#matt riddle fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queencherryberry · 1 year ago

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This is waaayyy over due. I know I said I was supposed to post this back in January when Riddles suspension was supposed to end but everyone kept giving him heat. So I waited till the smoke cleared. @randy-ortons-chair if you’re still on here, here’s part 2. And @alyyaanna thank you for giving me the courage to post this despite the Riddle hate that still goes around me.

Minors don’t interact. 18+. Warnings I can think of to give this: morning sex, anxiety attack, slight dirty talk, Seth being a jerk, some slight tooth rotting fluff.

Beautiful Mistakes pt.2

It has been a month since that night you and Matt hooked up. You guys thought it would have made your friendship awkward but honestly it made you guys closer and within a month you and Riddle had actually started acting like a couple. How Seth was talking it though, he still had no idea. You had already mentally detached yourself from the dead relationship between you and Seth. He was still oblivious to your sneaking around with Riddle. Seth only understood that you were really upset with him.

By now Seth just thinks that you fully moved in with your brother. Truth be told you actually moved in with Matt. You gave Matt his quality time with his kids whenever he had them or whenever they came over. Eventually Matt and his kids started inviting you to come out with them. You and Matt were never too heavy on the pda in public, but behind closed doors either on the road or when his kids had gone back to Lisa’s, you two couldn’t keep your hands to each other.

It was Monday night, the Raw after Extreme Rules, you were walking back towards the lounge area after grabbing a bite to eat from catering. You had been avoiding Seth the whole night as well as every Monday night. Tonight was no acception. You were pulled from your thoughts when someone in a white glitter like jacket pulled you into a dark empty hallway. “Sorry to get your attention like this babe, just wanted to see how you were doing. Seth giving you trouble yet or have you avoided him all night so far?” Matt asked as hand went from your arm to your waist. Matt was always cautious of your anxiety on Mondays because you were actively avoiding Seth.

“I haven’t seen him all night so I think I’m doing a good job avoiding him.” You replied. You wrapped your arms around Riddle’s torso into a hug, and he hugged back. You smiled up at him. “Have I ever told you, you look really hot in white?” You flirted looking up at him. He smiled his usual golden retriever smile and kissed your forehead. “You’re hot all the time babe. Especially when you….” You cut him off by pulling his face down to yours and kissing him. You figured that since it was an empty hallway you and Matt could get away with a quickie. You tugged on his jacket zipper. Part of his bare chest started to peak under the white glittery jacket he was wearing.

After what seemed like 20 minutes, your legs were shaking. They had been wrapped around Riddles’ waist while he had nailed you into the wall. You were mostly sure that this time there was bruising on your hips but it felt so good. Matt himself had just as much damage as he did to you. Deep nail indentations and scratches littered his back. Bite marks on his neck and shoulders visibly present from when you hid your screams from your orgasm. Don’t worry, your neck matched his too. Riddle tugged his trunks back up after he set you back down on one of the road carts. He readjusted himself and put his jacket back on. You put your panties and leggings back on as well.

Later on in the show Matt and Seth had to do a promo against each other. You sat back in the gorilla watching the monitor as both men were in the ring. Seth was clearly very heated, and that was putting it nicely. Everything was going well for the promo till Seth started getting personal. “Riddle, Riddle…..how about you remove your head from the clouds and from between my ex’s ***** and take your job seriously…” Seth said as you heard metaphorical shots fired. Good thing they bleeped out the second half of Seth’s comment. Your face was red with shock and embarrassment, Matt was also pissed by Seth’s words. He grinded his teeth. Seth continued, “while you're at it Riddle….just admit you slept with her to get back at me. HAHAHA. And let’s not forget to give her some air. Pull her off her knees. She must be getting sore.” Seth grinned.

Your jaw dropped and now your face was red with anger. It was Matt’s turn to speak. “Whoa, whoa. Not cool bro. At least I give her undivided attention. At least she’s happy with me, bro. I don’t have some big ass ego pushing her away.” Matt said getting in Seth’s face. Seth threw the first punch and the two of them started brawling before being separated by officials. You went and hid in the car you and Matt came in together. All you wanted to do now was go back to the hotel, maybe dissolve in the hot tub and then go to bed and forget the words Seth said. You rested your head on the headrest as light tears started down your face. 3 years together and that’s how Seth thinks of you? He basically called you a slut for moving on and finding happiness. You sniffed trying to hold the hurt in but then in a matter of seconds your face was covered in tears. You pulled your knees up to your chest and started bawling. Your phone vibrates and you try to calm yourself to answer your brother who was calling.

“H-hello? No… I’m fine. *sniffle* So what? Yeah Colby said a few hurtful words, it’s business. *sniffle* No, I haven't seen Matty since before their brawl started. Yes, he’s treating me a lot better than Colby did in 3 years. I just *sniffle* got tired of Colby’s ego. Matt’s a big sweetheart. How’s recovery? How’s the kids? Yeah. When do you think you’ll be back?” You talked to your brother for about an or 2 before you hung up and Matt found you in the car. By now your brother had calmed you down from your anxiety attack. “There you are babe. You okay? Someone said you ran out of the arena crying.” Matt asked you with concern. Your heart swelled. It was little things like this that drew you to Matt. Things like this is what Seth hasn’t done in a very long time.

Once at the hotel you and Matt checked in and went to settle your things in the room. You threw on your swimsuit. You layered it with an old pair of basketball shorts and a baggy tshirt. You went straight to the hot tub and relaxed. Matt followed not too far behind. He could tell something was still bothering you. Given Matt knew your brother, he wasn’t going to push you to open up if you didn’t feel comfortable. He’d wait till you were ready to talk. You scooted over to sit by Matt and put your head on his shoulder. He In return kissed your forehead. “You alright babe?” He asked and got a tired nod in return from you. “Just tired is all.” You yawned. You barely remembered getting out of the hot tub and drying off and heading back to the room for a long nights rest. The thing is, Matt was in for a long night, he knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep. He’s seen you go through something like this before. He’d need to keep a close eye on you in case you woke up in a stress induced panic attack. He rubbed your back hoping that would help you remain calm while you slept. He did this for a few hours till he was sure it was good to fall asleep himself. He pulled you close and loosely wrapped his arms around you. Soon both of you were in dreamland.

You were the first one to wake up in the morning. You checked your phone and saw it was only 9am. You slipped out of bed carefully not to wake Matt. You went to the bathroom and changed out of your clothes from last night. You then crawled back into bed naked. You already knew Matt slept naked so it made your plan a lot easier. You reached carefully under the covers to confirm your thoughts. You smirked to yourself when they were indeed confirmed. Matt was still sleeping but had morning wood. You quickly put your hair in a ponytail and crawled between his legs under the covers. You tested just how asleep he was by licking the head of cock slowly. When he groaned in his sleep you went right to work and took him into your mouth. When you heard Matt moan, that's when you knew he was fully awake now. You bobbed your head up and down making Matt squirm and moan under you. It kinda took you by surprise when Matt grabbed the back of your head by your ponytail and started guiding you to the speed he wanted. “Good morning to you too babe.” Matt mumbled through moans. Soon his back was arched off the bed as you started deep throating him. You dug your nails into his inner thighs and went fast. Next thing you knew your face was in the pillows as Matt slammed into you from behind. “Matt! Fuck! Yes!” You whined. Matt grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled causing your back to arch more and making him deeper. You kept screaming his name till you felt him grab one of your legs and put it over his shoulder. You were certain that at this angle, Matt was as balls deep as he’s ever been. “Daddy I’m gonna…..I’m……gonna…….” You tried to moan out the words without thinking about what you were saying. Matt knew what you were trying to say so he reached down and rubbed fast circles on your clit till he felt your walls clamp down on his cock. “Fuck babe. So tight…” he moaned into your ear from behind. “Come for me.” He harshly started sucking on your sensitive spot just below your ear. You didn’t have to be told twice. You came and a few short thrusts later Matt did too. You were a panting mess after Matt pulled out. You actually whined at the loss of contact. For a moment you were stuck in the all fours position with your face still going through the motions of your orgasm. Matt smiled at his work and went to go start a shower to clean up both of you for the day. Matt’s seed leaked down your inner thighs, once you caught your breath you checked your phone again. Damn, Matt lasted 3 hours, it was already noon. You heard the water running and plopped over on your side. You rubbed your thighs together feeling the stickiness between them. You felt full to the brim.

When you could feel your legs again you sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched. Matt walked over and offered help in case your legs were still wobbly. You let him pick you up and carry you to the shower. You both cleaned up, got ready for the day, packed up everything and checked out. Matt loaded both your guys bags and you guys left for the gym before hitting the road to the next town.

Later on at the show, you and Matt walked into the stadium and went your separate ways to your respective locker rooms. Once you got to your locker room you walked in to set your stuff down and get changed. Upon walking in you were greeted with a surprise: Your older brother was back from injury! You dropped everything and ran to hug him nearly in tears. “Randal!” You hugged your brother for what felt like forever.

#seth rollins #matt riddle smut #matt riddle imagine #my favorite stoner #matt riddle #randy orton #matt riddle fluff #bookshelf

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slytherinslut0 · 2 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th — virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART ONE | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

pairing: mattheo riddle x berkshires!sister

summary: mattheo’s conscience can only hold him back for so long.

warnings: 18+, hogwarts uni (putting this even tho it’s obvious), jealous mattheo, flirting, tension tension tension, “we can’t do this” type of vibe, “your brother is right over there” type of vibe. bestfriends lil sister trope. part one of two.

Morality—what is it, really? How is it measured? Is it a linear scale? Could someone be morally sound yet sometimes make an exception when the situation called for it?

Perhaps it's subjective. Anything that falls outside of the law, that is.

Mattheo forced a breath from his lungs, the drink in his hand was tasteless, some watered-down excuse for a cocktail. But that didn't matter, not really—what mattered was the way you kept laughing, the way your hand lingered a second too long on that random bastard's sleeve. The sight made something concerning coil tight in his chest, but he stayed where he was, back against the wall, sucking down drinks like he'd been tasked to it.

