You don’t smash a door if you can unlock it.”

A long silence followed. Not uncomfortable — just heavy with understanding.

The old man tapped the end of his cigarette against the iron railing, eyes never leaving the night.

“And legacy?” he asked. “Do you care for that sort of thing?”

Tom didn’t answer immediately. He watched the glow at the end of his cigarette dim, then reignite.

“Legacy is inevitable,” he said. “If you're worth remembering.”

“But some prefer to shape what they leave behind.”

Tom glanced at him. “You mean heirs.”

The man didn’t deny it. “You’ve built the mind. Built the name. Eventually, you’ll need the line.”

“So,” her father said, eyes on the darkness beyond the terrace rail, “is there a girl already?”

Tom didn’t look at him. “Pardon?”

“You’re young,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Sharp. Ambitious. Someone in your position—well. People will want to attach themselves.”

“I imagine they will,” Tom said calmly.

“And have you let anyone?”

A long pause followed — not of hesitation, but of deliberation. Then:

“No.”

Her father studied him, a sliver of smoke curling between his fingers. “Strange. A man with your... charisma.”

Tom allowed himself a smile. “Charm and attachment are rarely the same thing.”

“Do you plan to marry?”

“Eventually. If it’s useful.”

...

She climbed the stairs slower than usual. Not because she was tired — far from it. Her pulse was annoyingly loud in her ears, and her skin prickled with a kind of static that refused to settle.

He’s staying.

That thought had been repeating itself like a spell ever since her father had mentioned the guest room. Just one word — guest — but said with such clipped finality, as though it meant nothing.

But it did.

Because the guest room was next to hers. Just a few quiet steps away, separated by nothing but old plaster walls and a hallway that creaked in two places.

She opened her door and closed it behind her gently, then leaned back against it for a moment, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Her room was the same as always — books half-stacked on the desk, a half-finished cup of tea gone cold on the windowsill, bed not quite made. But it felt different. Like it was holding its breath, too.

She moved with too much purpose, adjusting nothing and everything — smoothing the coverlet, brushing invisible dust from her vanity, catching her own reflection and looking away too fast.

She sat on the edge of the bed, then stood. Sat again.

He’ll come up soon.

Of course he would. Tom didn’t leave things half-finished. Especially not her.

She crossed the room in measured steps, fingers grazing over the wardrobe’s handles before pulling it open.

The cool air inside touched her skin as she reached for the nightgown she hadn’t worn in months — silk, pale, almost translucent where the light hit it just right. It was too delicate for sleep, and too deliberate for coincidence. But tonight wasn’t about sleep. Not really.

She held it up for a moment, watching how it swayed slightly in her hands. Then slipped it on.

The fabric slid over her shoulders like a whisper. She shivered — not from the cold, but from the knowing. The weight of intention.

She let her hair down next, the pins clinking softly into her palm one by one. The mirror caught her eyes, then her mouth — a tilt of something there, amusement or anticipation, she wasn’t sure.

She dabbed a little perfume on her wrists. Not her usual one — something sharper, older. The kind that lingered.

Then she turned down the lamp. Not out — never out — but low enough that the shadows could settle, stretch. Wrap the room in something softer.

She sat again, this time near the window, one leg folded under her, the other bare foot grazing the floor.

And waited.

Not idly. Not passively.

She waited the way a flame does — steady, quiet, and entirely ready to burn.

The hallway creaked once. Then silence again — too perfect to be natural.

She didn’t move. Not yet.

Then: the softest brush of knuckles against wood. No knock. Just a touch.

Her door opened a fraction, slowly, deliberately — not waiting for permission.

Tom stepped inside like the shadows were holding the door for him.

His jacket was gone. The sleeves of his shirt rolled to the elbows, exposing the lines of his forearms — precise, composed, and somehow more intimate than anything else about him. His eyes swept over her, pausing at the curve of her knee, the drape of the silk.

He didn’t speak. Just closed the door behind him.

“I thought you’d take longer,” she said, voice low, barely carrying.

“I didn’t want to,” he replied.

