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summary: fed up with the way the slytherin boys create chaos without consequence, someone seeks to bring them down a notch by going after the one thing their strongest loves most: you.
word count: 6.6k 🫣
soundtrack: heathens - twenty one pilots
author’s note: i promise this isn't deranged, there is ample flangst and a mattheo that would burn the world to the ground for you ♡
warnings: this is relatively dark (for me anyway!) reader is attacked + kissed/touched against their will. mentions of blood, knives and violence.
If you'd heard it once, you'd heard it a thousand times.
Be careful.
He's dangerous.
You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
As if you weren't an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions, of reading people, of caring for your own heart.
On paper, you and Mattheo Riddle made no sense. You were quiet and calm, friendly and compassionate, quick with a warm smile and a hug. You were light and laughter and goodness.
By contrast, Mattheo was rough and edgy, quick to anger with a firecracker temper and a biting sarcasm like a venomous snake that kept everyone but his closest friends at an arm's length. But around you? He melted.
It was like you held the key that unlocked his defenses, allowing you to walk straight into the dark center of his heart. He would have mocked any guy who fell for a girl the way he fell for you: immediately, irrevocably and hard. And once he had his mind made up about you, there was little you could say in the matter (not that you were arguing).
He showered you with a depth of affection that was rare for anyone, let along the brooding bad boy of Hogwarts.
Suddenly, he was just there, beside you in class, next to you at meals, and keeping you company in the library as you studied. Before long you began to crave the feeling of his presence, of his warmth next to you, of the low rumble of his voice meant only for you to hear as he shared an inside joke or complimented you. He'd eagerly watch your face light up in return, the twinkle in your eyes, the lift of your lips and your happiness became a high for him that he wouldn't stop chasing; making you happy and keeping you happy became his mission, one that he succeeded at in every way.
Then late one night in the library you were huddled close together as a storm racked the castle outside, sending wind and rain against the large windows. Your heads were close together as you spoke in whispers. You looked at him and smiled and for just the breath of a second your eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips, and that was all the invitation he needed. He leaned in slowly, winding his hand to cup the side of your face as he pressed his lips to yours and he kissed you with tenderness and hunger, the combination of which pulled you out of your seat and onto his lap. And once he realized how bright you shined after he kissed you? He was a goner. And so were you.
There wasn't a thing anyone could say to you about Mattheo after that that you would have listened to, because he had you, heart and soul. He treated you like royalty, he protected you like treasure and he loved you with everything he had in him. What more could a girl possibly ask for?
You fell in step with Mattheo's long strides on your walk to breakfast, the early morning light beaming through the stained glass windows.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, right where he always wanted you, as close to him as possible. You nuzzled into his neck and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
As usual, the sea of students in the corridor dipped and dodged out of your way, leaving a wide berth for your group out of deference and intimidation. It was odd for you at first joining the group that held the rest of the school in such rapt fear because it was immediately obvious that they were just like everyone else, they just didn't care to show that side of themselves to the world; they were fun-loving, goofy, affable and caring and they quickly adopted you as one of their own.
You rounded the corner to the Great Hall and Mattheo went crashing into a figure that hadn't had the wherewithal to get out of his way. He tightened his grasp on you out of instinct and narrowed his eyes towards Seamus Finnegan who had dropped the entire stack of books he'd been holding and looked ready to argue about it until he saw who he was confronting. He bit his tongue instead, averted his eyes, and stepped out of your way.
Mattheo moved by him without a word, the slight already forgotten, but you glanced back with the smallest ounce of pity in your eyes as Seamus knelt to the floor to gather his books and a few Gryffindors came to help him.
"M'fuckin' sick of it" Seamus said quietly once you were out of earshot. "Him, them, walkin' around like they own the school" he shot a nasty glare in the direction of the Slytherin table.
"Good luck doing anything about it" Ron sighed, resigned. "Nasty temper, that one" he added, eyes shifting warily towards Mattheo like he might actually have the ability to hear him from the other side of the loud hall.
"It's cruel is what it is! Neville is still trying to recover from Nott hexing him. He claimed it was an 'accident', but we all know the truth. He should be expelled!" Hermione added hotly, her cheeks flushing at the idea of anyone breaking the rules and getting away with it.
Seamus grimaced as he stared at your group, at the ease with which you had all carried on with your morning, laughing and joking, boisterous, without a care in the world because you knew you were all completely untouchable, above reproach or reprimand.
He knew there wasn't a thing he could do in retaliation without ending up in the infirmary or worse he thought solemly.
What I wouldn't give to take them down a notch his mind whirled, to make them feel something, to feel vulnerable, on edge, afraid like the rest of us.
His eyes narrowed.
Surely there was a weakness, a vulnerability he could find, something something to level the playing field. His eyes skated over Draco and Blaise, over Theo's large frame and Lorenzo's tall figure before they landed back on Mattheo, and finally on you.
You.
He watched the way Mattheo kept his arm around you, as he always did, keeping you close to his side like you were two parts of one whole and Seamus thought about the way he'd seen Mattheo pull you even closer when he'd run into him. He watched, really watched him turn to look at you when you talked and saw a surprising softness in his normally cold, dark eyes.
It was no secret that you two were together, Mattheo loved kissing you openly, unabashedly, anywhere and everywhere he pleased: in between classes, after quidditch matches, at meals, even in class from time to time with a complete disregard to anything the professors said about it.
If there was one thing anyone knew or had learned the hard way it was that you were one hundred percent off limits and to think otherwise was a death wish.
Seamus remembered the transfer student several months ago that had unknowingly asked you out, and how Mattheo had broken his nose over it. Twice. Never mind the time Mattheo happened to overhear a Ravenclaw compliment your outfit, and he ended up puking slugs for weeks.
Seamus shuddered.
Mattheo had an appetite for violence and a temper that never burned hotter than when it came to you, sending him into a fitful spiral.
She's his weakness he realized.
"I have an idea" he said to the group around him.
Weeks later, your feet carried you quickly down the winding stone staircase from Divination. You were first out the door, eager to spend every second of the short break you had between classes with Mattheo as you always did at this time in the neighboring stairwell of the North Tower.
You turned the corner to see him leaning against the wall, waiting for you and your face lit up as you strode toward him in the small, empty space. He stood up straighter as he took you in and he fidgeted with his hands in an unusually nervous way that had you laughing as you approached him and pressed into him, winding your arms around his neck.
"Hi handsome" you breathed against his lips before you kissed him.
But it was like kissing a statue.
His lips sat unmoving against yours, his hands awkwardly at his side.
"Matty?" you asked, pulling back to look at him to see the same look of genuine nerves on his face, his cheeks flushed.
You laughed again, totally confused at his reaction.
"Are you okay?—"
"—Y-yeah" he mumbled before running his hands slowly up your sides. "Yeah, m'so good" he confirmed before tugging you into him.
His lips met yours but something was still off, he was stiff and awkward. You moved to pull away from him again but his grip on you tightened, holding you in place until he swung you around and pushed you against the stone wall so quick and so hard your head knocked against the surface painfully.
Mattheo was a lot of things.
But careless with you was not one of them.
Your heart raced in your chest as your head throbbed. You pushed against him, but he was unwavering as he deepened his kiss aggressively, sloppily, despite your growing protests. And then he bit your bottom lip. Hard. And you tasted blood.
"Ah! Mattheo - what the fuck!" you said, shoving him hard this time as your hand flew to your bleeding lip.
He looked completely disheveled, flushed, his eyes glazed as he stared at you. Your stomach roiled.
And then you earnestly began to panic because for the first time in the year you'd been together you were keenly aware of how tall and how big he was, and how helpless you were in comparison.
Your heart began to race and your breaths came fast and shallow as you searched his face for any sign of the boy you loved and every cautionary word you'd been told came racing back to you: Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
Those fears mixed with how fiercely you loved him in a cocktail of confusion that left tears burning in your eyes as you tried to hold back a sob.
At the sight of that he smirked and a chill ran down your spine.
You tried to run.
He grabbed you.
"C'mon dove" he said, caging you in with his arms against the wall despite how you squirmed. "I know you like it like this" he muttered as lips attached to your neck and he began to suck and bite you.
Dove?
He'd never once called you that.
You scraped against his chest. You tried to shout until he put a hand over your mouth and it was like he was intentionally trying to mark you, sucking your skin so hard you could feel the bruising as you pushed and punched him to no avail. He reached for the top of your shirt and yanked, tearing it as buttons flew off.
You were crying hard now as you fought his hands when suddenly voices echoed in a nearby corridor and he pulled away from you.
His grip loosened and his eyes flashed with fear, and then he left, taking off down the corridor without a word.
You sunk to the floor in disbelief, gasping to catch your breath as cries ripped from you and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your brain a mottled mess as you tried to comprehend what the fuck had happened to your boyfriend.
As soon as you could steady yourself, you grasped your torn shirt with shaking hands and made your way as quickly as you could to the common room through a series of passageways and abandoned corridors to avoid running into anyone.
You snuck into the dungeons, head down, desperate to get to your room, when you heard your friends' voices.
"There she is. Hey! YN!" Blaise shouted.
Shit.
You tried to ignore him, to act like you didn't hear anything.
"YN!" Theo called after you, louder. "Hang on, I'll get her" he said, standing to come after you.
You tried to walk faster, doubling your pace.
"Hey, hey!" Theo said, catching up with you easily with his long strides. "Have you seen Mattheo? He—"
He reached for you and you pulled out of his grasp, turning to face him and he stopped in his tracks, the words dying on his lips as his eyes widened and the color drained from his face.
"YN" he said quietly, intently. "What the fuck happened to you? Holy shit."
He reached for your face, taking your chin in his warm hand, his touch so soft and gentle, so completely opposite of everything you'd just experienced that you immediately began to cry.
"Bella, your lip" he said, panic slipping into his tone both at your reaction and the sight of the blood there. "Who the fuck did this?"
You closed your eyes and shook your head and he slowly wrapped his arms around you. Your head fell to his chest as you grasped him, soaking his jumper with your tears.
By now, Draco, Lorenzo and Blaise had come over and were muttering softly.
"Bloody hell."
"This is fucking mental, mate."
"Matty is going to kill them."
And at just the mention of his name, you pushed further into Theo's chest, burrowing there like you could hide from the world.
"Bella, you're going to have to tell him, you can't protect whoever did this" he said, misreading your reaction.
"Well, we'll have to find him first. He'd better hear this from us" Blaise said.
Find him?
"W-what do you mean find him?" you muttered against Theo's chest.
"Haven't seen him since breakfast. Wasn't in class this morning and didn't come for our smoke" Draco replied.
Your head ached as much from your tears as it did from where he'd pushed you into the wall as you tried to process that. What had he been doing all day? And what the hell had gotten into him?
A burst of laughter, shouts and a loud wolf whistle echoed from behind you and pulled the group's attention to the door. You peeked from the comfort of Theo's arms to see Mattheo walking in... in his underwear.
"Thank you, thank you" he smirked, bowing cockily to the group of onlookers who cheered and gawked at his half-naked body, moving to make his way towards his room until he saw your group.
"There you fuckers are" he said as he approached. "I have had a fucking day - someone's getting their face rearranged—" but he stopped midsentence when he got close enough to see you in Theo's arms.
"What's going on? What's wrong?" he asked, stepping towards you immediately.
Theo moved to let you go but you gripped him tighter, hiding yourself, refusing to move.
Mattheo stopped, startled by your reaction like he'd run into a brick wall. He stood at a distance from you, completely unmoored by the sight of you grasping onto someone else for comfort. His heart began to thump heavily and angrily in his chest and his cheeks flushed in irritation and embarrassment.
He let out a steadying breath, his jaw clenched as his eyes slid to Theo, the decided object of the brewing anger he felt.
"What. The fuck. Is going on?" he asked again, his fury palpable.
"It's not—I don't—" Theo stumbled.
"—She hasn't said anything, mate" Enzo clarified.
You could feel yourself begin to shake and a dam of pressure welled up behind your eyes at how angry Mattheo was, at how afraid you were to be near him, at what he might do or say next and yet at the same time, how much you craved his comfort, how you knew he was the only person who could truly make you feel better.
Your tears came hot and wet down your cheeks as you cried into Theo's chest and Mattheo felt something crack inside of him. He'd never once seen you like this and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, sick over how upset you were, sick that you were in pain, sick that you didn't seem to want him or to be anywhere near him, sick that he didn't know what to do or how to help.
"B-baby, please?" he said, nearly begging as he tried to move closer.
The tone in his voice and the affectionate nickname tugged at your heart.
You swallowed and turned your head to look at him, gently, tentatively letting Theo go.
Mattheo's eyes met yours before they wandered over your face.
His face fell.
And he stopped breathing.
A cold sensation like the ooze of a cracked egg ran down his body as he looked at you.
Your mascara was smeared, caught in the tears that were running down your face. Your cheeks were red and flushed and your lip was swollen and bleeding. He catalogued the bruises down your neck and marks that looked an awful lot like bites there too that led to your ripped and tattered shirt.
Mattheo had been angry plenty of times in his life, and for good reason. But this was the first time he felt it. He could have told you where and how quickly the rage pulsed in his veins, blooming hot in his chest, pumping into his arms, into his hands that curled into fists and ached to hit something, into his stomach, his legs that wanted to run, to cause chaos and destruction until he fixed this.
But he didn't expect the next emotion that hit him like a dark wave in a stormy ocean, all consuming, nearly bowling him over: deep and overwhelming sadness.
"N-no, no no no who-who did this? Baby" his voice ached with pain as he moved to step towards you again, desperate to hold you, to make it better as quickly as he could.
You took a small, hesitant step back and looked at him with confusion, with trepidation.
And you said the next words so quietly he was certain he'd heard you wrong.
"You" you whispered.
His face scrunched in confusion.
"It was you" you said louder and all the boys turned to look at you and then back to Mattheo.
"In the stairwell? Our spot?" you said pointedly, trying to get him to remember.
"You were there, waiting for me, but you were... off. Different. And then y-you..." you gestured to yourself as you tried to keep from coming undone again at the memory.
Theo took a protective step closer to you.
Mattheo carded his hands through his hair in exasperation where they rested atop his head as he paced a step back and forth before stopping in front of you. It was taking his entire willpower not to lose his composure, and not to launch at his best friend.
"I got jumped this morning" he said patiently, evenly, though his underlying anger was still very much there. "I woke up in a broom closet ten minutes ago with no fucking clothes."
"B-broom closet?" you muttered, confused.
"Yeah, it was maddening, had to break the door down and— look, that doesn't matter. Please please tell me you believe me."
Your mind was reeling. You opened your mouth hesitantly to reply, but you couldn't find your words, your emotions, your fear, everything you felt far too raw.
He let out another deep breath and then crouched in front of you, making himself smaller, less threatening as he met your gaze directly.
"You are the most important person in my world. You know that, right? You are everything to me. Everything that is precious and perfect and right. And I would never ever hurt you."
You met his dark brown eyes that were shining intently up at you, unflinching in their truth and you nodded despite your tears and sniffles. Of course you knew that, which was why everything that happened this morning was so fucked up.