God, this was stupid. Morality. Right and wrong. He knew the difference, of course he did. Just because he was a Riddle didn't make him a monster. Not yet, anyway. But that line, the one between you and him—the one drawn so clearly in the sand—was practically mocking him with its absolutes and daring him to cross it. Forbidden, off-limits, the one thing he shouldn't want.

His best friend's little sister. The good girl. A virgin, no less.

"Riddle—you coming?"

Mattheo's head jerked slightly, but his mind was miles away.

He waved a hand. "I'll catch up in a bit.”

Malfoy and Zabini nodded, slipping into the night, leaving him behind in the dim, crowded ballroom. Spring dance. Hours past dusk. He didn't even know why he was still there. Normally, he was long gone before the clock struck twelve, but tonight the room pulsed with bodies and the music hummed under his skin. His drink was half-forgotten in his hand, and his gaze was fixed on a group across the room.

Or, more specifically, on you.

You were standing, black dress to your mid-thighs, half-listening to boys from your year drone on about quidditch tryouts and the usual chatter that filled the space between your breaths. But your eyes—your eyes weren't on them. You were looking at him. A soft smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, like you knew something he didn't.

His heart kicked against his ribs. Where was that line again?

You winked, and he sipped his drink. He'd always said bad decisions made good stories—but even if this (unnameable thing between you) was a story worth telling, the people to hear it would be few.

The tension grew suffocating and he finally looked away. You took that as a win, but you weren't about to let the game end there—not after you noted the tense of his fingers around his cup. You excused yourself from the group, your body moving through the crowd like water, fluid and unhurried, weaving your way toward him.

You knew the line well, the one Mattheo pretended so hard to respect. Restraint wasn't his nature—it never had been, not in the decade you'd watched him take whatever he wanted without a second thought. He wasn't made for holding back, and it showed every now and then—every time his lips crashed against yours in some hidden corner, whispering confessions of how badly he wanted more, how he ached for what he couldn't have.

You loved pushing him to that point. You loved knowing how bad he wanted you. Your brother would lose his mind if he found out. But that didn't matter, not even a little. Not when Mattheo looked at you like that.

"Having fun?" He asked upon your approach, his voice a shade too flat.

"A little." You leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, your presence seeping into the space between you. "What about you? You seem a bit...tense."

"Tense." The word came out bland, barely audible, and he took a slow sip of his drink, like he needed it just to find his voice. "Why would I be tense?"

You wet your lips, slow, deliberate, studying him with that sidelong glance that made his pulse skip. His jaw tightened, and his eyes—those beautiful, dangerous brown eyes—scanned the room with something too close to desperation.

"Good question." You tilted your head, gaze playful, curious, like you were dissecting him right there in the half-light. "Maybe it's because you've been watching me like a hawk. Like you're waiting for me to do something...wrong."

"Maybe I'm just looking out for you," he muttered, his gaze sliding to your brother across the room, lips locked with some brunette. Mattheo's eyes flickered back to you, just for a moment. "Your brother's a little...busy, after all."

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into an amused, almost wicked smile. "Ah, so that's it. You're just being my big, overprotective babysitter."

"I don't need to babysit you," he grumbled, though his gaze betrayed him, darting over to the group of boys you'd been talking to. "Just keeping an eye on the company you keep."

It was almost amusing—the way Mattheo stood there, sizing up your guy friends like they were targets in a lineup, probably mentally noting who he'd hit first if any of them dared to step out of line. He was different tonight—and you could have brushed it off, could have let that flicker of vulnerability slide, but that wasn't how this game was played. Not with him. Not with you. There was no room for naivety here.

You turned to face him now, full-on, shoulder resting against the wall as you raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly up his arm.

"Keeping an eye," you repeated as you traced the hard line of his shoulder, then down, lower, over his chest. "Ever my hero, Mattheo Riddle."

When your fingers grazed his abdomen, his breath caught and he grabbed your wrist—hard—the suddenness of it making you gasp. Then, he turned to face you, and his gaze finally met yours—really met yours—for the first time since you'd crossed the room.

"Don't." His voice was low, strained, like he was fighting himself as much as you.

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, that innocent look you'd perfected like a sport. You wore it like a halo you knew you didn't deserve.

"Don't...what?" You damn-well knew what.

His grip tightened, just enough for you to feel the heat of it, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the tension radiating off him. He wet his lips, and you melted—remembering how it felt to kiss them.

"Don't play games with me." He said. "Not tonight."

The warning was clear, but instead of pulling away—heeding his words and letting that heat simmer down—you leaned closer, defying every unspoken rule. The thrill shot up your spine, into your brain, turning everything hazy, electric. You were drunk on it.

"Why not?" Your free hand traced up his other arm and his gaze followed the movement, lips parting ever so slightly. "...afraid you'll lose?"

Before you knew what was happening, he had you spun around—so fast you barely registered the movement before your back hit the cold stone wall. His drink found the table beside him, his focus entirely on you.

"Don't to this to me. Not here," he whispered. "Your brother is right over there."

You glanced toward Enzo, still too preoccupied with the brunette to notice a thing.

"He's a little distracted, don't you think?" Your fingers on your free hand resumed their path, this time up toward his collarbone. But his other hand found them, too. You looked down. Two large hands, wrapped tight around your wrists, like he could stop the fire running through your veins if he just held on hard enough. Your thighs shook. "Gods, you really are tense tonight, aren't you?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, two embers gleaming in the night— his lips twitching in a way that made your pulse stutter. There was need in him now, a raw, visceral energy that vibrated between you. Untethered.

He leaned in, closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "You're impossible."

"Impossible..." you echoed, the space between you shrinking with every second. There was no choice in it. It was magnetic, inevitable. He leaned closer, and you—against all reason—matched him, drawn by a force you couldn't name. "Impossible to...resist, Matty?"

Your lips were so close, you could almost taste the flavours lingering on his breath. The heat of him drew you in like gravity, pulling you into that dangerous space where everything blurred—boundaries, rules, reason. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a way that felt instinctive—

And then, the world snapped back.

Cheering—loud, raucous—followed by the sharp crack of glass splintering against the floor. It cut through the moment, pulling you both back to reality. Mattheo's gaze jerked toward the sound, and in an instant he took a step back, his hands releasing your wrists like you'd burned him—like you were the danger here, a fire he'd gotten too close to.

"We can't," he whispered, and it sliced through you. It hit harder than the crash of glass, harder than the noise around you. "You don't want this. I promise you don't."

You stared at him. You knew what he meant, what he was trying to say, the warning etched in every tense line of his body. The two of you had been over this before. You knew Mattheo Riddle was not the man who would love you, not the man who would stay, who you'd call your forever. You weren't that naive. You weren't looking for forever—you just wanted a beginning. A first. A first that would teach you the edge of desire, with someone who knew what to do.

Someone experienced.

"I do," you whispered, barely holding steady under the weight of it all—the realization that you'd almost kissed him, right here, where anyone could've seen, where your brother wasn't far. "More than anything, I do."

His jaw clenched, that flicker in his eyes darkening. He ran a hand through his hair, curls falling messily back into place, his face twisted in thought, already calculating the fallout, already seeing the inevitable consequences.

"Your brother will kill me," he muttered. "He'll kill you."

"He’s not my dad, Mattheo. I’m an adult. He doesn't have to know." The words came out firm, too firm for how fast your heart was beating. You didn't dare move closer, but the tension between you was still electric, still alive. "No one except us."

For a heartbeat, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt it—that gravity pulling you both back to the brink. It was visible—the weight of his indecision, the way he was measuring the risk, the pull of you against the walls he was trying to keep intact. It'd been months of this. You were relentless. His scowl deepened, but he didn't pull away. He let the silence stretch, your words simmering between you like a match lit, waiting to catch fire.

And then, a nod.

Barely there, just a sharp dip of his head, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge it himself. You couldn't tell if it was for you, or some silent permission he was giving himself, a final surrender to the pull that neither of you could fight.

"Room of Requirement," he said, vibrating with the tension that still hummed in the air. "Ten minutes."

Your stomach leapt into your throat, every bone in your body suddenly weak. After a moment that felt as though it went on forever, you nodded, and he took another step back.

"Ten minutes." You repeated.

"Ten minutes." He confirmed, before turning and heading out of the ballroom.

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bookishdreamer28 · 9 months ago

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Height difference

Idk Mattheos actual height but let's imagine he's really tall here ✨ I hope you'll like it 👐

Mattheo is obsessed with the way his body is towering over yours. He has found himself thinking of how you'd perfectly fit in his arms many times and he can't help but feel his whole body getting hot at the very thought. From the very first moment Theodore introduced you to their group, he was instantly besotted. He was entirely mesmerized by you.

Every time you wanted to grab something that was out of your reach, he was standing closely behind you just to help you, but in reality all he wanted was to feel your small frame against his. And when you look up at him all puppy-eyed, with those eyes, he knew he was down bad already. And he knew he had fallen deeply for you.

He loved teasing you cause your reactions to his teasing were absolutely worthwhile. Seeing your flustered face was something he adored.

"How you're doing shorty?" He said in his baritone voice and it took everything in you not to punch the smugness off of his face.

"Stop calling me shorty" you tried look mad and scary with your angry expression but Mattheo wanted to just grab your face and kiss the shit out of you.

"Ok then how about...pixie-"

"NO!" You exclaimed and walked away from him, not being able to stay any longer around his presence but one thing you didn't notice, was Mattheo laughing quietly behind you because he found your walk absolutely adorable.

When he gets to hug you, that's when he feels like his heart will burst out. It's the way you snuggle your head in his chest, the way your arms are wrapped around his waist, and the warmth that instantly engulfing him when he feels your heart beating against him. Everything about this feeling is perfect. You just fitted perfectly.

His most fave thing about your height difference, is when you tip toe every time you want to kiss him. He's just standing there, the corner of his lips curving upwards displaying a cheeky smile on his face as he watches you struggling while you're trying to give him a kiss.

"You know you can lean down a bit right? I can't do all the work here" you frowned as you looked up at him. He pinched you cheek softly and traced his thumb in soft circles there.

"Yeah but you have no idea how adorable you l- ouch!" You slapped his hand.

"Now, don't make me bend your head down here by force"

"I would gladly let you love" he chuckled and you smirked as you placed your forehead on your palm, sighing.