He moved closer, not hurried, but with certainty. His presence filled the room long before he reached her.

“I see you got ready for bed,” he said, glancing down at the nightgown, a smile ghosting over his mouth.

“Didn’t plan to sleep.” Her gaze didn’t leave his. “Did you?”

He stopped just before her — close enough for the air to shift, for the quiet to catch fire between them.

“No,” he said. “I came to ruin that plan.”

She stood slowly, the silk of her nightgown whispering against her legs. He didn’t step back. He never did.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. No words. Just breath and space and the heavy, aching pull between them.

Then her hand came up — fingers brushing the collar of his shirt, barely touching. She wasn’t pulling him closer.

She didn’t need to.

He leaned in. Not hungrily, not urgently — but with that terrifying precision of his, as if he'd calculated the exact degree of heat in the air between them.

And kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t brutal either. It was measured — the way one tests the strength of a lock before breaking it. His lips pressed to hers, slow, sure, and utterly in control. But there was tension beneath it — like something barely held back.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

He deepened the kiss then — just a little. Enough to taste the edge of what he wanted. Enough to tell her he could take more. Would. When he chose to.

When they broke apart, his mouth lingered close, breath warm against her cheek.

“I’ve had to pretend all night,” he murmured, voice low and sharp. “Don’t make me pretend in here.”

"You don't have to." She pushed herself up onto tip toes, giving him a light kiss. She needed him.

He was hungry, lust overwhelming him. He kissed her back,intense. His hand found her hip, keeping her close. He pushed her back slowly against the bed, both of them falling into a heap. She watched him kick his loafers off and strip off his shirt before he climbed above her.

Tom slid her gown down, his eyes flicking over her. As he pulled it up he let out a small exhale astounded by her body.

His mouth lowered, a trail of small kisses forming along her breasts. His jaw rubbed against her nipple, causing you to let out a small gasp.

"You gonna let daddy down there know your professor is fucking you?" He murmured against her skin.

"Fuck you,Tom"

"You already did." He smiled in a wicked way.

then he dipped his head lower, kissing lightly over her chest and stomach, down to her hip.

She pushed his head down between her thighs, opening her legs up to him. He wanted to make her beg.

He let his tongue reach out, slowly gliding through her folds and she pushed her hips up, desperate for more. He worked slowly, wanting to taste her, like the first time. He found her clit, pressing himself against it momentarily as she gasped.

"Please, Tommy"

"You okay sweetheart,I heard you gasp" Came a noise from outside.

Fuck,fuck, fuck. She though.

"Answer him,doll" his voice vibrated.

"Everything's fine,thanks dad" She muttered. Then an answer came the last time. "Okay,good night."

She settled back into his touch as his hand found her hip, pushing her back against the bed. His other hand came up to her pussy, his middle finger slowly pushed into her entrance. She let out a small moan."Don't say anything about what just happened with my dad"

His finger found a rhythm, as he added another, filling her up. Tom lowered his mouth back to her clit. A small suck of it lifted her hips up from the bed. "Do I look like I want to talk about your damn father?"

His fingers curled into her, as he sucked on her clit again. His tongue came back to lick against her folds. He enjoyed her whines.

As he sucked against her clit for the final time, her orgasm washed over her.

She sank back into the bed. He kissed her lightly.

[aur0ral1ghts]

ᴍɪɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ დ

ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴀss.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs; ᴍɪɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ. (ᴅᴜʜ.) ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙɪᴛ ᴏғ ғʟᴜғғ. ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ. sʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴɢ.

Mattheo Riddle has always had an interest for Y/n, the way she would scoff during arguments, or the way she would flip her h/c hair. He would always find a way to insult her. He loved the way her cheeks would get all red and flustered as she spat out an insult back. He gained a small obsession with Y/n. He wanted to ruin her and destroy her in every way possible. At every given chance, he would tease her until she snaps. One time, Y/n ended up slapping Mattheo out of anger. He couldn't help but smirk once he felt her hand slap him across the face. He didn't even wince at the pain.

