#marcus lopez x y/n

[lucifertoxics]

jealousy, jealousy: marcus lopez

| pairing: marcus lopez x reader

| genre: situationship with a one night stand

| warnings: angst, minors dni

| word count: 1.5k

| aura's note: i had this scenario in my head for more than a month, but now i finally managed to write it, so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

He didn't truly think that he would get too attached to what was supposed to be a one time thing. Marcus didn't think the situationship you two had would escalate. He wanted to be the only one that could feel you, see the way the corner of your lips upturn whenever he made a small joke.

One that wanted to make you laugh at. And now that he saw you teasingly flirt with another guy, it pissed him off. He wanted to go over there and beat the shit out of the guy, and the kiss you in front of him.

You look over to him, finally hearing the doorbell ring, knowing that it was time to go to class. That's when you and the boy stop talking, as he left to go class, that's when you left to do the same thing.

He saw you leave the boy and walk away, his fingers twitched and he wanted to chase after you, but he knew he couldn't. You weren't dating. You two were just messing around and didn't label it anymore. Just casual hooking up and flirting. He was supposed to be okay with that. He leaned back on his leaning chair and groaned, burying his head in his arms and rubbing his temples. "Dammit, Marcus..."

You knew he was a jealous man, the moment he layed his eyes on you. After the class ended, you had to get to him, knowing that he was now jealous at you for talking to that guy.

Marcus was leaning on the railing, arms crossed and fingers twitching when he spotted you. his teeth were gritted as his eyebrow twitched. You can see some of the veins on his temples pop out but he was trying to keep himself from exploding. "Hey" he said, sounding rather annoyed. "Got a hot date after school then?"

You roll your eyes annoyed by his jealousy, that's when you decide to wrap your hands around his neck, carressing his cheek, pouting a bit. Hoping it can convince him to not be so mad at that guy. "I don't like him, he's kinda boring anyways."

"So you only flirt with boring men? Damn, that's a new one." He glared at you, but it faded slightly when you wrapped your arms around his neck. He felt your touch on his cheek. His lips parted when he saw you pout, and leaned a bit closer just so he'd get a reaction out of you. He didn't expect you to do that. He expected you to get annoyed, but not to pout. His eeys widened slightly. He was surprised.

"Since when do you call yourself boring." You say in a teasing voice. "And yes, maybe i was flirting, maybe i wasn't, depends on you, but if you call talking about homework flirting, maybe we should talk abour homework more." You say teasingly while giggling.

His lip twitched and he let out a soft laugh. He was trying so hard to stay angry at you. He was trying so, so hard. You couldn't hear his thoughts, but he was thinking about how much he'd love to see you pouting while he pinned you against the wall and rubbed his fingers through your curls and kissed you right there...but he was supposed to be furious. He was supposed to tell you off. "Oh so now you're a tease?" He asked playfully.

"Don't tell me you were jealous" You said pushing his shoulder playfully. "And from the way you were looking at that guy, you could have killed him right there." You said giggling, still teasing him.

"Maybe i was, hm?" He shot you a playful grin, wrapping his hand around your wrist to pull you closer. You were so small, even though Marcus was only 5'11. "And are you saying that you don't want me to be jealous? You like making me jealous?" He asked in a teasing way, and that seemed to make him less angry. He loosened his hold on your wrist and he moved a step closer. The two of you were so close together that he could breathe in the scent of your hair.

"Let's say that you look hot when you're jealous." You said breathing heavily, as soon as he was close to you. You whispered the word "hot", feeling too embarassed to say it boldly into his face. "And i like seeing you that way."

His heart raced when he heard you say that, and he had to force himself to not close the distance any further. He wasn't dating you, so he couldn't even act on the urge to kiss you. But it was a temption one. A very tempting one. "So you like seeing me jealous, huh..." His lips parted when he spoke and his gaze dropped onto your lips. He tried hard to hold back but he couldn't do it anymore, He brought his lips closer to yours.

"Mhm" You nod, still maintaining eye contact. That's when you found yourself looking at his lips, biting yours. "And possesive...it's just...hard to explain..." You said breathing heavily, wrapping your hands around his neck, leaning in.

He couldn't help but let out a soft grunt when you wrapped your hands around his neck. It was a move that was quite new, but he enjoyed how bold you were all of a sudden. His hands wandered to your waist, his head tilting a bit as you both got closer. It was like his body was taking over. A surge of excitement and adrenaline shot up as he leaned in, and after a long anticipation, his lips brushed yours.

You kissed him back, coming closer with your body to his. Playing with his hair as the two of you continued to kiss. You were on your tiptoes to manage to kiss him as he was taller than you expected.

Marcus’s hands traveled to your hips and he held you there as the two of you pressed against each other. He enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his. The taste of your tongue, your fingers twisting in his hair, the way your breath hitched as he pulled you closer to him. His lips felt so warm against yours, so soft and smooth. The adrenaline kept pumping. The rush of emotions all at once was a lot, but he didn’t care. He just cared that he was kissing you.

After the kiss, you managed to catch your breath. That's when you realised, as you looked at him, that almost everyone in the school saw the two of you kiss. Nuzzling your head into Marcus chest, feeling embarassed.

He wrapped his arms around your waist more tightly as he felt you nuzzle your head into his chest. He kissed your head a couple of times before he looked up and around the area to see if anyone was still staring. A few were, but quickly averted their eyes and just pretended that they didn’t see anything. Marcus chuckled and he pulled back, looking down at you. One side of his lips turned up into a playful grin. He raised his hands and held your chin. "Embarrassed?"

"A bit" You said looking at him. "I just wasn't sure that you would want to make this official." You said on a teasing tone, blushing a bit.

"Ah, that depends." His eyes twinkled, his hands were still curled around your chin. He was just teasing you at this point and his grin only got wider as he saw your blush. His finger traced the outline of your bottom lip. "Would you want to make it official?" He asked jokingly, as if he wasn’t the one who kissed you in front of an entire crowd…

"I wouldn't mind." You said while biting your lip, feeling embarased still keeping eye contact. "I mean we have been on and off for some time and since you don't want me to talk to other guys.." You said, feeling your words trailing off, in a teasing tone.

"Hmm, really?" He looked down at the little pout on your lips, your eyes looked quite cute when you were that way. He couldn’t say no to you, even if he was joking. The feeling of being possessive was a rush itself. He liked the thought of you all to himself. His finger traced that pouty lower lip of yours. "And are you going to be a good little girlfriend if we do?" He asked teasingly but there was a small tint of possessiveness to it.

"Maybe a bad little girlfriend." You said tilting your head, kissing his cheek. "You know i've never been a good girl."

He let out a small cough in an attempt to stop his chuckle but it escaped a little too late. He found it adorable that you were acting all tough and sassy, thinking that it’ll throw him off, but the truth is that he was enjoying it a lot. He didn’t care if you were bad. He couldn’t deny that he liked it a lot. "Maybe that’s what I want." He said, and his arms wrapped around you tighter.

© LUCIFERTOXICS ⎯ do not translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[halucynator]

LUCY BESTIE I GOT A FIC IDEA THE READER ABSOLUTELY JAW DROPPED SHOCKED LIKE REALLY REALLY SHOCKED WHEN SHE SEES MATTHEO TAKE HIS SHIRT OFF AND SHES HIS ABS, ARM VIENS, HANDS- AND SHE FOLDS LIKE A TACO-

Red Wine

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, kissing lmk if there are anymore

Summary: where your best friend, Pansy, "accidentally" spills wine on Mattheo at a Slytherin Party and volunteers you to help him clean up.

Hope this is to your liking 💕

Reader is Slytherin x the divider is by @firefly-graphics xx check them out for more!! This is their post with the dividers x

You entered the Great Hall and walked up to the Slytherin table. The table was filled with chatters about the Slytherin Party happening this very evening. Your head was kinda hurting so you decided not to go. Until...

"Y/n darling! You can't turn down an invitation to a party! Especially not a Slytherin one!" Pansy said appalled at your decision as you sat in your dorm.

"Pansy my head is throbbing." You replied trying to convince her.

"No way. You are going to that party. Mattheo will be there! And I know how much you like him." Pansy said far too loud.

"Louder Pansy. I don't think they heard you over at the boys dorms." You said irritated at the fact that she spilled your secret.

"Sorry." She muttered slightly taken aback. "Please come! I promise I'll make it worth you while."

"Ok fine. Wait what do you mean?" You asked.

"You'll see." She smirked to herself.

You got into a green body fitting dress, exaggerating your curves. You had to admit you looked stunning. You paired it with black heels that Pansy let you borrow and silver snake earrings as well as a necklace. You had your hair in a bun with a few strands out at the front which you curled.

"Wow! Darling you look amazing!" Pansy said as she saw you all ready.

"Thanks!" You replied smiling at her.

As you and Pansy walked down the stairs, your friends stared at you in shock. One of them being Mattheo.

Pansy was daring so her response didn't shock you.

"I know we're hot but you might want to close your mouth before your jaw falls off." She said making you chuckle and lightly smack her arm.

"Pansy!" You exclaimed as you giggled.

"You look nice." Mattheo complemented you.

"just nice?" You joked.

"I mean, very nice. Like gorgeous i-" Mattheo said flustered.

"I'm joking. You don't look too bad yourself. Turns out you clean up way better than I expected.". You cut him off before he had a crisis. He softly smiled at you as you noticed he was... blushing?

You and your friends sat in the back corner of the room as you usually did. None of you were heavily into the dancing and the lights. You were just there for the alcohol.

You and Pansy went to grab drinks. Pansy got red wine which you found weird since she never was fond of it.

"I didn't know you liked red wine." You said.

"Does the job." She replied.

"Wh-" you began.

"Careful, your drinks gonna fall!" Pansy exclaimed as she saw you tilting your glass unconciously.

"Oh shit! Thanks." You replied.

You walked back to the table where your friends were sat. You saw Pansy pull a face as she gulped down the wine. You sat down next to Mattheo. As she went to take the seat next to you, she tripped due to the table leg and spilled her red wine all over Mattheo's white suit.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Pansy exclaimed.

Mattheo took a deep breath before responding.

"It's fine." He muttered. "Unfortunately all my white shirts have just been washed so I don't have any spare."

You stared at Pansy in disbelief refusing to believe it was an accident. You saw right through her little facade. Pansy gave you a look to say something, but in that moment you had no idea what to say.

"Y/n has some spare oversized shirts she could lend you?" Pansy suggested. "Don't you y/n?" She nudged.

"Uh... yeah yeah! I have some spare oversized shirts, if you can just follow me to my dorm." You said realising Pansy's endeavour.

"No it's fine I don't want to bother you." Mattheo replied.

"Don't worry about it!" You said. Mattheo gave in and followed you to your dorm.

You took a towel and wiped off the red wine before reaching in to your cupboard and grabbing the shirt.

As you turned around you saw Mattheo unbuttoning his shirt and your jaw dropped. You almost dropped the shirt in your hands on the floor.

His abs, his arms and his hands were perfect. He was perfect.

"I know I'm hot but you might want to close your mouth before your jaw falls off." Mattheo repeated Pansy's exact words, smirking as he did so.

"Sorry I- I should probably turn around." You said flustered.

"No, I don't mind. Unless you do, that is?" Mattheo questioned.

"Looking at those abs? Fuck no, I don't." You said half joking as you turned around still blushing. He chuckled.

When Mattheo was fully dressed you suggested that you both go down back to the party before anyone got suspicious.

"Will they be wrong?" He asked.

"What do you-" you started. Before you could finish your sentence his lips were on yours. The moment was surreal and you wished it would last forever.

Fucking Pansy and her red wine.

[leona-hawthorne]

you cannot tell me that mattheo riddle wouldn’t be the most vocal bitch during sex.

groans, whimpers, whining, you name it. that man is not afraid to show you how fucking good you feel around him. why would he bite back his moans when he gets the blessing of being surrounded by your warmth?

you wrap your legs around his waist while he’s pounding his hips against yours, locking your ankles around his back, and he’s seeing stars, crying out your name with his eyes squeezed shut.

your nails hauntingly rake down his back, no doubt leaving countless marks, and he lets out a hiss, a mixture of pleasure and pain as he bites into your neck, his chest heaving.

don’t even get me started on the dirty talk, he is the absolute king.

“you're so fucking wet for me. i can feel you dripping down my cock.” “fuck, you're perfect. say my name, pretty girl.” “you're so damn beautiful, love. i could fuck you for hours and never get enough. you want that? you want me to fuck you for hours until you can't walk straight?”

and trust when i say he needs you to be vocal too. he needs you whimpering and stuttering over your words as your pussy clenches around him.

he’ll groan when you bite into his shoulder to silence your moans before grabbing you by the chin and yanking your mouth away. if he sees your palm cover your pretty lips to muffle your moans, he’ll grab that wrist and hold it above your head until he’s done with you.

he needs to hear every single reaction you have, needs to hear you screaming his name and begging for more. if he doesn’t hear how good he made you feel, what was the point of fucking you at all?

and by the time you’re writhing around the sheets and coming undone, reduced to nothing but a moaning mess of yourself, he’ll hold back from cumming with you just so he can bring you to the edge all over again. just so he can hear more of those pretty noises.

“you’re so fucking tight, i can feel you squeezing me. you’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you? you want more? beg for it.”