"Enough with the teasing Riddle, now kiss me" you looked up again, waiting for his lips to finally crush on yours. He felt his heart pounding like crazy against his chest.

He laughed and instead of leaning his head down, he crouched down and scooped you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and he placed one hand under your thigh and the other around your waist. Kissing you was earth-shattering. The fieeling of your soft lips locking with his, was something he has been craving for so long.

Once you pulled away, you expected him to put you down but he still held you tight against him.

"Will you put me down now?" You tried to fight back a smile as you felt his hold becoming a bit tighter, his locked on you the whole time.

"Nope, I love having you like this love" he murmured against your lips and you giggled as you once again captured your lips together in a kiss which caused your eyes to flutter close and enjoy the feeling.

Thank you for reading!!

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iamgonnagetyouback · 2 months ago

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𝟷𝚔 || 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You were high maintenance and Mattheo loved maintaining you; but only on one condition.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜ��ᴘ: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Mattheo Riddle is completely infatuated with you, his high-maintenance girlfriend who has him wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger. You live for pink, makeup, long nails, and every glamorous touch, and Mattheo? He adores it. The upkeep, the attention, the endless pampering—he loves treating you like the princess you are. He proudly carries your bags, ensures your makeup is perfectly stocked, and always knows exactly when it's time for a nail appointment.

But there's one rule. Mattheo's just as high maintenance in his own way, only in the form of your undivided attention and affection. The moment you stop pampering him—whether that’s running your fingers through his hair, spoiling him with sweet words, or letting him cling to you like a koala—he turns into the neediest boyfriend alive.

One morning, you’re sitting in front of your vanity, carefully applying lip gloss when Mattheo saunters in, his eyes immediately locking on you. His face falls slightly when you don’t greet him with your usual kiss.

“Why aren’t you paying attention to me?” he whines, crossing the room in two strides and resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for my turn for ages.”

You laugh softly, twisting in your chair to face him. “Mattheo, I’m just doing my makeup. I’ll give you attention in a sec.”

But that doesn’t fly with him. Before you can finish, he’s scooping you up from the chair, plopping down on the bed with you tucked in his arms. He nuzzles his face into your neck, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t care about your makeup. I care about you.”

You grin, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “You’re being dramatic. And you act like I don’t give you enough attention, Matt."

"Because you don’t," he pouted dramatically. "You can’t just look this good and not let me have you all to myself. It's unfair."

You giggled and kissed his cheek, leaving a faint pink lipstick stain. "I’m almost done. What, you miss me already?"

"I always miss you," he mumbled.

“I need my pampering too,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “I can’t function without it.”

You know his antics, but it’s still the cutest thing in the world. You lean down and place a soft kiss on his cheek. “Poor baby, did I neglect you?”

He nods, lips pouting in full force. “So much. I don’t know how I’m even surviving.”

You giggle, but comply immediately, peppering kisses across his face until he’s smiling lazily. “Better?”

“Almost,” he mumbles, pulling you even closer. “Don’t leave me.”

"I’m just going to meet up with some friends, Matt," you giggled, running your nails lightly through his hair. "I won’t be gone long."

He lifted his head, giving you a pout that was far too cute for someone who looked as dangerous as he did. "I don’t care. I’m coming with you."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny how much you loved his clinginess. He always wanted to be near you, touching you, even when you were doing something as simple as getting ready. It was endearing, the way he never wanted to be without you.

"Fine," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "But only if you promise to behave."

"No promises," he grinned, holding you tighter. "But you’re stuck with me, princess."

And honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #matt riddle #girly!reader #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ

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beegomess · 1 month ago

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M.R. || Is your father at home?

Summary: Mattheo would risk himself for you, even if he had to invade your house... Warnings: Obscnity, +18, cute.

Open orders!

His family didn't hate him. No, Mattheo was the son of the Dark Lord, and although this guaranteed respect, it was not enough to make them want his constant presence. Especially when this approach involved a relationship with one of his daughters - as in your case.

Your father was always quite permissive with the boys you went out with, as long as they came from good families and were pure-blood, of course. But everything changed when rumors came to his ears that you were involved with Mattheo. A boy with a dark history, practically without a family and, worse, of mestizo blood. The news was like throwing gasoline into the fire.

It was a cold night, and the shadows of the garden trees stretched through the windows of the mansion, almost mixing with the tense air of the dining room. The oppressive silence was broken by the crack of his father's voice, who, taken by a poorly contained fury, threw the words into the air as curses.

- If I find out that you're still dating this boy, I swear by everything that you'll be taken out of that school, are you listening to me? - His voice was deep, cutting, echoing through the stone walls. He barely touched the food in front of him; the knuckles of his fingers were white, squeezing the wine glass as if he was going to crush it at any moment.

You nodded, the words stuck in your throat, knowing that facing him at that moment would be useless. But, of course, obedience was never your forte. Someone's blood status or family reputation were never factors that mattered to them, as long as the person next to them brought happiness. And Mattheo brought it.

Disobeying your father was easy; it was difficult to keep the relationship secret. Not only did you keep going out with him, but you also accepted his request to be your girlfriend. It was an intoxicating feeling of freedom, but it also brought complications. You couldn't be seen together in public, you couldn't even walk around the school with the carefreeness of the other couples. His family had eyes everywhere - colleagues, diners, security guards. It was as if they were always lurking, ready to report any slip of yours.

In Hogwarts, the situation was not much better. Each meeting turned into a mission: an exchange of glances in the corridor, hands that touched for brief moments in the middle of a crowd, whispers in the dark between the empty corridors. Sometimes, you had the help of friends, accomplices in secret, who covered your tracks or distracted the most attentive. It was a dangerous game, but it only made everything more intense.

With the arrival of the summer holidays, his father, for the first time in months, seemed relaxed. I believed I could finally stop worrying about you and that boy. After all, what could Mattheo do now, away from Hogwarts and under the constant surveillance of his family? No boy would be stupid enough to try something... Right?

Wrong. Mattheo, of course, would try. And without hesitation.

At the beginning of the holidays, your father even became the man with whom you always had a good relationship. The weight of that explosive discussion was, little by little, dissipating, and he was more affectionate, more attentive. The meals at the long wooden table became less tense again. He even smiled from time to time, and you realized that, even suspicious, he seemed satisfied to believe that you had obeyed him. But behind this relief, he still kept one ear standing, always attentive, watching, suspicious.

That particular night, the silence was absolute in the house, interrupted only by the soft sound of the pages of his book. You were already lying down, the blankets comfortably pulled up to your shoulders, and the moonlight entered through the window, bathing the room in a pale and reassuring light. The whole house seemed wrapped in a peaceful stillness, as if everyone had lowered their guards, just for a moment.

Suddenly, there was a light knock on the door. You froze for a second, but soon relaxed when you heard the familiar sound of the wood creaking as you opened. Your father came in, wearing a smile that seemed genuinely affectionate, something you hadn't seen for some time. He approached the bed with a sparkle in his eyes that, despite everything, still brought that usual paternal pride.

- Good night - he said, his voice low and almost sweet. - Sleep well. - Before leaving, he took one last look, as if he was making sure that everything was in order, and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

You let out a sigh of relief, turning your eyes to the book. But a few minutes later, a soft noise in the window caught his attention. It was a sound that shouldn't be there - as if something was scratching the glass. His heart raced, but not from fear.

You threw the book aside and got up slowly, foot by foot, to the window. As you approached, the darkness outside seemed to move, and then you saw him. Mattheo, with a crooked smile on his face, hanging precariously on the parapet. His heart jumped, between disbelief and euphoria.

He had somehow dribbled the property's protection spells, passed through the muggle world and all the security guards in his house, and climbed to his bedroom window - all just to see her. It was insane, dangerous, and you couldn't help but smile.

You quickly unlocked the window, trying not to make noise. The cold air of the night came in with a breath, you stretched out your hand, your eyes meeting Mattheo's for a brief second, before helping him balance and enter.

He crawled through the window with an almost feline agility, his clothes crumpled and his hair misaligned, but with that intense and determined look that made his heart race. As soon as his feet touched the bedroom floor, he straightened up, taking a deep breath, before pulling her into a tight hug, as if the few days apart were an eternity.

You moved away just enough to look at him, your eyes still shining with surprise and happiness.

- How did you get here? - he whispered, trying to contain his laughter as he pulled him further into the room towards the bed. - If my father knows that... I can't even imagine what he would do.

Mattheo smiled, that confident smile that always managed to make you forget everything around you. He ran his hands through his messy hair, fixing himself a little, as if the little adventure was something trivial.

- I'm smarter than he thinks. - he said, his voice down as he got closer.

His heart was still beating fast, both for the adrenaline and for the relief he seemed to transmit so easily.

His lips met his in a slow kiss, but full of intensity. The electricity in the air mixed danger and desire, as if the world outside was about to collapse, but at that moment, everything was exactly where it should be. His hands wrapped around Mattheo's neck, afraid that he would move away, pulling him closer.

Soon, the touches between you became more urgent, almost hungry. It had been some time since you were alone, and the holidays had increased the distance between you. His hands explored his curves, as if he wanted to record in memory every inch of his body in light grips and caresses under his pajamas.

Mattheo walked away, moving his mouth down his jaw and neck, depositing kisses on his hot skin. You, however, could only wrap your fingers between the wavy strands of his hair, sighing at every touch of him on you.

- I missed you so much... - Her skin shivers just with how his breath hits her, the confession makes her heart and body melt completely.

In a quick impulse, you felt him lift you up on your lap, and that pulled you a muffled laugh as it was carried to your bed. Mattheo carefully deposited you so as not to make noise, his body relaxed as he placed himself between his legs and leaned over you.

His hands touched him again, but this time his fingers groped up to the bar of his shirt, pulling the fabric up, and then you could finally feel your boyfriend's skin under your hands. Mattheo smiled mischievously at the way you stared at his body after being exposed. The icy air that had entered through the window previously had already dissipated with the heat that radiated from their bodies, the weak light that came from the clear sky through the window made it even more beautiful in your eyes, completely hypnotized with it leaning over you again.