"Mattheo Riddle!" Y/n calls out as she stomps angrily towards him. He turns around, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Yes?" He smiles innocently. "Did you steal my homework!" She yells, standing in front of him. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't." His smile turns into a smirk. "I spent 2 days writing that assignment. What did you do with it!?" She asks, obersving his facial expressions. "I may have burnt it for fun." He admits. "Are you fucking serious?" I groan. "What? It was fun to burn." He shrugs, looking down at her. Then he felt it. A slap across his face, his cheek turning red, his face burning, but he didn't care. He couldn't help but smirk. "You'll pay for this!" She yells before walking off. Mattheo watches as she walks away, his hand still on his cheek.

Y/n hated Mattheo Riddle. Even though they had mutual friends, she couldn't stand him. She couldn't stand his annoying smirk. She couldn't stand his stupidly high ego and how hot he just had to be. She hated how she had memorized every single scar on his face she absolutely hated it. So she pushed down her feelings deep deep down and never gave them a second thought. He would always find a way to pick on Y/n for every one of her flaws, whenever if it's her grades, potion making skills, or her hair, he always found a way to make fun of her hair, even though Mattheo secretly loved it. He imagined himself laying in bed with you, playing with your long waist length hair.

Mattheo Riddle and Y/n had a whole lot of tension between them. Every time they would argue, the tension between them were undeniable. Even their friends have realized. Mattheos friends, Theodore Nott, and Blasie Zabini, two of his closet friends since childhood, placed a bet. They betted that on the end of their 7th year, they would get together. Theodore betted around 100 gallons that they would get together. Blaise also betted 100 gallons that they weren't getting together. Even the teachers noticed their tension. So much, in fact, Professor McGonagall had placed their seats together.

"Y/n?" Mattheo whispers. "What?" She hisses back. "Can I borrow a quill?" He asks, leaning back in his seat. "No, get your own." She replies back. "You suck." He scoffs. "You suck more." Y/n says, writing down some notes. "Mr. Riddle, Miss Y/n!" McGonagall suddens yells, Mattheo flinchs a bit. "Huh?" Y/n says. "If you two coutine to flirt with one another, I may have to give you two both a detention." She spits. "Sorry, Professor. It won't happen again." Y/n chuckles awkwardly. Mattheo doesn't apologize. He just nods. "Very well then." She answers. "You idiot, you almost got me detention, I've never had detention before!" She whispers in a voice only he can hear. "You never had detention before? Loser." He whispers back. Y/n doesn't reply. Instead, she just scoffs before finishing her notes.

-

I wake up with a giant yawn, I check my alarm clock next to my bed. I thank muggles every day for inventing clocks. It's almost time for classes, I usually skip breakfast since I'm usually never hungry in the mornings, and plus, it gives me an extra hour of sleep. My roommate and best friend, Pansy Parkinson is the same. I look to my left and see Pansy sleeping, her butt stuck up in the air, her arm hanging off the bed, her hair extremely messy. She always has the worst cases of bed head. "Pansy!" I say, trying to wake her up, knowing she would kill me if I didn't wake up her. "Whatttt." She replies back, her voice cranky. "Get up, we have classes soon!" I say, getting out of bed myself. "Oh shit-" She says, practically falling out of bed. I giggle. "Shut up idiot." She jokes. I head to my bathroom, washing my face with cold water as it helps to wake me up in the mornings. I do my usual routine, brushing my hair, which takes me around 5 minutes to do. I can't be bothered to do a ponytail or a bun or anything, so I leave it down. I usually don't . I wear my hair down like twice a month or so. I curl my lashes, putting some mascara on them. Then I do my other makeup steps. I head to my closet and grab my uniform.

After around 15 minutes, I'm ready. "Pansy, are you ready to go?" I ask. "Not yet, but just go on without me, I have Potions first, so I should be fine." She says. Since the Slytherin common room and dormitorys are in the duegon, it doesn't take that long to walk to Potions class. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for me, I had a history of magic first, which was upstairs. I had always hated history of magic, I mean, i enjoyed the subject, but definitely not the teacher. Professor Binns had this very slow paced voice. And he wasn't very good at explaining the subject. He would never interact with his students. He never asked them questions or their opinions. It also didn't help when he randomly assigned random essays due at the end of the week. History of magic was also one of my worst grades.