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆boyfriend!mattheo⋆

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who loves you sooooo much that he’s actually willing to change his ways and become a better boyfriend person for you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who has a soft spot for you and only you. you see a side of him no one else does. not just the soft side, but also the goofy and silly side, the one who smiles and laughs at tiny first years falling over the weight of their bags

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who always complains about how he hates things that taste too sweet (basically any little snack you keep in your room) but nevertheless without fail they will all end up missing by the end of the week..

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who doesn’t like going to sleep early but he will, because you do, just so he can fall asleep next to you. and if he doesn’t fall asleep he’ll watch you laying next to him, memorising every little detail of your face (in the most non-creepy way😁)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who acts like he doesn’t care if he sees you talking to any guy, even if it’s literally in class, but when he goes back to his shared dorm his friends will literally never hear the end of it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who will by any means kill for you, even if it’s the old lady who barkeeps at the Three Broomsticks who glares at you anytime you walk in.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who pretends to hate your 2000s netflix tv shows, but every time georgina reappears every season he always has something to say about it..

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who loves to spoil you and let you have your way, even when you’re bitching and complaining his ear off, he will always do what you ask him to.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who always steals your expensive shampoo and conditioner because he thinks his simply ‘doesn’t work on him anymore’

⊹ ࣪ ˖ boyfriend!mattheo who’s basically redecorated his entire dorm and bathroom so that you’ll like it more and feel more inclined to stay the night at his

#am i back? yes #will i reclaim this corner of the internet permanently? probably not😬 #completely random and off the top of my head so yeah enjoy x

[slytherinslut0]

Mattheo Riddle. | We Are Done

Info: Mattheo calls things off during a nasty fight where you were only expressing your concern for his safety, putting an end to your months-long complicated fling. When he inevitably gets hurt and finds himself in the hospital wing as a result of his recklessness, you pay him a little visit, eager to get your revenge.

Word count: 5k

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Toxic Behaviours, Sadism, Masochism, Intense Bloodplay, Restraint, Dom!Reader, Sub!Mattheo, Begging, PIV, Sexual Punishment, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation.

A/N: went all the way to the depths of hell for this one☠️

The journey from the bustling opulence of the Great Hall to the clinical confines of the hospital wing unfolded like a protracted soul-search, nearly forty minutes of introspection that could have singlehandedly redefined the word regret.

A seething turmoil churned within, its intensity drawn solely from the arid kindling of memories involving your ex fling, Mattheo Riddle. Despite the passing week of newfound solitude, the inner maelstrom showed no fucking signs of abating.

The recollection of your fleeting intimate moments swarmed you, a ceaseless loop that played out in the theater of your mind--like an unresolved holodrama with seemingly no fucking end.

His imprint stained every fragment of your life; in the solitude of the shower, mental echoes followed the course of water, little rivers reminding you of the ones tracing intricate paths down his sculpted physique. Within the shared space of the common room, the mental tableau featured his fingers engaging in an intimate ballet, leaving the taste of his lips lingering in your mouth as they ever-so-dominantly stifled your lusty sounds.

And somehow, that wasn't even the worst of it. Oh, not even close. It was during the nocturnal realm that the memories unfolded their cruelest chapters.

In the shroud of night, it transcended beyond the mere visual replay of his figure dominating yours, or the sensory exploration of his hands traversing the curves of your body. It wasn't just the recollection of his teeth sinking into your neck that lingered. No, the intricacies of your mind wove a far, far more nuanced tapestry.

Nighttime summoned forth the vivid recollection of the encompassing warmth emanating from his broad chest, the haven discovered within the embrace of his strong arms, and the fragrant allure of his messy hair, intertwining with the visceral memories of each intimate encounter. His burning gaze that had seared into your consciousness was more than a mere look; it was an indelible mark, haunting the very core of your thoughts with the echoes of shared passion.

These were the nocturnal specters that besieged you behind closed lids, engaging in an unwelcome dance as you wrestled with the elusive embrace of sleep. These very memories, like a relentless blacksmith, stoked the inferno within, leaving behind the most acrid, bitter residue on your tongue--a taste of anguish and betrayal.

The haunting question echoed through the corridors of your thoughts: why had he subjected you to this intimate claiming, an emotional prison woven with shared intensity, only to abruptly extinguish it with the cold finality of three, sad little words.

"We are done."

And thus, even after the amount of passing time, all it took was a single sideways glance exchanged between Pansy and Draco during their spirited debate over impending assignments to inspire the catalyst for your abrupt departure. With a forceful clatter, you slammed down your fork and pushed up from the table, commencing a determined march into the unknown.

Their speculative gazes undoubtedly trailed your abrupt exit, but you paid no heed. The entire school was privy to the fact that you and Mattheo were done, seemingly officially this time--terminated by a colossal spat prior to one of his ludicrous nighttime escapades in the forbidden forest. Mattheo's hospitalization, a testament to the recklessness that marked him and his band of fools, left him nursing scratches, cuts, bruises, and a sizable gash on his lower abdomen.

Pansy's calls faded into the periphery as you strode away, your indifference resonating louder than any response could convey. The world around you blurred into inconsequential background noise, drowned out by the burgeoning tangle of spite that commandeered your thoughts. Initially relegated to the forefront, this resentment had now metastasized, occupying every crevice of your headspace.

The recollection of his outburst haunted you, a violent reaction triggered by your attempt to dissuade him from venturing into the forbidden forest. Advising caution, you found yourself confronted with accusations of control and a stifling of his fucking freedom. Hurtful words cascaded from his lips during that argument, culminating before he recklessly endangered himself in the perilous forest. All the moments of vulnerability you shared with him, surrendering yourself without reservation, only to be met with his callousness when you were simply trying to safeguard him.

And as the embers of revenge blazed within, so did the deafening roar for closure. The need to settle the score and the yearning for resolution thrived in the wake of an emotional maelstrom.

‘We are done’ felt insufficient—it couldn't conclude there. You wouldn't fucking allow it.

Approaching the hospital wing doors, a surprising fortitude replaced any expectation of your confidence wilting under the imposing pressure. Strangely, a heightened anger welled within you, as though Mattheo Riddle were the sun, each step forward intensifying the scorching heat enveloping you. With a decisive gesture, you flung the door open, your breath held in suspense as your eyes canvassed the beds. Yet, he remained conspicuously absent, amplifying the frenetic flutter in your heart into an unrestrained whirlwind.

"Miss? May I help you with something?"

You pivoted sharply, eyes ablaze, as if embers sparked from your gaze. "Mr. Riddle. Mattheo. Where is he?"

The nurse swallowed, brows furrowed in confusion, but she cautiously gestured toward the hall, taking a step forward. "We moved him into a private room yesterday. His father requested it. Third door to the left."

Your eyes rolled involuntarily as you turned away,  a silent commentary on the absurdity before you. Suppressing the impulse to scoff required a fucking Herculean effort--of course, his father would demand a private room for him. The bloody entitlement was as predictable as Mattheo's suffocating arrogance.

As your determined march neared its end, you found yourself standing before the designated door, caught in a tumult of fear and fury. Fingers trembled, folding in waves in a futile attempt to expel the excess energy coursing through your veins. This ritual had proved futile throughout the previous week, and it yielded no different results now. A frustrated exhale escaped through your nose as you charged through the doorway, propelled by a relentless surge of emotion.

Mattheo Riddle's vulnerability exceeded all expectations as he lay in his opulent private chamber. Shirtless, his body displayed a cruel artwork of black and blue hues, stretching beyond the healing gash on his abdomen. A chaotic tapestry of scratches adorned his shoulders, arms, neck, and the once flawless canvas of his face, now disrupted by a thin, blistering line over the bridge of his nose. A swallow lodged in your throat as you beheld him, a striking portrait of agony that rendered him almost unrecognizable.

"Why the hell are you here?" He stared at you, expression vacant. "Can't you comprehend simple instructions?"

With a cool, unwavering gaze, you shot back, "And miss the chance to witness your glorious downfall? Not a fucking chance, Riddle."

Mattheo clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply as he adjusted against the sheets. "You're insufferable."

You sneered, advancing with measured steps. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

Advancing, you scrutinized his form, taking in the mosaic of fresh scars that adorned his skin. Arriving at the bedside, your gaze drifted downward, noting that beneath his waist, he was clad only in boxers. A scant, white sheet was the sole guardian of whatever remained of his dignity.

Mattheo's snarl reverberated in the room. "If you're here to extend your fucking pity, please, spare me."

A sharp retort escaped your lips, your eyes dancing with a hint of amusement. "Oh, I'm not offering pity...though you do present quite the pitiable fucking sight, I'll give you that."

"Then what the fuck do you want?" Mattheo's voice carried an edge, his eyes narrowing with impatience. “I told you, we are done.���

A pregnant pause filled the room as you let his question linger, a mental reel replaying the relentless week of torment he had unleashed upon you. Your gaze lingered on his tousled chocolate curls and once-enticing plush lips, forcing yourself to traverse the memories of months marked by a tumultuous dance between pain and pleasure. The realization hit like a sledgehammer--all those moments, the highs and lows, seemed to have led to an abyss of pure fucking nothingness.

A furrow etched your brow as you looked down at him. "It's unbelievable that I let myself get ensnared into feeling something for you."

"Your feelings were your own choice," he quipped, his head falling back with an air of indifference, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Don't blame me for your poor judgment."

Your frown etched deeper lines on your face, the surge of anger unmistakable. "Regardless, you still manipulated me like a fucking puppet."

"Amusing how complaints disappeared when you were screaming for more every damn night," he retorted, lids fluttering with evident irritation. "Your anger's just a cover for the fact that you'll have to find a new playmate now...have fun chasing those highs, princess, but I promise you'll only end up disappointed."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, gaze narrowing into a potent mix of anger and hurt. "You're a real fucking prick, you know that?"

Mattheo regarded you with eyes that seemed to hold nothing but emptiness. His silent response coaxed your hands to curl into tight fists, and your chin to tremble with the pressure of boiling blood. You hadn't come here for him to treat you like a mere specter, to act as if you were invisible, as if you were nothing--something you knew you had never been. And still weren't.

"Answer me," you hissed, your voice shaking with a blend of frustration and desperation.

He remained silent, his gaze an unyielding anchor in the stormy sea of your emotions. The void in his pupils became increasingly maddening, an inscrutable abyss that left you grappling with the uncertainty of what the fuck he was even thinking right now.

"Answer me, Riddle." Your demand sliced through the air, a fervent plea for any sign of acknowledgment.

But he remained stubbornly mute.

Your chest surged with frustration, the world momentarily blurring in your escalating anger. "Say something, damn it!"

It was only when the sting of his skin met the back of your hand, and red streaks of blood marked your knuckles, that you realized you had slapped him, reopening the scab on his cheek. Yet, that wasn't the shocking part--though it certainly played a role--what truly stunned you was the quiet, wanton moan that escaped Mattheo's lips, his lids fluttering while his body tensed against the bed. In awe, you gulped.

And then, a peculiar, wicked force stirred within, a voracious entity feeding on the months of torment he had subjected you to. Something that hungered for more.

So, succumbing to its dark allure, you withdrew your hand and unleashed another sharp, resounding slap across his cheek. Blood painted his face, and Mattheo groaned, fingers clutching at the sheets as his hips thrust into the air, his arousal blatantly revealed beneath the fabric. Spellbound, you observed as he collapsed back onto the mattress, his eyes fluttering open, holding a gaze that teetered between vulnerability and desperation.

Between the conflicted expression in his eyes and the pulsating bulge between his legs, the sinister impulse within you deepened, intertwining with a more primal sensation. One unmistakably identified as pure, unbridled lust.

"You fucking like that, don't you?" You breathed, your lips twisting into a sadistic grin.

"Are you trying to hurt me, princess?" Mattheo's intense gaze focused on you, alternating between his increasing arousal and your exasperated expressions. "You'll have to put in more fucking effort than that..."

"Hm." You hummed, grin widening. "If you insist."

You locked on to Mattheo's gaze, feeling empowered by the way his normally stoic expression was now clouded with a burning need. With a coy smile, you swung your knee onto the hospital bed, letting your skirt ride up around your hips and exposing your panties. His brown eyes lingered between your legs, and you could feel the heat of his gaze against your skin as you climbed over him, straddling his strong thighs. He tensed as his eager cock twitched beneath you, silently begging for more.

The power dynamic between you had shifted so drastically in this moment. Mattheo Riddle, famed for his cunning and ruthlessness, was now completely at your fucking mercy. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing that you had the power to make him feel truly vulnerable.

"So weak," you spat, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you dipped your hips just enough to skim the head of his cock. The sight of his full-body convulsion was mesmerizing, and the shaky breath that left his lips told you everything you needed to know.

You could tell he was still in pain, but there was something else there too--desperation.

"Poor boy," you murmured, running your fingers down the curves of your own figure, taking pleasure in the sensation of your own heat as you slipped your hand between your thighs, caressing yourself. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Mattheo's eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open in a low groan. It was clear he was entranced by the sight of you touching yourself, and the way your words dripped with sinful seduction only added to his lust.

"Yes," he gritted out through clenched teeth, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "This is what I want."

"Look at you...so fucking needy..." you clucked your tongue and chuckled, extending out your free hand and running it along the wounded flesh of his chest, digging in with a little more force than you'd intended, judging by the groan that left his lips and the blood that split through the scab. "You're such a pathetic mess, Matty...it's almost too easy to control you like this..."

