#matt riddle fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queencherryberry · 2 years 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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lov3notts-recs · 9 days ago

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love sick mattheo is so cuteeee

You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

like hellooo that’s adorableee😭

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time (part one to lovesick!mattheo)

SECOND PART HERE - lovesick!mattheo christmas edition

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired word count: 3.7k warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love.

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind.

“I found something really interesting in this book by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke.

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms.

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered.

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote.

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.”

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion.

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself.

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through.

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered.

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return.

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him.

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered.

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush.

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics.

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

if you would like to read the second part, click here!

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

#love the story!!#mattheo riddle #mattheo fluff #matt riddle #matt riddle fluff

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slytherinslut0 · 3 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 · 11 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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ssturnstars · 1 month ago

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my kinda love

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iamgonnagetyouback · 3 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

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: 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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ur-local-wizard · 12 days ago

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Eye of the Storm

Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.

This is part 1! Purely build up in this, so not much fluff and no smut.

college au, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, theo nott being a little oblivious, use of y/n, i think that's it

w/c: 627

masterlist part 2

a/n: was this supposed to be a oneshot? yes. did it turn into a multiple part story? also yes. (Shout out to an irl friend for helping come up with the title!! ily A)

Divination has never been your favorite class. Not because you’re bad at it, you’re actually quite an accomplished student, but because your desk partner was a nuisance.

Mattheo Riddle was the epitome of chaos. And the fact that nobody took Trelawney’s class seriously definitely didn’t help. He wouldn’t even show up half of the time. But when he did, he barely worked. He would just be scribbling in that notebook of his – the one he’s so protective of. “What’s in that notebook? It looks so beat up,” you asked once, leaning forward to get a better look. He immediately snapped the pages shut, “none of your business,” he told you. You haven’t mentioned it since.

But strangely enough, he’s been coming to class pretty consistently this past week. Not like he pays attention, though. And today was no different. His nose was stuck in his notebook, his hand gripping a pencil tight as he scribbled madly. He rarely looked up, but when he did, it was at you.

You brushed it off, however, telling yourself that he's just making sure you're not trying to sneak another peak at whatever it is he's so wrapped up in. Why would he be looking at you anyway? Or maybe you had something in your teeth.

By the time class ended, Mattheo had already rushed out. But strangely enough, he forgot his notebook. That was a first. He usually never goes anywhere without it. So, being the good person you are, you stuffed it in your bag and walked out the door – deciding that you would give it to him when you see him next.

The day passed by, and Mattheo was nowhere to be seen. Classes finally ended, and you strolled the halls looking for the Slytherin. After half an hour of looking, you gave up, deciding to wander the halls aimlessly. However, you were broken out of your reverie when you crashed into someone. You stumbled back, apologizing profusely.

“Shit- sorry,” a deep voice says. It had a hint of an Italian accent – was it Theo?

You looked up, and sure enough, your hunch was right. The tall European stood in front of you, looking down at the books that fell from your bag. Among them was Mattheo’s notebook. And it fell open to a page full of drawings, one of which caught your attention. It was an eye, drawn in exquisite detail. It was beautiful; the shading, delicate pencil strokes, the way he somehow was able to capture such raw emotion in such a little piece of art. It was truly mesmerizing.

You quickly dropped down and began to pick up the books sprawled out on the floor, putting Mattheo’s notebook away first. He never let you see what was inside, so you might as well try not to let Theo look at it any longer.

“Was… that your eye?” Theo asked, startling you. You didn’t even realize it was yours. All you could focus on was the sheer talent radiating from the page. You stood back up, slinging the bag back over your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Deciding to change the subject, you asked, “Anyway, sorry for bumping into you.”

“It’s quite alright, bella. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No, no. I’m perfectly okay. Um… have you seen Mattheo? He left something of his in class,” you questioned.

“Left something in class? Are you sure you’re alright, y/n? The man never attends lectures. You should know that,” he chided, but the look on his face was one of concern.

“Okay, well, forget I said anything,” you blurted. And with that, you hurried away to your dorm, your quick footsteps ringing off the stone floors – a storm of mortification and curiosity warring within you.

This was an extremely short fic, but I hope you enjoyed it!! Let me know what you think! And as always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

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beegomess · 3 months 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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witchyvibes91 · 8 days ago

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Crashed | Mattheo Riddle

Summary: While skating with your friends, you meet someone in the most unexpected way. It's a meet that will warm up your cold winter season.

TW: Tension, slight blood mention, chars 18+, mdni

Word count: 1.7k

“Come on! It’s not that difficult. One foot in front of the other.” Your friend said as she skated in front of you. She had a grace about her, something that made it seem as if this was the easiest thing in the world to do.

You, however, did not have grace. You looked like a newborn baby deer trying to walk and that was putting it nicely. Your arms flailed out at your sides as you tried to balance yourself on the slippery ice.

“It’s not as easy as you make it seem.” You said with your eyes glued to your feet. Your friend had already lapped you once, going around the wink with ease. She stopped beside you and let out a sigh. There were a few other people on the skating rink but not many. It was the perfect time to learn, or so you thought.

“Seriously? You’re making it harder by being so scared.” Your friend said, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look up at her. She gave you a soft smile as she started to skate backward. You could hardly move and she was going backward. Show off.

“Keep your eyes on me and one foot…in front…of the other.” She said with slow pauses as you pushed one foot then the next. You did this a few times, slowly swaying your body side to side as you pushed against the ice.