His hands explored his body, taking off every piece that prevented him from seeing you, except for his lingerie, at the same time that his legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even more against him. Your skin heating up even more against him, feeling how slippery you could get just by having him kissing you and running his hands over you.

For a moment, Mattheo moved his face away from his just to be able to observe his eyes when he took one of his hands to the middle of his legs, dragging his fingers over the thin fabric that still covered his skin, feeling how hot and humid it looked there now. A smile formed on his face in response, while you just squeezed your legs around his hand and sighed deeply.

- Always needy for me. - He still whispers with a smile convinced of the effect he had on his body.

That feeling was making you desperate, getting even more tearful when you felt the distance from the fabric, leaving the expectation of feeling something. But he didn't, Mattheo was fascinated by the way his hips moved trying to find more contact with his fingers, in addition to his sighs and low moans that he made a point of swallowing with a deep kiss.

However, the electricity in his body increased even more when, during the kiss, you feel him slide one of his fingers into his folds, slowly and steadily at first, exploring every detail of his walls that, for Mattheo, seemed tighter than he remembered. His lips went back down your neck, clavicles and finally reaching your breasts, just enjoying every little noise that was emitted by you.

Maybe it was the high number of weeks you were without seeing him, after all, you used to go fast, but not that way. Mattheo's lips on his body and his agile fingers working hard on his nerve point seemed to be enough to make you float, given that his legs were already tense and his walls closing around his fingers.

Upon noticing his body's reactions, Mattheo decides to slow down, provoking you to the limit, something common between the two of you. His eyes met and you could see how dark and deep his eyes were, how hungry he seemed to be for you, to the point of even using the friction with the covers to gain some kind of attention, while watching his body squirm under him.

- Matty, please... - Your voice comes out more desperate than you would like, longing for him to go back to making those heavenly movements on you.

In response, he just attacks your lips, completely moving his hand away from you. At that moment, you could swear that you were no longer in this world, letting your mind travel through the black and wavy hair that you loved so much to curl in your fingers. His mind returning only with the muffled noise of the belt jingling that quickly undid, with that, his hands flew to the buttons of the pants that Mattheo wore, anticipating his movements.

He smiled against his lips, but soon walking away and standing in front of the bed to remove the remaining clothes. You stood on your elbows, watching his every movement, practically drooling over the image that appeared to you now.

Even before Mattheo got back closer to the bed, you got up in front of him, but quickly falling on his knees, something that only made Mattheo squirm more against his own hand, which was soon replaced by his fingers and soft lips in wet kisses.

Her hair began to go around her boyfriend's fingers, who used it to keep control over her head. In a sudden movement, Mattheo felt you put it entirely in your mouth, tipping your head back with the sensation, trying to contain any eventual noise that wanted to come out of it.

The fact that he had you in front of him in his room, with his parents sleeping a few doors away, seemed to make everything even better. Having sex in situations like this was not really unusual for both of you, but now it definitely seemed euphoric, wrong and so exciting that only that made you get closer to your orgasms even faster than usual.

The movements of his lips brought him back, becoming a little faster and deeper, it was possible to feel his throat around him. This seemed too much even for Mattheo, who used to have an absurd control over himself. He held his hair tighter, pulling it out of him, seeing how his lips were shiny, combined with a small ligament of saliva bursting with the distancing.

- Look what you do to me, damn it. - He said low while smiling at the way he was now. You got up, kissing him again, but he walked away, just resting his forehead against yours and feeling his panting breath. - Bend over on the bed.

Your body fulfills that request as if it were being controlled by him, turning and bending over the soft mattress, without any concern of being so exposed, Mattheo had already seen you from almost all angles, attracting himself to each of them.

With your spine curved upwards and your face on the quilts, you feel it approaching, getting electric just with a light contact of his fingers curling around the waistband of your last piece, dragging it down on your legs.

- So beautiful. - Mattheo murmurs to himself when he notices a large mirror on the other side of the room, showing him the perfect scene, while he positions himself at his entrance.

Merlin, you wanted to shout his name when you started to feel him come in. Anyway, you couldn't contain a moan even though you were muffled on the fluffy blankets, letting out a tearful moan, the one Riddle loved to hear.

Little by little, he was deeper, finally staying there until you got used to his size. For him, it was like being completely crushed, feeling you pulsate around him and watching his lips be bitten in an attempt to remain silent. But he moved again, calmly at first, but increasing the pace while holding firmly on his hips.

And in some time, you were at the pace you were used to. Mattheo went fast and deeply, always being careful not to emit any sound between their bodies, even though he longed so much to hear them. He alternated his eyes between his body in bed and the image projected in the mirror: you in a complete mess, messy hair and slightly shiny body of sweat. Suddenly, he pulls you by the waist, leaving you standing, back on his chest, without stopping moving against you.

Your eyes were heavy, you were about to feel that wonderful sensation, but he made a point of prolonging the torture. His head hung to rest on his shoulder, but a strong hand grabbed his face in a hurry, making you wake up and see what he saw.

- Oh, fuck, Matty... - You gaspe while he smiles devilically on the skin of your neck, a little marked for you to worry only the next day.

- Ssh, you don't want your parents to hear you say these things, do you, love? - His warm breath hits your skin like gasoline in a fire. - Your father would kill me if he even dreamed of what I do with his beautiful daughter, wouldn't he? Even more under the same roof.

You only have the strength to wave positively, since he would not accept mere silence as an answer.

The movements didn't stop even for a second, in addition to one of his hands going down your belly, reaching where you needed it most, pressing precise circles in place, taking you even higher, while your nails squeezed Mattheo's arm, leaving small half moons in his extension.

His mind at this point was hazy and heavy, lying on his shoulder once again, letting himself be carried away by all the stimulus he gave you.

Mattheo could feel you approaching, it was so wonderful for him. It was as if your body restarted after each orgasm, as if he was always the first to touch you, always the cause of that. The image he watched was the most beautiful he had ever seen, you let yourself be freed, spilling all that liquid that he loved to see flowing between the two of you. Giving him the endorsement to finally paint his fair walls.

His legs just trembled, making you lean on the bed between muffled laughter when he freed himself from you. Mattheo held you to the bathroom, helping you clean yourself before they go back to bed and you rest your head on his chest, just feeling affection on your shoulder and enjoying the heat of his body under the covers.

Lying under the covers, the soft light of the moon filtered through the window, creating a magical and intimate environment. You looked at Mattheo and, with a mischievous smile, asked:

- How did you manage to get into my family's property?

He laughed, a sound that melted his heart.

- Secrets, my love. I can't reveal everything, or you'll find out.

- I missed you so much - you said, the sincerity in your voice transpiring. - I love you.

- I love you too - he replied, pulling you closer. With your head resting on your chest, you soon began to fall asleep, wrapped in the heat of the moment.

But while you slept, Mattheo remained awake, gently stroking your hair. The thoughts consumed him. How he wished things were different. I wish I could take you out, give gifts, kiss her in public without fear of the consequences. My heart tightened when you remembered the furtive nights, when you saw other boys flirting with you. The idea of his parents opening the door at any time left him in a constant state of alert, between challenge and fear.

Earlier, Theodore had revealed a conversation he had heard between his father and Mr. Not. He was talking about introducing you to a boy from a good family, someone he had already chosen. Every word resonated like a blow to his heart. The possibility of losing you was unbearable, and the frustration grew.

While you, unaware of your agony, slept peacefully, your breathing soft and serene, he looked at you, the beauty of your innocence making him promise that he would fight for both of you, no matter what happened. The determination grew inside him. Even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, the love he felt became his strength.

And so, while you dreamed, he stayed there, vigilant, dreaming of a future where they could be together.

____________________________

masterlist

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

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ssturnstars · 3 days ago

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my kinda love

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kind4luck · 1 month ago

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for fucks sake STOP posting smut on the fluff tag, if we're in the FLUFF tag we want to read some FLUFFY fics.

#harry styles fluff #mattheo riddle fluff #rafe cameron fluff #jj maybank fluff #steve harrington fluff #theodore nott fluff #remus lupin fluff #sirius black fluff #spencer reid fluff #james potter fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff

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amongemeraldclouds · 5 months ago

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Dating Mattheo Riddle meant going on wild adventures. Today, you got to choose your activity. “You know I love to get dirty, but this is not what I had in mind,” he said as he took the basket you offered him, skeptical. You were going foraging through the woods.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” you smirked and led him deeper into the woods. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said. When you started telling him about the different plants and bugs you saw, he realized you meant something else. Of course nothing about you was predictable. It was why he liked being with you in the first place.

The more flowers and fruits filled your baskets, the more intently he listened to you. Through you, he saw the forest anew. A kingdom filled with stories and magic. For the first time in a long time, he felt childlike wonder. The forest was magical not because of its inherent power, but because of you.

✿ For this request | Follower celebration | Event masterlist

#moodcake #emerald’s tea party #amongemeraldclouds follower celebration #mattheo riddle moodboard #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #matt riddle #slytherin boys

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redsp1ke42 · 6 months ago

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my genuine reaction when a writer i love interacts w me

#tom riddle #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo hcs #matt sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo #ted nivison x reader #james potter smut #james potter fluff #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #regulus black #mattheo riddle x reader smut #theodore x reader #theo nott fluff

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mrsriddles-blog · 8 months ago

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Reads of the Week: Feb 25-Mar 2

* indicates smut

green font represents multiple characters (poly, rh, etc.)

A/N: Sorry this is late and that there isn’t much on the list! I was really busy last week, but hopefully I can read more this week!

Til It’s Gone by @obsessedwithceleste

sundress* by @theosbaby

Ride PT.2* by @pepsichrry

theodore nott x fem!reader* by @niya-writesshit

That did Nott go to plan* by @glittervame

Flirt by @suugarbabe

tease* by @bettymylove

Repent by @tomriddleslove

Good Money by @suugarbabe

cardigan by @mxqdii

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multifandom-worlds · 5 months ago

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It's no secret that Mattheo and Theo are two of Hogwarts' hottest students, desired by the majority of the student population. However, seeing the two of them actually in a relationship was a rare sight. The two best friends rarely dated, but they often hooked up with students.