"Go to hell." His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing in his temple as he recognized the truth in your words. "You don't control fuck all."

"Oh, is that right?" you snarled, leaning forward and pushing your hands into his stomach, pressing down on his wound with added force, now. His face twisted in pain, and he let out a strained grunt. "How about now?"

Your heart was thundering with adrenaline, and while you had undoubtedly expected him to be furious at you for causing him harm, as he met your gaze, you saw something else entirely. There was a desperate need in his eyes, a yearning for more of the pain and pleasure that only you could provide. His lips were parted, his breaths coming in short gasps as he struggled to contain the sensations coursing through him. Despite the pain, there was a sense of longing that tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with a powerful desire for more of this intoxicating mixture.

"More," he whispered, his voice low and husky with need, barely above a breath. "Do it again."

"Oh, I don't fucking think so..." you sneered, your cunt clenching involuntarily at his request. But you were determined to make this man suffer. To humiliate him just as bad as he'd humiliated you, time and time again. "If you want something, you’ll have to ask for it nicely…I want to hear you beg for me."

Mattheo grunted again, bucking his hips, trying to grind back despite the pain of his injuries. Finding that impossible, his hands went to your waist, gliding up and down your thighs as he attempted to move you faster along his member, craning his head forward to get a better view. You scowled and smacked him away.

"I don't recall extending an invitation for your touch," you asserted, a glacial edge to your voice. "Why would I want your hands on me? After everything you've fucking done?"

His fingers balled into fists, exhaling when his head fell back against the pillow. You could feel him aching below you, already entirely fucking anxious to get inside of you. But then, he was still, hungry eyes trained on yours as he waited for your prompt.

"That's better," you purred, and found the next words coming out before you'd even thought them. "Good boy."

Your hips moved sinuously against his, a deliberate motion that left him breathless, his fists tensing against the desire to seize hold of your flesh. The surge of power was intoxicating, a heady blend with the fervor of your overwhelming desire and simmering rage. More than ever, your yearning for him to suffer consumed you. With a wicked grin, you lifted your hand to your lips, sensually running your tongue along the length of your crimson-stained fingers, sucking off the remnants of his blood. The sharp note of copper lit up your palate, sending a delightful shiver through your being.

"Mmm...you taste so good." You met his gaze between the long licks of your digits, his taste coating your mouth. "Wanna try?"

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze tracing the movement of your tongue as he moistened his lower lip. You enveloped one of your fingers with your lips, emitting a soft hum as you sensually cleaned it, gliding it in and out with deliberate slowness. Finally, you withdrew it with a wet pop, eyes rolling in dramatic effect.

Mattheo's jaw constricted, the sinews in his forearms taut from the tension in his fists. "Please..."

But you, unfazed, dipped your fingers back into the trail of blood leaking from his gash, adorning your skin with a bold red hue before returning them to your mouth.

"Mm, not good enough, I’m afraid..." you murmured, eyes twinkling with sadistic satisfaction. "You'll have to do much better than that, big boy..."

A growl echoed in Mattheo's throat while he gripped your thighs, pushing you down onto his swollen cock. His own hips thrust up against you, seeking any friction, any pressure at all from your heat. Frowning, you slapped his hand--and to your amazement, he pulled back, averting his gaze.

"These hands of yours are growing quite fucking insolent," you observed with a sly smile. "It's high time we addressed their rude misbehaviour."

A sinister grin etched across your lips as you shifted, smoothly extracting your wand from its thigh strap. With a deft flick, you summoned restraints, securing Mattheo's wrists to the metal headboard. His lips parted, eyes smouldering with desire, pulsating beneath you as the tightness closed around his wrists. Once finished, another few flicks ensured the door was locked, and the room was cloaked in a silencing charm.

"Much better," you said, tossing your wand aside. The gleam in your eye was almost maniacal as you reveled in the exquisite agony you were causing him, feeling a sense of power and control that you had never experienced before. "How's that feel, hm? Ready to utter those pleas for me, Riddle?"

"You're going to regret this, little witch..."  he spat out through gritted teeth, his gaze locked onto yours. "Nothing you could do to me is worse than the fate that awaits you when I get out of here…your days are fucking numbered."

Involuntarily, you clenched at his threat, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you dipped your fingers back into the pool of blood emanating from his wound--and with a decisive move, you seized his jaw with your free hand, thrusting your bloodied fingers past his teeth before he could voice a protest.

"Now isn't the time for your futile threats, Mattheo," you husked, tilting your head. Your fingers pushed forcefully into his throat, emphasizing your point. "Look how fucking pathetic you are...if only your friends could see you now...big tough guy, bound and gagged by his own bitch…it’s beautiful, really."

Abruptly, you withdrew your fingers, leaning back to assess your handiwork. His wrists were securely bound, a vivid red imprint gracing his skin, while his mouth shimmered with the subtle traces of his own blood. It was a tableau of perfection--humiliating yet exquisitely so. The image of him squirming against the taut restraints, his chest rising and falling with each desperate breath, compelled your hand between your legs. Sliding up your skirt, you explored through the delicate lace of your panties, skimming eagerly over your clit.

"Fuck," you murmured, glimpsing his mouth, “you look perfect like this."

This was retribution, and as you teased yourself while admiring the pathetic sight of him, thoughts buzzed with the torment he'd inflicted--the scalding intensity of his erratic behavior, the icy indifference he wielded, treating you with disdain, unfounded accusations of infidelity, and the frigid distance he maintained. The searing resentment flared as you recollected the havoc he'd wreaked upon your life.

It was months of emotional manipulation. A pattern that was impossible to acclimate to. His cycle of hot and cold, the relentless mistreatment, the baseless accusations, and the moments of aloofness, all preceding his inevitable return, pleading for your affection--this was the culmination of his deeds. More than anything, this was the reckoning he deserved.

"Come on, princess..." he muttered, eyes wide and pleading. "For Godrics sake, please...fucking please..."

A grin creeped across your lips, your heart leaping with excitement. You'd finally fucking broke him.

"There we go, Matty...that wasn't so hard, was it?" You purred, inching backwards along the length of his thighs, reaching out to pull the cover from his waist in an excruciatingly slow fashion, exposing his black briefs. "I love hearing you beg for me...you're being such a good boy..."

Mattheo's response came in the form of an exaggerated huff, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently pleading for your touch to alleviate the burning desire between his legs. Your grin expanded, reveling in the palpable tension.

"You want me to fuck you, Matty? Do you think you fucking deserve that?" You cooed as you caressed his erection through the fabric, glaring at him while he jerked and shook from your touch. It was incredible, watching him trying to thrust into your fist, whimpering, head lolling while you sped your ministrations. "Do you think you fucking deserve me?"

His groan reverberated, his body twitching beneath the firm clasp of your fingers. His lids fluttered, and his head arched back in a nearly imperceptible shake of denial.

"You never fucking deserved me, did you?" Your frustration at his silence echoed in the air as you delivered a sharp crack across his face, prompting a gasp from him. "Fucking answer me, Mattheo!"

"No!" he finally hissed, his knuckles whitening as his entire frame tensed. "Fuck! No! I didn’t…”

"That's right, you didn't…” you laughed, shaking your head. The sinful delight coursing through you at his torment was undeniable. "At least you can finally fucking admit it...a tiny step towards what might pass as progress, I suppose."

As Mattheo huffed, not daring to meet your eyes, you sighed, finally feeling as though some of your anger had dissipated. Not by much, but by enough. Granting him the smallest percentage of mercy, you wrapped your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, freeing his needy, throbbing cock--the length of his smooth heat springing back and slapping against his belly, a low groan leaving the depths of his throat as it did.

You clenched at the sight, the pool of heat in your abdomen expanding throughout your entire body now, your mouth practically watering at the mere vision of him. Just when you thought this whole thing couldn't get anymore perfect. Gods, he was undeniably fucking delicious.

"Tell me what you want, Mattheo..." you said, wrapping your fingers around his cock, slicking the bead of precum around the head, twisting your wrist as you stroked him. "Tell me what you need."

His eyelids pressed together in bliss as he panted, the rhythmic movement of his throat visible with each swallow. In the throes of pleasure, he surrendered himself to the intensity of your touch, the heat enveloping him in a cocoon of sensation.

"You..." was his only reply, head snapping back and forth, thighs tensing, cock twitching. "Please-fuck-"

"You like that?" you purred, biting your lip. "You like when I jerk your cock like this? Hm?"

Mattheo's jaw was slack with desire, his voice laced with breathy need, "yes..."

"Yeah?" You purred, tightening your grip, increasing your pace as you stroked him, leaning down slightly to spit on the tip, slicking your saliva along his shaft. "Who else could make you beg, huh? Who the fuck else can make you this fucking hard?"

"Fuck-" he choked, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, you could tell he was close. "No one-princess-fucking no one..."

"Mhm...that's fucking right, Riddle..." smiling, you threw your head back, your other hand resuming its motion on your clit, teasing yourself as you continued stroking him. "You know you can't fucking live without this...I don't know why you have to make things so goddamn complicated..."

"Fuck," he hissed, sputtering your name, "please, fuck me, please. I fucking need you."

"Shit...you're just spoiling me now," you mewled, your pussy clenching undoubtedly at his words. "Such a good boy...so eager to please me, hm?"

Mattheo released a long, exasperated sigh as you released him, shifting yourself closer. With a swift motion, you shimmied your panties to the side before you aligned his cock with your dripping core--the moan that escaped your throat was deep and lengthy as you sank onto him, feeling every inch of his hard, aching cock stretching you wide, filling you up with ease. Mattheo's body lifted from the bed in response, a sound somewhere between a sob and a scream escaping his chest as you enveloped him to the hilt. Leaning forward, you placed your palms on his stomach, shifting your weight to the heels of your hands as you began to slide up and down his shaft.

"Fuck," you breathed, lids fluttering. "I missed this cock...shit, you feel so good..."

Mattheo's only response was a string of shameless, guttural moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he surrendered to the potent mix of pleasure and pain. His body writhed beneath yours, his abdominals tightening in response to your movements. You panted heavily, bouncing up and down on his cock, taking pleasure in every inch of him slamming deep into your wet, eager pussy.

With each movement, you drove Mattheo wild with desire, listening to his moans grow louder and more intense with each passing moment.

Having control was entirely different--you were able to drag him into you, squeeze him tight with your walls while you slowed your pace, slam down onto him and make him howl. You watched him struggle below you, realizing he was trapped at his peak--and you were happy about it. This. This was close to what he deserved.

"I fucking hate you," you growled, the depth of your emotion evident in every word. "You embedded yourself into every part of my life and now you want to just fucking end things? Just go back to being fucking strangers? Over nothing?" Your voice cracked, the words flowing from your lips without restraint as you continued to ride him, hips moving in an untamed rhythm. "Why do you always fucking do this to me? Fuck-why?..."

Between his deep groans, his shuddering gasps as his wrists fighting their resistance, he managed to shake his head, his noises only growing louder the harder your rode him.

"I...I'm..." the words were forced through barred teeth, his eyes pleading for mercy. "I'm fucking sorry."

"Are you mine, Mattheo?" Your voice was strained with exertion, sweat growing on your forehead. "Were you ever fucking mine? Or was it all just a big game to you?"

"No,” he stammered, almost wincing. "No!"

Unable to resist the intense sensations coursing through you any longer, you brought your fingers back to your clit, setting a frenzied pace as you massaged the stiff nub with the pads of your fingers. You could feel Mattheo pulsing inside you, could feel his overly urgent need to cum, but right now, all that mattered was your own pleasure. As you worked yourself toward climax, your breaths grew ragged, soft moans escaping your lips as your body responded to your own touch. The pressure inside of you was building with each passing moment, urgent and insistent, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer.

"Say it," you panted, eyes rolling and body trembling as you slammed down on him again and again. "Tell me who you fucking belong to."

"Fuck-fuck..." he grunted, teeth bared, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "Please, princess...you keep squeezing me like that and I'm going to fucking cum-"

"If you want to cum, you'll fucking say it, Mattheo-" you practically moaned, entire body quivering with excitement. "Fuck-say it..."

A string of whimpers slipped past Mattheo's lips, his fists balled so tight it looked almost painful. "Fuck--you! I'm yours, fuck..."

Every word leaving you was a curse, and between every word was a strangled moan, resonating through your throat as you worked your clit fasting, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

"Gods, Matty, I'm going to cum," you moaned. "I'm going to cum on this thick fucking cock-fuck..."

Without being able to hold off any longer, you shattered, your hips jerking and twitching in an erratic rhythm, free hand digging into the flesh of his chest as you clenched and pulsed around him, forcing another onslaught of pleasured whimpers to leave his throat before he too reached his high--the tight heat of your orgasm sending him over the edge, twitching and thrashing beneath you as you continued riding him through your collective highs, not beginning to slow until the aftershocks began to rumble through you.

And after you stalled, you allowed yourself a moment to regain composure before you wearily eased yourself off him, releasing a prolonged breath--with a cautious movement, you reached over and gathered a sampling of your intertwined cum on the pads of your fingers, briskly bringing them up to his lips.

"Taste what I did to you," you murmured with a smirk, relishing in his groan against your flesh. Methodically, you glided your fingers against his bottom teeth, leisurely pulling them from his mouth. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

His breaths lingered in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of his silence, his eyes seemingly unable to leave your form. With deliberate movements, you leaned over, deftly undoing the restraints that bound him. As you meticulously adjusted your appearance back to its usual state, a mask of calm control, your gaze shifted towards the door, a calculated glance.