He slowly extended his hand to you, palm up, wordlessly asking you to believe him, to trust him.
"You're okay now, you're safe. No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here, okay?"
And gods you'd needed to hear that. You nodded again, more strongly now.
"We're going to figure this out. And I'm going to fix this, I can promise you I will fix this. Hey, can you look at me?"
Your eyes met his and more hot tears fell down your cheeks at the gentleness and patience in his expression, the way he was nearly on his knees begging for you to trust him, to believe that the boy in front of you in no way could have been the boy from this morning and you pursed your lips.
"I love you" he whispered.
And those words alone healed a significant part of your hurt.
You slowly placed your shaking hand in his and it was like your body immediately registered the difference in his touch, how he tenderly ran a thumb over your knuckles as he continued to speak softly to you as he stood up.
"I've got you, you're going to be okay. It's me, I'm here" he said as he slowly pulled you toward him.
You took one step, and then another, and then you curled yourself against his warm chest and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding as you grasped him. He held you tightly to him, squeezing hard, and his hand held the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your temple.
You sniffed and let out a few more shaky breaths, letting him consume you, trying to replace every memory from this morning with his touch like it could pull the fear from you as you listened to his heartbeat and took in his familiar smell.
Theo cleared his throat as politely as possible.
"Really hate to break up the moment, but if you spent the morning in a broom closet, then how the fuck were you also walking around the North Tower?—"
"—Polyjuice potion" Draco said, without missing a beat, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's the only logical explanation, would also explain why they had to take your clothes" he gestured to Mattheo's half-naked body.
"What?!" Blaise exhaled in disbelief.
"So you mean to say someone planned all of this? Went through all of this effort just to get to her?" Theo asked, and you could hear the fury rising with his tone.
Mattheo's arms squeezed around you, a subconscious reaction to the thought.
"What kind of sick fuck?—"
"—I'm going to kill them" Mattheo said flatly.
And it wasn't a turn of phrase.
He'd said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly that you nearly believed him and hugged him back a little tighter.
"Do you have any idea who it was?" Lorenzo asked.
"No you dipshit, don't you think if she knew it wasn't him this wouldn't have happened?" Draco replied, smacking him in the back of the head.
Theo and Blaise chimed in, arguing the point with one another.
"He did say something weird" you mused quietly, silencing them all as they turned to look at you. "He called me dove" you said, shaking your head at the memory, like you could make yourself forget it.
Mattheo held you that night in a way that made you wonder if he'd ever let you go again. Every minute you spent back with the real him seemed to stitch you together again, to heal and comfort you as you snuggled further into his arms.
He'd apologized no less than a thousand times by now, the guilt steadily eating away at him, even though he had nothing to be sorry for, which you continually reminded him.
"You're a fucking angel" he sighed, unable to stop thinking about it as he traced a thumb over your cheek, his expression sorrowful and raw. "Someone did this to you because of me."
"Matty, that's not—"
"—I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been there."
"It's okay, it's not your fault. I'm okay now" you said, smiling, feeling the words as you said them, tracing a finger down the bridge of his nose.
You tried to reassure him the rest of the night, managing to coax a few smiles out of him, but his eyes never left you, like he feared looking away for a single blink would leave you in danger. And although a spell had mended your lip and healed your bruises, he continued to trace his fingers over where each mark on your skin had been, like he was reminding himself, committing them to memory.
Nothing could have prepared you for the tension of the days that followed.
The whole group was on edge, like a pack of rabid dogs, ready to snap at anyone that got too close to you. One if not all of them walked you to every class, to every meal, to every event, to Hogsmeade and back again; Mattheo even insisted on showering with you and sleeping with you every night, much to you sincere enjoyment.
The boys spent their days eyeing everyone with suspicion and their nights trying to plot out who might have attacked you. Five guys were walking around the castle with black eyes, but no one had come clean and it was slowly driving them mad; the lack of answers was taking the situation from a serious problem to a personal vendetta.
Two weeks passed. And though the tension remained, you were settling into the heightened level of protection, finding a sense of calm in the way the boys surrounded you like a security blanket. You had every confidence that they would figure this out and until then all you could do was seek a return to normalcy, to focus on the present.
You grounded yourself with the task at hand, potting bundles of dittany during Herbology class shoulder to shoulder with your friends at a long table in the warm greenhouse, the boys acting as a veritable wall between you and the Gryffindors.
Your eyes caught Mattheo's across the narrow table from you and you watched the way the spring sun caught his dark locks. He sent you one of his signature smirks and a quick wink that made you blush and smile.
Your classmates chattered back and forth quietly until a phrase wafted down the table as Seamus Finnegan leaned over to Hermione Granger.
"C'mon dove, help me out?"
And it was like someone sucked the air out of the room. The warmth in the greenhouse suddenly felt stiflingly hot and you could hear the blood rushing to your head as it whooshed in your ears.
Time slowed to seconds like the tick of a broken time-turner.
Five.
Your eyes lifted and met Mattheo's whose had lost all warmth and peace in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. They were devoid of color, clouded, jet black. His jaw ticked as he looked at you, asking you wordlessly to confirm what he'd just heard.
The trill of Finnegan's voice, the accent was all too familiar, it was undeniable and it sent you spiraling back to that morning in the stairwell in a way that had you woozy on your feet. You nodded, small and quick back to him.
Confirming what you'd thought so many times before, that there was an inexplicable bond that linked the boys together, four sets of eyes wordlessly confirmed the same.
And then chaos erupted.
Four.
Lorenzo ran for Finnegan and Theo dropped the plant in his hands, sending shattered pottery and dirt flying in his rage, hot on Enzo's heels.
Three.
Your eyes followed them both but fell to Draco who had started moving in the opposite direction, frantically pushing past classmates who were looking around in panic as he tried to reach Mattheo.
Two.
You glanced at your boyfriend.
He hadn't moved.
He wasn't making a scene, but he'd pulled out his wand, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember a time when he'd favored his magic over his fists.
Oh no you thought as you began to move towards him yourself.
One.
Mattheo stood straight and tall, brandishing his wand with unflinching confidence and surety as he pointed it directly at Finnegan's head.
"AVADA KE—" his voice boomed.
"—Not like this, mate!!" Draco shouted, grabbing his arm at the last possible second.
"Get the fuck off of me!" Mattheo roared, the contact breaking him out of his stupor as he thrashed in Draco's arms.
By now the others had wrangled Finnegan whose face was as green as the detail on their robes; he knew he was utterly and hopelessly fucked, and if you weren't sure before you were certain now that it had been him, the guilt so clear on his face it might as well have been written on his forehead. Your skin crawled.
The rest of your classmates were running and screaming, tearing by you to flee the room as your feet kept you cemented to the floor.
"You're dead! You're fucking dead!" Mattheo's voice echoed, as he screamed and thrashed in Draco's arms.
"You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it, Finnegan! How dare you, how fucking dare you!!!"
Draco was barely holding onto him as they all walked quickly towards the back of the greenhouse.
You moved to follow until Blaise came up beside you and gently reached for you, pulling you into the throng of people fleeing.
"C'mon" he said, softly but firmly guiding you the other way, back towards the castle. "They've got this, you don't need to be here for this—"
"—But this is because of me, Blaise" you urged, pulling back, frantically looking between him and the disappearing figures of Mattheo and your friends, his raging threats echoing off the glass walls in a way that amplified them.
"No, this is because of Finnegan" he said coldly, following your gaze. "And he'll get what's coming to him."
Blaise guided you quickly back to the castle, back to the common room and he tried his best to keep you company, to keep you occupied, though neither of you could properly focus on anything else.
"It'll be alright, right?" you asked quietly, for the hundredth time.
He nodded steadily. "It'll be alright, YN" he reassured you.
You sighed.
"This is just... a lot" you admitted.
"Babe, if you wanted someone to be level-headed and normal about you, you're with the wrong guy" he said in attempt to make you smile.
You smiled weakly and toyed with the fringe of the blanket that you pulled into your lap.
An hour passed.
And then four more.
You skipped dinner and sat in the secluded corner of the common room with Blaise until it emptied and the embers in the fireplace burned low, nearly out. You had sat quietly together now for hours. You were exhausted of conversation and exhausted from the wash of emotions from the day, a mix of relief, of pain in reliving the memories upon hearing Finnegan's voice, of worry about what exactly was going on.
You'd never seen Mattheo like that; he had been completely unhinged and you recalled his words the day it all happened. "I'm going to kill them" spoken like a vow, an oath.
It was beyond late before the door snicked open quietly and the four boys walked in without a sound. You and Blaise stood and they met Blaise's eyes first, nodding at one another before your friends departed, leaving you with somber smiles to be with Mattheo.
You navigated around the couches to him, your footsteps quickening to close the distance and you pulled him into your arms. His body was stiff with tension, but you felt it begin to melt away the second you touched him; he nuzzled into you and you could feel the tired on him, mixed with a burdened sense of relief.
"Come on" you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.
He sat down on the corner of the bed in the dim light and let out a sigh like he was trying to unload the weight he'd been carrying, his shoulders slumped as he ran his fingers through his hair. You stepped between his legs and reached for his hands the way you always did, ready to tend to them.
"They're fine" he croaked, his voice hoarse as he met your gaze, smiling softly at you, taking you in. You could tell he was trying to distract you and when he rested his hands on your hips and moved to pull you into him, he almost succeeded.
You pressed a quick, searing kiss to his lips and then reached to pull his hands off of your hips and he relented, sighing again.
His knuckles were badly bruised and bloodied, at least two of them looked to be broken from what you could tell and a frown crested your lips to know that the same hands that were so gentle with you could be capable of such violence.
But it was the crimson blood that stained his palms, that gathered under each fingernail that made you pause. That was new.
"Mattheo" you whispered, the question lingering in the air unspoken. What did you do?
"He's gonna be gone for awhile" he said plainly in response before his eyes met yours straight on, intense.
"And he is never, ever going to touch you again."
You pursed your lips and nodded, acknowledging that this was his way of apologizing, of making things right, of balancing the scales of justice as judge, jury and executioner.
He brought his bloody hands to your face, cupped it gently and kissed you.
Seamus didn't come back until well after spring solstice, weeks later.
Despite the rampant rumors and speculation, he didn't say a single word about what happened, like the boys had taken his very voice from him.
His face was still mottled with multicolored bruises, one eye swollen shut, evidence that even magic couldn't heal the extent of the damage they'd caused.
But even despite that, something you'd learned about your friends is that they were not quick to forgive and they never, ever forgot...
You were lounging by the Black Lake on an unusually warm afternoon, sprawled on a large blanket with your friends, your shoes and socks forgone and your skirt and shirtsleeves rolled up in an effort to catch a tan.
Mattheo himself was shirtless beside you, his eyes closed against the warm rays as you rested your head on his bicep. Theo, Enzo and Draco were sitting next to you playing exploding snap while Blaise flipped through a book, and you sighed, reveling in the rare moment of peace, which didn't last longer than fifteen minutes.
"Bit warm for a jumper, isn't if Finnegan?" Draco shouted.
Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to see a group of Gryffindors nearby.
Sure enough, the group was dressed like you, short sleeves, bare feet, but for Finnegan who was covered head to toe and was visibly dripping sweat. His faced flushed even redder at the comment as he averted his eyes, immediately shrinking in pure terror.
"Should take it off, mate" Lorenzo chimed in cheekily. "Enjoy the sun, no?"
Seamus swallowed but wouldn't meet their eyes.
You turned to look at Mattheo but he hadn't moved. His eyes remained closed though you could see a muscle tic in his clenched jaw.
"C'mon then" Theo said, sitting up like he meant to move. "Need our help? We'll come lend a hand."
Seamus looked like he was about to cry as his face crumpled.
You didn't know what they were playing at, but you could tell it was torturing him, and for the briefest moment you pitied him, until your memories came wading back, threatening to overwhelm you with the feeling of sickening fear and betrayal.
And it was like Mattheo could sense it, his eyes fluttering open to look at you as he tried to tug you back into his arms.
"Just ignore them" he said, his voice still scratchy.
But you saw Seamus pull his sweater over his head out of the corner of your eye and as it came away from his body you noticed the crimson lines covering his arms. Even at your distance you could feel the sickness of them, the curse of dark magic in the air and several people gasped and scrambled away from him.
You sat up and stared closer as you realized the lines spelled something.
On his left arm, MUDBLOOD in deep angry jagged letters, in wounds carved into his skin.
On his right, RAPIST.
He took one fateful look at your group and then got up and nearly tripped over himself as he ran back to the castle.
"Aww, was it something I said?" Draco cried after him.
"Bye!" Lorenzo waved cheerfully.
Blaise blew him a kiss.
And Theo watched his every move under dark lidded eyes.
But Mattheo was looking solely at you, trying to gauge your reaction, your understanding. He reached for your hand and twined his fingers in yours, pulling you back to lay down with him as he looked at you with vulnerability and caressed your cheek. Now you knew the truth. You knew just how dangerous he could be, just what lengths he would go to for you.
Your heart thumped wildly in your chest and your mind raced and for a moment it occurred to you to be scared.
Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
You thought about broken knuckles and black eyes, of blood-stained palms and the lingering feeling of dark magic in the air. You heard his voice rattling the panes of the greenhouse with his rage, 'You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it!'
And then that same voice, from the same boy, sweetly, softly ‘No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here. I love you, YN.'
And you thought about the caress of his lips against yours on a stormy night, of his warm arms around you, of the feeling of his calloused hands on your bare skin, and the rumble of his voice in his chest as your head lay on his heart.
"It'll never heal" he said quietly, bringing you back to the present moment. "No magic can fix it. He'll wear that reminder on his skin for the rest of his life."
His chocolate eyes warmed as they looked at you, asking you, one more time, to trust him, to tell him that you understood.
You smiled softly, and traced a finger over his lips and a calm comfort settled over you, a reassurance that no matter what life threw your way, this boy would be standing by your side, that he might burn the world to the ground but would never let a flame touch you, that this was simply how he loved: deep, sincere, serious and unrelenting.
“I love you” you whispered in reassurance before leaning in to press the sweetest kiss to his lips that melted his heart and proved to him that every sin he committed along the way would always be worth it, for you.
summary: fed up with the way the slytherin boys create chaos without consequence, someone seeks to bring them down a notch by going after the one thing their strongest loves most: you.
word count: 6.6k 🫣
soundtrack: heathens - twenty one pilots
author’s note: i promise this isn't deranged, there is ample flangst and a mattheo that would burn the world to the ground for you ♡
warnings: this is relatively dark (for me anyway!) reader is attacked + kissed/touched against their will. mentions of blood, knives and violence.
If you'd heard it once, you'd heard it a thousand times.
Be careful.
He's dangerous.
You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
As if you weren't an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions, of reading people, of caring for your own heart.
On paper, you and Mattheo Riddle made no sense. You were quiet and calm, friendly and compassionate, quick with a warm smile and a hug. You were light and laughter and goodness.