I grab my history of magic textbooks on the subject we're currently learning about. I walk out of our dormitory, waving Pansy goodbye, knowing we'll see each other at lunch.

Another reason why I hate history of magic is because I have to sit with Mattheo Riddle.

-

I walk in history of magic to see Y/n sitting down at our seat at the back of the class. I've always liked sitting at the back of class since the teachers can't really hear conversations from the front, especially Binns. His hearing isn't the best since he is a ghost.

I pretend I don't see Y/n as I begin to walk towards our seat, I look down at my shoes before looking at Y/n and sitting down. Her hair is down today. I always liked her with her hair down. Her hair is so long her hair reaches down to her chair. "L/n" I greet. "Riddle." She replies back, looking at me, before looking away, fidgeting with her quill. I can tell my presence makes her nervous. I sit down, making sure my knee makes content with hers. She quickly pulls her knee away. Then Binns floats in, sitting down in his dusty seat.

"Ahem." He says quietly.

-

I watch as Mattheo walks in the room. He looks around before walking to our seat. I let out a shakey breath as he sits down, his knee touching me. I pull mine away as I fidget with my quill. Then Professor Binns comes into the room, floating towards his desk. I snap out of my trance, pulling out my parchment paper. Mattheo begins to bop his leg up and down. I can't focus. I can barely focus in the first place when he's next to me. He's so close to me I can practically feel his hot breath on me. I pretend I'm not bothered by this and coutine writing my notes. But I can't help but get this feeling that he's staring at me. I slowly look to my side to see him staring deep into my soul. My head is slightly pounding. I can't tell if it's because I have a headache or this forced proximity.

"Have a staring problem, Riddle?" I scoff, looking up at him. "Something like that." He mutters. I look away, trying my best to focus, but I have this constant ringing throughout my head. I can still feel him staring at me, I wonder if I have anything on my face? I nonchalantly placed my hand on my face to try to rub anything off of it, but nothing. I wonder why he's staring? Maybe he thinks I'm pretty, i mean, i doubt it.. but I wouldn't be upset. In fact, i would be glad.

I do think you're pretty, gorgeous, in fact.

A voice pops into my head. What the hell was that? I most definitely did not think that at all -

"Mattheo, did you say something?" I ask, looking at him. "No?" He says innocently. His puppy dog eyes looking at me. "Oh, never mind then.." I say with a hint of embrassment. Did I bang my head or something? Why am I hearing voices. Maybe I'm insane - I wouldn't be surprised if I was insane. I bet Mattheo thinks I'm also insane.

You are insane.

This time, I jerk my head to Mattheo. He's peacefully listening to the listen, an amused look on his face. "Mattheo Riddle!" I whisper. "What?" He says. "I heard that - I'm not insane!" I reply back, pointing a finger at him.

"Y/n, are you feeling alright? Do you need to be taken down to the hospital wing, I can take you there if you want." He asks, a smile on his smug face.

"I'm not crazy- I heard you in my head!" I say. "That sounds pretty insane to me." He shrugs. "You're not helping!" I exclaim, slamming my hands on the desk. Gosh! Why did Mattheo have to be like this, so annoying, so infuriating, so cute - wait no. Not cute, definitely not cute!

You think i'm cute

The same voice hums in my head. I groan in frustration. Then an idea pops into my head, I doubt it'll work but it's worth a shot.

Mattheo?

I think to myself.

Yes, Love?

My lips part as I look over at him, he makes eye contact with me, but his expression doesn't change.

How..are you doing that..?

Magic

His voice echos throughout my head.

Haha, very funny

I reply back.

I know i am.

I scoff, fidgeting with my quill.

Sooo, you think im cute..?

No! No i don't.

I protest, even though I'm lying.

Your thoughts a few minutes ago says otherwise.

Shut up Riddle, practically everyone thinks you're cute, but that surely doesn't excuse your high ego.