“I-I’m doing it!” You said excitedly with the softest giggle. Your friend let go of your hands and you felt that slight wobble but only for a second. You continued pushing one foot in front of the other and skating around the rink.

“Look at you, go pro!” Your friend shouted from the other side of the rink as she took off. Was she embarrassing? Sure. But she was your friend. You couldn’t help but laugh as you continued skating around the rink.

The more you moved, the easier it got. You were learning how to turn corners, moving a bit faster than you could. The soft wind brushed through your hair and, for just a moment, everything felt magical.

There was a sense of wonder in the air as you skated around the rink. The twinkling lights that strung above you sparkled against the night sky. There was a dusting of snow on the ground outside the rink. Everything felt perfect.

Everything was perfect until you decided to go a tiny bit faster. You pushed your feet some more, trying to balance your body when your skate hit the tiniest bit of ice that had clumped up near the side.

You started to wobble and reached for the first thing you could feel. You fell to the ground, going backward as you pulled the thing you reached for down with you. Except it wasn’t a thing. Not at all. It was a person. A man, to be exact.

“Fuck!” He shouted as you fell to the ice. He crashed down with you while your heads bumped together. The pain shot through you instantly. Your hand reached up for the back of your head that had pounded against the ice while your other one held onto the man's arm.

“I am so sorry. Are you okay?” You groaned through the pain before finally opening your eyes. This wasn’t just any man. This man was…fuck. He was something else.

You met his chocolate-brown gaze and felt your heart skip a beat for a moment. You noticed how the corners of his lips seemed to naturally upturn so that even though he was wincing from pain, he still looked as if he was smiling.

“I’m fine.” He groaned but that’s when you saw it. A trail of blood slowly fell down the side of his head. Your eyes widened and you felt even worse now. Not only had you busted your ass on the ice, you just injured another person.

Great fucking job.

“Oh God, you’re bleeding.” You said as you pointed towards his head. He reached up, his hand grazing against the scarlet liquid that was near his cheekbones at this point. He pressed his finger into it, pulling it back just a touch to see the bit of blood that rested against his fingerprint.

“That’s wonderful.” He muttered and you felt terrible for it. He seemed annoyed and you couldn’t exactly blame him. You used him as a human shield except he shielded nothing and only injured himself somehow.

“I’m so sorry. I can help you clean it up.” You said softly and that’s when he finally looked at you. For the first time, his eyes met yours. He seemed to concentrate a bit more. His face turned from a scour to one of interest.

“Shit, here. Let me help you up.” He said before finally lifting his body off of you. He reached down and pulled your hand with such strength that it actually shocked you. The sudden force of being pulled up caused your head to spin. You wobbled, feeling yourself start to fall again.

What the fuck?

“Whoa! No need to do that again.” The man said as he carefully caught you in a dipped position. He held you that for a moment and the two of you made eye contact again. He was really good at that, too good. He gave you a soft smirk and you felt your heart start to beat hard against your chest.

“Thanks. Sorry.” You mumbled as he stood you back up. He took your hand in his and nodded his head to the exit of the rink.

“Come on, Bambi. Let's get you off this ice before you fall again.” He said through a charming tone. Who the hell was this guy? You had hurt him and he was acting as if the two of you were close personal friends.

Something about him exuded confidence. Your eyes were glued to his features as he slowly skated the two of you off the rink. You took notice of the way his hair curled perfectly. The chiseled feature of his jaw, the way his brows lifted just a touch when he looked back at you with that smirk again.

Once you were finally off the rink, you shuffled to the nearest bench where your bag was resting. You opened it up, pulling out some wipes and a bandaid that you always kept in there.

“You’ve come prepared.” The guy said and you felt a giggle escape your lips. There was a natural charm about him when he wasn’t wincing in pain from smashing his head of course.

“I had these to use for myself. I wasn’t exactly planning on injuring anyone but me.” You said a bit jokingly as you reached up and started to dab the wipes against his skin. You were so focused on the cut that you didn’t notice the way his eyes were observing you.

You couldn’t have known it, but he was tracing every inch of your body with his eyes. He was making a map of all the places he could mark you up for injuring him. And fuck, he was going to have a great time doing it too.

“I’m Matt, by the way. Mattheo but you can call me Matt.” He spoke out as you wiped up the blood, cleaning it down to the single source of the crimson liquid.

You told him your name before taking the bandaid and placing it over the cut. Once you were done, your hands dropped to your lap. It suddenly hit you how close the two of you were sitting. Your breath was visible against the cold air as you stared up at him.

“Sorry again, for crashing into you.” You spoke out through the softest tone. Matt leaned forward just a touch and gave you that charming smirk you were growing to know all too well with this absolute stranger.

“It’s alright. Not exactly complaining that a pretty little thing like you took me down.” He spoke out and you could feel your body shivering. He was coming on and strong. It took you by surprise but you liked it. You really liked it.

“Maybe I’ll crash into you again sometime then.” You whispered back, surprised you could even muster up a line like that. It was a bit awkward but hell, you were trying. And Matt really liked that. He chuckled a bit, letting his eyes wander over your body once more but this time with your knowledge.

“Any time, any place, Bambi.” He whispered back as he leaned forward a bit more. You could feel your breath shuddering while he grew closer and closer to you. He took one finger and placed it under your chin, tilting your face just a touch.

“Just give me your number first and we can make it happen.” He spoke out flirtatiously while his warm breath danced across your lips. Oh, he was good. Really fucking good. You simply nodded your head, giving him a little ‘mmhmm’ before closing your eyes.