By contrast, Mattheo was rough and edgy, quick to anger with a firecracker temper and a biting sarcasm like a venomous snake that kept everyone but his closest friends at an arm's length. But around you? He melted.
It was like you held the key that unlocked his defenses, allowing you to walk straight into the dark center of his heart. He would have mocked any guy who fell for a girl the way he fell for you: immediately, irrevocably and hard. And once he had his mind made up about you, there was little you could say in the matter (not that you were arguing).
He showered you with a depth of affection that was rare for anyone, let along the brooding bad boy of Hogwarts.
Suddenly, he was just there, beside you in class, next to you at meals, and keeping you company in the library as you studied. Before long you began to crave the feeling of his presence, of his warmth next to you, of the low rumble of his voice meant only for you to hear as he shared an inside joke or complimented you. He'd eagerly watch your face light up in return, the twinkle in your eyes, the lift of your lips and your happiness became a high for him that he wouldn't stop chasing; making you happy and keeping you happy became his mission, one that he succeeded at in every way.
Then late one night in the library you were huddled close together as a storm racked the castle outside, sending wind and rain against the large windows. Your heads were close together as you spoke in whispers. You looked at him and smiled and for just the breath of a second your eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips, and that was all the invitation he needed. He leaned in slowly, winding his hand to cup the side of your face as he pressed his lips to yours and he kissed you with tenderness and hunger, the combination of which pulled you out of your seat and onto his lap. And once he realized how bright you shined after he kissed you? He was a goner. And so were you.
There wasn't a thing anyone could say to you about Mattheo after that that you would have listened to, because he had you, heart and soul. He treated you like royalty, he protected you like treasure and he loved you with everything he had in him. What more could a girl possibly ask for?
You fell in step with Mattheo's long strides on your walk to breakfast, the early morning light beaming through the stained glass windows.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, right where he always wanted you, as close to him as possible. You nuzzled into his neck and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
As usual, the sea of students in the corridor dipped and dodged out of your way, leaving a wide berth for your group out of deference and intimidation. It was odd for you at first joining the group that held the rest of the school in such rapt fear because it was immediately obvious that they were just like everyone else, they just didn't care to show that side of themselves to the world; they were fun-loving, goofy, affable and caring and they quickly adopted you as one of their own.
You rounded the corner to the Great Hall and Mattheo went crashing into a figure that hadn't had the wherewithal to get out of his way. He tightened his grasp on you out of instinct and narrowed his eyes towards Seamus Finnegan who had dropped the entire stack of books he'd been holding and looked ready to argue about it until he saw who he was confronting. He bit his tongue instead, averted his eyes, and stepped out of your way.
Mattheo moved by him without a word, the slight already forgotten, but you glanced back with the smallest ounce of pity in your eyes as Seamus knelt to the floor to gather his books and a few Gryffindors came to help him.
"M'fuckin' sick of it" Seamus said quietly once you were out of earshot. "Him, them, walkin' around like they own the school" he shot a nasty glare in the direction of the Slytherin table.
"Good luck doing anything about it" Ron sighed, resigned. "Nasty temper, that one" he added, eyes shifting warily towards Mattheo like he might actually have the ability to hear him from the other side of the loud hall.
"It's cruel is what it is! Neville is still trying to recover from Nott hexing him. He claimed it was an 'accident', but we all know the truth. He should be expelled!" Hermione added hotly, her cheeks flushing at the idea of anyone breaking the rules and getting away with it.
Seamus grimaced as he stared at your group, at the ease with which you had all carried on with your morning, laughing and joking, boisterous, without a care in the world because you knew you were all completely untouchable, above reproach or reprimand.
He knew there wasn't a thing he could do in retaliation without ending up in the infirmary or worse he thought solemly.
What I wouldn't give to take them down a notch his mind whirled, to make them feel something, to feel vulnerable, on edge, afraid like the rest of us.
His eyes narrowed.
Surely there was a weakness, a vulnerability he could find, something something to level the playing field. His eyes skated over Draco and Blaise, over Theo's large frame and Lorenzo's tall figure before they landed back on Mattheo, and finally on you.
You.
He watched the way Mattheo kept his arm around you, as he always did, keeping you close to his side like you were two parts of one whole and Seamus thought about the way he'd seen Mattheo pull you even closer when he'd run into him. He watched, really watched him turn to look at you when you talked and saw a surprising softness in his normally cold, dark eyes.
It was no secret that you two were together, Mattheo loved kissing you openly, unabashedly, anywhere and everywhere he pleased: in between classes, after quidditch matches, at meals, even in class from time to time with a complete disregard to anything the professors said about it.
If there was one thing anyone knew or had learned the hard way it was that you were one hundred percent off limits and to think otherwise was a death wish.
Seamus remembered the transfer student several months ago that had unknowingly asked you out, and how Mattheo had broken his nose over it. Twice. Never mind the time Mattheo happened to overhear a Ravenclaw compliment your outfit, and he ended up puking slugs for weeks.
Seamus shuddered.
Mattheo had an appetite for violence and a temper that never burned hotter than when it came to you, sending him into a fitful spiral.
She's his weakness he realized.
"I have an idea" he said to the group around him.
Weeks later, your feet carried you quickly down the winding stone staircase from Divination. You were first out the door, eager to spend every second of the short break you had between classes with Mattheo as you always did at this time in the neighboring stairwell of the North Tower.
You turned the corner to see him leaning against the wall, waiting for you and your face lit up as you strode toward him in the small, empty space. He stood up straighter as he took you in and he fidgeted with his hands in an unusually nervous way that had you laughing as you approached him and pressed into him, winding your arms around his neck.
"Hi handsome" you breathed against his lips before you kissed him.
But it was like kissing a statue.
His lips sat unmoving against yours, his hands awkwardly at his side.
"Matty?" you asked, pulling back to look at him to see the same look of genuine nerves on his face, his cheeks flushed.
You laughed again, totally confused at his reaction.
"Are you okay?—"
"—Y-yeah" he mumbled before running his hands slowly up your sides. "Yeah, m'so good" he confirmed before tugging you into him.
His lips met yours but something was still off, he was stiff and awkward. You moved to pull away from him again but his grip on you tightened, holding you in place until he swung you around and pushed you against the stone wall so quick and so hard your head knocked against the surface painfully.
Mattheo was a lot of things.
But careless with you was not one of them.
Your heart raced in your chest as your head throbbed. You pushed against him, but he was unwavering as he deepened his kiss aggressively, sloppily, despite your growing protests. And then he bit your bottom lip. Hard. And you tasted blood.
"Ah! Mattheo - what the fuck!" you said, shoving him hard this time as your hand flew to your bleeding lip.
He looked completely disheveled, flushed, his eyes glazed as he stared at you. Your stomach roiled.
And then you earnestly began to panic because for the first time in the year you'd been together you were keenly aware of how tall and how big he was, and how helpless you were in comparison.
Your heart began to race and your breaths came fast and shallow as you searched his face for any sign of the boy you loved and every cautionary word you'd been told came racing back to you: Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
Those fears mixed with how fiercely you loved him in a cocktail of confusion that left tears burning in your eyes as you tried to hold back a sob.
At the sight of that he smirked and a chill ran down your spine.
You tried to run.
He grabbed you.
"C'mon dove" he said, caging you in with his arms against the wall despite how you squirmed. "I know you like it like this" he muttered as lips attached to your neck and he began to suck and bite you.
Dove?
He'd never once called you that.
You scraped against his chest. You tried to shout until he put a hand over your mouth and it was like he was intentionally trying to mark you, sucking your skin so hard you could feel the bruising as you pushed and punched him to no avail. He reached for the top of your shirt and yanked, tearing it as buttons flew off.
You were crying hard now as you fought his hands when suddenly voices echoed in a nearby corridor and he pulled away from you.
His grip loosened and his eyes flashed with fear, and then he left, taking off down the corridor without a word.
You sunk to the floor in disbelief, gasping to catch your breath as cries ripped from you and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your brain a mottled mess as you tried to comprehend what the fuck had happened to your boyfriend.
As soon as you could steady yourself, you grasped your torn shirt with shaking hands and made your way as quickly as you could to the common room through a series of passageways and abandoned corridors to avoid running into anyone.
You snuck into the dungeons, head down, desperate to get to your room, when you heard your friends' voices.
"There she is. Hey! YN!" Blaise shouted.
Shit.
You tried to ignore him, to act like you didn't hear anything.
"YN!" Theo called after you, louder. "Hang on, I'll get her" he said, standing to come after you.
You tried to walk faster, doubling your pace.
"Hey, hey!" Theo said, catching up with you easily with his long strides. "Have you seen Mattheo? He—"
He reached for you and you pulled out of his grasp, turning to face him and he stopped in his tracks, the words dying on his lips as his eyes widened and the color drained from his face.
"YN" he said quietly, intently. "What the fuck happened to you? Holy shit."
He reached for your face, taking your chin in his warm hand, his touch so soft and gentle, so completely opposite of everything you'd just experienced that you immediately began to cry.
"Bella, your lip" he said, panic slipping into his tone both at your reaction and the sight of the blood there. "Who the fuck did this?"
You closed your eyes and shook your head and he slowly wrapped his arms around you. Your head fell to his chest as you grasped him, soaking his jumper with your tears.
By now, Draco, Lorenzo and Blaise had come over and were muttering softly.
"Bloody hell."
"This is fucking mental, mate."
"Matty is going to kill them."
And at just the mention of his name, you pushed further into Theo's chest, burrowing there like you could hide from the world.
"Bella, you're going to have to tell him, you can't protect whoever did this" he said, misreading your reaction.
"Well, we'll have to find him first. He'd better hear this from us" Blaise said.
Find him?
"W-what do you mean find him?" you muttered against Theo's chest.
"Haven't seen him since breakfast. Wasn't in class this morning and didn't come for our smoke" Draco replied.
Your head ached as much from your tears as it did from where he'd pushed you into the wall as you tried to process that. What had he been doing all day? And what the hell had gotten into him?
A burst of laughter, shouts and a loud wolf whistle echoed from behind you and pulled the group's attention to the door. You peeked from the comfort of Theo's arms to see Mattheo walking in... in his underwear.
"Thank you, thank you" he smirked, bowing cockily to the group of onlookers who cheered and gawked at his half-naked body, moving to make his way towards his room until he saw your group.
"There you fuckers are" he said as he approached. "I have had a fucking day - someone's getting their face rearranged—" but he stopped midsentence when he got close enough to see you in Theo's arms.
"What's going on? What's wrong?" he asked, stepping towards you immediately.
Theo moved to let you go but you gripped him tighter, hiding yourself, refusing to move.
Mattheo stopped, startled by your reaction like he'd run into a brick wall. He stood at a distance from you, completely unmoored by the sight of you grasping onto someone else for comfort. His heart began to thump heavily and angrily in his chest and his cheeks flushed in irritation and embarrassment.
He let out a steadying breath, his jaw clenched as his eyes slid to Theo, the decided object of the brewing anger he felt.
"What. The fuck. Is going on?" he asked again, his fury palpable.
"It's not—I don't—" Theo stumbled.
"—She hasn't said anything, mate" Enzo clarified.
You could feel yourself begin to shake and a dam of pressure welled up behind your eyes at how angry Mattheo was, at how afraid you were to be near him, at what he might do or say next and yet at the same time, how much you craved his comfort, how you knew he was the only person who could truly make you feel better.
Your tears came hot and wet down your cheeks as you cried into Theo's chest and Mattheo felt something crack inside of him. He'd never once seen you like this and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, sick over how upset you were, sick that you were in pain, sick that you didn't seem to want him or to be anywhere near him, sick that he didn't know what to do or how to help.
"B-baby, please?" he said, nearly begging as he tried to move closer.
The tone in his voice and the affectionate nickname tugged at your heart.
You swallowed and turned your head to look at him, gently, tentatively letting Theo go.
Mattheo's eyes met yours before they wandered over your face.
His face fell.
And he stopped breathing.
A cold sensation like the ooze of a cracked egg ran down his body as he looked at you.
Your mascara was smeared, caught in the tears that were running down your face. Your cheeks were red and flushed and your lip was swollen and bleeding. He catalogued the bruises down your neck and marks that looked an awful lot like bites there too that led to your ripped and tattered shirt.
Mattheo had been angry plenty of times in his life, and for good reason. But this was the first time he felt it. He could have told you where and how quickly the rage pulsed in his veins, blooming hot in his chest, pumping into his arms, into his hands that curled into fists and ached to hit something, into his stomach, his legs that wanted to run, to cause chaos and destruction until he fixed this.
But he didn't expect the next emotion that hit him like a dark wave in a stormy ocean, all consuming, nearly bowling him over: deep and overwhelming sadness.
"N-no, no no no who-who did this? Baby" his voice ached with pain as he moved to step towards you again, desperate to hold you, to make it better as quickly as he could.
You took a small, hesitant step back and looked at him with confusion, with trepidation.
And you said the next words so quietly he was certain he'd heard you wrong.
"You" you whispered.
His face scrunched in confusion.
"It was you" you said louder and all the boys turned to look at you and then back to Mattheo.
"In the stairwell? Our spot?" you said pointedly, trying to get him to remember.
"You were there, waiting for me, but you were... off. Different. And then y-you..." you gestured to yourself as you tried to keep from coming undone again at the memory.
Theo took a protective step closer to you.
Mattheo carded his hands through his hair in exasperation where they rested atop his head as he paced a step back and forth before stopping in front of you. It was taking his entire willpower not to lose his composure, and not to launch at his best friend.
"I got jumped this morning" he said patiently, evenly, though his underlying anger was still very much there. "I woke up in a broom closet ten minutes ago with no fucking clothes."
"B-broom closet?" you muttered, confused.
"Yeah, it was maddening, had to break the door down and— look, that doesn't matter. Please please tell me you believe me."
Your mind was reeling. You opened your mouth hesitantly to reply, but you couldn't find your words, your emotions, your fear, everything you felt far too raw.
He let out another deep breath and then crouched in front of you, making himself smaller, less threatening as he met your gaze directly.
"You are the most important person in my world. You know that, right? You are everything to me. Everything that is precious and perfect and right. And I would never ever hurt you."
You met his dark brown eyes that were shining intently up at you, unflinching in their truth and you nodded despite your tears and sniffles. Of course you knew that, which was why everything that happened this morning was so fucked up.
He slowly extended his hand to you, palm up, wordlessly asking you to believe him, to trust him.
"You're okay now, you're safe. No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here, okay?"
And gods you'd needed to hear that. You nodded again, more strongly now.
"We're going to figure this out. And I'm going to fix this, I can promise you I will fix this. Hey, can you look at me?"
Your eyes met his and more hot tears fell down your cheeks at the gentleness and patience in his expression, the way he was nearly on his knees begging for you to trust him, to believe that the boy in front of you in no way could have been the boy from this morning and you pursed your lips.
"I love you" he whispered.
And those words alone healed a significant part of your hurt.
You slowly placed your shaking hand in his and it was like your body immediately registered the difference in his touch, how he tenderly ran a thumb over your knuckles as he continued to speak softly to you as he stood up.