So, you think I'm cute?

He hums, his voice has a tone of amusement.

Okay, fine! You're cute. Whatever.

Good, because I think you're cute aswell.

My jaw practically drops, Mattheo Riddle thinks I'm cute?

Then images of me and Mattheo passionately making out behind a pillar, his hands roaming all over my body.

Mattheo, what the fuck!

We both know you want this.

He's right, I do want this. I want this more than anything. My breath hitches.

Your right Mattheo, I do want this.

Good. Meet me after class, no excuses.

I don't reply, but instead, I just nod. Suddenly, more images of us together flash my mind, Mattheo slams me against the wall, his hands all over my body, as he kisses me roughly. I feel a warm feeling within my stomach, I check the clock, fifteen minutes left, I don't know if I can wait any longer. My leg bobs up and down. I then feel a hand on my thigh, I look down to see Mattheos' hand placed on my thigh. His hand caresses my thigh. I shift in my seat, butterflies flooding my lower stomach.

-

After 15 minutes, Binns dismisses us, Mattheo instantly gets up, collects his stuff, and practically runs out of the class. I usually take my time. I look down at my notes. The only thing written down is my name and the title and one single sentence. I let out a frustrated groan, this better have been worth it.

I collect my books, I hold them up to my chest as I walk out. I look around to see Mattheo behind a pillar - similar to the one in the images, smoking a cigarette, he holds the cigarette against his lips as he spots me. I awkwardly walk towards him.

"Hi, Mattheo." I greet him.

"Hi, Y/n." He greets back, throwing the cigarette on the ground and stomping on it with his shoe.

I walk closer to him. He looks me up and down, I'm so close to him i can feel his body heat. "Drop the books, L/n." He demands, and so i do. He pulls me in by my school tie and smashes his lips onto mine. His lips still taste like cigarettes. Just like the images, his hands roam all around my body, tracing every detail of it. I cup his cheek as he lets out a soft whimper. My heart melts at this.

"Y/n, skip class with me. Come to my dorm, please." He asks, I nod, grabbing his hand.

You can probably guess what happend at his dormitory.

-

A/n; I love this. Click this link to learn more about me/request info.

Click this for my masterlink.

[prythiansprincess]

mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same. 

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.” 

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday. 

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.” 

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?” 

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes. 

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman. 

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him. 

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.” 

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.” 

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile. 

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously. 

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.” 

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?” 

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."  

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light. 

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.” 

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.” 

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater. 

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach. 

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock. 

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life. 

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater. 

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment. 

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you. 

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend. 

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.” 

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?” 

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.” 

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.” 

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted. 

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper. 

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?” 

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity. 

“You love me?” 

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go. 

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss. 

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin. 

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner. 

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

[deadsetobsessions]

There’s a child wandering the streets of Crime Alley. Unfortunately, this is nothing new for the area, riddled with crime and homelessness as it is. However, Red Hood and Nightwing are vigilantes and helping lost looking children is firmly in their job description. Plus, Crime Alley is Red Hood’s. He protects what’s his. With a single shared look, the brothers swung down to the child clad in just a white dress and some thin flats completely unsuitable for Gotham’s worsening weather. Hell it’s be unsuitable for the general poor weather.

“Hey, kiddo.”

The girl’s head swung to lock gazes with the duo, eyes blinking blue- and green? Red Hood allowed his brother- he worked so hard to beat down the pit madness in order for Nightwing to even remain near- to take the lead.

“Oh. There you are.” She said, turning to face them fully. The kid’s face filled with relief.

Nightwing blinked.

“You were looking for us?” His soft voice saved for children firmed into something more serious, more concerned.

“Mmhm. I was looking for Red Hood, but you’re a good bonus.”

“And why were you looking for me, kid?” Red Hood interjects. He knows Dickolas is clocking the same things he is: the kid’s white whispy hair, pale face, and… Lazarus green eyes? It’s more solid now, that she’s looking at Jason.