You were anticipating a kiss. His lips were right there, you could practically feel them. Matt looked at your now-closed eyes before going to your lips and he thought about it. He thought long about kissing you. But then his friends called his name.

He pulled away and you felt the disappointment as you opened your eyes. Your heart was racing now, the air stuck in your throat as you stared up at him. He dropped his hand and pulled out his phone, handing it to you.

“I’ll text you.” He said as you quickly entered your number. You handed him the phone back and he gave you a wink before standing up. He made it back to the rink, turning to look back at you one more time before skating off.

As you sat there, you thought about the interaction you just had. What started as bumpy and wincing turned into flirting and an almost kiss. What the hell was that? You sat there for a little while longer until finally heading home with your friend.

Part of you thought perhaps you’d never see him again. Maybe Matt would forget about you, forget he had your number, forget to ever even text you. You were laying in bed, going over these thoughts, when suddenly your phone went off with a text message.

“Hey, Bambi.”

As always, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank-you for reading!

#witchyvibes91 ✨#mattheo riddle #matt riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fic #matt riddle fic #mattheo riddle tension #mattheo riddle fluff

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urfavfrenchgrl · 20 days ago

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winter holidays part one

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader ᥫ᭡ words: 5k ᥫ᭡ summary: your brother's best friend is spending the winter holidays at your family manor. ᥫ᭡ Notes: F!Reader and Theodore Nott's sister. Maybe the start of a one-shot in multiple parts. part two

Winter wraps its icy fingers around the Nott Manor, the cold air slipping through the cracks in the ancient stone walls. It smells of evergreen and wood smoke inside, a faint promise of warmth, but even the crackling fire in the grand hearth seems to struggle against the chill that settles into every corner. It always feels colder during the holidays, though you aren’t sure if it’s the air or the way the place feels hollow, no matter how many decorations hang from the banisters or how many gifts pile beneath the tree.

You’ve spent every Christmas here, in this sprawling, drafty house with its endless halls and locked doors. It should feel familiar by now, comforting even, but instead, it feels like a maze you’ll never fully escape. The only constants are your brother, Theodore.

After dinner, the warmth of the manor felt suffocating, so you slipped outside for some fresh air. The garden was blanketed in frost, the trees bare against the dark winter sky, and your breath came out in soft clouds. For a moment, the quiet felt like a relief—until the sharp scent of cigarette smoke drifted toward you, polluting the crisp air.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

Your voice broke the silence as you turned toward the source. There, sitting casually on the steps leading down to the garden, was Mattheo. The dim light spilling from the windows behind you cast just enough glow to illuminate his figure. He was leaning back against the step behind him, one knee bent with his arm draped lazily over it, a cigarette held between his fingers. Mattheo has been coming to the Nott Manor for Christmas since you were young enough to still feel shy around him, awkward and stumbling over your words in his presence. Years later, that awkwardness has gone away, but it’s taken on a sharper edge, one laced with awareness. You’re not blind to how other girls talk about him at Hogwarts, or the way he can make anyone—teacher, student, or stranger—freeze with a single glance.

He’s Mattheo Riddle, after all. The Dark Lord’s son. Even years after Voldemort’s fall, the name carries weight, and so does he—his presence like gravity, pulling people into his orbit. It doesn’t hurt that he’s devastatingly handsome in that rough-edged, careless way that seems entirely effortless. His reputation is a double-edged sword, but it doesn’t seem to bother him; if anything, he wears it like armor.

For you, though, Mattheo has always been something else entirely. He’s the boy who’s lounged on the manor’s sofas, spinning a glass of firewhisky between his fingers as he laughs with your brother. The one who makes sharp, sarcastic comments at dinner that leave your mother tutting and Theodore grinning. The one who’s always just out of reach, like a forbidden idea you can’t quite let go of.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Could say the same about you. Sit.” He gestured to the space next to him without looking, as if your compliance was a given.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking at his audacity. “Ask nicely, and maybe I will.”

That earned you a glance, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. He rolled them dramatically before smirking back. “Please, your majesty. Would you be so kind as to sit your ass down next to me?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you made your way down the steps and settled beside him. “See? When you want to, you can be polite.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he muttered, shaking his head, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his annoyance. Leaning back against the step behind him again, he took another drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke mingling with the white cloud of his breath in the winter air.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything. The night was still except for the occasional rustle of the wind through the skeletal trees. The sharp cold seeped through your layers, but you found you didn’t mind. It was oddly peaceful, sitting next to Mattheo like this, even if the silence between you felt heavy with things unsaid.

“You don’t talk much at these things,” he said finally, breaking the quiet. His voice was casual, as though he wasn’t particularly invested in the answer, but you knew better. There was something in the way he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, like he was reading you even now.

You shrugged. “Maybe there’s not much worth saying.”

He chuckled softly again, the sound almost a hum. “Is that it? Or are you too busy pretending you’re not the smartest person in the room?”

The comment caught you off guard, and you turned to him, brows raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, flicking the ash from his cigarette, “you sit there all quiet, watching everyone like you’re analyzing them for some bloody experiment. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Maybe I am,” you replied, trying to match his tone. “What makes you think you’re not part of it?”

That earned you a laugh, genuine this time, low and warm in a way that made your chest tighten. He tilted his head back, the edges of his dark curls catching the faint light. “I’d love to know what conclusions you’ve come to about me.”