"May your recovery be swift, Riddle," you uttered with a tone that held a hint of farewell. "Until next time."

[doremimosasol]

⋆˙⟡ MATTHEO RIDDLE is the type of guy who wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. He’d need to be able touch you in any type of way at all times, gods it’d drive him crazy if you weren’t around.

Hands on your thigh during class or dinner, getting dangerously close to where they shouldn’t be in public. He’d test your limits all the time, aiming for that pathetic whine of yours, pleading for him to stop.

Small touches of his fingertips against yours when you’d walk through the hallway together, a tight grip though when it was packed during the busy hours of the day.

You’d be his personal stress ball, squeezing everything he’d be able to grab on your body. His favorite: thighs. boobs

He’d love to trace patterns on your back when you were sleepy, your head resting against his chest. He even made up his own game of you guessing what he’d drawn, rewarding you with a soft kiss each time you were right. He lies all the time, he’d give you kisses even when you were wrong, he just so desperately wanted your soft kisses. Man, was he a sucker for soft kisses.

Ruffling your hair every time he’d pass by, enjoying the small annoyed frown on your face when he slightly messed it up. You’d do it in return to annoy him, though his reaction went beyond just a small frown. He was just straight up mad, the poor boy spent hours in the morning to make his hair look the way that made every girl fall to their knees.

You on your knees, he’d thread his hands through your hair. Something he did during more cozy times too: when you were asleep, on his chest, when you were reading for him. But make or do sure not to read with your back leaning against his chest, because his hands would be between your legs in no time-

[girllblogging777]

𝑀𝐴𝑇𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑂 𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐷𝐿𝐸 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑁𝑆

↳ soft!mattheo because he’s just the best

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

✩ he has a diary full of sketches, poems, random quotes and all of his thoughts. it’s messy but somehow beautifully artistic just like him

✩ he is good at everything he tries and by that i truly mean everything. play guitar ? he taught himself. drawing ? he never took any classes but still manages to be talented. however, he doesn’t brag and prefers to keep his talents to himself

✩ i lied when i said he’s good at everything. he sucks at board games (sorry not sorry.) try playing monopoly with him and he’ll just send the game flying and shout about how “capitalism sucks anyway”

✩ i don’t know who started the adhd and bipolar headcannon but it makes SO MUCH sense. sometimes he forgets to take his meds and ends up having enough pent up energy and rage for the whole slytherin house

✩ he hates reading. unlike his friends who do, he can’t concentrate for more than a couple of minutes because of his adhd and reading is probably his biggest nightmare.

✩ speaking of nightmares, he has those often. this man hasn’t had a proper night of sleep in years because of insomnia and memories of the past haunting him in his sleep. that’s why you’re most likely to find him at the astronomy tower in the middle of the night.

✩ the biggest marvel fan you’ll ever meet. he’s obsessed with spiderman and could talk about the mcu for hours, it’s cute to see him so excited about something.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : just some of my late night thoughts ! i’m also thinking about making some of these but about dating him, tell me if you’d be interested <3

likes, comments and reblogs would be appreciated !

@iris-qt @helendeath @fluffycookies22 @reys-letters @fbvreadingblog @yikesitslush @222lolamunson @jolly4holly @redeemingvillains @pizzaapeteer @mattheosdior @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @icantkeepmyplantsalive @bellatrix-lestrange5 @justscrollinthrough @dexoq @elsie-bells @deadghosy @sp7-mr @myunperfektstorys

[slut4slytherinss]

Gold Rush

SEND REQUESTS!!

Summary: in which (fem!)reader is in love with Mattheo, but so is everyone else. Reader pushes her feelings deep down, convinced Mattheo, beautiful Mattheo could never love her. In doing so, hurting herself, and a certain curly haired boy.

3,014 words

Warnings: cursing, fighting, slight mention of sexual content, reader being self-conscious, Mattheo being an idiot, Mattheo and his big ego, angst, potentially more parts(???), not proofread bc I don’t have time, a few references to movies IF YOU SQUINT, possibly ooc Mattheo (I haven’t read Everything Black in a hot minute forgive me), use of Y/n, Tom Riddle is Mattheo’s father in this, Regulus is in fact dead (rip my man), Mattheo and reader being a bitch lol, in character-ish Enzo but not headcannon Enzo, THEO IS IN THE SLUG CLUB FOR THE PLOT IM AWARE THAT HE WASNT IN THE BOOKS

2nd person pov

Hufflepuff prefect reader

Female reader

Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. So inviting, I almost jump in.

Your eyes are trained on the dark haired boy, specifically those deep eyes. “I know I’m pretty, you don’t have to stare, love.” Mattheo grins, you quickly dart your eyes away, “I wasn’t staring.” you murmur. He scoots his chair back, the feet scraping against the old library floor, he stands up and walks towards you— not even bothering to push the bloody chair back in. He takes a seat right next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder, “You really should be studying, y’know? Can’t have m’girl failing her exams.” My girl. You roll your eyes. “I’m immune to your charms, Riddle.” You say, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself of that. “Are you, though? I mean, remember in first year when you—“ you quickly cut him off, a foreign red flush invading your cheeks. “I was eleven!” You whisper-yell, his grin widens at your embarrassment. “Okay.” He drags the word out, “Some things never change, badger.” You furrow your eyebrows “Excuse me?” “Y’know? Badger, you’re a Hufflepuff, unless you’re shagging Diggory and stole his tie.” He gestures to your yellow tie, you roll your eyes. “First of all, Cedric is taken and if you call me badger again, I will ruin your pretty face.” “You think I’m pretty?” Another eye roll. “If you keep rolling your eyes at me, they’re gonna get stuck back there.” Before you can reply, a girl you recognize as a Slytherin fifth year, only younger than you by a year, calls for the boy sitting in front of you. “Mattheo! I don’t have all day, c’mon.” He looks back at the blonde girl and sighs, “Merlin’s beard,” he murmurs, then calls out to her “I’m coming Eloise!” Causing you to let out a laugh. He gives you a look, making you laugh even harder. But once he walks away, you realize that he, Mattheo Riddle, is probably hooking up with that girl, that absolute model, making your smile fade. Making you feel like an idiot for even thinking that he’d like you. For thinking you should inflate his ego even further by confessing.

But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush. Everybody wants you. Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

-

You clutch your books close to your chest, dodging the hundreds of children rushing to get to class. Like every other day. A paper airplane comes straight toward you, it’s about to hit you clean in the forehead, you duck just in time— but a hand reaches out and catches it. You look over to thank the person, it’s Mattheo. Of course it’s Mattheo. That damned boy never leaves you alone. “You alright?” He asks, seeming genuinely concerned. Of course he does. He always does. “I’m fine, Riddle.” You spit out, fighting back your horrid feelings. He tries to speak but you just walk toward the potions classroom.

Walk past, quick brush. I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush.

-

You sigh as you walk into the lavatory. Standing in front of the sink, you splash your face with some water. Trying to cool yourself down. “Y/n?” Fucking Mattheo. “I really don’t have time for your bullshit, what are you even doing in the girls la—“ you cut yourself off as you see Mattheo, a girl against the wall, not Eloise, a different girl. An older girl, a seventh year. Looking annoyed as ever. You let out a breath of surprise. Shaking your head you turn back around and walk out of the bathroom. Feeling like an idiot. Like always when it comes to that boy.

I don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush. Everybody wants you. But I don’t like a gold rush.

“Wait! Y/n—“ he rushes out of the bathroom to follow you, he grabs your wrist and you turn around quickly. “Let go.” You spit out, he tenses his jaw. “Why are you even acting like this? You don’t need to get so pissed just because you’re jea—“ Slap. Your eyes widen, as well as his, “Did you just slap me?” “No.” you reply quickly. “You just slapped me.” he persists, “No I didn’t.” “Yea, you did.” “Yes I did.” you finally admit. “Why?” He asks, “You said I’m jealous, I’m not jealous. You just have a big head.” “I have other big things.” You slap him again. But this time on his forearm. And, oh Merlin. Why is his arm so muscular? Why are his eyes so deep and brown and beautiful? Why do his oh so pretty brown curls look so pull-able? Why do his lips look so perfect and kissable? Was he always this beautiful? Of course he was. He was always beautiful. You’ve known that since the first time you saw him.

What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos.

-

You walk into the Slytherin common room with Dorothea, one of your closest friends, she’d convinced you to come to this party. And you’d stupidly agreed. You stupidly got drunk. You stupidly found Mattheo. You stupidly kissed him. You stupidly hooked up with him.

You look around the room, Mattheo has his arm under your neck. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself “yeah, okay. I can get out of here.” You roll over a bit, pulling the covers off of yourself carefully. You easily get out of his warm, soft bed. An odd coldness filling your body as you do so. You slip on your shoes and realize that you don’t have your shirt on, you look around his room, which is surprisingly clean— minus the clothes everywhere, on the doorknob, there’s your shirt. How did it even get there? You shake your head and walk over to it, putting it on over you. You hear Mattheo groan and you quickly look over, he’s still asleep, but reaching out in the bed, as if looking for you. It takes you a moment before you realize that you need to leave before him and his charm pull you back in.

I see me padding ‘cross, your wooden floors. With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door.

-

It’s been 3 weeks. 3 weeks since you went to that party. 3 weeks since you found Mattheo. 3 weeks since you kissed him. 3 weeks since you hooked up with him. 2 weeks and 6 days since you woke up in his room and mission impossible escaped. You haven’t spoke to him, or anyone in Slytherin at all. In fear that he told everyone he knows and you’d never live it down. He didn’t. But you don’t know that. You’re choosing out a dress for dinner, you’re in the slug club, but so is Theodore Nott and those two are friends, best friends even. So of course Mattheo was the boys plus one. No matter that. Dorothea suggests a simple dress that shows off your body, but you shake your head, “No, Dor, that— that doesn’t compliment me right.” So you choose a dress that goes down to your knees, it’s long-sleeved, completely covers your cleavage, which was the goal of course. You paired it with some old converse, not liking the feeling of heels on your feet all night. You have your hair done nicely in your favorite style.

“No Mattheo, I really don’t agree with that, you’re so— so contrarian.” You shake your head, “Oh give me a break!” He groans, but you just give him a look, calling him an asshole with your eyes. He’s just told you an opinion on the muggle-world, he’s a pure blood, seriously, who does he think he is? Giggles can be heard from others sitting around you, including Dorothea and Theodore who are sitting next to each other. Slughorn tries to get you two to stop, “O—okay, Mr. Riddle, Ms. Y/l/n, please refrain from arguments at the table.” “This isn’t an argument, it’s a debate.” You correct.

As you’re walking back to your common room, you overhear some girls talking “Oh, wouldn’t they be such a cute couple?” One of them giggles, the other nods in agreement “They argue so much, plus, doesn’t Y/n Riddle sound so nice?” “Oh I dunno, I’m kind of jealous of her.” A third one adds. Your eyes widen as you realize they’re taking about you and Mattheo. You quickly butt in their conversation, “We would not be a cute couple! He’s insufferable and his ego is larger than himself!” You huff.

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit. And the coastal town, we wandered ‘round, had never seen a love as pure as it.

-

“You know that you can’t avoid him all day, right?” Cedric tells you as he notices you staring in Mattheo’s direction in the Great Hall. “I can and I will.” The boy rolls his eyes, “C’mon, when me and Cho get into—“ “Don’t compare you and your girlfriend to me and Mattheo— that’s just.. no!” you mock gag, shaking your head. Cedric just grins at you knowingly, “Why are you smiling at me like that?” you ask, Cedric licks his lips “No reason.” “Shouldn’t you be making out with Cho in a broom closet or something?” you tease, he laughs “Yeah, probably. Shouldn’t you be getting in Mattheo’s pants again?” “Leave it Ced, it will never be.” You murmur as you look down at your tea, mixing it around lazily with your spoon.

And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea. ‘Cause you know it could never be.

-

“Why are you avoiding me?” You stop dead in your tracks, goddamnit. Why is he everywhere? You slowly turn around on your heels, face reddening, “I’m not avoiding you.” you reply simply with a shrug. “Yes you are, I’m sick of it.” He rolls his eyes. “What’s it matter to you? We aren’t friends.” “What are you talking about? Yes we are.” “No, we’re really not Mattheo, you only talk to me when you know I’m going to leave.” You spit out, annoyed with everything, “No I don’t! I talk to you all the—“ you cut him off “Just leave it, I’m done here anyway.” You say before turning back around and walking away, “Well— don’t come crying back to me when you realize no one else cares!” He yells, letting his emotions and large ego get the best of him. “Fuck you!” “You’ve already checked that one off!”