"I've got you, you're going to be okay. It's me, I'm here" he said as he slowly pulled you toward him.
You took one step, and then another, and then you curled yourself against his warm chest and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding as you grasped him. He held you tightly to him, squeezing hard, and his hand held the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your temple.
You sniffed and let out a few more shaky breaths, letting him consume you, trying to replace every memory from this morning with his touch like it could pull the fear from you as you listened to his heartbeat and took in his familiar smell.
Theo cleared his throat as politely as possible.
"Really hate to break up the moment, but if you spent the morning in a broom closet, then how the fuck were you also walking around the North Tower?—"
"—Polyjuice potion" Draco said, without missing a beat, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's the only logical explanation, would also explain why they had to take your clothes" he gestured to Mattheo's half-naked body.
"What?!" Blaise exhaled in disbelief.
"So you mean to say someone planned all of this? Went through all of this effort just to get to her?" Theo asked, and you could hear the fury rising with his tone.
Mattheo's arms squeezed around you, a subconscious reaction to the thought.
"What kind of sick fuck?—"
"—I'm going to kill them" Mattheo said flatly.
And it wasn't a turn of phrase.
He'd said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly that you nearly believed him and hugged him back a little tighter.
"Do you have any idea who it was?" Lorenzo asked.
"No you dipshit, don't you think if she knew it wasn't him this wouldn't have happened?" Draco replied, smacking him in the back of the head.
Theo and Blaise chimed in, arguing the point with one another.
"He did say something weird" you mused quietly, silencing them all as they turned to look at you. "He called me dove" you said, shaking your head at the memory, like you could make yourself forget it.
Mattheo held you that night in a way that made you wonder if he'd ever let you go again. Every minute you spent back with the real him seemed to stitch you together again, to heal and comfort you as you snuggled further into his arms.
He'd apologized no less than a thousand times by now, the guilt steadily eating away at him, even though he had nothing to be sorry for, which you continually reminded him.
"You're a fucking angel" he sighed, unable to stop thinking about it as he traced a thumb over your cheek, his expression sorrowful and raw. "Someone did this to you because of me."
"Matty, that's not—"
"—I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been there."
"It's okay, it's not your fault. I'm okay now" you said, smiling, feeling the words as you said them, tracing a finger down the bridge of his nose.
You tried to reassure him the rest of the night, managing to coax a few smiles out of him, but his eyes never left you, like he feared looking away for a single blink would leave you in danger. And although a spell had mended your lip and healed your bruises, he continued to trace his fingers over where each mark on your skin had been, like he was reminding himself, committing them to memory.
Nothing could have prepared you for the tension of the days that followed.
The whole group was on edge, like a pack of rabid dogs, ready to snap at anyone that got too close to you. One if not all of them walked you to every class, to every meal, to every event, to Hogsmeade and back again; Mattheo even insisted on showering with you and sleeping with you every night, much to you sincere enjoyment.
The boys spent their days eyeing everyone with suspicion and their nights trying to plot out who might have attacked you. Five guys were walking around the castle with black eyes, but no one had come clean and it was slowly driving them mad; the lack of answers was taking the situation from a serious problem to a personal vendetta.
Two weeks passed. And though the tension remained, you were settling into the heightened level of protection, finding a sense of calm in the way the boys surrounded you like a security blanket. You had every confidence that they would figure this out and until then all you could do was seek a return to normalcy, to focus on the present.
You grounded yourself with the task at hand, potting bundles of dittany during Herbology class shoulder to shoulder with your friends at a long table in the warm greenhouse, the boys acting as a veritable wall between you and the Gryffindors.
Your eyes caught Mattheo's across the narrow table from you and you watched the way the spring sun caught his dark locks. He sent you one of his signature smirks and a quick wink that made you blush and smile.
Your classmates chattered back and forth quietly until a phrase wafted down the table as Seamus Finnegan leaned over to Hermione Granger.
"C'mon dove, help me out?"
And it was like someone sucked the air out of the room. The warmth in the greenhouse suddenly felt stiflingly hot and you could hear the blood rushing to your head as it whooshed in your ears.
Time slowed to seconds like the tick of a broken time-turner.
Five.
Your eyes lifted and met Mattheo's whose had lost all warmth and peace in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. They were devoid of color, clouded, jet black. His jaw ticked as he looked at you, asking you wordlessly to confirm what he'd just heard.
The trill of Finnegan's voice, the accent was all too familiar, it was undeniable and it sent you spiraling back to that morning in the stairwell in a way that had you woozy on your feet. You nodded, small and quick back to him.
Confirming what you'd thought so many times before, that there was an inexplicable bond that linked the boys together, four sets of eyes wordlessly confirmed the same.
And then chaos erupted.
Four.
Lorenzo ran for Finnegan and Theo dropped the plant in his hands, sending shattered pottery and dirt flying in his rage, hot on Enzo's heels.
Three.
Your eyes followed them both but fell to Draco who had started moving in the opposite direction, frantically pushing past classmates who were looking around in panic as he tried to reach Mattheo.
Two.
You glanced at your boyfriend.
He hadn't moved.
He wasn't making a scene, but he'd pulled out his wand, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember a time when he'd favored his magic over his fists.
Oh no you thought as you began to move towards him yourself.
One.
Mattheo stood straight and tall, brandishing his wand with unflinching confidence and surety as he pointed it directly at Finnegan's head.
"AVADA KE—" his voice boomed.
"—Not like this, mate!!" Draco shouted, grabbing his arm at the last possible second.
"Get the fuck off of me!" Mattheo roared, the contact breaking him out of his stupor as he thrashed in Draco's arms.
By now the others had wrangled Finnegan whose face was as green as the detail on their robes; he knew he was utterly and hopelessly fucked, and if you weren't sure before you were certain now that it had been him, the guilt so clear on his face it might as well have been written on his forehead. Your skin crawled.
The rest of your classmates were running and screaming, tearing by you to flee the room as your feet kept you cemented to the floor.
"You're dead! You're fucking dead!" Mattheo's voice echoed, as he screamed and thrashed in Draco's arms.
"You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it, Finnegan! How dare you, how fucking dare you!!!"
Draco was barely holding onto him as they all walked quickly towards the back of the greenhouse.
You moved to follow until Blaise came up beside you and gently reached for you, pulling you into the throng of people fleeing.
"C'mon" he said, softly but firmly guiding you the other way, back towards the castle. "They've got this, you don't need to be here for this—"
"—But this is because of me, Blaise" you urged, pulling back, frantically looking between him and the disappearing figures of Mattheo and your friends, his raging threats echoing off the glass walls in a way that amplified them.
"No, this is because of Finnegan" he said coldly, following your gaze. "And he'll get what's coming to him."
Blaise guided you quickly back to the castle, back to the common room and he tried his best to keep you company, to keep you occupied, though neither of you could properly focus on anything else.
"It'll be alright, right?" you asked quietly, for the hundredth time.
He nodded steadily. "It'll be alright, YN" he reassured you.
You sighed.
"This is just... a lot" you admitted.
"Babe, if you wanted someone to be level-headed and normal about you, you're with the wrong guy" he said in attempt to make you smile.
You smiled weakly and toyed with the fringe of the blanket that you pulled into your lap.
An hour passed.
And then four more.
You skipped dinner and sat in the secluded corner of the common room with Blaise until it emptied and the embers in the fireplace burned low, nearly out. You had sat quietly together now for hours. You were exhausted of conversation and exhausted from the wash of emotions from the day, a mix of relief, of pain in reliving the memories upon hearing Finnegan's voice, of worry about what exactly was going on.
You'd never seen Mattheo like that; he had been completely unhinged and you recalled his words the day it all happened. "I'm going to kill them" spoken like a vow, an oath.
It was beyond late before the door snicked open quietly and the four boys walked in without a sound. You and Blaise stood and they met Blaise's eyes first, nodding at one another before your friends departed, leaving you with somber smiles to be with Mattheo.
You navigated around the couches to him, your footsteps quickening to close the distance and you pulled him into your arms. His body was stiff with tension, but you felt it begin to melt away the second you touched him; he nuzzled into you and you could feel the tired on him, mixed with a burdened sense of relief.
"Come on" you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.
He sat down on the corner of the bed in the dim light and let out a sigh like he was trying to unload the weight he'd been carrying, his shoulders slumped as he ran his fingers through his hair. You stepped between his legs and reached for his hands the way you always did, ready to tend to them.
"They're fine" he croaked, his voice hoarse as he met your gaze, smiling softly at you, taking you in. You could tell he was trying to distract you and when he rested his hands on your hips and moved to pull you into him, he almost succeeded.
You pressed a quick, searing kiss to his lips and then reached to pull his hands off of your hips and he relented, sighing again.
His knuckles were badly bruised and bloodied, at least two of them looked to be broken from what you could tell and a frown crested your lips to know that the same hands that were so gentle with you could be capable of such violence.
But it was the crimson blood that stained his palms, that gathered under each fingernail that made you pause. That was new.
"Mattheo" you whispered, the question lingering in the air unspoken. What did you do?
"He's gonna be gone for awhile" he said plainly in response before his eyes met yours straight on, intense.
"And he is never, ever going to touch you again."
You pursed your lips and nodded, acknowledging that this was his way of apologizing, of making things right, of balancing the scales of justice as judge, jury and executioner.
He brought his bloody hands to your face, cupped it gently and kissed you.
Seamus didn't come back until well after spring solstice, weeks later.
Despite the rampant rumors and speculation, he didn't say a single word about what happened, like the boys had taken his very voice from him.
His face was still mottled with multicolored bruises, one eye swollen shut, evidence that even magic couldn't heal the extent of the damage they'd caused.
But even despite that, something you'd learned about your friends is that they were not quick to forgive and they never, ever forgot...
You were lounging by the Black Lake on an unusually warm afternoon, sprawled on a large blanket with your friends, your shoes and socks forgone and your skirt and shirtsleeves rolled up in an effort to catch a tan.
Mattheo himself was shirtless beside you, his eyes closed against the warm rays as you rested your head on his bicep. Theo, Enzo and Draco were sitting next to you playing exploding snap while Blaise flipped through a book, and you sighed, reveling in the rare moment of peace, which didn't last longer than fifteen minutes.
"Bit warm for a jumper, isn't if Finnegan?" Draco shouted.
Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to see a group of Gryffindors nearby.
Sure enough, the group was dressed like you, short sleeves, bare feet, but for Finnegan who was covered head to toe and was visibly dripping sweat. His faced flushed even redder at the comment as he averted his eyes, immediately shrinking in pure terror.
"Should take it off, mate" Lorenzo chimed in cheekily. "Enjoy the sun, no?"
Seamus swallowed but wouldn't meet their eyes.
You turned to look at Mattheo but he hadn't moved. His eyes remained closed though you could see a muscle tic in his clenched jaw.
"C'mon then" Theo said, sitting up like he meant to move. "Need our help? We'll come lend a hand."
Seamus looked like he was about to cry as his face crumpled.
You didn't know what they were playing at, but you could tell it was torturing him, and for the briefest moment you pitied him, until your memories came wading back, threatening to overwhelm you with the feeling of sickening fear and betrayal.
And it was like Mattheo could sense it, his eyes fluttering open to look at you as he tried to tug you back into his arms.
"Just ignore them" he said, his voice still scratchy.
But you saw Seamus pull his sweater over his head out of the corner of your eye and as it came away from his body you noticed the crimson lines covering his arms. Even at your distance you could feel the sickness of them, the curse of dark magic in the air and several people gasped and scrambled away from him.
You sat up and stared closer as you realized the lines spelled something.
On his left arm, MUDBLOOD in deep angry jagged letters, in wounds carved into his skin.
On his right, RAPIST.
He took one fateful look at your group and then got up and nearly tripped over himself as he ran back to the castle.
"Aww, was it something I said?" Draco cried after him.
"Bye!" Lorenzo waved cheerfully.
Blaise blew him a kiss.
And Theo watched his every move under dark lidded eyes.
But Mattheo was looking solely at you, trying to gauge your reaction, your understanding. He reached for your hand and twined his fingers in yours, pulling you back to lay down with him as he looked at you with vulnerability and caressed your cheek. Now you knew the truth. You knew just how dangerous he could be, just what lengths he would go to for you.
Your heart thumped wildly in your chest and your mind raced and for a moment it occurred to you to be scared.
Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.
You thought about broken knuckles and black eyes, of blood-stained palms and the lingering feeling of dark magic in the air. You heard his voice rattling the panes of the greenhouse with his rage, 'You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it!'
And then that same voice, from the same boy, sweetly, softly ‘No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here. I love you, YN.'
And you thought about the caress of his lips against yours on a stormy night, of his warm arms around you, of the feeling of his calloused hands on your bare skin, and the rumble of his voice in his chest as your head lay on his heart.
"It'll never heal" he said quietly, bringing you back to the present moment. "No magic can fix it. He'll wear that reminder on his skin for the rest of his life."
His chocolate eyes warmed as they looked at you, asking you, one more time, to trust him, to tell him that you understood.
You smiled softly, and traced a finger over his lips and a calm comfort settled over you, a reassurance that no matter what life threw your way, this boy would be standing by your side, that he might burn the world to the ground but would never let a flame touch you, that this was simply how he loved: deep, sincere, serious and unrelenting.
“I love you” you whispered in reassurance before leaning in to press the sweetest kiss to his lips that melted his heart and proved to him that every sin he committed along the way would always be worth it, for you.
netflix is making a hockey show called "the sticks" that is based on a very real tragedy that occured in canada in 2018.
the show follows a minnesota high school team after their bus crashes and coming back to hockey afterwards.
in 2018, the humboldt broncos' (a junior A team made up of 18-22 year olds) bus was hit by a tractor trailer on a highway intersection. 16 people (10 players, 2 coaches, and 4 team staff members) were killed, along with 13 other players severely injured.
the memory of the humboldt broncos crash is an incredibly sensitive subject carrying a lot of trauma to both the survivors, their families, and deceased's families. the trajectory of hockey in canada was changed significantly after this tragedy.
despite this, netflix has decided to make a show using the death of young hockey players for profit. they did not consult the survivors, nor the deceased's families. they stole a canadian story for a feel-good cash grab.
i understand wanting to watch shows about hockey, but this is not the show to watch. do not give it attention, as the humboldt broncos' memories deserve to be theirs and theirs alone to share.
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summary ; you and mattheo go to the yule ball with other people this year. but when you spot the green tie around his neck, matching your dress, instead of hers, it’s hard not to wonder if he’s really moved on at all.
words ; 4.6k
warnings ; exes to lovers, angst (if you squint), SMUT, face sitting/riding, piv, unprotected sex, mirror sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise and degradation, creampie, nipple play (? like for one sentence), dom!mattheo, profanity, use of y/n
navigation. masterlist.
“Find your partners and follow my lead,” McGonnagall’s voice rings through the room. You groan internally. Who the hell are you supposed to dance with?