You hesitated for just a moment, your breath visible in the cold air as you considered your response. “I think…” You tilted your head, mirroring his posture slightly. “You like to pretend you don’t care about anything, but you care about everything. And you’re better at hiding it than most people realize.”

His laughter faded, and his gaze sharpened, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Not bad,” he murmured, tapping ash from his cigarette again. “But you missed something.”

“Oh?” you asked, intrigued. “And what’s that?”

He turned to face you fully now, his dark eyes holding yours with a weight that made your pulse quicken. “That you do the exact same thing.”

The words hung in the air between you, carried on the cold breeze. You wanted to say something, to deny it or challenge him, but the intensity of his gaze held you still, and for a moment, it felt like he could see right through you.

Without thinking, you reached for his cigarette, plucking it from his fingers. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?” you asked, raising it to your lips.

“Not yet,” he replied, leaning closer as you took a drag. “But I’m getting there.”

“Maybe I’m just too tired to talk,” you murmured, the harsh smoke hit your lungs, making you cough as you handed it back, your laugh mingling with his as he took it from your fingers.

“You definitely don’t look tired,” he said, smirking as he flicked the ash into the cold air. “You look as irritatingly hot as usual.” His tone was casual, but the weight of his words hung between you, sparking something in the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness, but he’d already turned his attention to the stars above, as if he hadn’t just said something that made your cheeks warm in the cold.

It was a beautiful night, the kind of stillness that made the world feel momentarily suspended. The frost-covered grounds glistened faintly under the moonlight, and the stars scattered across the sky like shattered glass. For a moment, you could almost forget where you were, or who you were sitting next to. The quiet stretched comfortably between you, the kind of silence that felt intentional, like neither of you wanted to break it.

But the moment didn’t last.

“Hey, you two! Get back inside!”

The familiar voice pierced the calm, shattering the peace you’d just begun to settle into. You sighed, turning your head toward the manor as the door creaked open, spilling warm light out onto the porch.

Theodore stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and a familiar scowl etched on his face. He didn’t like you being alone with Mattheo—he never had. Whether it was because he didn’t trust his best friend, or because he didn’t trust you, you couldn’t quite tell. Maybe he was worried Mattheo would try to charm his way into your good graces—or worse, that you’d let him.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, leaning back on his elbows, utterly unbothered by your brother’s disapproving glare. “Relax, we’re just talking, mate.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh as Theodore’s scowl deepened. “Inside. Now.” he barked mostly to you, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a sigh, you stood, brushing off the frost that had collected on your coat. “I’m freezing anyway,” you muttered softly, lying just enough to avoid any further argument. You knew better than to push Theo on this—he’d hate it if he ever knew your true feelings about Mattheo. That was why you kept them buried, why you’d never breathed a word of them to anyone.

Mattheo glanced toward the window, where Theodore stood watching, his posture tense, his eyes flicking between the two of you. Without a word, you turned and stepped back into the manor, the warm air wrapping around you like a suffocating reminder of the conversation you’d just left behind.

Theo stood waiting just inside the doorway, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but loaded with meaning. You arched an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What?”

He stepped aside to let you pass, his gaze narrowing slightly as he glanced back out to the porch where Mattheo had lit another cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. “You’ve been out there a bit long, no?”

“And?” You scoffed, brushing past him. Your voice carried a slight edge now, the protective tone in his question grating against your already fragile nerves.

He huffed, his irritation evident. He hated when you were right, but even more so when you didn’t back down.

“He’s known me for ten years, Theo,” you snapped, turning to face him. “If you don’t want us to talk, then maybe don’t invite him for Christmas every bloody year.”

You turned to leave, your patience worn thin, but his hand shot out, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, “you forgot something.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes before giving in. Wrapping your arms around him, you let out a mock-annoyed grumble. “Asshole.”

He chuckled, patting your back lightly before giving your head a playful pinch. “Love you too, midget. Alright, go to bed, little brat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Teddy,” you murmured, nudging him slightly as you pulled away.

With that, you turned and made your way up the grand staircase, the sound of your steps echoing faintly in the quiet of the manor. For a moment, you hesitated, your thoughts drifting back to Mattheo, still outside on the porch.

A few hours later, you still couldn’t sleep. The house was quiet, blanketed in a stillness that should have been comforting but instead felt suffocating. The clock on your bedside table ticked softly, marking every second of restlessness. Giving up, you stood and pulled on your robe, its warmth doing little to quell the chill in the air.

The floorboards creaked softly beneath your feet as you made your way downstairs. The kitchen was dark and still, save for the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the tall windows. You poured yourself a mug of hot cocoa, the rich scent filling the room as you stirred slowly. Without much thought, you stepped outside, drawn by the allure of the snow-covered grounds.

The night was beautiful, the kind of quiet only winter could bring. The world seemed softer somehow, muffled by the snow, each step crunching beneath your boots as you made your way to the old swing in the garden. You sat down, the cold wood biting through your layers, but you didn’t mind. This was your favorite time of year—the serenity, the beauty, the way everything seemed untouched, as though winter had a way of preserving perfection.

You took a sip of your cocoa, savoring the warmth that spread through you, when a voice broke the silence.

“You know, you’re supposed to be sleeping, princess.”

The low, familiar drawl made you jump, nearly spilling your drink. You turned quickly, your breath catching as you spotted Mattheo emerging from the shadows, his dark curls haloed by the faint moonlight.

“For fuck’s sake, Mattheo!” you snapped, clutching your chest as your heart raced.