‘Cause I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush. I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch. Everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

-

He is such an asshole! Who the fuck does he think he is?! He has no right to speak to you— or anyone for that matter — like that. You huff as you walk into the Great Hall, feeling his gaze immediately land on you. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of meeting that gaze. Taking a seat at your own houses table, you can hear his friends laughing loudly, stupid boys. The only time you do look over at him is when you hear his fork slam against the table and he stands up from his seat, to be fair, the entire Great Hall looks over at him. He ignores his friends and clenches his jaw as he walks out of the huge room, brushing right past you and leaving a small gust of wind from where he walked. Your lips slightly part as you watch him, but you look away just as quickly. Refusing to let him get his way. You shake your head as you now look over at his friends — who you now realize are staring over at you. Furrowing your eyebrows you mouth an annoyed “What?” to them, hoping to get any explanation. Theodore just shakes his head at you, and Lorenzo Berkshire mouths back a “Nothing.” making you even more annoyed with these boys. You decide to take matters into your own hands and stand up, making your way to the Slytherin table where they’re sitting. “Hello, boys.” you raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Uh — hey..” Blaise Zabini murmurs, “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with that dickhead who just walked out of the Great Hall making a scene?” Draco Malfoy laughs at that “Dickhead? Did you just call your little boyfriend a dickhead?” “He’s not my boyfriend Malfoy!” you exclaim which causes Draco to laugh and Theo to nudge his arm, Enzo speaks up “Um, Y/n he’s just upset you’re ignoring him.” now the rest of the boys groan, collectively murmuring little “C’mon man!”’s and “Enzo!”’s he throws his hands up in apology. Eyebrows going up you look at them, “Seriously?” you scoff “he’s mad at me because I’m not talking to him? After what he did?”

Walk past, quick brush. I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush. I don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush.

“Why don’t you just make it easy for him and tell him how you feel?” Theo speaks up with a shrug. “Excuse me? And how exactly do I feel Theodore?” you ask, twisting toward him. “You want him, obviously.” “Everybody wants him! I don’t — I don’t like that horrid feeling!” you exclaim loudly, catching the attention of others around you.

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush.

Lowering your voice, you rest your hands on the table, pushing Blaise’s plate away to do so. He stops in the middle of his chewing to give you a glare, then continues slowly chewing. “You’ve liked him since fist year, admit it.” Blaise speaks with his mouth full, so it’s a bit muffled. “Shut it and eat your potatoes Zabini.” you spit out. He shrugs and does just that. With Zabini out of the conversation Draco speaks again, “But really, stop leading our boy on.” “I haven’t led him — or anyone for that matter — on!” now it’s Theo’s turn to speak “Well.. you did kinda sleep with him and then leave the next morning,” “That was a mistake.” “Still shitty.” Enzo says. You huff, “That’s — no! Even if it was shitty, it’s not like I’m in love with him. He shouldn’t’ve expected anything from me.” Draco raises an eyebrow “Wow, didn’t know Hufflepuffs were such—“ “Dude, don’t finish that sentence.” Enzo says with an eye roll before looking toward you, “If you don’t like him, then don’t lead him on, it’s not difficult.” Looking him up at down for a moment, you sigh and your eyes move around the group at a quick pace. “Tell him I don’t like him, and — that I’m sorry or whatever.” Damn. That hurt you to say. Who knew it’d be this hard to get over him.

What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful, with your hair falling into place like dominoes?

-

As you lay in your bed, miserable and alone, you think about Mattheo. Because of course you do. He’s plagued your mind since first year. Rolling your eyes, you silently curse yourself for not realizing how horrible it was to fall for him. He’s got the perfect life, minus the fact his father is literally the dark lord, still, he’s rich. He has hundreds of girls in love with him and multiple in his bed. You aren’t going to be any of those girls, not now at least.

My mind turns your life into folklore. I can’t dare to dream about you anymore.

-

You hear your name called out by a familiar voice, Pansy Parkinson, her loud — but not angry — footsteps reverberate along the stone walls of the castle. You stop walking just as she catches up to you, out of breath. She reaches for your shoulder to steady herself and you grab her arm to help her. “What’s wrong Pans?” You ask once she catches her breath. “Riddle told me about what you said.” You wince at the mention, “Oh.” She must notice the look on your face since she adds a quick, “Don’t worry, I’m not mad, that boy needs to learn that not every girl is in love with him.” As an afterthought. “Never mind that, you are,” you furrow your eyebrows “—in love with him. You’re in love with him.” She finishes, which causes you to stammer out a quick and defensive, “Am not!” In response. “You literally gave him a bouquet of flowers, which you handpicked, in first year.” “In first year! Yeah, but that’s not now!” She rolls her eyes, “Come on Y/n/n, you’re just going to end up hurting yourself if you keep saying that.” She then removes her hand from your shoulder and you do the same, “Okay, I’ve got detention now, see ya later.” Then she runs off. She literally runs off after telling you that you’re in love with Mattheo Riddle. As if you didn’t know that. As if you didn’t sleep with him.

I see me padding ‘cross your wooden floors. With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door.

-

The last slug club meeting of the year before you leave for Christmas. You aren’t supposed to bring plus-ones, but Slughorn likes Theo too much and let him bring Mattheo. You sit slumped in your chair, dressed nicely though. Dorothea is sick so she couldn’t come. And Mattheo has the audacity to sit right fucking next to you. Purposely making those contrarian remarks, to get you to speak, so he can hear your voice again. Annoyed or not, he wants to hear it. But you don’t. You just stand up and move to sit beside Theo. Mattheo swallows and stops talking, looking down at his food.

At dinner parties, won’t call you out on your contrarian shit.

-

You sit by a garden in Hogsmeade, looking at the flowers silently. Of course, thinking about those girls from a few weeks ago at the Slug club meeting, how they were talking about you and Mattheo. Did everyone think that way? That’s impossible, he’s him, you’re just you. You barely know jack shit about each other. Sighing, you lay back in the grass and fiddle with the strings on your cardigan. It will never be.

And the coastal town, we never found, will never see a love as pure as it. ‘Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea. ‘Cause it will never be.

-

He stands at your doorframe, knocking on the door rapidly. Hearing you groan on the other side and sheets ruffling. He quickly tries to fix up his messy curls and look at least a hit presentable, you open the door as he’s smoothing out his shirt, he’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you’re — well —in your pink unicorn pajama set, that causes him to grin widely. But then he hears your voice murmur a sleepy “Mattheo?” and becomes serious again. “Um—hey.” He smiles gently, out of character for him. “I know it’s late and all, I just had to um.. talk to you.” You rub your eyes and yawn, “Well?” You ask, eyebrows raised expectantly. “I know we aren’t close or anything, but I really fucking like you. I mean—really like you. It’s so weird for me to feel this strongly over.. well, y’know a girl who I barely know. But you’re just different, you make me feel things—things that no one else does.” He watches you watch him nervously, this is really different than the Mattheo you know. “Anyway.. what I’m trying to say is, I think we’d be really good together. I want us to try it out, if you’d have me?” “Mattheo I—“

Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. So inviting, I almost jump in.

-

A/N: IM SOOO SORRY FOR THIS TKAING SO LONG TO WRITE(literally ignore my spelling mistakes wtf) ANYWAY YEAH, LMK IF I SHOUKD MAKE A OART TWO OR SMTHING?????

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

[femmenature]

happy scars.

Pairing: Marcus Lopez x f! reader

Summary: Where Marcus gets into fights to hurt himself because he loves you to heal his wounds.

Warnings: Blood mentions, inappropriate language

-

"Marcus, I'm really not surprised to see you beaten, In fact, I'd be more surprised to see you without a fucking scratch on your face than this. But this is the third time, not in a week, but in a day that you've come in with bumps all over your face. Who the fuck does this to you?" I looked at him worriedly, he looked away and cleared his throat nervously.

"No one, just…it's just that" His hands fumble with his jeans anxiously "it's complicated, lately I provoked Chico…more than I should have, on purpose."

"Oh, so this is just a game of who's more badass enough to stay with Maria" I was really pissed, nursing his wounds all these weeks over some stupid thing. "Look, I don't want any part of your or Chico's patriarchal bullshit."

"No, no, no. You're missing the point. It's not that, it was never that…it was never her." His eyes met mine. Like a click. I furrowed my brows, questioning him. "Believe me, I don't like being hit, but…since I got hurt and you took care of me, I can't stop making up an excuse or a fight to feel your hand on my face. To feel the slightest touch of my skin against yours. I am satisfied with just your hand healing my wounds. Because you also heal my heart. Don't you see? Every time I'm with you you fix something you didn't even break. And that drives me crazy." His hand came up to mine, caressed it. As he did so, he looked at me, and kissed it. "I can't stay away from you and I'm so ashamed of my desperation for your closeness that I create fights as a pretext to keep you close."

"Marcus, you don't need excuses to have me near you" I brought my face close to his as he moved his gaze to my lips "You can have me without a scratch on your face, but you still look sexy" He smiled before our lips met.

-

thanks for reading! i wanted to make this deadly class character. Even though the series was cancelled I loved it and I think there is a need for more content from it. So, enjoy. Sorry if there is something grammatically incorrect, my first language is Spanish.

[sp7-mr]

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑬 😩

[lucifertoxics]

missing pieces: marcus lopez

| pairing: marcus lopez x reader

| genre: exes to lovers

| warnings: angst, swearing, minors dni

| word count: 1.3k

| aura's note: this fic is for @chericherilvr who has an obsession with marcus like, so girly this is for you, enjoy🫶🏻

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

Ever since you and Marcus broke up, your only mechanism was singing. To say the least, you were actually good at it. That's when you found yourself with your schools band practicing a cover. Unfortunately for you, the rain started pouring soon after you finished, which forced you to stay under a bus stop.

Sadly, as you did not own a car, you had to call your brother, Billy. He said he'd pick you up, but that's when you saw Marcus car, probably a stolen one, pull up in front of the school.

The two of you dated for 3 years, until you decided to end it, without giving him any reason why. That was 5 months ago, until now, you haven't talked since. The only person that you didn't want to see right now, surely, the break up was a complicated one to say the least.

"Get in." He says. From the tone of his voice, you knew one thing, he was pissed.

"No fucking way!" You say in an annoyed voice, crossing your arms. You two are like magnets and you didn't want to be stuck in a small place with him. He was bad for you. He brings out the worst in you.

"Are you seriously going to stand out here?" He says with the same tone. Marcus knows that he is being irrational, but he can't help it. He's just mad and heartbroken right now, seeing you just makes it even worse. He hates you for breaking his heart, but he's not going to let you know that.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he has a point never the less. And you wanted to be home faster, so having an argument with him, wasn't useful. As you open the passanger door to get into the car, you look at him.

Marcus starts the car and pulls out of the bus stop, onto the road. He doesn't say anything, just drives. The windshield wipers make loud screeches as they fight to get the rain off the windshield. The heater blasts as it tries to warm up the car from the outside cold. The air makes the windshield foggy. Then suddenly, Marcus sights loudly and looks over at you. As you were looking outside the window, gathering your thoughts about what just happened.

Turning around to look at him, you decided to ask him. "What?" Looking at him with confused eyes.

Marcus just stays silent, he just stares at you, trying to gather his thoughts. You can see his anger and frustration written all over his face. He doesn't want to look at you, he doesn't wang to look at anything. He's just so angry. Finally, he breaks the silence with a blunt ask. "Why did you dump me?"

"Marcus..." You look at him and then out the window, sighting, trying to find a good way to answer his question. You hate this situation that you're in. This was not the right time to talk about the break up, not with him.

The classic answer, and the one that he didn't want to hear. He hated when things were "complicated". He hates uncertainty. He wanted an answer and he wanted it now. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as his anger builds up. "Jusf answer me, god fucking damn it!" He snaps a little at you. He doesn't like losing his cool, but he's already too far gone.

"Because i'm leaving for university..." You talk in a low tone, looking outside the window. "I got accepted into Harvard." You explain yourself to him, staring at him, hoping he understands your intentions.

Marcus felt an intense wave of jealousy wash over him as soon as you finish the sentence. He could never get into Harvard. He's not smart enough. He knows you are and that bothers him. He hates that he feels jealousy of you, but he can't help it. "So you dumped me because you got accepted into a stupid school?" He says completely ignoring the fact that you're going to Harvard.

"A stupid school? I got a full scholarship to that stupid school." You say in an annoyed tone whie looking at him, feeling that he doesn't care about your achievement. "You'll only be three hours away.." You say trying to find something positive in your departure.

"Oh three hours away, really?" Marcus says sarcastically trying to ignore the jealousy that's building up inside of him. "And i'm sure that this full scholarship is a huge achievement." He says mockingly. Marcus knows damn well the school isn't stupid and he knows how hard getting a full scholarship there is but it just pisses him off so he can't help but belittle your achievement.

"It is, Marcus! I didn't want to leave you...I didn't want to leave you in the first place. I was scared that this won't work, us, fuck i want this to work out cause i miss you." I explain myself to him on a calm tone, trying not to be affected by his words. Coming closer as you say the words "I miss you"

The words "I miss you" make him soften up, but only for a bit. He still doesn't know if he should forgive you or not, but hearing those words come out of your mouth makes his heart feel a little warmer. He slowly turns to look at you more. He reaches his hand over and places it on your thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. Marcus likes to hide his emotions but that small act kind of gave him away.

"I missed you! You have no idea..." You lean your head on his shoulder as he drives. The truth is that you missed him. His kisses. His hugs. His affection, You were craving it.

Marcus blushes a bit as you put your head on his shoulder. He can barely believe he's allowing you to do these things. Maybe part of him is ready to forgive you...but another part of him is not. He stays silent as he continues driving, his hand firmly planted on your leg. He can't help his attraction towards you and his desire for you. The silence is getting more intense as the minutes go by.

"My brother said that long distance relationships don't always work out...so that's why i thought it's for the best...but it's only three hours..." You say sighting interlacing your fingers with his, still having your head on his shoulder.