At the dancing lessons for the Yule Ball throughout the past few weeks, you and your perfect boyfriend, Mattheo, had practiced together. The two of you had gone together last year as well, and the night was quite literally magical. It’s safe to say that last year’s experience really set your expectations as high as possible. The idea of experiencing that same magic again made your heart flutter with excitement. You couldn’t wait.
That was until Mattheo Riddle crushed those dreams.
Yeah, he broke up with you last week. Completely crushed your spirit. Now you have to go to the ball alone.
He’s not even here right now. Merlin knows how the hell he got out of dance practices, but he’s not here and to be honest, you’re grateful because if he was, you’d have to dance with him and that just would have been awkward.
Adrien Pucey takes notice of your lonely presence from across the room and quickly approaches, somehow oblivious to the clear grimace on your face. What choice do you have? Everyone else already has a partner.
So, you give in and try your best to keep up a polite front, taking his hand and stepping to the music, despite the burning sensation on your skin every time he touches you. It’s not a good burn like when Mattheo touched you. It doesn’t make you want to ignite the rest of your body with those flames. It makes you want to drown yourself in the Black Lake just to get away from this guy. Dancing with anyone but Mattheo feels inherently wrong. Mattheo’s hands were always cold. Pucey’s hands are warm and it’s nauseating.
You’d never really spoken to Adrien too much before but from this single dance, you’d learned one thing about him: he never stops talking.
Practically beaming with relief once it’s over, your feet carry you away before you can even realize where you’re walking, ears unconsciously tuning out the sound of Adrien yelling after you.
When you and Mattheo were dating, the whole school knew that you were off limits, Mattheo had made that abundantly clear. Boys were nervous to even think about you in the wrong way, afraid that Mattheo would somehow sneak into their minds and find out. Once the news that you two broke up spread, people were practically throwing themselves at the two of you. You could only hope that Mattheo wasn’t interested in those girls the same way you still weren’t interested in other boys.
“Get me out of here,” you whine as you grab Astoria’s wrist tightly in your hand, dragging her out of the crowded room.
After dinner in the Great Hall, you’re speed walking down the corridors back to your dorm. This was actually a great feat. For days on end, you’d been so wrecked that you could hardly get out of bed, much less leave your dorm for anything other than classes with your red eyes and messy haired state. Astoria and Pansy had been bringing you your meals. So the fact that you finally went to the Great Hall today is an accomplishment.
“Y/n! Wait!” You freeze in your tracks. God, please no. Please tell me that’s not his voice.
“Slow down. I need to talk to you, dove.” Shit, it is him.
Wait, how dare he call you that? He knows how much that nickname makes your heart melt. He can’t just go around calling you that after breaking your heart. It’s not fair.
“Do not call me that. What do you want?” You say, careful to keep your voice cold as you turn around to face him.
“Don’t be like that, dove.” Oh, screw him. “I just… I heard you’re not doing well. Hardly eating, barely sleeping, you never leave your dorm. I didn’t mean to—”
“Well, you did. That’s kind of what happens when you get dumped with no explanation.” You snap and he flinches.
“I did give you an explanation.” He counters and you feel like your head is going to explode. “Did you? My bad, it felt like a dumb excuse to get away from me. Maybe I just heard it wrong,” The sarcasm in your voice is unmistakable.
“We were toxic and you know it. I’m toxic. You deserve better.” He says softly, giving you the same shitty excuse again.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. If you’re bored of me, just say that. Don’t make up some idiotic excuse about how you’re not good enough for me because if it was really that way, you’d love me enough to be better for me.”
He looks like a kicked puppy. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are soft and vulnerable and he has the cutest frown on his face that you just want to kiss away. But you can’t. He sighs, gathering the strength to speak again.
“Take proper care of yourself, please. If not for yourself, then for me.” And with that, he leaves. You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your hand over your heart that seems to be aching harder than it was before.
The ball is tonight. Mattheo has a date, you heard. Hardly 2 weeks after the breakup and he’s already got another girl hanging off his arm.
Your mind refuses to process the information. He dated you for a year. He still seems to be concerned about your well being. So how did he move on so easily? It’s not fair that you’re hurting while he’s enjoying his time with some other girl.
You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts. Your beautifully styled hair cascades over your shoulders, emerald green dress flowing around you. You’d considered not going to the ball at all, but eventually decided against it, your girls telling you that you couldn’t miss out on this just because of your ex.
“You look beautiful as ever, Y/n/n.” For someone who can’t go 10 seconds without being sarcastic, Astoria sounds uncharacteristically genuine right now. You give her a soft smile. “Thank you, Tori. You look beautiful too.”
“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Pansy ushers the three of you out of the room.
By the time you get down to the ballroom, Mattheo’s already there with his date. You’d tried your hardest not to search for him in the crowd, knowing it’d only hurt, but of course, you gave into temptation. The girl was completely unfamiliar. You’d never seen her before. Could he really not have found anyone less irrelevant?
Still, your face falls and Pansy follows your line of sight, falling on Mattheo who has his arm around some girl in a red dress. You’d worn a red dress to the ball last year and you can’t help but wonder if he remembers.
Pansy steps in front of you, blocking your view. “You look better than her.” This makes you giggle. You know it’s wrong to say things like that, but in this moment of insecurity, the reassurance feels nice.
“Don’t let it get to your head. He’s not worth it.” She takes your hand and leads you to your table, but not before you take one last glance in Mattheo’s direction. This time, you notice something that makes your heart stop.
He’s wearing a green tie.
His date is in a red dress. He’s wearing a green tie. And you… you are in a green dress.
Oh my God?
Before you’d broken up, you’d planned out your outfits for the ball and obviously, his tie had to match your dress. But you didn’t expect him to still wear it after he dumped you.
Maybe you’re reading too far into it. Maybe he just couldn’t find a red tie? Maybe he couldn't find any other tie at all? No, it can’t be. He had to have done it on purpose.
You tear your eyes away from him and walk away. Mattheo, meanwhile, is dying on the inside. The second he stepped into the ballroom, his mind was flooded with memories.
Memories of last year at the Yule Ball with Y/n, his Y/n. Her long red dress with the slit on the side and the off the shoulder sleeves and the sparkles at the top. He remembered every detail of that dress. She was always gorgeous, but he was sure she'd never looked more beautiful than she did that night, and it wasn’t only because she was all done up. It was because she had this excitement that night, this dazzling smile on her face. He was hypnotized.
No other girl compared to her. Every other dress looked like a damn dishrag in his mind compared to you. All night, the only question in his mind was, “How did I get this lucky?”
He remembered dancing with you that night. It was early in your relationship, you hadn’t even had your first kiss together yet. It was still easy for him to make you blush. You giggled at every stupid word, every corny pick up line he whispered in your ear.
“That dress looks uncomfortable. You should let me take it off of you.” He’d whispered with a wink as you waltzed and you’d blessed him with the angelic sound of your laugh, shushing him. He kept stepping on the ends of your expensive dress, but it was even because you kept stepping on his shoes with your heels. You blushed in embarrassment every time and he’d have to pry your hands away from your shy face.
You’d bumped into people while dancing but you were too wrapped up in each other to be embarrassed or to even notice. Mattheo flipped off anyone who stared or gave you weird looks for laughing too loud.
“Don’t mess up my makeup. I spent an hour on it.” You’d told him, to which he’d smiled mischievously and ended up kissing your cheek. It was only at that end of the night, after he’d walked you back to your dorm whilst carrying your heels, that he’d kissed you for the first time with his hands on the soft, supple skin of your face. The way you’d stared at him with your cute doe eyes, full of wonder and joy, after he’d pulled away is forever engraved in his brain. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks were red and in Mattheo’s opinion, you’d never looked more adorable. He remembered looking down at you and seeing the glow of your makeup in the dimly lit dorm halls. God, you had him mesmerized.
But that was over now. He has a different girl on his arm now. He should at least try to enjoy his night, right?
He looks at the girl only to find her already staring at him and as guilty as he feels for it, all he can think is that she can’t hold a candle to Y/n. Not to her beauty, her wit, her humor, her soft voice, her captivating eyes, her radiant smile. Nothing.
His eyes mindlessly wander around the room and land on Y/n for the first time and suddenly he’s floored. He’s frozen, butterflies flying from his stomach and up his throat.
He hadn’t seen you in your dress before. He thought that you in your red dress at last year’s ball was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. Oh, how wrong he was.
You look unreal tonight. He can’t help but wonder if you even came from this planet. Is it possible for a human being to be so perfect?
The only thing missing is that radiant smile you showed off last year, the one he was so used to seeing grace your pretty face every time he walked into a room with you in it.
Now, you just look… bored. Empty, even. And he wishes he could put back the smile that he stole from you. You look incomplete without it.
His own stupid self-sabotaging tendencies are the reason why he’s not dancing with you right now and he hates himself for it. He knows he’s nowhere near good enough for you, but is it so wrong to be selfish? He is just a man, after all.
The night goes by miserably for the both of you. You, sitting alone at your table, occasionally walking over to get some punch, and Mattheo, dancing with a girl who he guiltily pretends is you.
Occasionally, you’d make eye contact and you wouldn’t even bother to hide the pain in your eyes, looking from him to the girl beside him. You hope he feels bad.
He does.
Picking at your freshly done nails, you huff in boredom. Glancing up, you notice something strange. Pansy’s talking to Theodore in the corner of the room? Well, it’s not too strange, I guess, but it’s interesting. Pansy stopped talking to Theo as a sign of loyalty to you, since Theo was Mattheo’s best friend. So what could they possibly be talking about?
The night is filled with tension filled staring and lingering glances with Mattheo and suddenly, you’ve had enough of sitting around, informing Pansy that you’re leaving. She frowns in disappointment.
“Hold on, just one more dance. Please?” She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you sigh, giving in. Pansy drags you to the dance floor where the two of you move together to the upbeat music, when suddenly, a slow song starts playing. You sigh, turning to leave when Pansy grabs your hand. “Nuh uh, just dance with me.” She tells you, putting her hands on your waist.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion but don’t object.
Her smile turns from gleeful to apologetic within a second. “Hey, I’m really sorry.” She winks at you and now you’re more confused than ever. “What?” You ask but before you can get a response, you’re being shoved away. You stumble over your dress and your back crashes into some guy's chest, his hands instantly finding your shoulders to steady you.
“I’m so sorry, I—” You start but cut yourself off when you recognize the scent of the cologne behind you. You turn around to find your ex-boyfriend who seems to be glaring at Pansy behind you. You weren’t supposed to push her that damn hard, He thinks.
“Sorry,” You repeat bluntly before trying to walk away but he catches your arm. “Don’t walk away.” He tells you, his voice firm but you can hear an underlying sense of… desperation?
“Having fun with your date?” You ask bitterly, a petty smile on your face. It seems you couldn’t care less that you were on the dance floor in the middle of a bunch of people. You were ready to argue right here, right now. His jaw clenches in frustration. “No.” He answers simply.
“No? Seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me.” You tell him. You know that’s not true, even you could admit that he looked miserable all night, but you were caught up in jealousy. What could you do?
“Y/n, she’s nothing to me.”
You just scoff. “Yeah, right. You know, I actually don’t doubt that. Clearly you have a way of getting girls to believe they mean something to you only for you to drop them like they’re nothing.” You practically rip your arm out of his grasp and walk away, leaving the ballroom. He follows you outside into the courtyard.
“Dove, please. Listen to me,” he begs.
You don’t reply as you just keep walking.
“I love you!” He shouts in a desperate attempt to get you to stop running from him.
And you stop in your tracks. You can’t move. Your limbs are frozen. Why can’t you move? Move!
Taking advantage of your solid state, he walks to you and stands in front of you, taking your face in his hands. Suddenly, you’re teary eyed.
“I love you.” He reiterates in a whisper. “I still do.”
You swallow hard. Why is your chest burning? Is it hope or is it anger?
“Let me explain, okay? I wanted to be here with you tonight. That girl… She’s just a distraction. I thought… I thought that if I came with someone else, maybe I’d get you out of my head, but it only made it worse, baby.” He says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Your stomach flips at the pet name.
“I hate that I took that beautiful smile off of your face. You look fucking stunning, dove. But you don’t look right without your pretty smile… I’m so fucking sorry I broke your heart. I thought I was doing it for your own good but you’re hurting now and that hurts me. Look, baby, I’m not good enough for you. I know that. But for once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna let myself be selfish. Please come back to me.”
You’re left in silence, stunned, lips parted to say something but you can’t fucking speak.
“My arms feel empty without you in them.” He whispers. “Say something, please. Don’t let me get my hopes up.” He sounds so sad but his eyes are so big and hopeful.
Fuck. Did you ever really believe you stood a chance against his charm? Of course, you’d give in.
You lean up and place the softest, most tender kiss possible on his cheek and his eyes widen. The most beautiful smile graces his lips and he kisses you as if he’s never done it before, like he’d never get the chance to do it again.
You kiss him back feverishly, hands running through his tousled curls and his hands squeeze your hips. The kiss quickly becomes hungry, passionate, desperate, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck. When you pull away, it’s only because you need air. Breathless, you rest your forehead against his.
“Baby… Let me show you just how much I love this dress on you. Let me show you how beautiful you are.” His voice is husky and raw and you can’t help the heat that rushes between your legs.
You nod vigorously and he takes your hand, walking you towards his dorm but your heels are slowing you down far too much for his impatient self. Without warning, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to his dorm, holding your heels in his other hand.
He lets you down and locks the door the second you get in before walking you over to the floor length mirror by his bed, standing behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder as you stare at yourselves in the mirror. His hands run up and down your body, running over the silk material of your dress.
“How did I survive two weeks without touching you?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You see how fuckin’ beautiful you look? You couldn’t expect me to control myself all night.”
His hand goes to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulder before undoing the back and letting the dress fall down, the green silk pooling around your ankles.
“Two weeks without this sight… Why did I do that to myself?” You’re sure he’s practically talking to himself at this point, but you don’t mind, enjoying the feeling and the sight of his fingers grazing over your hardening nipples in the mirror.
“I’m gonna fuck you right in front of this mirror so you can see how perfect you are… So you can see that no other girl, especially not my little date that you were so jealous of, could ever compare to you…” Standing behind you, his chest pressed against your now bare back, he placed kisses on your neck and down to your shoulder before shedding off his jacket and button up.
His index and middle finger travel to your jaw, turning your head to the side so he can kiss your perfect lips. His tongue grazes over your bottom lip while his hand squeezes your tit, eliciting a gasp from you and he slides his tongue in between your lips, exploring your mouth.
He kisses you as if to make up for the time that he couldn’t, as if those two weeks were an eternity of being away from you. To him, that’s what it felt like.
His mouth trails down from your lips to your jaw and to your neck, lightly sucking and leaving wet kisses. One hand stays firmly placed on your breast while the other wanders down your belly, to between your legs. You gasp, watching in the mirror. His fingers push your panties to the side and run over your soaked folds, teasing and stroking lightly but never entering you.
“Mattheo…” You murmur, staring at his biceps in the mirror, your eyes wandering down to the bulge in his pants, making it obvious that you want him naked too.