There is a reason for this that most of the schools did not know. If you asked anyone, they'd tell you it's because they're fuck boys, players, no good scumbags who will only use you for your body, but you knew differently. You saw the connection they had.

When you first confessed to Theo that you've been crushing on him since 5th year, you made sure to quickly follow up with how you understand his connection with Mattheo is so important to him, and it was never your intention to come between you two.

Understandably, he did not believe you. To him, you were just like every other girl. Over the months, you never complained when he and Mattheo did anything, you never said anything when Theo confided in Mattheo over you, and you always invited Mattheo along on whatever activity the two of you did.

Eventually, it became Mattheo, Theo, and you. You three were inseparable, always together, always laughing. You always warned the girls who bragged about how they could "bag" Mattheo that he would never choose them, but it always fell on deaf ears.

You would be there to coach the right girl, but until then, it would remain the three of you because when all was said and done, it will always be Mattheo and Theo, no matter what.

#mattheo riddle and theodore nott #theo nott #mattheo riddle imagine #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #matteo riddle fluff #matt and theo friendship #matt and theo #Not my best blurb in a long shot #actually pretty shit #but yeah

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eddaawrites · 7 months ago

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Shoutout to the girl on my bus reading slytherin boys react, I strive to be like you.

#slytherin #slytherin boys react #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #tom riddle #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff

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slytherinslut0 · 1 month ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th. mattheo - virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART TWO | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

summary: pls read part one first for a lil buildup. also. im laughing at myself bc there was a perfectly good bed…right there…

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, virginity loss, PIV, so much dirty talk, so much patience from mattheo, (more of a realistic virginity loss bc it’s not always easy), praise!!!!, slight degradation, fingering, multiorgasm, handjob, best friends lil sister trope.

Mattheo Riddle was so accustomed to this. The pulse of adrenaline in the dead of night, the quiet hum of anticipation stretching every second longer than it needed to be. You weren't naive to that, not to him, nor the danger he carried so effortlessly in his stride. He wore it like a second skin.

But you—you were not accustomed to it. Not to any of this.

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

Too perfect. Too on the nose, like the castle itself had been watching you both for months and had decided this was the moment it would indulge you.

"You're late." Mattheo's voice cut through the quiet.

His back was to you, suit jacket discarded on an old oak desk against the wall, dark curls falling just above his collar as he stood by the window, eyes fixed on the lake. The moonlight made the ripples dance, just like the tension in the room.

You took a step toward him, silent.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

You gave him a small, nervous smile, hoping it would ease the weight of his stare. "I didn't realize you were the type to keep track of time."

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

"You've a lot to learn, little girl," he teased, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it did nothing to mask the conflict in his eyes. It was meant to disarm you, but it only made the air heavier. His jaw tightened. "You're sure about this?"

"Quite sure," you breathed, stepping closer, close enough to admire the sharp line of his jaw, the soft stubble. "You're the one who's hesitating."

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

You let out a small huff, your hand moving up to find his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Mattheo Riddle was nervous.

"You've been making me wait for months," you whispered. "I don't think a little rushing would hurt."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on your hand as it trailed over his chest, lower, teasing. Every touch was a flame against his skin, every breath between you a match struck in the dark. He wanted you, more than anything, but the weight of it—the wrongness, the danger—clawed at his conscience.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

"You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I'll regret nothing." Your fingers slipped lower, grazing his crotch, moving with nothing but instinct and need. Biting your lip, you felt the outline of him, hard and aching under your palm, and squeezed—he grunted, snapping his hips, and you throbbed. "Shit, Mattheo..."

"You are—fuck..." Mattheo's voice was a ragged breath, the words drawn out like he'd been holding them back for months. "...such a little tease."

You let go as quickly as you'd squeezed, and he growled against your skin, fingers tightening in your hair. Your hands found his face, pulling him in, crushing your lips to his. You moved with intent, pushing him back until his thighs hit the edge of the desk, and he groaned again—this low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

You smirked into the kiss, tasting his frustration, savouring the way his defences cracked open. When you pulled back, his chest was heaving, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

"I learned from the best," you whispered, teasing as your fingers slid down, finding the buckle of his belt. He watched you, every breath uneven, as you worked at the latch, pulling the leather free. "You've had months of fun tormenting me," you continued, moving to the button, the zipper. "Kissing me, only to say it was a mistake. Grabbing my ass every chance you could. Talking sweet when my brother wasn't looking..." your smirk deepened, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "...it's my turn now."

His pants sagged around his hips as you undid them and he cursed under his breath—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

"You think you're in control here?" His fingers slid up your hips, dragging your dress along with them, baring your skin to the cool air. "You think you have any goddamn idea what you're doing?"

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked. His thumbs hooked around your panties and in one swift motion, they were gone—torn down your thighs before he urged you back onto the desk, parting your legs with his torso.

You were breathless, chest heaving, pulse thrumming wildly. His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

You stared up at him, mind empty, until—

Smack.

His palm came down on your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of sensation straight to your cunt. Your skin stung from the contact, but that wasn't the part that made you gasp. It was the heat, the way it surged through your veins, flooding your abdomen in a slow, aching pulse. You liked that.

"I asked you a question." His lips brushed against your ear, breath warm as he leaned in. "Two, actually."

You couldn't think, mind swimming—the press of his body, the rough timber of his voice, the weight of his hands as his fingers teased, climbing higher, brushing closer to the ache between your thighs. You sucked in a breath, trying to recall what he'd asked, trying to focus anything but the fire he was lighting in you—

But then, his fingers slipped further, closer, just barely brushing your slit, and your hips jerked involuntarily, chasing that touch.

"No—I don’t—“ the shame in the answer barely mattered. His fingers were so close, so close. "Gods—I just know I want you—"

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

Your nails dug into his back and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wetting his fingers in your arousal before gliding back up to your clit and tracing over it.

"Oh—Gods—" you whinged, moaning into his shoulder.

Mattheo’s hands were experienced—that much was certain. Those fingers knew exactly how to move, precisely how to trace light, delicate circles over your clit that made you twitch, squirm— nerves stripped as you took in the new sensation. It wracked every inch of you, and you could feel him savouring your helplessness, drawing out every ounce of tension that had been building between you for months.

“You’re soaked.” You could hear the disbelief in his voice. “...filthy little thing for me, aren't you?"

"Gods, Mattheo, yes—" your eyes rolled, thighs twitching against his hand. "I am—ohh—"

"Yeah?" His tongue traced a slow, wet path up the side of your neck, teeth dragging over your pulse. "You like this?"

His words were enough to make you want to scream, but no sound formed—just a low, broken moan that spilled from your throat, raw and shameless.

"Answer me," he murmured. "You ever orgasm from this before? Hm?"

"No—" your voice choked, trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at him, something like shame pooling in your stomach. "Oh, fuck—"

"No, what?" His fingers pressed harder, circles growing faster, more insistent, and his voice—Christ, his voice— "I asked you two questions, little slut. Keep up. You wanted this."

"Yes—mmf—I like it—" you whined, the words a desperate spill from your lips, too flustered to form anything coherent. "And no—Gods—you're the first to...to touch me like this..."

He figured as much but the admission tore through him nonetheless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a groan—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, a bruise, a reminder. His hand dipped lower, a finger pushing inside you without warning, pressing deep into your slick heat, and you cried out, your body tightening, pulsing around him, vision swimming.

"And this?" His voice was a smirk against your skin. "You let anyone else inside you like this?"

You knew he already knew the answer. You both did. He was reveling in it—the way he had you, trembling, helpless. You'd never heard him like this, never heard him so crass, so unfiltered, and the way he spoke made your whole body flush with heat.

"No." The word was a strangled moan, barely a breath. "Gods—Mattheo—you already knew that—"

He crooked his finger inside you, and your back arched, the stretch unfamiliar yet mindnumbing, his thumb working your clit. You felt teeth nipping at your earlobe, a hum into your eardrum—his body thrumming with the satisfaction of finally, finally letting himself have you where he wanted.

"Perhaps I did." He added another finger, curling them inside you, his teeth scraping along your neck in a smile. The groan that slipped from your lips was desperate, pained in its pleasure, your body reacting to every new inch of him. "Fucking hell—you can barely take two..."

Your head shook, words failing you. "Gods—Mattheo—I...fuck..."

A low grunt rumbled from his chest, his fingers moving quicker, slick with the evidence of your desire. "Feels good?"

"Yes—" you moaned, breath hitching, vision blurring as he pumped his fingers in and out, building something inside you that you couldn't name, something new, something overwhelming. "I feel—oh, gods—something...happening—"

"You feel something?" His voice was mocking, drenched in that innocent, teasing tone that had you falling apart. "Yeah? What's happening, princess?"

You couldn't find breath, couldn't form the words to answer him. The pressure inside you was mounting, intensity unbearable, your body tense and straining toward an edge. You clung to him, breathless, desperate for more, desperate for something, anything—

"I don't—" your voice broke as his fingers curled deeper, wetness flooding between your thighs, his thumb relentless. "Pressure—fuck—so much—"

He nodded. "Yeah? Pressure in that pretty stomach? Feels fucking good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck—yes, yes," your lids fluttered. "S’good—"

"You're so close." He watched you, drunk on your downfall, and smirked as you neared the edge. "You're going to cum for me."

Sanity shattered in your throat—words trapped, swallowed by the tension, leaving only the soft, unbridled whimpers you once might've once found embarrassing. But there was no shame now, not when you were this close, the pressure coiling tighter in your core, ready to burst.

"Ohh—" you managed, lungs sputtering, head tipping back. The sound of your voice, the way you moaned, was foreign, unfamiliar to your own ears. "Gods—oh fuck-"

"I know," he cooed, sweet like sugar. "I know."

You were a mess. Too close, too overwhelmed—everything was him. His scent, the heat of his skin, the feel of his fingers working that magic that had your body convulsing before you could even cry out, before you could process the way your vision blurred with the force of it. The climax hit like a wave crashing over you, and your moans were swallowed by his kiss, his lips on yours the second your body tightened, shaking against his hand.

He was relentless, rough and insistent, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole—drowning out the world as your body pulsed around his fingers. You’d never felt such an intense sensation, lava coursing, replacing the blood in your veins. His breath stuttered against your mouth, a low groan vibrating through him, the sound making your spine tingle.