Marcus wanted to argue and say that three hours is too much but he knows is his own jealousy getting the best of him. A small part of him, a very small part, has forgiven you for breaking his heart. He's not completely over it but he's slowly starting to terms with it. "You know, I could drive over and see your every weekend." He says finally, turning to look at you as he tries to gauge your reaction.

"Really? You would do that for me?" You look at him surprised, hy his answer. Jumping into his arms, hugging him tight, still surprised by what he said.

Marcus freezes up with surprise. He was honestly prepared for you to reject him, but now? This is...unexpected. He feels your tight embrace and a wave of butterflies washes over him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you even tighter. "You can't get rid of me that easily you know?" He says with a smile, brush a piece of hair out of your face.

"I don't wanna get rid of you." You smile, looking at him as he brushes the hair from your face. That's when you take his face in your hands, smashing your lips to his.

What was once a small wave of butterflies now turns into a tidal wave of euphoria. Marcus is swept away by the kiss, he wraps his arms arouns you and pulls you in closer. All the emotions and feelings that have built up during the car ride come bursting to the surface. He kisses you hard and agressively, like he wants to make this moment last forever.

© LUCIFERTOXICS ⎯ do not translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[halucynator]

Can u pls make a fic abt the reader just wanting to make out with Mattheo riddle during October spooky month?

Spooky Surprises

aksjhshaadjsha i find this idea so cuteeeee

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing (duh!), pining (ish), not proof read and my writing lol

Summary: After staying in for Halloween you realise that your love for Mattheo might not be as unrequited as you thought.

You stayed in on Halloween. You were never too keen on trick or treating anyway but there was a bigger reason you had stayed in. That reason was right next to you sat up on the couch. Mattheo Riddle.

It was his idea to stay in and watch a scary movie. You couldn't deny it. Not when he was looking at you with his adorable brown eyes. Not when he was practically begging you to stay.

And there you were, curled up next to him, his arms around your waist pulling you in closer. You breathed in his cologne and the faint smell of smoke.

Each time there was a jump scare you leaned in closer to him until you were practically on top of him. He chuckled every time that happened pulling you in each time you looked scared.

The movie ended and the credits rolled on the screen. You were asleep, Mattheo's arms still looped around your waist. Mattheo, not wanting to wake you up, turned off the TV moving very cautiously. However, he clearly wasn't cautious enough as you opened your eyes. You yawned and leaned into the body next to you, then stilled remembering who it was. You immediately sat up and muttered an apology to Mattheo. If one looked hard enough, they would've noticed the slight blush that crept up on your cheeks as you took in what you had just done.

You had stayed in your dorm on Halloween, watched a scary movie and slept on a person who you supposedly called your friend. You were too afraid to admit it but you liked Mattheo. Any person who wasn't a complete idiot would've realised that it was requited.

Unfortunately, you were the complete idiot.

The conversation you had had with Pansy and some of your other friends, ran through your head whenever you were nervous that he didn't like you back.

"Oh my God y/n! He totally likes you! Do you see the way he looks at you?!" Pansy exclaimed.

"But Pansy! I'm not sure though! What if he doesn't?!" You said not wanting to ruin your friendship with him.

"you two are so in love! Just ask him out already!!!" Pansy whined.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at the girl.

And now here you were wondering if Pansy's words might've been right. He let you sleep on him for God's sake.

You looked into the boys beautiful eyes and sighed. You loved him but you didn't know how to tell him.

You took a deep breath and did what Pansy had been telling you to do. You grabbed him by his collar pulling him close to you. Your lips collided. They fit together perfectly like they were a part of a puzzle.

You pulled away when you ran out of breath. Mattheo's cheeks were flushed. He was just so perfect. After realising that you had just been staring at him for ages, you looked away embarrassed.

"Wow. That was erm- wow" Mattheo replied.

Colour rushed to your cheeks at his words.

"I'm sorry I don't know what i-" you froze in the middle of the sentence as you felt his hand on your waist. Your breath hitched as he leaned closer. You didn't feel so brave anymore.

"I don't mind it" he replied as if you had just borrowed his laptop rather than kisses him.

"oh um-" you started.

This time it was his fingers on your collar, his hands pulling you in, his lips that smashed on yours.

You wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him and no matter how many times you kissed, the butterflies were always there.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

Hope this is to your liking <3333 have a great day and happy halloweeeeeeeeen 💕

[leona-hawthorne]

so many people write mattheo to be a cold-hearted, womanizing bastard and while i absolutely love reading that mattheo (🙈), i am a firm believer that he’d be the biggest sweetheart when you’re dating him.

don’t get me wrong, he would absolutely be a cold hearted womanizing bastard… at first. after meeting you, he’d still be reserved, arrogant, rude. but somehow, you manage to sneak past the steel barriers he has surrounding his heart.

and when he realizes this, he’d push you away in every way possible. you offer him your notes when he misses class? “fuck off, i don’t need them. trust me, i’ve got a hundred other lap dogs doing that shit for me.”

and his heart would break a little when he’d see your confused frown, but he’d push the guilt down. love is vulnerability. vulnerability is weakness. that’s what he was taught and that’s what he lived by.

but oh, you’re just too perfect. your pretty little face, your sweet voice, the way your eyes light up when you’re talking about muggle studies or baby rabbits, the way you refuse to leave your dorm without your lucky jewlery. it melted the ice around his heart. he never stood a chance.

so he’d give into your affections at some point. and yes, he’d be the scary, possessive boyfriend everyone expects. he’d throw a punch at anyone who dared to touch you wrong or even look at you wrong. but that’s just the mattheo everyone knows. the mattheo you know is a sweetheart. never allowing you to open your own door or pull out your own chair, braiding your hair for you or helping you put it up at night, spoiling you with every candy, piece of clothing, and stuffed animal you want, tying your shoelaces for you, calling you princess.

and let me tell you, this man is the biggest whore for cuddles. he tells you that sleeping in your presence keeps the nightmares at bay and while that’s true, the real reason why he won’t sleep without cuddles is because he simply needs to feel you as close as possible. he needs your hands playing with his hair or your nails scratching his back. and you can’t even try stopping the movements of your hands because trust me, he is an incredibly annoying whiner. “babyyyy keep going.”

skin-to-skin cuddling is even better. he’ll take his shirt off and force you to do the same, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back into his chest. it’s not sexual; he just needs to feel you as close to him as possible, and your bare skin against his just happens to be the closest thing he has to crawling inside your skin and living there.

my point here is basically that mattheo riddle is a soft boy when he’s in love and i will die on this hill!

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

[stqrgirlie0]

can you guys tell my type?….😬🙂

#wanna smoke a joint w me in the astronomy tower in the middle of the night? #and then let me ride you while high?😻

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Four-Info:you and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, ANGST ANGST ANGST, Kissing, Childhood Trauma, Slight!GunPlay(very slight), More Angst, Sadism, Slight Emotional Manipulation.

Find the rest of the chapters HERE.

Your fingers glided gently across the pages of your open book, tracing the lines of text as if seeking to absorb the knowledge directly into your skin. The ambient hush of the library enveloped you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional murmur of voices in the distance. It was a haven of tranquility, a sanctuary where you could finally turn your thoughts off and allow yourself to get lost within the words of the text.

In this cocoon of silence, you immersed yourself, your eyes traversing the lines on the page with a voracious hunger for understanding. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of old parchment and the subtle aroma of polished wood, creating a sensory symphony that enhanced your focus. But amidst this serenity, an abrupt disruption shattered your concentration. The creak of a chair being pulled out and the faint sound of footsteps approached, heralding an unexpected presence.

Startled, your eyes lifted from the text to find Mattheo seated across from you--his dark, penetrating gaze drilled into yours, his eyes narrowed with a glaring suspicion as he analyzed your features, slowly and cautiously--not daring to speak. The sudden intrusion in such a public setting caught you off guard; a mix of surprise and unease filling your lungs as you blinked, glancing around the room to ensure no attention had been drawn.

It had been two days since the events in the bathroom, two whole days where the conversations were as bland as a piece of raw fucking chicken, and yet, here he was. Without warning. You had no fucking clue what he was doing here, but the look in his eyes told you it wasn't for any particularly pleasant reason.

"When were you planning on informing me about your little friend's new companion, hm?" His voice sliced through the air like a blade, his eyes narrowing with sadism. "I mean...I just happened to stumble upon her leaving my brother's dorm, and I'd highly fucking doubt she was there for a casual browse through his book collection, wouldn't you agree?"

Your eyes widened in shock, nerves flooding through you like an icy tide, freezing your words in your throat. You had been meaning to tell him, but since the two of you had hardly been speaking, it seemingly slipped your mind.

You glanced around the room, as if searching for an escape from the intensity of his gaze, before finally managing to whisper, "Are you fucking serious right now? Why is that any bloody concern of yours?"

"I just find it utterly fascinating," he sneered, his voice dripping with dangerous intent as he leaned over the table, scuffing his chair toward you. "...the intricate web of secrets you weave, Raven...not very Ravenclaw of you, now is it?"

"How is that a secret?" you hissed, your voice laced with both irritation and trepidation. "And why would I care about Emily getting with Tom? I never had any feelings for-"

"Not talking about that," he interrupted, his tone sharp as he cut through your words. "I'm talking about everything, in a far more broad context...all of the willing little lies and deceit...all the ways you've used me, just as much, if not more, than I've used you...you even managed to outwit Tom, which is one hell of an impressive accomplishment all on its own, I'll give you that."

The oxygen in the room vanished, leaving you nearly gasping for breath. "I...outwit Tom?"

"Well, it was only thanks to his blaring review that you landed this mentorship, was it fucking not?..." he scanned your features, his brows pinching in focus. "Every calculated step you've taken, every deceptive move you've made, all orchestrated to extract what you wanted for your bloody career...it truly makes a man wonder..."

His words struck like a cold breeze, sending a chill down your spine as you struggled to process the weight of his insinuations--you were beyond startled by the pace of this conversation, each syllable from his lips landing like a punch to the gut, rendering your mouth mute.

"I..." his words had you reeling, your voice catching in your throat, your confidence shattered by his unsettling revelation. "What the hell are you implying, Mattheo?"

Your throat tightened as you struggled to maintain composure. Swallowing hard, you tried to play it off, squinting at him in an attempt to mask your anxiety. But his penetrating gaze saw through your facades, leaving you defenseless against his piercing scrutiny. Mattheo's movements were deliberate, each shift in his chair calculated to exude an air of intimidation and control. His eyes, sharp and predatory, followed your every reaction as if he were studying his prey before a calculated strike.

"I did some digging on you last night...on your background...what your parents do...since, you know, you clearly had no interest in telling me yourself..." a sinister smile played on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic satisfaction. His voice lowered to a barely audible murmur, laced with a sense of superiority. "After the night at the lake, after that little spat we had...I just...I just couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to you than met the eye...and boy was I ever fucking right.”

Letting his words sink in, he leaned back in his chair, that sickening grin still plastered across his face. As the realization of his words settled like a heavy stone in your chest, you grew increasingly uncomfortable, acutely aware of the other students nearby. Their presence, though not directly involved, added a layer of unease to the situation.

Leaning across the table, you whispered urgently, "Do you have to do this here?" The words escaped your lips in a hushed plea, your voice strained with the need for privacy and a shred of dignity. "Like at least-"

Mattheo's response was chillingly calm, his grin widening with malicious delight.

"Oh, princess, come on," he purred, his tone a twisted mockery of sweetness. "Why continue to hide the truth? Let them hear what kind of person you really are..."

Your anger surged, the intensity of your emotions making your fingers grip the book tightly as you leaned in closer to him.

"You're a despicable asshole, you know that?" you spat out, your voice edged with pure disdain. "What's your bloody angle here?"

"Never claimed otherwise, did I?" His tone was flat, devoid of any remorse; meeting your words with an infuriating calmness. "Unlike you, I don't pretend to be something I'm not."

Your eyes rolled so forcefully it felt like you were glimpsing the inside of your skull, a groan of frustration clawing at your throat. Of course, he chose this moment--a place where you had to hold back your torrent of emotions, where you couldn't unleash the full force of your anger upon him. He knew exactly what he was bloody doing here, and it was fucking infuriating.

"Enough with the games, Riddle," you snapped, the words escaping through clenched teeth, your patience stretched to its limit. "Stop being a bloody arse and spit it out already."

"Your family history," he said, leaning in so close that your eyes locked in a battle of wills, each glance a dagger threatening to pierce the other's resolve. "It isn't as pristine as one might think...in fact, I'd almost be inclined to say it's the complete fucking opposite."

Your entire body tensed, coiling like a tightly wound spring. There was a pause as you studied his face, trying to decipher exactly what he knew before responding.

"Careful, Mattheo," you retorted, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Just because you've unearthed a few skeletons doesn't mean you've cleared the whole closet."

"Honestly, Raven, I'm just curious," his grin stretched wider, the atmosphere around him growing denser with an almost palpable tension. "How did you manage to play the part for so long? You certainly had me fooled...even managed to trick the sorting hat into believing your little fucking charade...it's quite impressive, truthfully..."

A knot tightened in the pit of your stomach, every nerve inside you screaming in turmoil. "I...I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Don't even bother," Mattheo's words cut through your feeble denial, and he tilted his head, his intensity thickening the air around you. "I see right fucking through you, now, princess...that innocent act won't work on me anymore..."