“Shh, baby. We’re gonna take it slow this time, okay? I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you.” He kisses your temple before laying down on the bed, flat on his back.
“You know what to do, dove.” He murmurs and your breath hitches. You quickly strip off your panties and move to straddle his face between your legs. You hover over him hesitantly and he senses your uncertainty.
“Relax, baby. I’ve got you.” He encourages you, rubbing his hands on your thighs soothingly. “Sit.” He demands, his voice gentle but firm.
You give in, slowly sinking down and his hands are instantly on your ass, urging you closer to him. He groans appreciatively as he feels the full weight of your pussy against his face. His tongue flicks against your clit before licking a long stripe up your slit, exploring deeper. His hands move to your inner thighs, kneading the muscle gently as he continues to worship your womanhood. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you ride his face.
“Fuck, Matt,” You lose yourself in pleasure, grinding against his face and he moans into your pussy, the vibrations driving you wild. His tongue circles your entrance and you let out a soft gasp.
His ministrations never falter, it seems like he could never get tired of tasting you. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of it in the mirror and you feel like you could cum just looking at it.
His tongue darts in and out of your pussy bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He sucks on your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body, your moans and cries of delight only encouraging him to continue his sensual assault on your cunt. Your breathing turns shallow, struggling to hold yourself back as he fucks you with his tongue.
“ ’m gonna cum, Matty,” You mumble, too dazed to think straight. Mattheo’s mouth waters as he feels your juices drip down his chin while he continues to feast on your cunt. His hands squeeze your ass tight, encouraging you to ride his face harder, savoring the taste of his work. “Cum for me, baby.” He whispers sweetly, hot breath against your cunt.
You let go and come all over his mouth while he works to swallow every drop. You pant, finally looking away from the mirror as you get off of him. He smiles at you from below before sitting up and kissing you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips.
“You taste like heaven, dove.” He tells you, stroking your cheek gently as he watches your pretty face in its post-orgasmic grace.
“Need your cock, Matty.” You mumble.
“Oh, do you, now? Two weeks and you’re this desperate to be fucked? You really are my little cockslut, aren’t you?” He coos at you and you look away, embarrassed knowing that he’s right.
While he strips off his dress pants, you get on all fours, ready for him to take you from behind, facing the headboard. His hand finds purchase on your hip and flips you over to the other side of the bed so you’re facing the mirror.
“Know just what to do, don't you? Such a good girl. But, now I want you to watch me as I fuck you so hard, you can’t see straight.” He tells you, positioning himself behind you. His hand presses down on your lower back, urging you to arch.
“You ready?” He asks, running his tip over your folds and teasing you. You nod desperately. “Words, baby.” He commands.
“I’m ready, just please fuck me, Matty.” You whine desperately. He gives a dark chuckle before sliding in without warning, watching carefully in the mirror as your face scrunches up in pleasure.
He leans down to place a tender kiss on your head as his thrusts speed up. You feel a shift in motion as Mattheo starts to move faster inside you, his hips slamming against your ass. Your head falls forward as you feel your brain turning to mush in mind-numbing pleasure. His hand grasps you by the hair and pulls your head up so you’re forced to watch him fuck you from behind in the mirror. His other hand slides down to your chest, rolling and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefingers.
“You see how fuckin’ pretty you look like this?” He asks, his voice soft yet hoarse as he stares you in the eyes. “Couldn’t ever live without this.” He groans.
“Talk to me, princess. Tell me how it feels.” He says it like he absolutely needs to hear it from you. “So good… Y’fuck me so good, Mattheo.” Your words come out in incoherent babbles and he smiles, loving how dumb he can make you.
His hand travels down your body, finding its way between your legs and rubbing at your clit while each movement of his thrusts push him deeper inside you.
“I’m close.” You warn him. “I know. I can feel your pussy fucking squeezing me.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s holding back.
He lets go of your hair to bring his hand down to your stomach, just below your navel, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach made by his dick. “You feel me, baby?” He pants, his voice husky.
You nod, a few tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined. “Feels so good, Matty.” You whimper.
”Who does this tight little cunt belong to?” He asks.
“You!” You moan, his length stroking your walls. You can feel his head brushing your cervix repeatedly.
”And who does this cock belong to?” he asks. You’re so cockdrunk that you can hardly think straight but you know you have to answer his question if you want him to let you cum.
“Me. It belongs to me.” You tell him. He smiles, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.
“Let go for me, baby.” He tells you and you immediately do, cumming all over his cock. He keeps fucking you, working towards his own orgasm and soon enough, he shoots his load deep inside of you before pulling out and peppering soft kisses all over your bare back.
“I missed you, Matty.” You mumble, letting yourself collapse forward on the bed, to which he chuckles, gently running his fingers down your back. His eyes are trained on your pussy and he uses his fingers to stuff his cum back inside you before it can leak out, your body jolting at the sensation.
“Not as much as I missed you, baby.” He kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.
Your eyes fall on his discarded green tie on the floor next to your green dress. You smile.
summary ; you and mattheo go to the yule ball with other people this year. but when you spot the green tie around his neck, matching your dress, instead of hers, it’s hard not to wonder if he’s really moved on at all.
words ; 4.6k
warnings ; exes to lovers, angst (if you squint), SMUT, face sitting/riding, piv, unprotected sex, mirror sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise and degradation, creampie, nipple play (? like for one sentence), dom!mattheo, profanity, use of y/n
navigation. masterlist.
“Find your partners and follow my lead,” McGonnagall’s voice rings through the room. You groan internally. Who the hell are you supposed to dance with?
At the dancing lessons for the Yule Ball throughout the past few weeks, you and your perfect boyfriend, Mattheo, had practiced together. The two of you had gone together last year as well, and the night was quite literally magical. It’s safe to say that last year’s experience really set your expectations as high as possible. The idea of experiencing that same magic again made your heart flutter with excitement. You couldn’t wait.
That was until Mattheo Riddle crushed those dreams.
Yeah, he broke up with you last week. Completely crushed your spirit. Now you have to go to the ball alone.
He’s not even here right now. Merlin knows how the hell he got out of dance practices, but he’s not here and to be honest, you’re grateful because if he was, you’d have to dance with him and that just would have been awkward.
Adrien Pucey takes notice of your lonely presence from across the room and quickly approaches, somehow oblivious to the clear grimace on your face. What choice do you have? Everyone else already has a partner.
So, you give in and try your best to keep up a polite front, taking his hand and stepping to the music, despite the burning sensation on your skin every time he touches you. It’s not a good burn like when Mattheo touched you. It doesn’t make you want to ignite the rest of your body with those flames. It makes you want to drown yourself in the Black Lake just to get away from this guy. Dancing with anyone but Mattheo feels inherently wrong. Mattheo’s hands were always cold. Pucey’s hands are warm and it’s nauseating.
You’d never really spoken to Adrien too much before but from this single dance, you’d learned one thing about him: he never stops talking.
Practically beaming with relief once it’s over, your feet carry you away before you can even realize where you’re walking, ears unconsciously tuning out the sound of Adrien yelling after you.
When you and Mattheo were dating, the whole school knew that you were off limits, Mattheo had made that abundantly clear. Boys were nervous to even think about you in the wrong way, afraid that Mattheo would somehow sneak into their minds and find out. Once the news that you two broke up spread, people were practically throwing themselves at the two of you. You could only hope that Mattheo wasn’t interested in those girls the same way you still weren’t interested in other boys.
“Get me out of here,” you whine as you grab Astoria’s wrist tightly in your hand, dragging her out of the crowded room.
After dinner in the Great Hall, you’re speed walking down the corridors back to your dorm. This was actually a great feat. For days on end, you’d been so wrecked that you could hardly get out of bed, much less leave your dorm for anything other than classes with your red eyes and messy haired state. Astoria and Pansy had been bringing you your meals. So the fact that you finally went to the Great Hall today is an accomplishment.
“Y/n! Wait!” You freeze in your tracks. God, please no. Please tell me that’s not his voice.
“Slow down. I need to talk to you, dove.” Shit, it is him.
Wait, how dare he call you that? He knows how much that nickname makes your heart melt. He can’t just go around calling you that after breaking your heart. It’s not fair.
“Do not call me that. What do you want?” You say, careful to keep your voice cold as you turn around to face him.
“Don’t be like that, dove.” Oh, screw him. “I just… I heard you’re not doing well. Hardly eating, barely sleeping, you never leave your dorm. I didn’t mean to—”
“Well, you did. That’s kind of what happens when you get dumped with no explanation.” You snap and he flinches.
“I did give you an explanation.” He counters and you feel like your head is going to explode. “Did you? My bad, it felt like a dumb excuse to get away from me. Maybe I just heard it wrong,” The sarcasm in your voice is unmistakable.
“We were toxic and you know it. I’m toxic. You deserve better.” He says softly, giving you the same shitty excuse again.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. If you’re bored of me, just say that. Don’t make up some idiotic excuse about how you’re not good enough for me because if it was really that way, you’d love me enough to be better for me.”
He looks like a kicked puppy. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are soft and vulnerable and he has the cutest frown on his face that you just want to kiss away. But you can’t. He sighs, gathering the strength to speak again.
“Take proper care of yourself, please. If not for yourself, then for me.” And with that, he leaves. You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your hand over your heart that seems to be aching harder than it was before.
The ball is tonight. Mattheo has a date, you heard. Hardly 2 weeks after the breakup and he’s already got another girl hanging off his arm.
Your mind refuses to process the information. He dated you for a year. He still seems to be concerned about your well being. So how did he move on so easily? It’s not fair that you’re hurting while he’s enjoying his time with some other girl.
You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts. Your beautifully styled hair cascades over your shoulders, emerald green dress flowing around you. You’d considered not going to the ball at all, but eventually decided against it, your girls telling you that you couldn’t miss out on this just because of your ex.
“You look beautiful as ever, Y/n/n.” For someone who can’t go 10 seconds without being sarcastic, Astoria sounds uncharacteristically genuine right now. You give her a soft smile. “Thank you, Tori. You look beautiful too.”
“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Pansy ushers the three of you out of the room.
By the time you get down to the ballroom, Mattheo’s already there with his date. You’d tried your hardest not to search for him in the crowd, knowing it’d only hurt, but of course, you gave into temptation. The girl was completely unfamiliar. You’d never seen her before. Could he really not have found anyone less irrelevant?
Still, your face falls and Pansy follows your line of sight, falling on Mattheo who has his arm around some girl in a red dress. You’d worn a red dress to the ball last year and you can’t help but wonder if he remembers.
Pansy steps in front of you, blocking your view. “You look better than her.” This makes you giggle. You know it’s wrong to say things like that, but in this moment of insecurity, the reassurance feels nice.
“Don’t let it get to your head. He’s not worth it.” She takes your hand and leads you to your table, but not before you take one last glance in Mattheo’s direction. This time, you notice something that makes your heart stop.
He’s wearing a green tie.
His date is in a red dress. He’s wearing a green tie. And you… you are in a green dress.
Oh my God?
Before you’d broken up, you’d planned out your outfits for the ball and obviously, his tie had to match your dress. But you didn’t expect him to still wear it after he dumped you.
Maybe you’re reading too far into it. Maybe he just couldn’t find a red tie? Maybe he couldn't find any other tie at all? No, it can’t be. He had to have done it on purpose.
You tear your eyes away from him and walk away. Mattheo, meanwhile, is dying on the inside. The second he stepped into the ballroom, his mind was flooded with memories.
Memories of last year at the Yule Ball with Y/n, his Y/n. Her long red dress with the slit on the side and the off the shoulder sleeves and the sparkles at the top. He remembered every detail of that dress. She was always gorgeous, but he was sure she'd never looked more beautiful than she did that night, and it wasn’t only because she was all done up. It was because she had this excitement that night, this dazzling smile on her face. He was hypnotized.
No other girl compared to her. Every other dress looked like a damn dishrag in his mind compared to you. All night, the only question in his mind was, “How did I get this lucky?”
He remembered dancing with you that night. It was early in your relationship, you hadn’t even had your first kiss together yet. It was still easy for him to make you blush. You giggled at every stupid word, every corny pick up line he whispered in your ear.
“That dress looks uncomfortable. You should let me take it off of you.” He’d whispered with a wink as you waltzed and you’d blessed him with the angelic sound of your laugh, shushing him. He kept stepping on the ends of your expensive dress, but it was even because you kept stepping on his shoes with your heels. You blushed in embarrassment every time and he’d have to pry your hands away from your shy face.
You’d bumped into people while dancing but you were too wrapped up in each other to be embarrassed or to even notice. Mattheo flipped off anyone who stared or gave you weird looks for laughing too loud.
“Don’t mess up my makeup. I spent an hour on it.” You’d told him, to which he’d smiled mischievously and ended up kissing your cheek. It was only at that end of the night, after he’d walked you back to your dorm whilst carrying your heels, that he’d kissed you for the first time with his hands on the soft, supple skin of your face. The way you’d stared at him with your cute doe eyes, full of wonder and joy, after he’d pulled away is forever engraved in his brain. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks were red and in Mattheo’s opinion, you’d never looked more adorable. He remembered looking down at you and seeing the glow of your makeup in the dimly lit dorm halls. God, you had him mesmerized.
But that was over now. He has a different girl on his arm now. He should at least try to enjoy his night, right?
He looks at the girl only to find her already staring at him and as guilty as he feels for it, all he can think is that she can’t hold a candle to Y/n. Not to her beauty, her wit, her humor, her soft voice, her captivating eyes, her radiant smile. Nothing.
His eyes mindlessly wander around the room and land on Y/n for the first time and suddenly he’s floored. He’s frozen, butterflies flying from his stomach and up his throat.
He hadn’t seen you in your dress before. He thought that you in your red dress at last year’s ball was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. Oh, how wrong he was.
You look unreal tonight. He can’t help but wonder if you even came from this planet. Is it possible for a human being to be so perfect?
The only thing missing is that radiant smile you showed off last year, the one he was so used to seeing grace your pretty face every time he walked into a room with you in it.
Now, you just look… bored. Empty, even. And he wishes he could put back the smile that he stole from you. You look incomplete without it.
His own stupid self-sabotaging tendencies are the reason why he’s not dancing with you right now and he hates himself for it. He knows he’s nowhere near good enough for you, but is it so wrong to be selfish? He is just a man, after all.
The night goes by miserably for the both of you. You, sitting alone at your table, occasionally walking over to get some punch, and Mattheo, dancing with a girl who he guiltily pretends is you.
Occasionally, you’d make eye contact and you wouldn’t even bother to hide the pain in your eyes, looking from him to the girl beside him. You hope he feels bad.
He does.
Picking at your freshly done nails, you huff in boredom. Glancing up, you notice something strange. Pansy’s talking to Theodore in the corner of the room? Well, it’s not too strange, I guess, but it’s interesting. Pansy stopped talking to Theo as a sign of loyalty to you, since Theo was Mattheo’s best friend. So what could they possibly be talking about?
The night is filled with tension filled staring and lingering glances with Mattheo and suddenly, you’ve had enough of sitting around, informing Pansy that you’re leaving. She frowns in disappointment.