He chuckled, the sound deep and dark, and a smirk tugged at his lips. He stopped just a few steps away, his boots crunching softly in the snow. “You’re a bit jumpy, aren’t you?” His eyes glinted with amusement, clearly pleased by your reaction.

“Well, it’s past midnight, and it’s dark outside,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “Anyone would have been scared.” Mattheo smirked, his sharp gaze lingering on your face. His tall figure seemed to loom over you, casting a shadow against the soft glow of the snow. His eyes flicked over your features, pausing just a fraction too long on your lips before meeting your eyes again. Another step brought him closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing.

“Why are you even out here, Y/N? It’s freezing outside.” His voice was low, almost teasing. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, sleeping soundly?”

You raised an eyebrow, sipping your hot chocolate as you began to rock gently on the swing. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He shrugged, watching you with a peculiar intensity that made your skin prickle. The way you moved, so effortlessly, so unguarded—it caught him off guard, though he’d never let it show. He stepped forward again, close enough now that his legs nearly brushed the sides of the swing, boxing you in. He smirked, clearly reveling in how easily he could dominate the space between you.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted casually. “So I went for a walk.”

“I see…” you murmured, your voice trailing off as you rocked a little more, the gentle motion filling the silence. It was rare to find yourself alone with Mattheo, rare to see him without Theo acting as an invisible barrier between you. The awkwardness settled in—not uncomfortable, but quiet, laced with a tension neither of you seemed willing to address.

Mattheo’s eyes roamed over you again, unrestrained in a way that felt both deliberate and involuntary. His smirk softened, but it didn’t fade entirely, as though he couldn’t quite help himself. The proximity, the stillness—it was doing something to him, muddling his usual sharp focus. His gaze lingered on the curves of your body, on the way the swing cradled you, before snapping back to your face, catching himself just in time.

“Are you going to sit on the other swing,” you asked, breaking the silence with a laugh, “or are you just going to stare at me like a psychopath?”

He huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes. “I am not a psychopath, thank you very much.”

He paused, glancing down at the empty swing beside you. A smirk tugged at his lips as he dropped onto it with practiced ease, his body tilting slightly as he leaned on one of the ropes. His dark curls caught the faint moonlight, and for a moment, you were struck by how naturally he fit into the scene—as if the cold, quiet night belonged to him.

“There. Happy now?” he teased, tilting his head as he watched you take another sip of your drink.

“Delighted,” you replied dryly, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself.

The quiet returned, but this time it felt less heavy, more companionable. The swings creaked softly under your weight, their rhythmic motion blending with the faint whisper of the wind through the trees. You felt his gaze on you again, steady but less intrusive, as though he was trying to figure you out without saying it aloud.

“You always liked the swing, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Even when we were kids. You’d come out here, no matter how bloody cold it was.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You remember that?”

“Of course.” He shrugged, his gaze dropping to the snow at his feet. “You used to follow us around when we were kids, always begging him to push you higher. Drove him mad.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “He hated it.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked back up to yours, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t.”

The words hung between you, carried on the crisp winter air. You weren’t sure how to respond for the second time of the night, your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze lingered, heavy and unreadable. You took another sip of your cocoa, more for something to do than anything else, the warmth doing little to calm the sudden flutter in your chest.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked at you. The smirk was gone now, replaced by something quieter, something more vulnerable. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I guess… I always thought you’d stay the same. That you’d always be Theo’s annoying little sister. But you’re not.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words to respond. The weight of his gaze was almost too much, like he was seeing you for the first time, and the intensity of it made your pulse quicken.

“People grow up, Mattheo,” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt. “Even me.”

A small, almost sad smile flickered across his face as he straightened, flicking his cigarette into the snow. “Yeah,” he murmured, rocking with you. “I’ve noticed.”

There weren’t any words for it, not really.

It was impossible not to notice how Mattheo had changed over the years. His brown eyes had darkened, holding a sharper, more dangerous edge now, like they had seen too much of the world too soon. Faint scars marked his face—one along his jawline, another faintly cutting through his brow—evidence of his penchant for fights he never backed down from. Yet somehow, the wild, boyish curls that framed his face remained untouched, softening the sharp lines of his features.

The little boy you had known—the one who used to tease you relentlessly, who would sneak sweets into your pockets to make you smile—was gone, replaced by someone almost unrecognizable. And yet, in the quiet moments like this, when his smirk softened and his eyes searched yours, you could still see traces of him. The ghost of that boy lingered beneath the surface, making the man he’d become all the more breathtaking.

You looked down, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. You had finished your hot cocoa a while ago, and the absence of its warmth was beginning to seep into your bones. You shivered slightly, the cold nipping at your skin through the thin fabric of your robe.

Mattheo kept his eyes on the sky, though you could feel his attention flicker to you in the silence. The proximity wasn’t helping either of you. His gaze shifted briefly from the stars to you, and his voice broke the stillness—low, quiet, almost raspy.

“Cold, princess?”

You shrugged, your breath forming faint clouds in the air. “Well… I probably should’ve grabbed something warmer than this robe.”

He rolled his eyes, his smirk returning. “You’re wearing a robe, Y/N. Of course you’re cold.” He muttered something under his breath, a mix of exasperation and amusement, before shrugging off his jacket in one swift motion. The fabric landed in his lap, and he glanced at you again, this time with something unspoken in his eyes.

“Come here.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, blinking at him.

He tilted his head, his smirk widening as though your cluelessness was both amusing and maddening. “Just get your sweet ass over here,” he huffed, patting his lap for emphasis.