"F-fuck," he muttered, pulling his fingers from you, glistening and wet. "Messy little thing."

The words sent a shiver through you, not just from their meaning but from the way he said them, like something perverse, intimate. Your chest tightened with the warmth of them.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

"Shut up," you whispered, stomach flipping at the way he said your name, the way it dripped from his mouth like honey. "Have not."

"I've known for a while, you know," he mused, his voice so low, so quiet. "Don't think I haven't seen it—the way you look at me." He kissed your skin again, working his way up, each press of his lips something sacred, moving closer to your mouth. "The way you can't get enough of me."

You could kill him for it, for the way his words sunk into your bones, making all the feelings you've buried rise to the surface, pulling you under. He just had to go there—had to milk every inch of your composure out of you, because it's not enough for him to have you disarmed physically—sexually—he needed to have you disarmed emotionally, too.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how right he was. Arrogant bastard.

"Stop talking," your hand drifted down, grazing the bulge in his pants, your fingers slipping under the waistband, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers. It was reckless. You've never done this before, but God, you wanted to. "Stop talking and teach me."

The room tilted—the world off its axis. His breath caught, choked in his lungs as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his—his kiss wild, his tongue insistent, running along your gums and wrestling with yours for control.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth as you tugged his boxers down, freeing him, your hand wrapping around him. Hot. Hard. "Wrap your fingers around it, princess. Gentle strokes. Just like that."

Your heart stumbled at the sound of his voice, thick, raw and open. You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly, experimentally, and he hissed through his teeth, a groan vibrating through his chest.

"You're so big," you murmured, forehead against his, the words spilling out without thought. "So thick..."

"Fucking minx," he moaned. "Stroking me and telling me how big I am—fuck—you're not as innocent as everyone thinks."

"Only you know this," you whispered, your hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, pulse soaring as he groaned. "Does it feel good, Matty?"

"Fuck—Christ—" his breath was jagged, words ripped from his throat like they barely wanted to come out, hips jerking mindlessly. "Tighter, mm—little tighter—"

Your cunt throbbed—each whispered invocation of a god not his own, of something he didn't believe in, forced a shudder through you. That's how you knew. Knew how lost he was. He’d no mind left at all if he was muttering muggle gods.

"Like that?" Your fingers squeezed around him, your gaze burning into his as you looked up through fluttering lashes.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

"Yeah—shit—just like that," he gritted out, grip on your hips bruising, but you welcomed it. Needed it. "Fast learner, aren't you?"

"You're a good teacher," you whimpered, a sound that was barely yours as his fingers slipped between your thighs, finding your slit, teasing you open again. "Oh—"

"You've always been a little teacher's pet," he groaned, thrusting into your hand as he slipped a finger inside you. The stretch made you wince, pleasure and pain blurring into something that sent sparks behind your eyes. He watched you, gaze molten. "Fuck—it’s gonna hurt, you know that, right?"

The ache spread through you, but you didn't flinch. "I know," you whispered as his thumb found your clit, making you gasp. "I trust you."

"I know you do." His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning. Your hand tightened on his length, the heat between you flaring, and you moaned against his mouth, shaking with the need for more.

"I want you," you breathed, each syllable shivering on your lips as you clenched around his fingers. "I've wanted you for months—"

Months? No, it had been years. Years of wanting, needing, watching from afar, heart in your throat. Years of avoiding anyone else because no one was him. You knew he’d felt the same and it killed him. It wasn't logical, wasn't supposed to be like this—not with you, not now, not his best friend's little sister, not him whispering sweet, dangerous things while knuckle-deep inside your virgin cunt.

It was as if you both shook those thoughts from your minds at once. You’ll think about the implications later.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

Hate him? The very idea was laughable, absurd. You could never hate him. Not even in those moments you tried, not even when he deserved it.

"I could never hate you," you murmured, drawing him closer, lips trembling against his. "Just—please—"

Something shifted in his eyes, and he knew. Knew what you needed. What you both needed. You were vulnerable, trembling, but you trusted him—completely. You’d been in his life for so long. You knew he’d never hurt you. He could see it your eyes, the trust, the in the way your body bent to his touch.

"Alright," he said softly, a hand running up your body to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Alright."

His fingers slid out of you, leaving you bare and breathless, and you swallowed. This was really about to happen.

"Lay back," his voice cut through your haze. "Legs to your chest."

The command wrapped around you like a vice, tightening the anticipation, and you fell back on your elbows, staring up at him as you raised your legs. Vulnerability crept in, making your thighs tense, but Mattheo was there, spreading you open with firm hands, pressing himself against your slick. His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't. He guided himself against you, the press of him at your entrance an unbearable ache. He was hot, hard, huge—and despite the wetness slicking down your thighs, your body resisted, too tight, too unsure of this.

You whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but he stayed, pressing kisses to your hair, your temple, whispering something that sounded like comfort but burned like fire. It hurt more than you expected, more than any of the fantasies you had dared to entertain.

Doubt curled through your chest, what if you couldn't take him? What if—

"M-Mattheo..." his name broke in your throat as you clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin. He tried to push in again, but your body resisted. "It—you—you can't fit..."

"Shh," his lips ghosted over yours, his hand slipping through your hair, trying again, moving slow, controlled. "You're just—so goddamn tight—"

The way he said it sent a spark through your veins. It was filthy, shameless, and it lit you up from the inside, despite the pain. No one had ever spoken to you like this. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears pricking as he tried to work you open.

And then—he was in.

"I-it hurts," you hissed—pain lighting up your spine as he worked his cockhead inside you, pushing against the resistance of your walls. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, each inch a battle. The pressure was unbearable, the sting so sharp it was paralyzing. "Oh, fuck, Mattheo—"

He groaned, a sound from deep within his chest, his head bowing, sweat creeping over his brow.

"Shhh, I know—I know..." he murmured through shredded cords, fighting to maintain control as his hips paused, barely halfway in, just enough to make you feel like you might break. "S'okay...you're doing so good..."

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Why—mmff—gods..." you could barely speak, the words tangled in your throat. "Why do you have to be so big—"

A strangled laugh escaped him, though his eyes stayed shut tight, his jaw clenched—cock twitching inside you.

"I don't—fuck—know." His fingers brushed your lips, covering your mouth gently. "Don't go talking like that—not right now—"

You might have laughed, too, if your body wasn't so taut, strung tight with tension and pain and something far more profound. He was barely inside you, his words making your insides clench, drawing another groan from his lips at the squeeze.

His hand held your jaw, palm pressing lightly over your mouth, enough to breathe, to speak—

"Why—" you knew what he meant, knew the warning in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself. "—not?"

His breath hitched. "Because—" he swallowed hard, words coming through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening around your jaw, a warning in his grip. "Because—fuck—your mouth will get you in trouble."

Oh. That was what he meant.

"But—oh fuck—you're so...big..." the words slipped out before you could catch them, a disgruntled moan falling from your lips as he sank all the way in, filling you so completely it was dizzying. The pressure, the heat, the sensation of being pried open—it was all too much, and you cried out, unable to stop the sound from spilling out. "Ohhh—so big—"

"I said, fuck," he cursed, hand clamping firm over your mouth now as his body shuddered, as he ground his hips gently into yours. "—don't say that."

It was too late. You didn't need to say anything further. He could feel it—he could feel everything in the way you clenched around him, barely letting him move—so goddamn tight it was almost painful—he could feel it in the look in your eyes, in the trembling of your body beneath his.

"I can feel you thinking it," he grunted as you squirmed beneath him, every movement making him twitch inside you, drawing another choked groan from his throat. "Merlin sakes—"

You knew he wasn't used to this. To slowing down, to drawing out the tension like this, to the maddening slowness of every motion. He wanted to lose himself, to break you open hard and fast, to take and give and take again until both of you shattered into something unrecognizable. But he couldn't—not with the way your eyes glistened, not with the way you gasped and whimpered as he filled you.

"No talking," he sucked in a breath against your neck, his hips rolling into yours in slow, unbearable waves. "Only if you need me to stop."

He was breaking. So were you. Every thrust was an exquisite kind of torture—an ache that twisted and stretched, dulled only by the flick of his fingers against your clit. His lips pressed along your neck, kissed along the line of your jaw, groaning with each deep, patient push, carving his way into you as you clung to him, your mind floating through the fog of pain into something different—something overwhelming.

Your head fell back. “Oh—Oh gods—“

Each gasp felt like it might be your last as that something built deep inside you, tight and unfamiliar, an ache that didn't hurt but begged to be released. And he felt it too—Mattheo felt it, the way your body pulsed beneath his, the way you tightened around him like you couldn't bear to let him go.

"Bloody fuck—are you—are you going to—" his words were ragged, broken. He couldn't finish the thought, couldn't hold himself together. "Are you—"

“Mattheo—” your voice trembled, a breathless moan as your back arched, pressing into him, your body seeking more. The pain was null now, replaced by an overwhelming pressure, something tight and aching and good—you felt every inch of him inside you, every pulse of his cock as he moved, slow but relentless. “Mattheo—oh gods—”

"Fuck—" he bit down, teeth sinking into your neck as his fingers swirled your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You're gonna make me—"

You choked because there was no space for words, no breath for anything but the raw sound of your bodies—moans, gasps, ragged inhales tangled together as you both hurtled towards something inevitable. The light of the moon radiated the man above you and that was all you could register other than the rising crescendo of your climax—something so intense it scared you, almost broke you apart—your body seizing, trembling, as his fingers pressed harder against your clit, as he thrust deeper.

And then, there was only one more blink until you shattered beneath him, the orgasm tearing through you in oceanic motion, muscles clenching around him so tightly he could barely move—and then he was there, too, his body jerking as he groaned into your skin, his release ripped from him in jagged gasps as you milked him without mercy. He slumped on top of you, fingers digging into your skin, the two of you pulsing together in the aftermath, the room spinning, your bodies still trembling from the force of it.

The world was slow to return, the roar of sensations fading into something quieter, softer. The weight of him on top of you was grounding—his forehead pressed against the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Neither of you moved for a long while, just basked in the silence, kind that settled in after something irrevocable had passed between two people.