“Hold on, just one more dance. Please?” She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you sigh, giving in. Pansy drags you to the dance floor where the two of you move together to the upbeat music, when suddenly, a slow song starts playing. You sigh, turning to leave when Pansy grabs your hand. “Nuh uh, just dance with me.” She tells you, putting her hands on your waist.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion but don’t object.
Her smile turns from gleeful to apologetic within a second. “Hey, I’m really sorry.” She winks at you and now you’re more confused than ever. “What?” You ask but before you can get a response, you’re being shoved away. You stumble over your dress and your back crashes into some guy's chest, his hands instantly finding your shoulders to steady you.
“I’m so sorry, I—” You start but cut yourself off when you recognize the scent of the cologne behind you. You turn around to find your ex-boyfriend who seems to be glaring at Pansy behind you. You weren’t supposed to push her that damn hard, He thinks.
“Sorry,” You repeat bluntly before trying to walk away but he catches your arm. “Don’t walk away.” He tells you, his voice firm but you can hear an underlying sense of… desperation?
“Having fun with your date?” You ask bitterly, a petty smile on your face. It seems you couldn’t care less that you were on the dance floor in the middle of a bunch of people. You were ready to argue right here, right now. His jaw clenches in frustration. “No.” He answers simply.
“No? Seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me.” You tell him. You know that’s not true, even you could admit that he looked miserable all night, but you were caught up in jealousy. What could you do?
“Y/n, she’s nothing to me.”
You just scoff. “Yeah, right. You know, I actually don’t doubt that. Clearly you have a way of getting girls to believe they mean something to you only for you to drop them like they’re nothing.” You practically rip your arm out of his grasp and walk away, leaving the ballroom. He follows you outside into the courtyard.
“Dove, please. Listen to me,” he begs.
You don’t reply as you just keep walking.
“I love you!” He shouts in a desperate attempt to get you to stop running from him.
And you stop in your tracks. You can’t move. Your limbs are frozen. Why can’t you move? Move!
Taking advantage of your solid state, he walks to you and stands in front of you, taking your face in his hands. Suddenly, you’re teary eyed.
“I love you.” He reiterates in a whisper. “I still do.”
You swallow hard. Why is your chest burning? Is it hope or is it anger?
“Let me explain, okay? I wanted to be here with you tonight. That girl… She’s just a distraction. I thought… I thought that if I came with someone else, maybe I’d get you out of my head, but it only made it worse, baby.” He says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Your stomach flips at the pet name.
“I hate that I took that beautiful smile off of your face. You look fucking stunning, dove. But you don’t look right without your pretty smile… I’m so fucking sorry I broke your heart. I thought I was doing it for your own good but you’re hurting now and that hurts me. Look, baby, I’m not good enough for you. I know that. But for once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna let myself be selfish. Please come back to me.”
You’re left in silence, stunned, lips parted to say something but you can’t fucking speak.
“My arms feel empty without you in them.” He whispers. “Say something, please. Don’t let me get my hopes up.” He sounds so sad but his eyes are so big and hopeful.
Fuck. Did you ever really believe you stood a chance against his charm? Of course, you’d give in.
You lean up and place the softest, most tender kiss possible on his cheek and his eyes widen. The most beautiful smile graces his lips and he kisses you as if he’s never done it before, like he’d never get the chance to do it again.
You kiss him back feverishly, hands running through his tousled curls and his hands squeeze your hips. The kiss quickly becomes hungry, passionate, desperate, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck. When you pull away, it’s only because you need air. Breathless, you rest your forehead against his.
“Baby… Let me show you just how much I love this dress on you. Let me show you how beautiful you are.” His voice is husky and raw and you can’t help the heat that rushes between your legs.
You nod vigorously and he takes your hand, walking you towards his dorm but your heels are slowing you down far too much for his impatient self. Without warning, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to his dorm, holding your heels in his other hand.
He lets you down and locks the door the second you get in before walking you over to the floor length mirror by his bed, standing behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder as you stare at yourselves in the mirror. His hands run up and down your body, running over the silk material of your dress.
“How did I survive two weeks without touching you?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You see how fuckin’ beautiful you look? You couldn’t expect me to control myself all night.”
His hand goes to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulder before undoing the back and letting the dress fall down, the green silk pooling around your ankles.
“Two weeks without this sight… Why did I do that to myself?” You’re sure he’s practically talking to himself at this point, but you don’t mind, enjoying the feeling and the sight of his fingers grazing over your hardening nipples in the mirror.
“I’m gonna fuck you right in front of this mirror so you can see how perfect you are… So you can see that no other girl, especially not my little date that you were so jealous of, could ever compare to you…” Standing behind you, his chest pressed against your now bare back, he placed kisses on your neck and down to your shoulder before shedding off his jacket and button up.
His index and middle finger travel to your jaw, turning your head to the side so he can kiss your perfect lips. His tongue grazes over your bottom lip while his hand squeezes your tit, eliciting a gasp from you and he slides his tongue in between your lips, exploring your mouth.
He kisses you as if to make up for the time that he couldn’t, as if those two weeks were an eternity of being away from you. To him, that’s what it felt like.
His mouth trails down from your lips to your jaw and to your neck, lightly sucking and leaving wet kisses. One hand stays firmly placed on your breast while the other wanders down your belly, to between your legs. You gasp, watching in the mirror. His fingers push your panties to the side and run over your soaked folds, teasing and stroking lightly but never entering you.
“Mattheo…” You murmur, staring at his biceps in the mirror, your eyes wandering down to the bulge in his pants, making it obvious that you want him naked too.
“Shh, baby. We’re gonna take it slow this time, okay? I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you.” He kisses your temple before laying down on the bed, flat on his back.
“You know what to do, dove.” He murmurs and your breath hitches. You quickly strip off your panties and move to straddle his face between your legs. You hover over him hesitantly and he senses your uncertainty.
“Relax, baby. I’ve got you.” He encourages you, rubbing his hands on your thighs soothingly. “Sit.” He demands, his voice gentle but firm.
You give in, slowly sinking down and his hands are instantly on your ass, urging you closer to him. He groans appreciatively as he feels the full weight of your pussy against his face. His tongue flicks against your clit before licking a long stripe up your slit, exploring deeper. His hands move to your inner thighs, kneading the muscle gently as he continues to worship your womanhood. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you ride his face.
“Fuck, Matt,” You lose yourself in pleasure, grinding against his face and he moans into your pussy, the vibrations driving you wild. His tongue circles your entrance and you let out a soft gasp.
His ministrations never falter, it seems like he could never get tired of tasting you. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of it in the mirror and you feel like you could cum just looking at it.
His tongue darts in and out of your pussy bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He sucks on your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body, your moans and cries of delight only encouraging him to continue his sensual assault on your cunt. Your breathing turns shallow, struggling to hold yourself back as he fucks you with his tongue.
“ ’m gonna cum, Matty,” You mumble, too dazed to think straight. Mattheo’s mouth waters as he feels your juices drip down his chin while he continues to feast on your cunt. His hands squeeze your ass tight, encouraging you to ride his face harder, savoring the taste of his work. “Cum for me, baby.” He whispers sweetly, hot breath against your cunt.
You let go and come all over his mouth while he works to swallow every drop. You pant, finally looking away from the mirror as you get off of him. He smiles at you from below before sitting up and kissing you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips.
“You taste like heaven, dove.” He tells you, stroking your cheek gently as he watches your pretty face in its post-orgasmic grace.
“Need your cock, Matty.” You mumble.
“Oh, do you, now? Two weeks and you’re this desperate to be fucked? You really are my little cockslut, aren’t you?” He coos at you and you look away, embarrassed knowing that he’s right.
While he strips off his dress pants, you get on all fours, ready for him to take you from behind, facing the headboard. His hand finds purchase on your hip and flips you over to the other side of the bed so you’re facing the mirror.
“Know just what to do, don't you? Such a good girl. But, now I want you to watch me as I fuck you so hard, you can’t see straight.” He tells you, positioning himself behind you. His hand presses down on your lower back, urging you to arch.
“You ready?” He asks, running his tip over your folds and teasing you. You nod desperately. “Words, baby.” He commands.
“I’m ready, just please fuck me, Matty.” You whine desperately. He gives a dark chuckle before sliding in without warning, watching carefully in the mirror as your face scrunches up in pleasure.
He leans down to place a tender kiss on your head as his thrusts speed up. You feel a shift in motion as Mattheo starts to move faster inside you, his hips slamming against your ass. Your head falls forward as you feel your brain turning to mush in mind-numbing pleasure. His hand grasps you by the hair and pulls your head up so you’re forced to watch him fuck you from behind in the mirror. His other hand slides down to your chest, rolling and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefingers.
“You see how fuckin’ pretty you look like this?” He asks, his voice soft yet hoarse as he stares you in the eyes. “Couldn’t ever live without this.” He groans.
“Talk to me, princess. Tell me how it feels.” He says it like he absolutely needs to hear it from you. “So good… Y’fuck me so good, Mattheo.” Your words come out in incoherent babbles and he smiles, loving how dumb he can make you.
His hand travels down your body, finding its way between your legs and rubbing at your clit while each movement of his thrusts push him deeper inside you.
“I’m close.” You warn him. “I know. I can feel your pussy fucking squeezing me.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s holding back.
He lets go of your hair to bring his hand down to your stomach, just below your navel, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach made by his dick. “You feel me, baby?” He pants, his voice husky.
You nod, a few tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined. “Feels so good, Matty.” You whimper.
”Who does this tight little cunt belong to?” He asks.
“You!” You moan, his length stroking your walls. You can feel his head brushing your cervix repeatedly.
”And who does this cock belong to?” he asks. You’re so cockdrunk that you can hardly think straight but you know you have to answer his question if you want him to let you cum.
“Me. It belongs to me.” You tell him. He smiles, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.
“Let go for me, baby.” He tells you and you immediately do, cumming all over his cock. He keeps fucking you, working towards his own orgasm and soon enough, he shoots his load deep inside of you before pulling out and peppering soft kisses all over your bare back.
“I missed you, Matty.” You mumble, letting yourself collapse forward on the bed, to which he chuckles, gently running his fingers down your back. His eyes are trained on your pussy and he uses his fingers to stuff his cum back inside you before it can leak out, your body jolting at the sensation.
“Not as much as I missed you, baby.” He kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.
Your eyes fall on his discarded green tie on the floor next to your green dress. You smile.
summary ; you and mattheo go to the yule ball with other people this year. but when you spot the green tie around his neck, matching your dress, instead of hers, it’s hard not to wonder if he’s really moved on at all.
words ; 4.6k
warnings ; exes to lovers, angst (if you squint), SMUT, face sitting/riding, piv, unprotected sex, mirror sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise and degradation, creampie, nipple play (? like for one sentence), dom!mattheo, profanity, use of y/n
navigation. masterlist.
“Find your partners and follow my lead,” McGonnagall’s voice rings through the room. You groan internally. Who the hell are you supposed to dance with?
At the dancing lessons for the Yule Ball throughout the past few weeks, you and your perfect boyfriend, Mattheo, had practiced together. The two of you had gone together last year as well, and the night was quite literally magical. It’s safe to say that last year’s experience really set your expectations as high as possible. The idea of experiencing that same magic again made your heart flutter with excitement. You couldn’t wait.
That was until Mattheo Riddle crushed those dreams.
Yeah, he broke up with you last week. Completely crushed your spirit. Now you have to go to the ball alone.
He’s not even here right now. Merlin knows how the hell he got out of dance practices, but he’s not here and to be honest, you’re grateful because if he was, you’d have to dance with him and that just would have been awkward.
Adrien Pucey takes notice of your lonely presence from across the room and quickly approaches, somehow oblivious to the clear grimace on your face. What choice do you have? Everyone else already has a partner.
So, you give in and try your best to keep up a polite front, taking his hand and stepping to the music, despite the burning sensation on your skin every time he touches you. It’s not a good burn like when Mattheo touched you. It doesn’t make you want to ignite the rest of your body with those flames. It makes you want to drown yourself in the Black Lake just to get away from this guy. Dancing with anyone but Mattheo feels inherently wrong. Mattheo’s hands were always cold. Pucey’s hands are warm and it’s nauseating.
You’d never really spoken to Adrien too much before but from this single dance, you’d learned one thing about him: he never stops talking.
Practically beaming with relief once it’s over, your feet carry you away before you can even realize where you’re walking, ears unconsciously tuning out the sound of Adrien yelling after you.
When you and Mattheo were dating, the whole school knew that you were off limits, Mattheo had made that abundantly clear. Boys were nervous to even think about you in the wrong way, afraid that Mattheo would somehow sneak into their minds and find out. Once the news that you two broke up spread, people were practically throwing themselves at the two of you. You could only hope that Mattheo wasn’t interested in those girls the same way you still weren’t interested in other boys.
“Get me out of here,” you whine as you grab Astoria’s wrist tightly in your hand, dragging her out of the crowded room.
After dinner in the Great Hall, you’re speed walking down the corridors back to your dorm. This was actually a great feat. For days on end, you’d been so wrecked that you could hardly get out of bed, much less leave your dorm for anything other than classes with your red eyes and messy haired state. Astoria and Pansy had been bringing you your meals. So the fact that you finally went to the Great Hall today is an accomplishment.
“Y/n! Wait!” You freeze in your tracks. God, please no. Please tell me that’s not his voice.
“Slow down. I need to talk to you, dove.” Shit, it is him.
Wait, how dare he call you that? He knows how much that nickname makes your heart melt. He can’t just go around calling you that after breaking your heart. It’s not fair.
“Do not call me that. What do you want?” You say, careful to keep your voice cold as you turn around to face him.
“Don’t be like that, dove.” Oh, screw him. “I just… I heard you’re not doing well. Hardly eating, barely sleeping, you never leave your dorm. I didn’t mean to—”
“Well, you did. That’s kind of what happens when you get dumped with no explanation.” You snap and he flinches.
“I did give you an explanation.” He counters and you feel like your head is going to explode. “Did you? My bad, it felt like a dumb excuse to get away from me. Maybe I just heard it wrong,” The sarcasm in your voice is unmistakable.
“We were toxic and you know it. I’m toxic. You deserve better.” He says softly, giving you the same shitty excuse again.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. If you’re bored of me, just say that. Don’t make up some idiotic excuse about how you’re not good enough for me because if it was really that way, you’d love me enough to be better for me.”
He looks like a kicked puppy. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are soft and vulnerable and he has the cutest frown on his face that you just want to kiss away. But you can’t. He sighs, gathering the strength to speak again.
“Take proper care of yourself, please. If not for yourself, then for me.” And with that, he leaves. You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your hand over your heart that seems to be aching harder than it was before.
The ball is tonight. Mattheo has a date, you heard. Hardly 2 weeks after the breakup and he’s already got another girl hanging off his arm.
Your mind refuses to process the information. He dated you for a year. He still seems to be concerned about your well being. So how did he move on so easily? It’s not fair that you’re hurting while he’s enjoying his time with some other girl.