Dick straightened, eyes going heavy as he looks at this wisp of a girl. He’s fiercely protective of Jason and they’re both equally wary of the League of Assassins. Still, the two of them couldn’t help but let their guard down a bit because this was still a child they’re talking to.

“Because… um. Did you know you’ve died?”

Hood stiffened, hand going towards his guns. Granted, they’re rubber bullets, but the kid clocks that immediately. She threw her hands up in the universal gesture of “I’m unarmed and mean no harm.”

“I- well, to put it frankly, you kind of… stink?”

“What.”

“Ugh, I’m totally messing this up!”

��Why don’t you start again?” Dick said, shifting into a subtler fighting stance. He kept his voice light, but Jason saw the way his hands inched towards the scrims sticks. Distantly, Jason thought it was hilarious that this tiny kid could evoke that kind of response. Looking into Lazarus green eyes though, he couldn’t find the humor anywhere. The worst thing, though, is that the pit quieted. The rage the bubbled incessantly underneath his skin calmed. Jason did not like feeling bereft of the rage, not when he didn’t know why it was gone. He had just gained control of it, minimally, and to have that control be unnecessary left the vigilantes off kilter.

“Right, okay, sorry. Um, did you, uh, die and wake up surrounded by glowing green stuff?”

Before Jason could reply ‘yes, and why the hell do you know that?’, the kid continued with, “Because me too!”

She did jazz hands as Jason’s and Dick’s brains short circuited. Jason thought he even heard a little “yay!”

“What.” Jason sputtered out. His stomach and heart clenched as he thought about how young the kid looked. Fuck.

“Yeah. So, anyways-”

“Don’t speed past that like you didn’t say what you just said!” Dick interrupted, hand tugging at his hair in distress. His body language slipped from battle ready to extremely distressed. “You died?”

“You were- you were dipped in the Lazarus pits?!” Jason felt the need to address that specific point.

“I mean, it’s not that important? The important thing is- wait, what’s a Lazarus pit?”

Jason froze again. She didn’t know what they were?

“It’s… the glowing green stuff.” Dick answered her.

“Oh. Is that what you were dipped in?” She tilted her head at Jason. He nodded, wariness climbing. “Oh. Well, I mean, that’s not we call it. But the stuff you were dipped in, it’s rank. Contaminated.”

Jason thinks back to the burning, drowning green. The agony he felt as it slipped into his mouth and nose and his very being.

“It was bubbling.” He said. The girl grimaced. Jason had no idea why he was being so honest with this kid.

“Gross. Anyways, I can, like, help you with that?”

“With what?” Dick asked, eyes darting from the girl to Jason.

The girl groaned. “Okay, so I guess you guys are kind of new. Uh, the contaminated green stuff,” she points at Jason’s chest. “That’s making you angry, right? Leaving you in the backseat of your head as your body breaks whatever got you angry to begin with and you have no control over it?”

“…The pit madness.” Jason mumbled, feeling numb. “Yeah.”

“…Right. I can help you clear that out,” she pauses, fidgeting. “If… If you help me talk to Batman? It’s kind of… urgent.”

“Batman?”

“Why?”

“Uh. There’s kind of… a whole mad scientist thing going on and like… experimentation and dissections… you know?” The kid waved her arms around, distressed.

Dick and Jason unfortunately did know.

“Cave?” Jason grumbled.

“Cave.”

“Okay, we’ll bring you to the cave. Then you tell us everything.”

“Really?”

She looked up at them hopefully, and Jason could see the moment Dickolas melted. Not that Jason could say anything, since he was already taking off his jacket and bundling the kid in it.

“Um.”

“Who the hell let you walk around Gotham like that?” He scowled down at her, not that she could see it with the red helmet in the way. Dick looked at him carefully, eyes roving over the oddly relaxed state his little wing was in.

The kid shrugged. Jason sighs.

“What’s your name?” Dick asked. Scooping her up, the blue and black clad raised his free arm to grapple away. Jason follows him, heading towards the motorcycles they’ve got parked nearby.

“Dani. With an I.”

“Nice to meet you, Dani. I’m Nightwing. This is my… this is Red Hood.”

“Okay. Cool.”