His eyes, like burning coals, seared into your skin as if trying to uncover hidden truths. The room seemed to close in around you, amplifying the weight of his accusation.

"Generation after generation of Pureblood fucking Slytherins..." he continued, his voice low and laced with feign exasperation. "And yet, here you are...apparently as Ravenclaw as they come...you've managed to make yourself so damn-near invisible that no one even fucking noticed..."

Your breath hitched, caught in the vice grip of his merciless scrutiny. The truth of his words hung heavily in the air, a damning revelation that sent a shiver down your spine. Your carefully constructed facade, your shield against the world, was crumbling, and Mattheo had managed to find the cracks, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in his piercing gaze.

"I'll admit, I feel rather idiotic for not piecing it together sooner..." he sneered, his tone cutting through the tension like a knife, hands curling into fists atop of the desk. "I guess I was too entranced by your starry-eyed facade to see the cunning Slytherin hiding beneath, even though it was right in front of my face this whole time...your biting sarcasm, your unrelenting ambition, and your overly-eager knack for deceit--classic fucking Slytherin traits, aren't they, Raven?"

Your entire being blazed with a searing heat, a tempest of conflicting emotions threatening to consume you. The urge to throttle him until he fell silent warred with a fierce desire to pull him close and lose yourself in a breathless kiss. How infuriating it was to witness his sharp wit, a talent he wielded effortlessly, yet one he seemed unwilling to apply to his fucking studies.

At your silence, he huffed, glimpsing your lips again. "Not even the stars can change the essence of who you are, princess." He whispered, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Maybe it's about time you were honest with yourself."

Your anger surged like a tidal wave, crashing against the shores of your restraint. In that charged moment, you leaned in closer, as close as you possibly could, your body practically vibrating with intensity. How dare he sit there, smug and superior, acting like he had unraveled the very fabric of your being just because he had dug up a few skeletons from your family's closet?

Sure, your parents weren't paragons of virtue, but their actions don't define you--and that was the very the essence of all this. Every choice you've made, every hardship you've endured, has been a deliberate effort to distance yourself from their toxic legacy. His derisive remarks only fueled the fire, and you practically hurled the words at him, your voice laden with disdain.

"You don't know a single fucking thing about me," you seethed, "all you fucking know is what the inside of my body feels like...don't you dare sit there and act like you've got me all figured out."

Your steps were purposeful as you pushed up and away from the table, leaving him sitting there, his words lingering in the air like a bitter aftertaste. You moved back into the library, the familiar scent of old books surrounding you like a protective barrier, but you knew it wouldn't shield you from the storm that was Mattheo bloody Riddle for long. No, that would be far too fucking easy.

And nothing about your situation with that boy was easy.

As you put your book back on the shelf, you felt his presence behind you, a suffocating weight pressing down on your shoulders as you reluctantly spun back around to face him.

"Why'd you do it, huh?" Mattheo's voice cut through the air like a razor, his narrowed eyes fixed on you as he backed you up against the shelf, his presence overwhelming. "Are you truly that ashamed of who you fucking are?"

"Mattheo," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, the frustration boiling inside you. "Please, don't push it...if I wanted to tell you about that, I would have..."

"Yeah, you're ashamed," he sneered, dismissing your words with a cynical laugh, confirming his original point. "You're ashamed of where you come from...fuck, I always knew we were alike, but I never knew it'd be this much-"

"What the fuck is this? Some type of elaborate power-play move? Some type of big intimidation act to get me to tell you about my life?..." you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. "If you wanted to know, why didn't you just ask me? Instead of fucking me every chance you got why didn't you try having a real conversation with me? Try actually opening up to me for once?"

"Even if I did..." he said, dropping his tone into a low whisper. "Would you have told me? You said it yourself that you don't fucking trust me..."

"What do you want to know, Riddle? Huh? You want me to tell you how I grew up in a mansion full of emptiness? How my parents were never around and I was left with my cold, reserved grandmother, who cared more about her fucking butler than me?...or maybe you want to know about how I was raised in a world of expectations, forced to be perfect in every way imaginable, while my parents only bothered to acknowledge my existence when it served their social ambitions..."

You paused, frowning at him, your features a near scowl. "You're sure quick to call me a rich little princess...and sure, maybe you're right, maybe I had all the material things one could ever desire...but it was never enough, could never be enough. Something was always missing, like a void inside me that nothing would ever fucking fill."

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you continued, the weight of your past bearing down on you. "When my grandmother got sick, it was the only time she actually fucking spoke to me. She told me to be different, to break free from the mold that had plagued my family for decades. I was there with her in her final moments, the first and only fucking time she ever said she loved me. And where were my parents? Absent, as always. They didn't even show up until days after her death, showering me with gifts, as if their mere presence could make up for years of neglect..."

In an unrelenting torrent, words cascaded from your lips, each syllable carrying the burden of years' worth of pent-up emotions. Mattheo's unwavering gaze never strayed, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, absorbing every uttered syllable as though he never anticipated such revelations.

"Sure, maybe I was handed whatever I wanted on a silver fucking platter--but I was always alone, and truthfully, that's how I fucking preferred it. I never believed in destiny, Mattheo...the stars never whispered my name, my future...I had to shape my own path, I had to become something of my own...once my grandma passed, I was left with the butler. My parents didn't care about what I did as long as my grades were to their standards. They had no idea I wasn't in Slytherin until my third fucking year..."

You paused, your eyes catching Mattheo's parted lips, a reflection of sheer astonishment. Despite fighting to maintain composure, your voice softened with each breath, your heart pounding in your throat.

"I had to grab my own fate with two hungry hands, pulling and pushing and molding my life into something I could be fucking proud of...and then you came along, with your smart mouth and your fucking effortless charm...and you just...you forced your way right into my bloody heart, tore down my walls like you fucking belonged there." The bitterness in your voice hung in the air, the pain of your past etched into every word, your chest heaving with emotion as Mattheo stood in front of you, speechless. "Yes, I've made mistakes, but they belong entirely to me...and thats precisely what sets us apart, you went through some shit and let it possess you...I chose to fight back."

Trembling fingers betrayed the turmoil within, your entire body quivering in the aftermath of the verbal storm you'd just unleashed upon Mattheo. Only when the deafening silence enveloped you did the weight of your words become palpable.

Unable to endure the silence any longer, you broke eye contact, running a trembling hand through your hair. "I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to trauma dump on you like that, I just-"

"No," he declared, "don't you dare apologize to me...I should be the one apologizing to you."

Mattheo's interruption sliced through the charged air, his voice emerging rasped and strained, as though he had withheld words for years. Swallowing, you met his intense gaze, attempting to decipher the kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within his eyes.

"Don't pity me, Mattheo...I'm well past needing that," you whispered, your figure leaning subtly against the bookshelf, a tangible weariness emanating from your being. "Everything you've ever said was right...two sides of the same coin, the masks, the fact that we're each haunted by our own ghosts. You've always been fucking right. The only misstep was when you claimed you'd be my ruin."

Mattheo arched an eyebrow, bridging the distance between you with a measured step. "And why is that?"

"Because, little did you know, I was already in ruins," you murmured, reaching out to loop your fingers around his belt, pulling him closer. "If anything, you've been my bloody salvation...you did something I wasn't sure I was capable of anymore--you made me feel."

A tangible tension hung in the air as Mattheo's hands gripped your hips with a silent urgency, a fervent plea for your presence.

"As if you're going to fucking say that," he countered, his grip conveying unspoken desires. "As if that's not precisely what you did to me."

"Yeah?" you smirked, your voice a sultry whisper. "And what do I make you feel?"

"Everything, Raven," he cooed, lips grazing sensually over your jawline. "Hate, desire, anger, lust...among other things."

Your breath hitched, suspended in the charged exchange. "Among other--"

Before you could finish, Mattheo cut you off, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing kiss, a palpable surge of desire that eclipsed the need for spoken words. He pressed you against the bookshelf, the wooden solidity of the shelves meeting your back. His hands, with a journey of their own, glided up your sides, their warmth leaving a trail of anticipation. They found their destination on your face, gently cupping it with a possessiveness that made your heart flutter, and you sighed into his mouth, letting your hands rest at his sides.

"Everything about you is so fucking addictive..." Mattheo's confession hung in the air, a declaration punctuated by the heat of his lips tracing a fervent path along your jaw. His hand, a serpentine caress, slithered down your arm, leaving a tingling trail of warmth in its wake. "You are both hellfire and holy water...soft yet strong...and every bloody time I touch you I feel a little less war-torn, like your chaos balances out mine...I just...I have no idea what peace feels like Raven, but I have to imagine it feels a lot like you..."

"Mm...fuck, I've missed you..." a soft sigh escaped your lips as his kisses descended, exploring the landscape of your neck. Your fingers instinctively tightened their grip on his shirt. "Whatever happened to that break you said you wanted..."

"Fuck the break," he growled, desire lacing his voice. His hand ventured boldly behind your head, the other finding a home on your hip, possessive and hungry. "I want you so fucking bad...I want to fuck you right here...right against this fucking shelf...cover your filthy little mouth so no one can hear you fucking moaning for me..."

"Shit..." you mewled, gasping slightly as his hand slid around to grip your ass. "Maybe...if two people can't seem to stay the fuck away from eachother, they aren't meant to be apart, hm?"

"Maybe you're right..." Mattheo purred, nipping at your earlobe as he pressed you back against the shelf. "I've always been a strong man, Raven...but you break me without effort...you are my weakness, the chink in my fucking armour..."

"Your undoing?" you murmured, your fingers tracing over his belt.

He hummed. "Precisely."

"When are you going to open up to me, Mattheo?" You whispered, your voice a fragile murmur as though you were afraid of the answer, slipping your fingers under his belt now, gliding along its path. "Tell me all the bad things you've done...tell me what made you into the weapon you are...you don't need to be afraid...I saw your darkness from the very beginning and I'm still fucking here, aren't I?..."

"Why?" His grip tightened, breath hitching. "Why didn't you run?"

Your lids fluttered, slowly losing yourself in the warmth of his breath against your neck. His scent enveloped you; a familiar, soothing balm to the ache he'd caused with his recent request for a break. The answer formed easily in your heart, though voicing it required vulnerability, more than you'd ever expected to give.

"Because...it was a reflection of mine."

Mattheo's only response was a deep growl that rumbled through the charged space, a primal sound that resonated with desire. Without hesitation, he pulled you back into a hungry kiss, his body pulsating with pent-up energy seeking release. The intensity of the kiss mirrored the raw hunger between you, a magnetic force that defied all notions of any further separation.

As your fingers continued their exploration along his belt, tracing the contours with a teasing caress, you encountered an unexpected sensation--cold, unyielding metal tucked between the leather and his abdomen, its texture rough, and harsh. A chill ran down your spine as confusion slowly crept over you, your eyes fluttering open in slow, tentative blinks, fingers seemingly frozen in place.

Mattheo, lost in the heat of the moment, seemed oblivious to your sudden unease. The kiss deepened, his hunger transferring into the fervency of the embrace. But your focus had shifted, and your trembling fingers tentatively confirmed the nature of the cold object--something metallic, something that should not be there. You gently pulled away from the kiss, your eyes wide with realization, fixated on the metal object now halfway exposed. Dread tightened your chest as your brows pinched, flicking back up to meet his eyes.

"Mattheo," you whispered, the name carrying a weight of urgency, "what is this?"

Mattheo's swallow echoed in the charged silence, his gaze dropping to your hand, his chest still heaving from the passionate kiss. His eyes widened as the weight of your question settled in, a realization dawning on him, as if he had momentarily forgotten about the object concealed within his belt.

"Raven, I-"

He began, but you interrupted, yanking your hand back. "No-what the fuck-"

"Stop," Mattheo commanded, his tone abruptly taking on a harsh edge. With deliberate movements, he pulled up his shirt slightly, revealing more of the mysterious object nestled between his belt. The revelation hung in the air, and Mattheo, eyes now serious, asked a question that carried the weight of the moment: "Do you trust me, Raven?"

Your eyes squinted as a realization crashed over you, the rhythm of your heart shifting into a turbulent drumbeat within your chest. There was absolutely no denying it--that sleek, ominous silhouette spoke volumes. That was a fucking gun.

Frozen in a surreal disbelief, your ability to think, blink, or move was momentarily hijacked. Mattheo's hand surged upward with a suddenness that matched the shock in your eyes, seizing your jaw with a commanding force. His fingers, both firm and urgent, redirected your gaze, forcing you back to the depth of his eyes, which were now darker than the midnight sky.

"Answer me," he demanded, the intensity of his words amplified by the gravity of the situation. "Do you fucking trust me?"

The weight of the question echoed in the charged air. Your mind spun, grappling with the incredulity of the scene unfolding before you. Firearms had been a distant memory, relegated to hunting trips with a Muggle friend back in middle school. Yet, the stark reality of Mattheo possessing a fucking handgun in the heart of Hogwarts shattered any remnants of normalcy, the shockwaves reverberating through your very core.

"I-I-" you stammered.

Mattheo jostled your head in his grip, pulling you closer. "Yes or no question, Raven."

Blinking, you found yourself caught in a tempest of conflicting emotions. The tendrils of trust warred with the unsettling presence of the gun, a contradiction that defied all reason. In the throbbing silence, Mattheo's growl of frustration pierced the air. Relinquishing his grip on your jaw, he seized your wrist, directing it back toward the ominous weapon.