You hesitated, but the cold won out. Slowly, you moved to sit on his lap, his hands guiding you with a gentle firmness. The heat of his body against yours was immediate, and you stayed silent, unsure of what to say. The size of his jacket engulfed you completely, and for the first time since stepping outside, you felt warm.

“But you’re going to get cold,” you murmured, glancing at his body only covered by a sweater.

Mattheo’s smirk widened, his gaze raking over you wrapped in his jacket. “You really think I care right now?” His hand moved from your chin to your thigh, his palm pressing against your skin with a possessive gentleness. His thumb began tracing slow circles, the movement both comforting and electrifying.

“Well… you should,” you whispered, leaning against him instinctively. Your head came to rest on his chest, and you felt the hitch in his breath at the contact.

He didn’t move for a moment, as if adjusting to the new closeness. Then, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. His grip on your thigh tightened slightly, as though he wanted to keep you there forever. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed faintly in your ear, and you wondered if he could feel yours racing in return.

“You’re going to be sick,” you murmured, your voice soft against his chest.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through you. “Stop being so rational, Y/N. You’re ruining my moment of protecting you.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, tilting your head to look up at him. “Since when do you even want to protect me, Riddle?”

He rolled his eyes at your remark, a huff of frustration escaping him. “Dammit, Y/N. Can’t you, for once in your life, just let me be sweet to you?”

Your teasing smile faltered at the sincerity in his voice. You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his. Snowflakes clung to his dark curls, softening the sharp angles of his face, and his expression held something that made your chest tighten. He wasn’t smirking anymore.

“Why?” you whispered, the word barely audible above the quiet rustle of the wind.

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right answer. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it, and it carried a weight that settled heavily between you.

“Because you deserve it,” he said simply, his thumb still tracing slow, deliberate circles on your thigh. “And because, for some reason, I can’t help myself.”

Your breath caught, and the snow seemed to fall slower, the night folding in around you both. You weren’t sure what to say, but the way his eyes lingered on you—like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—said more than words ever could.

Neither of you moved for a long moment, the weight of his words lingering in the frosted air. Mattheo’s gaze never wavered, and you felt as though he was searching for something in your expression—permission, maybe, or understanding. Whatever it was, you weren’t sure you could give it. Not when every inch of your body was hyper-aware of his hand resting on your thigh, his jacket wrapped around you like a cocoon, and the steady warmth of him against you.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—it was heavy, charged, filled with things you both knew could never be spoken aloud. Not with Theodore asleep inside, unaware of the lines being blurred on the swing outside your home.

A soft flurry of snow began to fall, dusting Mattheo’s curls and the edges of his sweater. You glanced up, watching as the flakes floated down, catching on your lashes and melting against your skin. The quiet around you deepened, the world reduced to just the two of you and the snow.

Mattheo’s hand tightened slightly on your thigh, grounding you, before his other hand came up to brush a stray snowflake from your hair. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

“You’re going to freeze,” you whispered, your voice breaking the silence.

“So are you,” he murmured back, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “But I guess you’ll just keep arguing with me about it instead of going inside.”

You laughed softly despite yourself, the sound warm in the cold night air. “Maybe.”

Mattheo’s gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before he shook his head slightly, pulling back just enough to create a breath of space between you. “We should go in,” he said, though the reluctance in his tone betrayed him.

You nodded, but neither of you moved right away. There was something about the moment—the quiet, the closeness, the unspoken weight of everything you couldn’t say—that made it hard to leave. It wasn’t just the snow keeping you rooted there; it was the impossible pull of Mattheo Riddle, the boy who had always been out of reach.

But the snow began falling harder, the wind picking up and sending chills through both of you. Mattheo sighed, his hand slipping from your thigh as he helped you to your feet. His jacket stayed draped around you, the warmth of it feeling like a faint echo of his touch.

You glanced back at him as he stood, brushing the snow from his curls with an almost frustrated huff. There was something in his expression—something raw, unguarded—that made your chest ache. Whatever Mattheo was feeling, he was fighting it, and you knew why. It was impossible, the two of you. It always had been. But that didn’t make it any easier to ignore.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “Before Theo wakes up and starts a bloody war.”

You laughed lightly, pulling the jacket tighter around you as the two of you made your way back to the manor. The snow muffled your steps, and for a moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something you both knew would never come.

The two of you climbed the stairs in silence, the kind that felt almost sacred, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. The manor seemed to hold its breath, its ancient walls groaning softly under the weight of the falling snow. Each step was careful, deliberate, a shared understanding that the stillness of the night was not to be disturbed.

When you reached your bedroom door, you stopped, your hand resting lightly on the worn brass handle. You turned to face him, the quiet settling between you like freshly fallen snow. His dark eyes found yours immediately, unwavering and unguarded in a way that made the air between you feel impossibly thin.

Neither of you spoke. There was no need to. The silence stretched, intimate and unbroken, as if the moment itself was afraid to shatter.

Mattheo’s hand lifted slowly, almost hesitantly, his movements uncharacteristically soft. His fingers brushed against your temple, tucking a strand of snow-dampened hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, warm and fleeting, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

For a second, his eyes roamed your face, not with the sharpness he usually carried, but with something quieter, something deeper. It wasn’t just a glance—it was as though he were committing every detail to memory: the curve of your lips, the faint rise of color on your cheeks, the way your lashes glistened faintly with melted snow.

He exhaled softly, his breath stirring the air between you. “You should get some sleep,” he said, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of something unspoken.