And then, Mattheo pushed up, enough to meet your eyes. Your chest ached at the softness inside his own.

“Are you—” he swallowed as he drank you in, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the flushed cheeks. His words hung in the air as if he didn’t know how to finish the question.

“I’m okay,” you nodded, voice hoarse. “I’m good.”

Mattheo nodded too but didn’t move, still buried inside you, just taking you in. Then, gently, he shifted, pulling back with a slow, careful movement that made you wince slightly. The second he’d pulled out, you felt different—more aware of the vulnerability you’d just laid bare, more aware of the line you two had just obliterated into absolute shambles.

“You sure?” he asked, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—

You nodded again, the smallest smile pulling at your lips, though your heart was still racing, the enormity of it all sinking in.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His jaw tightened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely audible, like he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Of course he was thinking it too—how could he not? This was no longer something you could pretend didn’t exist, no longer something you could hide behind banter and stolen glances and secret kisses.

“Yeah,” you breathed, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, the heat still radiating from his skin. “It does.”

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gracexthoughts · 7 months ago

Text

of violent delights chap 9

firebolts and firewhiskey

4 february 1996

Mattheo’s POV

“I’m telling you, there’s no way Potter’s got a Firebolt now. They can’t afford that,” Draco says snottily as we make our way down to the Quidditch Pitch with Theo and Marcus. Rumors have been circling for weeks that Harry Potter now has a Firebolt broom but no one has seen it yet. Marcus suggested taking a look while the Gryffindors are out practicing.

“The Potters’ are rich, they just don’t show it off like you do, Draco,” I grumble, shoving my cousin’s shoulder lightly.

“How do you know?” Draco scoffs.

“Oh, Riddle here is now an expert on all things Euphemia Potter,” Theo chuckles, stubbing a cigarette under his shoe.

“What?” Draco and Marcus ask in tandem, making me roll my eyes. Since my friends found Mia and I in the Astronomy Tower earlier in the week, they have taken every opportunity to rib me about it. Glad to add Draco and Marcus to that list.

“Don’t listen to Theo. He’s just being an arse,” I grumble, shoving my hands in my pockets. I don’t mention that I find myself thinking about Mia more and more lately, how our prefect rounds have been less of a dreaded task every week. Things aren’t perfect, we still bite and snap at each other but since Sunday, our banter has been turning more playful, still sharp but less designed to actually hurt.

“You better not be going soft on me, Riddle,” Marcus starts in but before he can continue we are interrupted by cheers as we near the pitch. Laughter and cheers echo across the grounds as Harry flies up over the stands faster than I’ve ever seen, catching the Snitch with ease.

“Salazar Slytherin, he does have it,” Theo mumbles.

The four of us move quickly to enter the stands and climb up to one of the professor’s boxes, where we will be able to watch and less likely to be seen. We watch in begrudging silence as the Gryffindor team finish running their drills, clearly in top form, and their practice comes to an end. The team whoops and hollers as they land, confident in their win tomorrow with Potter’s new broom. The team converses for a moment before moving to exit the pitch but Mia, Harry, and Ron stay on the pitch, Madam Hooch seemingly asleep in the stands below.

Theo, Marcus and Draco talking lowly about strategy as Ron takes a turn on the new broom but I’m more focused on Mia. Her back is to me but even so I can hear her talking with her brother, cheering on the boy above, and laughing. Fuck that laugh… Soon, Ron lands uneasily on the broom, babbling to Harry about how great it is and Harry offers it to Mia. I watch in the fading light as Mia grins mischievously, setting her own Nimbus aside and mounting the Firebolt.

She bolts upwards in the sky, quickly looping the pitch. Ever since our third year, I’ve been secretly jealous of the way Euphemia Potter flies. Even though I’ve been riding a broom for as long as I can remember, Mia can out fly me with ease. Like she was born to live in the air rather than walk on solid ground.

She loops around the goal posts, flying through the hoops and weaving madly, her laughter ringing out over the pitch as she flys better than I’ve seen. I watch, in awe, as slows her speed, hopping off the broom before it's stopped, laughing wildly all the way. “I think you’ve ruined my Nimbus for me, Haz,” she laughs, shaking her head and handing her brother back the broom.

“Get one for yourself, then!” Harry laughs.

“Then Gryffindor will be practically unbeatable!” Ron whoops, finally waking Madam Hooch. Theo, Marcus, Draco and I duck below the railing of the stands while Hooch scolds the trio. I peek over the railing in time to see Hooch leading them off the pitch but before Mia disappears, she looks up in our direction, right at me. She stops for a moment holding eye contact for a moment, a smirk growing on her lips, before ducking under the stands and disappearing from view.

“Draco, you better start practicing if you’re gonna have any chance of catching the snitch against Potter,” Marcus grumbles, causing Draco’s face to sour further.

5 february 1997

Euphemia’s POV

I walk quickly through the corridors, my scarlet Quidditch robes trailing in my wake and my broom in my hand as I rush down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I’m running a little late due to sleeping in longer than I meant to. After practice last night, I started working on an essay for Potions and lost track of the time and before I knew it, it was nearly 2AM. I run down the last of the stairs and rush through the last corridor. As I turn the corner, I see Riddle leaning against the wall outside the Great Hall, one leg kicked up against the wall behind him. “Stalking me now, Riddle?” I ask teasingly as I near him, noticing his fingers fiddling with a cigarette. He looks up at me and pushes off the wall to close some of the distance between us.

“Last I check, you don’t own the Great Hall, princess,” he quips back, pointing at me with the cigarette.

“True, but if I tell Wood you were spying on practice last night he’ll flip his lid,” I point out. I noticed him up in the stands as I was flying the Firebolt, along with some of his buddies. I won’t actually tell Wood but I wanted Mattheo to know I know. Since Sunday, he and I are still trying to figure out how to be around each other without biting each other's heads off. Thursday rounds we talked about music, but we snapped at each other quite a few times on Tuesday night. Mattheo watches me with a mischievous smirk, searching my face to decipher if I’m bluffing. Eventually he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t care about your practice. We just wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?” I ask innocently.

“That somehow your little brother’s got a brand new, fancy broom. How’d you swing that Christmas gift, princess?” Mattheo asks.

“Maybe I didn’t,” I shrug. While the professors have deemed Harry’s broom safe to ride, we still have no idea who sent it in the first place.

“What-“

“Mia!” Mattheo and I are interrupted, again, by George emerging from the Great Hall. “Bloody hell, if you don’t get in here soon Wood is gonna have a fit,” George says, eyeing Mattheo and moving to stand at my side. “Riddle.”

“Weasley,” Mattheo responds, his playful smirk gone.

“Yeah, anyway,” I say, pushing George away from Mattheo and into the Great Hall, not wanting to deal with any of the lingering tension that remains between Mattheo and the Twins. We reach the Gryffindor table with the rest of the team and I sit next to Fred, resting my broom against the table. As I’m pouring myself a mug of coffee, Malfoy and his lackeys approach Harry.

“Sure you can handle that broom, Potter?” he sneers.

“Reckon so,” Harry responds, turning to look at the greasy blonde.

“Too bad it doesn’t come with a parachute-- just in case the dementors decide to come watch again,” Malfoy says maliciously, his lackeys at either side snickering. I share a glance with Fred and roll my eyes.

“Too bad you can’t put an extra arm on your broom. Could catch the Snitch for you then,” Harry quips back, causing the rest of us to laugh, Fred nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. I smile at Harry proudly as Malfoy stalks back to his own table and I notice, over my brother’s shoulder, I can see Mattheo watching us. I tilt my head slightly at him before turning my attention back to my breakfast and teammates.

✦

The game passes in a blur, all my focus on the match in front of me. Now that I know Harry should be able to defend himself against a rogue dementor, I don’t have to worry about him as much. Angelina, Alicia and I work seamlessly together scoring 8 goals easily. I tune out most of Lee’s announcements due to the majority being about Firebolts rather than actual game play.

As I am cutting across the field, the Quaffle under my arm, I hear Harry yell out behind me, “Expecto Patronum,” and I whip my head around to see a large white and silver stag galop towards a large cloaked figure but my attention is reverted as the Quaffle is pulled out from under my arm. But it doesn’t matter because Hooch’s whistle blows signaling the end of the game and I turn my broom around to see Harry with the Golden Snitch in his hand, and follow the rest of the team to celebrate on the ground.

I jump off my broom once I’m low enough and run to Harry, wrapping him up in a sweaty hug. “Haz! You did it! That patronus was amazing!”

“That’s my boy!” Wood yells and suddenly the entire Gryffindor team is surrounding Harry and I, hugging us so tightly I can barely breathe. We’re all laughing and cheering and yelling when a group of classmates run onto the field to join the celebration.

“That was quite a patronus,” A voice says from behind Harry and I as we are released from our teammates. We turn and my smile falls as Remus Lupin stands behind me. He smiles proudly at Harry, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes which look shaken. I had neglected to attend our extra lesson with Lupin this week, although I insisted Harry still go. I’d shown Harry the letter once I returned from the Astronomy Tower on Sunday evening, but he took the news much better than I had. Over the last week, guilt has crept in about the horrible things I said but I’m still angry enough to keep my distance; I wouldn't want to burden the poor professor with an unwanted godchild after all. I’ve done perfectly well on my own the last 15 years.

“They didn’t affect me at all, I didn’t feel a thing!” Harry says excitedly, practically jumping up and down.

“Yes, well they, uh, weren’t real dementors,” Lupin says, motioning for Harry to follow him. I follow behind them until we are out of the crowd to see Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Marcus Flint in a heap on the pitch, black cloaks around them. I smile as Professor McGonagall shouts at them and assigns them detention. Lupin looks back at me and I turn back to the crowd, not wanting to spoil the day with thoughts of him and move towards the Twins who are conversing quickly, already planning a party.

✦

A few hours later, a majority of the student body is gathered into the large abandoned classroom which was deemed the party space quite a few years back. It’s on the very far side of the castle in the dungeons and there’s a short staircase up to the shore of the black lake. I’m sure the teachers know about it but they leave us to our antics as long as no one gets hurt, I guess.