"Take it out," he commanded, his eyes fixed on yours. "Right now, Raven. Take it."

A whimper escaped you, your fingers trembling as they tentatively wrapped around the cold metal. With visible reluctance, you extended it out, pointing the gun down at the floor. Mattheo's grip on your wrist persisted, unyielding, anchoring you in the unsettling reality of the moment.

"I'll ask you one more fucking time," he whispered harshly, the words slicing through the charged air like a razor. His breath, warm against your face, carried an unsettling contrast to the gravity of his demand. "Do you trust me?"

Another desperate whimper slipped past your lips, the nodding of your head an almost frantic plea. "Yes! Please, I trust you. Just take it back-"

Mattheo's reply erupted as a snarl, a guttural growl that echoed with a feral intensity. His features, twisted by a crazed possession, accentuated the mad determination in his eyes as he tightened his grip on your wrist. With an unhinged sense of purpose, he directed it upward, the cold barrel now pressing menacingly against his own temple.

"Pull it," he said stoically, the eerie calmness chilling against the tension. "Pull the trigger."

Your jaw dropped, the brimming tears reflecting the disbelief that swirled in your eyes. "No! What the fu-"

"Do it," he repeated, the calmness persisting. "Go on, baby, pull it."

Sickened and paralyzed by the surreal horror of the moment, you hesitated, the sheer shock of what Mattheo was asking you to do anchoring you in a moment of profound disbelief. Your mind swarmed with recollections of the crazy things you'd done for him before, but this--this was unlike anything you had ever fucking imagined. The weight of the gun in your hand, the gravity of the situation, left your brain reeling as the stark realization of the moment seized hold of your senses.

His frustration, palpable and charged, manifested in another growl. With a menacing determination, he shifted his hand to envelop yours, forcing your finger down, the pressure on the trigger unrelenting.

You heard the click, you felt the click--and yet, nothing happened.

"Fuck..." you choked out, a turbulent blend of relief and confusion seizing your senses in a tumultuous embrace. "What the fuck..."

He blinked, his dark eyes tracing over your lips as he clicked it again. And again. The ensuing silence, pregnant with the surreal gravity of the situation, echoed through the seemingly empty library. Each breath you exhaled became a struggle, the air tinged with the weight of the inexplicable moment, your senses teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

Then, like a tidal wave crashing over you, the realization struck with breathtaking force. "It's enchanted..."

"About fucking time you caught on." Mattheo nodded, his acknowledgement cutting through the charged air with terse confirmation. He released the hold on your hand, pulling the gun away and casually slipping it back under his belt. "This gun only serves one purpose Raven, and it's never to kill, only to protect..."

Your heart leapt. "Protect what?"

"Doesn't matter," he said, a gentle hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes. “You can trust me, Raven…you can always fucking trust me…”

You exhaled, a long, exasperated breath. “I know, Mattheo…”

“Good girl,” he cooed, a smirk playing on his lips as he stoically reached into his back pocket, as if on a quest for something. "Has Nott popped the question yet?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Yes.."

"Good," he replied, his other hand securing your wrist before he withdrew his busy one, placing a handful of Galleons in your outstretched palm. "Go treat yourself to a dress. Something red, something tight."

As he withdrew his hand, he leaned in, placing a hot, wet kiss on your cheek, smirking from ear to ear as he said. "I've got something I have to do tonight, so I can't stay...but I look forward to respectfully ripping off whichever lovely dress you decide on."

"Respectfully?" you quipped, a playful glint in your eyes. "I'll make sure to pick a dress that demands nothing less than the most dignified removal, then."

"Oh, Raven...I can promise you it'll be the furthest thing from dignified." He snickered, wetting his lips as he took a few steps back, slowly beginning to make his retreat. "See you then."

As he spun around, making his exit, your mind followed suit, a whirlwind of emotions from this entire encounter. Only Mattheo Riddle could master the art of rendering you utterly anxious, furious, emotional, aroused, terrified, and, finally, relieved--all within the span of under an hour. You'd never encountered a man who expertly navigated every one of your buttons and boundaries like he did, yet you couldn't deny the potent influence he held over you.

You couldn't deny that as soon as he left, an insatiable longing for his presence consumed you, an undeniable yearning for his return.

—————————

Chapter 25->

[doremimosasol]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 - 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ☆

warnings: suggestive, a bit angsty in the beginning

word count: 2,2 k

summary: finding the comfort in each other’s embrace, not knowing it would burn

with thanks to @slytherinslut0 , who gave me a lovely prompt

Your feet touched the cold floor of the common room, freezing further with every step you took. Though the cold couldn't balance out the burning of your eyes. Red. Red because of the tears they so desperately needed to free from the barriers. The barriers getting weaker as the weeks passed, but still held steady by the hands of one person: Mattheo Riddle.

Academic validation was slowly eating you from the inside, until there was almost nothing left. Everything just hurt. Your head hurt, your back hurt, your eyes hurt, your-

- "Y/n?"

The look in his eyes could mend every wound left by your endless hours of studying. It was always soft when he looked at you. Soft but concealing every single other emotion underneath. He nodded, stepping aside to let you in.

The atmosphere instantly fell down on you, the familiar scent of his room wrapping around your heart like a blanket. You noticed the deserted book on the crumpled sheets of his bed. He was reading, trying to have some time for himself. The guilt came crushing down on you. You were so selfish, asking for his time like this over and over and over and over — But so did he...

You felt his presence creeping up behind you. No matter how many times you did it, the tension never left. His fingertips touched the strands of your hair, pulling them aside to expose your neck to him. His lips aimed straight for the spot he knew would make you squirm. "Why those tears, mhmm?"

He traced a path to your jaw, his hand snaking up to the front to gently grip it. His index finger trailing its way to the bottom of your lips, pulling it down slightly. "Tell me what's been bothering you..."

"Stress..."

And with a soft hum, he showed that he understood. Stress, a thing that's been torturing both of you for ages but not in quite the exact same way. "And you came to me to release it, yes?"

You nod, hoping he'd feel the movement against his fingertips. "Nodding won't do, y/n. I need to hear you say it." He softly pulled back your head, making you look up at him.

"Yes..."

And with that he angled your head slightly to the side to smash his lips against yours in a fervent kiss. His chest pushing tightly against your back. His hands nearing their way to the point of your pulse. He gently pressed down his thumb, to feel the adrenaline streaming through your veins. He smirked against your lips at the feel of the throbbing under the pads of his fingers. He always managed to rile you up in the perfect ways.

He never left you the chance to speak more about what happened, how badly you wanted to... You wanted to talk to him, gosh you so desperately needed to talk to him. Just as much as you needed him to touch you, and right now you might've needed that more. So you just let him, swallowing down the words you've been dying to say to him for months.

Before you knew it, he had you pinned to his mattress. The book he was reading long discarded to the cold floor.

His touch went straight to your heart. Your body, mind, and heart fighting to take the upper hand.

It was your body which craved his touch. The way he touched you sent you to a complete different dimension. It was as if the world around you just stopped, like the only the thing that mattered where the fingers of the man on top of you. The fingers that mapped out your skin like a cartographer.

He knew every single spot that drove you crazy, linked to the reactions it resulted in. His hand now making his way down your body almost like it was making its way through a forest. As it it was in search for a treasure — the signal of arrival when he felt your back arch off the bed. With subtle pressure trying to trick the one who left the treasure behind. As if it was a substitute to the weight that your mind carried.

Your mind that went a thousand miles an hour when he reached that certain point, trying to fight against the pleasure but failing every single time. Was this right? What were you? Was this situation ever resulting in something more? Or were you just wasting your time...

All doubts immediately disappeared when he pressed down that certain spot. almost like it tried to scare off the overthinking.

He always talked to you when he guided you through it, they weren't pretty; the words. They stung like a wasp leaving behind its stingers behind in your heart. The painful reminder of why he was doing this... It would never be out of love.

It was just because you needed him in that moment and knew he'd need you just as much in the near future. It never meant anything to him, it didn't feel like it meant anything to him at least...

He never left you hanging though, whether it was for him or you. He always made sure to leave the both of you equally satisfied. But nothing could ever fully satisfy you, when he always left a cold spot next to you right after.

"I'm gonna take a shower, you should be going." He didn't even look back at you after. He never looked back at you.

And you made sure you always left before he reappeared from the bathroom. You were scared of what would happen if he would find you in his bed after.

Mornings after in the halls felt like nothing ever happened to you, like you were strangers to each other. When you know he was the person who felt the least of a stranger to you. You posed yourself vulnerable to him. Even your closest friends had no idea of your struggles with the academic pressure. Of the fear of failure.

No one knew the way you'd stay up for several nights in a row to feel less. The numbing feeling of the lack of sleep, keeping you going. You couldn't remember the last time you slept through a complete night, it felt impossible. The thumping of your heart keeping you awake at night.

A knock on your door interrupted the spinning of your thoughts. You expected no one other than Mattheo...

"Y/n." He always called out your name before he crashed into your arms. He never cried, but the way he slumped against your frame every time weighed a thousand tears.

"Talk to me, Mattheo." You always tried for him to speak up about it, your tender fingers cradling his face as you looked into his broken eyes. But nothing ever happened.

It was always for nothing. Every time you tried to break through his walls, he made them twice as thick. Trying to shut up your further prying with his lips. They always felt a bit softer when he was the one that came to you, like he transferred his pain through the kiss. Rather than taking up yours with a rough one.

This time you pulled away, trying once again to get him to talk. "Mattheo, please. You need to talk to me. Please, just talk to me about it." You tried to keep some distance between you two, but his lips just came crashing upon yours again. He didn't want to talk about it and would never do it. Never. No one knew about anything other than the meaning of his last name. The meaning of what it would do to a person.

But you didn't give up, once again pulling back. "Mattheo, can you ju-" He cut you off.

"Can you just shut up, y/n?" And with that he pushed your body against the wall behind you, the hit of it slightly hurting your head. You didn't have the energy to fight it anymore and just let him be. Better luck next time...

He trailed his lips down your neck, but not without covering your mouth with the palm of his hand first. He didn't want to hear your pleading anymore. He hated it, he hated how vulnerable you made him feel. Everything about this arrangement was just to make the two of you feel better, no question asked. But every single night you were getting closer to breaking that rule.

You softly pulled his hand away from your face, one simple word leaving your lips. "Sorry."

You couldn't deny you craved him too in that moment and just made sure to give him what he came for: an escape from reality. Even if it was just for a while.

Tonight felt different, he was on the verge of falling apart...

He held onto to you like you were his lifeline, his eyes were closed all through it. He was scared it’d show too much if he opened them. So you made sure to kiss him as much as he needed, his soft lips sending you into a blissful state.

You couldn't even catch your breath after, before he stood up to get dressed again, ready to leave your room. But you were prepared this time, you wouldn't let him leave like he always would. Like it once again had meant nothing to him, when you so clearly felt a change in your interaction every time. Every time, he got softer. He kissed your lips more instead of just your neck. He held the back of your head instead of guiding your hips himself. He slowed down his pace, trying to make it last longer. You noticed it, and he knew you did.

You quickly pulled on enough clothes to cover yourself up. You didn't want to be completely naked as you finally would approach him about the situation. You almost ran to the door to block his path. "Can you stay? For once?"

The look in your eyes felt like a slap in his face. He hated the way you crawled your way into his heart — "Y/n, move."

But you didn't budge, you wouldn't budge.

"Can we please talk, can we talk about everything. Mattheo, I need someone to talk to and I know you do too." You pleaded with your eyes for him to change his mind.

"I don't do talking about my feelings, y/n, and you know that." His words were harsh but his tone betrayed the way he really felt.

"And what about me? Every time I try to open up to you, you just shut me out. Are you ever going to let me in, or am I just wasting my time?" There, you said it.

He let out an exasperated sigh and leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You knew this. We agreed to this! We come to each other and then no questions asked." He tried so hard to make it clear to you.

"Yes, Mattheo, but can't things change? Can't we change? You can't tell me all this has just been is to make ourselves feel better, when I know for a fact it's making me feel worse right now." You stepped up closer to him, still trying to keep a bit of distance.

He looked down at you, the pleading in your eyes hitting his heart like a wrecking ball. "You're being unfair..."

"How?" One step closer.

"Don't-" His voice sounded almost pained.

"Why not, Mattheo?" You made one last step until your bodies were touching and that's when he broke.

"Because I love you." It was as if time stopped, the recoil of the words pushing your body away from him, almost hitting the wall behind you.

"I never looked back after, for the fear of falling right back into your arms. I always, always hoped to find you still in my bed after my shower. I always hoped for you to ask me to join me, I always hoped you finally would've been able to push through the walls..."

He laughed softly, his eyes meeting yours as he stepped forward. He pressed your back against the wall behind you, his body now fully up against yours, he leaned in until he was breathing against your mouth. His breathing was becoming faster and heavier. "I never meant to love you." He murmured, his voice was rough and soft at the same time.

"You made me."

"Then please love me tonight..." Something snapped and with a swift and calculated movement, Mattheo closed the remaining distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue sought entry, tangling with yours in a heated dance of desire.

You pulled away to take a breath and to finally speak out the words: "I love you too."

And that was the first night Mattheo made love to anyone, made love to you. Enjoying each other's heartbeats and embrace in the ending in the afterglow of the spent emotions...