You nodded, unable to do much else, your throat tight and your heart pounding against your ribs. The faintest flicker of a smirk ghosted across his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something about the way he looked at you that made the moment feel far too fragile, like one wrong move could shatter it entirely.

He stepped back, just slightly, as though the distance might make this easier for both of you. It didn’t.

“Goodnight, princess,” he murmured, the endearment softer now, gentler, almost reverent.

You hesitated, the door halfway open, and turned to glance back at him. He hadn’t moved, his eyes still on you, dark and searching. It felt like he was trying to say something, something neither of you could bring yourselves to admit.

You offered him a small, hesitant nod before slipping into your room, closing the door softly behind you. The quiet click of the latch felt deafening in the stillness.

Leaning back against the door, you pressed your hand to your chest, your breath coming unsteadily. The warmth of his touch still lingered on your skin, but it was the way he’d looked at you that stayed.

It was impossible. Whatever this was—whatever it might have been—it couldn’t exist beyond these secret fleeting moments. And yet, as you leaned back against the heavy wooden door, your pulse still racing, you knew you would never forget the way Mattheo Riddle had looked at you.

In the dim, flickering light of the Nott Manor hallway, his dark eyes had held something unspoken, something that felt achingly close to longing. It was as if, for that brief instant, the weight of the world he carried had vanished, and all that remained was you.

But the world would return. It always did.

You closed your eyes, willing the ache in your chest to fade, though you knew it wouldn’t. Some things weren’t meant to be, no matter how much you wanted them. How were you supposed to get through the rest of the holidays like this? With him here, so close yet so unattainable?

And somehow, that made wanting him feel all the more inevitable.

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #harry potter fandom #harry potter #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fluff #slytherin boys x reader #riddle #matt #slytherin #hogwarts #urfavfrenchgrl🤍

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lov3notts-recs · 9 days ago

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YEAHHH OFFICIALLY A MATTHEO GIRLY

THIS WAS SO CUTEEE OMGGG

“little bun” :

FICMAS #1— WHISKERS AND WHIZBEES / mattheo riddle

december 1st

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: being an animagus has its pros… and its cons

warnings: fluff, bunny animagus!reader, brother’s best friend!mattheo, illness

words: 1.8k

a/n: yayyy kicking off ficmas with some fluff!!

navigation ficmas masterlist

“Damn it. They’re out of stock,” Mattheo muttered, a scowl darkening his sharp features as his gaze swept over the empty display in front of him. The faint hum of activity in Honeydukes buzzed around him, but it was all background noise to his singular mission: finding your favorite treat.

The rich scent of melted caramel and powdered sugar clung to the warm air, but it did nothing to soothe his disappointment. He’d ventured out with Theo, braving the frost-bitten path to Hogsmeade, bundled against the chill of the late December wind, determined to bring a spark of joy to you after a week spent curled up under blankets, your feverish state stealing the light from your eyes.

“She’ll survive, Mattheo,” Theo drawled, arms crossed lazily as he leaned against a wall beside a towering stack of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

Mattheo’s fingers raked through the unruly mess of dark curls that framed his face, eyes narrowing in frustration as he muttered, “She loves Cauldron Cakes too, doesn’t she? Maybe I could grab one of those…” But even as the words left his mouth, doubt clouded his expression. “No, those give her stomach aches.”

“Careful,” Theo’s smirk broke through his stoic demeanor, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “One wrong bite, and she might turn into a rabbit for a week.”

Mattheo’s lips quirked, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that managed to soften the sharp edges of his expression. The image of you sitting on a pillow, fur fluffy as clouds, with wide, quivering eyes and twitching ears, filled his mind. It was a sight he’d seen a lot more than once, and the thought warmed him more than the heavy wool of his coat. “That would be adorable,” he murmured, more to himself than to Theo.

His gaze drifted back to the shelves, fingers brushing past jars of fizzing whizbees and licorice wands, seeking any trace of the sweets you loved. He knew every preference, every quirk—the way your nose crinkled when you were trying not to laugh, how you always saved the last bite of chocolate for him, even if he pretended not to notice.

Theo’s playful scoff drew him back to the present, breaking the spell. “Right, lover boy, grab what you can so we can move on. The Weasley twins’ shop won’t raid itself.”

Mattheo’s smirk deepened as he reached for a small box tucked at the back of the shelf, its golden wrapping gleaming under the enchanted lights. If he couldn’t find the chocolate frogs, he’d settle for something close enough, something to make your eyes light up when he returned.

The sharp knock at the front door broke through the haze of your lethargy, and you groaned, rolling your eyes at the interruption. Each subsequent rap grew louder and more insistent, a persistent reminder of your brother’s tendency to forget his keys.

With a reluctant sigh, you dragged your aching body off the couch and trudged to the door, your irritation simmering just beneath the surface. When you swung the door open, your expression was a mix of annoyance and fatigue, only to be met by the amused snort of Mattheo, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I was resting, you asshole,” you snapped, the heat of annoyance still lingering in your voice as you shot a glare at your brother.

“Be grateful I got you to walk around a bit,” he replied, a playful grin spreading across his face as he ruffled your hair affectionately. “Your legs are gonna freeze in place if you lay around any longer.”

You didn’t bother to respond, instead heading back to the couch and flopping down onto your stomach, your focus returning to the flickering images on the screen. The warmth of the blankets cocooned you, a small comfort in your weakened state.

“I got you something, but I’ll only give it to you if you promise to stop being so grumpy,” Mattheo teased, settling beside you, his presence radiating warmth.