Even though Ravenclaw lost today, there’s still quite a few of them here. Not many students pass up a party thrown by Fred and George no matter the circumstances. Even some Slytherins are here, although they are mostly all in one clump looking pretentiously at the rest of us who are actually having fun.

I’m standing around a barely standing table, surrounded by Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Lee as Fred pours firewhiskey shots messily into our glasses.

“Freddie, you’re spilling it all!” Alicia cries out as she gets splashed slightly.

“Well, you said fast!” Fred defends himself, passing the glasses out which are all full to the brim. Lee begins counting and the six of us all put the glasses to our mouths and tilt our heads back. Lee coughs and shakes his head from the taste. I slam my glass on the table and suddenly I get slammed into by a drunk Fred who wraps his arms around my head so I can only see over his arms.

“Fred, let go of me!” I laugh, pulling on his arms. I see Angelina give me a wide eyed look and I shoot an annoyed one back, knowing my friend well enough to know what she’s thinking. Fred releases his grip on me but stays by my side as the party continues on.

After a while, I turn to Alicia standing next to me and place my arm on her shoulder to get her attention. “I’m gonna grab another drink, need one?” She declines and I make my way through the crowd towards the wall where the drink table is.

“Hey, Mia,” Jaden Filly says, stepping into my path, just before I make it to the table.

“Hey,” I respond politely. Jaden is another Gryffindor prefect a year above me. I don’t know him that well, although I’ve begun to suspect he’d like to change that.

“You look great tonight,” Jaden says, his eyes trailing up my figure slowly. I’m just wearing jeans and a blank tank top, nothing special, and yet Jaden looks like he wants to eat me, making me a little uncomfortable. “You played great too.”

“Thanks, yeah the team did great today,” I say, pulling my hair over my shoulder to hang over my chest.

“Not the team, just you,” Jaden says, taking a step close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You want to dance?”

“I was actually gonna get another drink, but maybe another time,” I say, taking a step back.

“I can get you a drink,” Jaden offers, reaching for my cup.

“I’m good, Jaden. No thank you,” I say more forcefully, refusing to let go of the cup in my hand. Jaden looks back up at me but then his eyes flick to behind me and they widen in fear.

“Beat it, Filly,” a voice snaps from behind me that sends Jaden running. I turn to see Mattheo standing behind me, a black t-shirt tight over muscles I’m not sure I knew he had and jeans. His dark curls fall slightly in his eyes and his arms are crossed over his chest, my intoxicated brain catching on the veins protruding from his arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, snapping out of my daze and offer Mattheo a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well you looked trapped,” Mattheo says, dropping his arms to his sides.

“I was,” I say with a slight laugh. “I’m surprised you came. Didn’t think the Slytherin team was too keen on celebrating tonight, what with the foiled prank.”

“Yeah well, Draco and the others are nursing their wounds but I never pass up free booze,” he responds, with a shrug. He steps around me grabbing a cup and filling it up and I move to do that same. “You played well today,” Mattheo says, turning to look at me with his cup now full.

“Scoping out your upcoming competition?” I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye, as I pour my own drink.

“Maybe I just like watching,” Mattheo says and I turn to look at him, my eyebrow raised. “Quidditch. Don’t flatter yourself, princess.” I laugh and shake my head, rolling my eyes slightly.

“Mhm, right. Whatever you say, Riddle,” I say lowly, holding eye contact with him for a moment before stepping away from the table to head back to my friends. After a few feet, I glance back to see Mattheo still watching me, his eyes snap up to my face as realizes he’s been caught checking me out and I smirk, turning back to look ahead as I disappear into the crowd.

Mattheo’s POV

Fuuuck.

a/n: thank you guys all sm for reading! this is my first fic i’ve posted and i’m just very glad people are reading. if you want to be added to a taglist pls comment or dm me and please feel free to comment or send me feedback i do really want to improve and make this story as best as it can be. anyway thanks again and ily all

taglist: @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts #hogwarts oc #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #matteo riddle #hp fanfic #wizarding world #hogwarts houses #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #matt riddle #of violent delights

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iamgonnagetyouback · 2 months ago

Text

𝟷.𝟹𝚔 || 𝐌𝐘 𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐓

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You have always pestered Mattheo to make new friends, so why were you upset when he finally did?

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Insecurity, Angst if you squint

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

You let out an exasperated sigh as you hurried through the castle, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls. It wasn’t like Mattheo to disappear like this. Usually, he’d be in the common room, library, or anywhere else you’d easily find him. Yet, today, he seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Frustration began to build inside you. Over the past few weeks, you had constantly encouraged Mattheo to be more outgoing, to make friends outside of Slytherin. You adored him, but his tight circle could sometimes be suffocating—he only ever spent time with his own housemates, rarely branching out.

But now that he had finally taken your advice, it was driving you crazy.

You didn’t know why it felt so wrong, but the thought of him with someone else… someone new… gnawed at your chest. You shook your head, pushing away the unsettling feeling. After all, this was what you’d wanted for him—right?

Your search led you to the courtyard, where you found Pansy Parkinson sitting with a few other Slytherin girls. Desperation overrode your hesitancy, and you approached her, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Pansy, have you seen Mattheo?” you asked, doing your best to sound casual.

Pansy looked up, smirking. “Yeah, last I saw him, he was with some Ravenclaw girl. What’s her name… oh, right—Evelyn. They seemed pretty close.”

You froze, your heart sinking as Pansy’s words echoed in your head. A Ravenclaw girl? Evelyn? Why would Mattheo be with her?

“And, uh, why was he with her?” you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Pansy raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “I don’t know, maybe he likes her. Wouldn’t be the first time a Slytherin fell for a Ravenclaw.”

Her words cut deeper than you expected. Maybe he likes her. You forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding before quickly walking away, heart pounding in your chest.

No, you thought to yourself, pushing down the wave of insecurity that rose inside you. Mattheo wouldn’t… He wouldn’t.

But something bitter gnawed at your heart, a feeling you couldn’t quite shake. The idea of Mattheo being interested in someone else sent waves of insecurity crashing through you. What if he did like her? What if you weren’t enough?

By the time you reached your dorm, your chest felt heavy, and the thoughts had festered into something unbearable. You closed the door behind you, sinking onto your bed as the tears began to fall. You didn’t even notice when you started crying, your body trembling as you tried to catch your breath.

It was stupid—really stupid. You had no reason to cry over something so small. But the thought of Mattheo spending time with someone else, of him possibly liking her, had torn open a wound you didn’t know existed.

How had things spiraled like this? This was supposed to be a good thing. You had pushed Mattheo to meet new people, and he had finally done it. But why did it feel like the worst idea you’d ever had?

Wiping furiously at your tears, you sat up, trying to compose yourself. You didn’t want to seem weak—not to him. He deserved someone confident, someone secure, not this mess of emotions you’d become.

A knock on the door startled you out of your spiral. Quickly, you wiped your tears, trying to erase any evidence that you’d been crying. You took a deep breath before opening the door, and there he stood—Mattheo, his dark eyes scanning your face.

His gaze lingered on your red, puffy eyes, and immediately his expression shifted to one of concern. “Have you been crying?” he asked, stepping closer.

You quickly shook your head, plastering a weak smile on your face. “No, I’m fine. Just, uh… allergies,” you lied, though even you didn’t believe it.

Mattheo didn’t seem convinced either. His brows furrowed, and he crossed his arms. “Allergies? Really?” he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

You forced a laugh, but it felt shaky. “Yeah, you know how it is.”

He continued to study you, his gaze sharp, and you desperately needed to change the subject. You cleared your throat and smiled again, though the words that tumbled out next felt heavier than you expected. “So… I heard you’ve been spending the whole day with that Ravenclaw girl. Evelyn, right?”

Mattheo nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. You told me to make friends, didn’t you?”

A bitter thought flashed through your mind—I didn’t say girlfriends. But you bit your tongue, refusing to let the words slip out. You weren’t going to let your jealousy ruin this for him. If he was happy, then that was all that mattered. Right?

“She seems… nice,” you said, hoping the strain in your voice wasn’t too obvious.

Mattheo shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I guess. She’s alright. Talks a lot, though.”

You blinked, surprised by his bluntness. Relief washed over you, but it was quickly followed by a surge of annoyance. “Mattheo! You can’t just say things like that. She’s probably just nervous, trying to make conversation.”

He smirked, clearly amused by your defense of the girl. “Okay, okay. She’s… nice, I suppose. Just not really my type of person.”

You crossed your arms, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “She’s probably more outgoing than you are. You could try being friends with her.”

Mattheo’s smirk faltered, replaced by a look of confusion. “I thought you didn’t like her.”

Your heart skipped a beat, panic rising in your chest. “I never said that!”

Mattheo gave you a pointed look, his confusion deepening. “You just said she was nice. Now you’re upset that I’m not friends with her?”

You opened your mouth to respond but quickly shut it, realizing how ridiculous you must have sounded. You were overthinking everything, and the panic rising in your chest wasn’t helping.

“What do you want me to do?” Mattheo asked, his voice softening as he stepped closer. “Because I’m really confused right now.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. You didn’t want to admit what you were feeling. You didn’t want to tell him that the thought of him being with someone else—anyone else—was tearing you apart. But the words were stuck on the tip of your tongue, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I just…” You looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t want you to like her.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. Mattheo was silent for a moment, and when you finally looked up, his expression was unreadable.

“Why?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because…” You took a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “Because I like you. A lot. And the thought of you being with someone else makes me feel… I don’t know. Insecure? Like I’m not good enough or something.”

Mattheo stared at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle and warm.

“You’re an idiot,” he said softly, though there was no malice in his voice. “You’re the only person I want to be with. I don’t care about anyone else.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “I’ve liked you for a long time. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

A shaky laugh escaped your lips, relief flooding through you. “I’ve been an idiot too, huh?”

Mattheo grinned, his eyes softening. “Yeah, but you’re my idiot.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, gentle at first, but as you melted into him, the kiss deepened, the weight of your insecurities fading with every second.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were smiling, your foreheads resting against each other’s.

“Friends outside Slytherin are overrated anyway,” Mattheo muttered.

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I think I’d rather just keep you to myself.”

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