Your heart quickened at the thought that he had been thinking of you while out with Theo. Maybe your crush-blinded mind was reading into it too much, but the notion sent a thrill through you. You’d always harbored a secret crush on him, and while you were sure he cared for you, it was a different kind of love—one that you longed to bridge.

“Depends on what it is, Matty,” you replied, attempting to mask the fluttering hope in your chest.

He leaned in slightly, his tone playful. “Well, I got you Fizzing Whizbees because they didn’t have any chocolate frogs, but I’m a little scared they’ll—”

“I’m not gonna change into a bunny,” you interrupted, your voice sharper than intended as you raised a hand in protest. The memory of yesterday flooded back—seven embarrassing transformations triggered by the slightest discomfort had left you feeling humiliated.

“But—”

“Just give it to me,” you cut him off again, rolling your eyes dramatically. Yet, as you snatched the colorful box from his hands, you paused, a genuine smile breaking through your irritation. “Thank you.”

The way you clutched the chocolates tightly in your hands made it clear you had no intention of sharing, and a chuckle escaped Mattheo’s lips. He leaned back, clearly pleased to see a hint of happiness in your tired demeanor.

But the second you popped the first piece into your mouth, a familiar pang of regret bloomed in your stomach, a sensation you had come to dread. It was an all-too-familiar feeling that washed over you with alarming speed.

In an instant, your body transformed, and where you had been, there now sat a tiny, fluffy rabbit, complete with floppy ears and wide, embarrassed eyes.

The boys burst into laughter, their mirth echoing in the cozy living room as you thumped a paw against the floor in frustration.

“I fucking told you! You’re an idiot, Y/N/N,” Mattheo teased, his laughter infectious.

Your tiny heart raced as you glared up at Mattheo, your expressive little eyes narrowing in annoyance. The warmth of the room felt overwhelming now, each laugh echoing like a distant thundering noise. The sensation of soft fabric beneath you—the couch cushions—was comforting, but the sudden wave of self-consciousness washed over you. Here you were, reduced to a fluffy little creature, while the two boys stood there, delighting in your misfortune.

You hopped over to Mattheo, your little teeth nipping at his ankle in a show of defiance.

Mattheo yelped as your teeth grazed his skin, the surprise of the nip sending a jolt through him. He glanced down at you, his smirk widening as he took in the fierce determination in your beady little eyes.

He knelt down, curiosity gleaming in his chocolate brown eyes as he reached out a hand. “Aw, don’t be mad, little bun,” he said, his voice dropping to a hushed, gentle tone that contrasted sharply with the raucous laughter. “You’re adorable like this. You’ve got the perfect little nose.”

He reached out, scooping you up gently in his large hands.

His fingers gently stroked along your soft fur, a soothing motion that seemed to calm your restless spirit. “Maybe we should keep you like this for a while,” he mused, his tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of sincerity. “Might be easier to handle.”

Your small body wriggled within Mattheo's grasp, the soft fur tickling his palms as you squirmed. The warmth of his touch was comforting, yet the confined space felt stifling. With a sudden burst of energy, you leapt from his hands, landing gracefully on the plush cushions of the couch.

The sensation of the cotton beneath your paws was a relief and you found yourself nestling deeper into the folds of the blanket, your small form disappearing into the sea of fabric.

Mattheo chuckled at the sight of you buried under the blankets, only your tiny twitching nose visible above the soft pile. "Huh, looks like someone wants to stay cozy," he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. “But seriously, are you planning on staying like this forever?"

A sudden sneeze shook your tiny frame, causing you to reflexively scrunch up your nose and shut your eyes tight. As the sneeze subsided, a strange sensation washed over you—a tingling, shifting feeling that spread throughout your body.

Your vision blurred for a moment, and then, just as quickly, cleared. When your eyes focused once more, you found yourself no longer a bunny, but rather your human self again, nestled among the blankets. You blinked slowly, taking in your surroundings anew.

Mattheo let out a teasing whistle as he took in the sight of you, now returned to your human form. His eyes roamed appreciatively over your features, lingering on the flushed cheeks and tousled hair. "Well, well," he murmured, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Looks like someone's feeling a bit warm."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You know, I think you might be even prettier like this." His fingers trailed lightly along your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your cheeks burned at Mattheo's words, and you felt a flutter in your chest as his fingers brushed against your skin. But before you could respond, you caught yourself pushing his hand away, the action both instinctive and deliberate.

"I-I'm cold," you stammered, trying to hide the embarrassment that colored your voice.

Mattheo's chuckle was soft and indulgent as he pulled his hand back, a twinkle in his eye. "No more candy for you, bun," he teased gently, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Maybe some soup will do."

With that, he rose to his feet, towering over you as he made his way to the kitchen. You watched him go, your heart warming at the simple act of care. It wasn't every day that someone looked after you so tenderly, especially not someone as reckless as Mattheo.

As the sounds of pots clanging and liquid simmering drifted from the kitchen, you found yourself smiling, despite the lingering flush on your cheeks. Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all, if it meant having Mattheo fuss over you like this.

ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101

(comment or dm to be added to the taglist)

#ughhhh i love you #you did it #you’ve made me into a mattheo girly like you said you would #slytherin boys #slytherin #benjamin wadsworth #leona-hawthorne ficmas #mattheo fluff #matt riddle fluff #mattheo riddle #matt riddle

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kind4luck · 3 months 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 · 6 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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slytherinslut0 · 3 months 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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