You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts. Your beautifully styled hair cascades over your shoulders, emerald green dress flowing around you. You’d considered not going to the ball at all, but eventually decided against it, your girls telling you that you couldn’t miss out on this just because of your ex.
“You look beautiful as ever, Y/n/n.” For someone who can’t go 10 seconds without being sarcastic, Astoria sounds uncharacteristically genuine right now. You give her a soft smile. “Thank you, Tori. You look beautiful too.”
“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Pansy ushers the three of you out of the room.
By the time you get down to the ballroom, Mattheo’s already there with his date. You’d tried your hardest not to search for him in the crowd, knowing it’d only hurt, but of course, you gave into temptation. The girl was completely unfamiliar. You’d never seen her before. Could he really not have found anyone less irrelevant?
Still, your face falls and Pansy follows your line of sight, falling on Mattheo who has his arm around some girl in a red dress. You’d worn a red dress to the ball last year and you can’t help but wonder if he remembers.
Pansy steps in front of you, blocking your view. “You look better than her.” This makes you giggle. You know it’s wrong to say things like that, but in this moment of insecurity, the reassurance feels nice.
“Don’t let it get to your head. He’s not worth it.” She takes your hand and leads you to your table, but not before you take one last glance in Mattheo’s direction. This time, you notice something that makes your heart stop.
He’s wearing a green tie.
His date is in a red dress. He’s wearing a green tie. And you… you are in a green dress.
Oh my God?
Before you’d broken up, you’d planned out your outfits for the ball and obviously, his tie had to match your dress. But you didn’t expect him to still wear it after he dumped you.
Maybe you’re reading too far into it. Maybe he just couldn’t find a red tie? Maybe he couldn't find any other tie at all? No, it can’t be. He had to have done it on purpose.
You tear your eyes away from him and walk away. Mattheo, meanwhile, is dying on the inside. The second he stepped into the ballroom, his mind was flooded with memories.
Memories of last year at the Yule Ball with Y/n, his Y/n. Her long red dress with the slit on the side and the off the shoulder sleeves and the sparkles at the top. He remembered every detail of that dress. She was always gorgeous, but he was sure she'd never looked more beautiful than she did that night, and it wasn’t only because she was all done up. It was because she had this excitement that night, this dazzling smile on her face. He was hypnotized.
No other girl compared to her. Every other dress looked like a damn dishrag in his mind compared to you. All night, the only question in his mind was, “How did I get this lucky?”
He remembered dancing with you that night. It was early in your relationship, you hadn’t even had your first kiss together yet. It was still easy for him to make you blush. You giggled at every stupid word, every corny pick up line he whispered in your ear.
“That dress looks uncomfortable. You should let me take it off of you.” He’d whispered with a wink as you waltzed and you’d blessed him with the angelic sound of your laugh, shushing him. He kept stepping on the ends of your expensive dress, but it was even because you kept stepping on his shoes with your heels. You blushed in embarrassment every time and he’d have to pry your hands away from your shy face.
You’d bumped into people while dancing but you were too wrapped up in each other to be embarrassed or to even notice. Mattheo flipped off anyone who stared or gave you weird looks for laughing too loud.
“Don’t mess up my makeup. I spent an hour on it.” You’d told him, to which he’d smiled mischievously and ended up kissing your cheek. It was only at that end of the night, after he’d walked you back to your dorm whilst carrying your heels, that he’d kissed you for the first time with his hands on the soft, supple skin of your face. The way you’d stared at him with your cute doe eyes, full of wonder and joy, after he’d pulled away is forever engraved in his brain. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks were red and in Mattheo’s opinion, you’d never looked more adorable. He remembered looking down at you and seeing the glow of your makeup in the dimly lit dorm halls. God, you had him mesmerized.
But that was over now. He has a different girl on his arm now. He should at least try to enjoy his night, right?
He looks at the girl only to find her already staring at him and as guilty as he feels for it, all he can think is that she can’t hold a candle to Y/n. Not to her beauty, her wit, her humor, her soft voice, her captivating eyes, her radiant smile. Nothing.
His eyes mindlessly wander around the room and land on Y/n for the first time and suddenly he’s floored. He’s frozen, butterflies flying from his stomach and up his throat.
He hadn’t seen you in your dress before. He thought that you in your red dress at last year’s ball was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. Oh, how wrong he was.
You look unreal tonight. He can’t help but wonder if you even came from this planet. Is it possible for a human being to be so perfect?
The only thing missing is that radiant smile you showed off last year, the one he was so used to seeing grace your pretty face every time he walked into a room with you in it.
Now, you just look… bored. Empty, even. And he wishes he could put back the smile that he stole from you. You look incomplete without it.
His own stupid self-sabotaging tendencies are the reason why he’s not dancing with you right now and he hates himself for it. He knows he’s nowhere near good enough for you, but is it so wrong to be selfish? He is just a man, after all.
The night goes by miserably for the both of you. You, sitting alone at your table, occasionally walking over to get some punch, and Mattheo, dancing with a girl who he guiltily pretends is you.
Occasionally, you’d make eye contact and you wouldn’t even bother to hide the pain in your eyes, looking from him to the girl beside him. You hope he feels bad.
He does.
Picking at your freshly done nails, you huff in boredom. Glancing up, you notice something strange. Pansy’s talking to Theodore in the corner of the room? Well, it’s not too strange, I guess, but it’s interesting. Pansy stopped talking to Theo as a sign of loyalty to you, since Theo was Mattheo’s best friend. So what could they possibly be talking about?
The night is filled with tension filled staring and lingering glances with Mattheo and suddenly, you’ve had enough of sitting around, informing Pansy that you’re leaving. She frowns in disappointment.
“Hold on, just one more dance. Please?” She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you sigh, giving in. Pansy drags you to the dance floor where the two of you move together to the upbeat music, when suddenly, a slow song starts playing. You sigh, turning to leave when Pansy grabs your hand. “Nuh uh, just dance with me.” She tells you, putting her hands on your waist.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion but don’t object.
Her smile turns from gleeful to apologetic within a second. “Hey, I’m really sorry.” She winks at you and now you’re more confused than ever. “What?” You ask but before you can get a response, you’re being shoved away. You stumble over your dress and your back crashes into some guy's chest, his hands instantly finding your shoulders to steady you.
“I’m so sorry, I—” You start but cut yourself off when you recognize the scent of the cologne behind you. You turn around to find your ex-boyfriend who seems to be glaring at Pansy behind you. You weren’t supposed to push her that damn hard, He thinks.
“Sorry,” You repeat bluntly before trying to walk away but he catches your arm. “Don’t walk away.” He tells you, his voice firm but you can hear an underlying sense of… desperation?
“Having fun with your date?” You ask bitterly, a petty smile on your face. It seems you couldn’t care less that you were on the dance floor in the middle of a bunch of people. You were ready to argue right here, right now. His jaw clenches in frustration. “No.” He answers simply.
“No? Seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me.” You tell him. You know that’s not true, even you could admit that he looked miserable all night, but you were caught up in jealousy. What could you do?
“Y/n, she’s nothing to me.”
You just scoff. “Yeah, right. You know, I actually don’t doubt that. Clearly you have a way of getting girls to believe they mean something to you only for you to drop them like they’re nothing.” You practically rip your arm out of his grasp and walk away, leaving the ballroom. He follows you outside into the courtyard.
“Dove, please. Listen to me,” he begs.
You don’t reply as you just keep walking.
“I love you!” He shouts in a desperate attempt to get you to stop running from him.
And you stop in your tracks. You can’t move. Your limbs are frozen. Why can’t you move? Move!
Taking advantage of your solid state, he walks to you and stands in front of you, taking your face in his hands. Suddenly, you’re teary eyed.
“I love you.” He reiterates in a whisper. “I still do.”
You swallow hard. Why is your chest burning? Is it hope or is it anger?
“Let me explain, okay? I wanted to be here with you tonight. That girl… She’s just a distraction. I thought… I thought that if I came with someone else, maybe I’d get you out of my head, but it only made it worse, baby.” He says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Your stomach flips at the pet name.
“I hate that I took that beautiful smile off of your face. You look fucking stunning, dove. But you don’t look right without your pretty smile… I’m so fucking sorry I broke your heart. I thought I was doing it for your own good but you’re hurting now and that hurts me. Look, baby, I’m not good enough for you. I know that. But for once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna let myself be selfish. Please come back to me.”
You’re left in silence, stunned, lips parted to say something but you can’t fucking speak.
“My arms feel empty without you in them.” He whispers. “Say something, please. Don’t let me get my hopes up.” He sounds so sad but his eyes are so big and hopeful.
Fuck. Did you ever really believe you stood a chance against his charm? Of course, you’d give in.
You lean up and place the softest, most tender kiss possible on his cheek and his eyes widen. The most beautiful smile graces his lips and he kisses you as if he’s never done it before, like he’d never get the chance to do it again.
You kiss him back feverishly, hands running through his tousled curls and his hands squeeze your hips. The kiss quickly becomes hungry, passionate, desperate, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck. When you pull away, it’s only because you need air. Breathless, you rest your forehead against his.
“Baby… Let me show you just how much I love this dress on you. Let me show you how beautiful you are.” His voice is husky and raw and you can’t help the heat that rushes between your legs.
You nod vigorously and he takes your hand, walking you towards his dorm but your heels are slowing you down far too much for his impatient self. Without warning, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to his dorm, holding your heels in his other hand.
He lets you down and locks the door the second you get in before walking you over to the floor length mirror by his bed, standing behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder as you stare at yourselves in the mirror. His hands run up and down your body, running over the silk material of your dress.
“How did I survive two weeks without touching you?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You see how fuckin’ beautiful you look? You couldn’t expect me to control myself all night.”
His hand goes to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulder before undoing the back and letting the dress fall down, the green silk pooling around your ankles.
“Two weeks without this sight… Why did I do that to myself?” You’re sure he’s practically talking to himself at this point, but you don’t mind, enjoying the feeling and the sight of his fingers grazing over your hardening nipples in the mirror.
“I’m gonna fuck you right in front of this mirror so you can see how perfect you are… So you can see that no other girl, especially not my little date that you were so jealous of, could ever compare to you…” Standing behind you, his chest pressed against your now bare back, he placed kisses on your neck and down to your shoulder before shedding off his jacket and button up.
His index and middle finger travel to your jaw, turning your head to the side so he can kiss your perfect lips. His tongue grazes over your bottom lip while his hand squeezes your tit, eliciting a gasp from you and he slides his tongue in between your lips, exploring your mouth.
He kisses you as if to make up for the time that he couldn’t, as if those two weeks were an eternity of being away from you. To him, that’s what it felt like.
His mouth trails down from your lips to your jaw and to your neck, lightly sucking and leaving wet kisses. One hand stays firmly placed on your breast while the other wanders down your belly, to between your legs. You gasp, watching in the mirror. His fingers push your panties to the side and run over your soaked folds, teasing and stroking lightly but never entering you.
“Mattheo…” You murmur, staring at his biceps in the mirror, your eyes wandering down to the bulge in his pants, making it obvious that you want him naked too.
“Shh, baby. We’re gonna take it slow this time, okay? I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you.” He kisses your temple before laying down on the bed, flat on his back.
“You know what to do, dove.” He murmurs and your breath hitches. You quickly strip off your panties and move to straddle his face between your legs. You hover over him hesitantly and he senses your uncertainty.
“Relax, baby. I’ve got you.” He encourages you, rubbing his hands on your thighs soothingly. “Sit.” He demands, his voice gentle but firm.
You give in, slowly sinking down and his hands are instantly on your ass, urging you closer to him. He groans appreciatively as he feels the full weight of your pussy against his face. His tongue flicks against your clit before licking a long stripe up your slit, exploring deeper. His hands move to your inner thighs, kneading the muscle gently as he continues to worship your womanhood. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you ride his face.
“Fuck, Matt,” You lose yourself in pleasure, grinding against his face and he moans into your pussy, the vibrations driving you wild. His tongue circles your entrance and you let out a soft gasp.
His ministrations never falter, it seems like he could never get tired of tasting you. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of it in the mirror and you feel like you could cum just looking at it.
His tongue darts in and out of your pussy bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He sucks on your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body, your moans and cries of delight only encouraging him to continue his sensual assault on your cunt. Your breathing turns shallow, struggling to hold yourself back as he fucks you with his tongue.
“ ’m gonna cum, Matty,” You mumble, too dazed to think straight. Mattheo’s mouth waters as he feels your juices drip down his chin while he continues to feast on your cunt. His hands squeeze your ass tight, encouraging you to ride his face harder, savoring the taste of his work. “Cum for me, baby.” He whispers sweetly, hot breath against your cunt.
You let go and come all over his mouth while he works to swallow every drop. You pant, finally looking away from the mirror as you get off of him. He smiles at you from below before sitting up and kissing you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips.
“You taste like heaven, dove.” He tells you, stroking your cheek gently as he watches your pretty face in its post-orgasmic grace.
“Need your cock, Matty.” You mumble.
“Oh, do you, now? Two weeks and you’re this desperate to be fucked? You really are my little cockslut, aren’t you?” He coos at you and you look away, embarrassed knowing that he’s right.
While he strips off his dress pants, you get on all fours, ready for him to take you from behind, facing the headboard. His hand finds purchase on your hip and flips you over to the other side of the bed so you’re facing the mirror.
“Know just what to do, don't you? Such a good girl. But, now I want you to watch me as I fuck you so hard, you can’t see straight.” He tells you, positioning himself behind you. His hand presses down on your lower back, urging you to arch.
“You ready?” He asks, running his tip over your folds and teasing you. You nod desperately. “Words, baby.” He commands.
“I’m ready, just please fuck me, Matty.” You whine desperately. He gives a dark chuckle before sliding in without warning, watching carefully in the mirror as your face scrunches up in pleasure.
He leans down to place a tender kiss on your head as his thrusts speed up. You feel a shift in motion as Mattheo starts to move faster inside you, his hips slamming against your ass. Your head falls forward as you feel your brain turning to mush in mind-numbing pleasure. His hand grasps you by the hair and pulls your head up so you’re forced to watch him fuck you from behind in the mirror. His other hand slides down to your chest, rolling and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefingers.
“You see how fuckin’ pretty you look like this?” He asks, his voice soft yet hoarse as he stares you in the eyes. “Couldn’t ever live without this.” He groans.
“Talk to me, princess. Tell me how it feels.” He says it like he absolutely needs to hear it from you. “So good… Y’fuck me so good, Mattheo.” Your words come out in incoherent babbles and he smiles, loving how dumb he can make you.
His hand travels down your body, finding its way between your legs and rubbing at your clit while each movement of his thrusts push him deeper inside you.
“I’m close.” You warn him. “I know. I can feel your pussy fucking squeezing me.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s holding back.
He lets go of your hair to bring his hand down to your stomach, just below your navel, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach made by his dick. “You feel me, baby?” He pants, his voice husky.
You nod, a few tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined. “Feels so good, Matty.” You whimper.
”Who does this tight little cunt belong to?” He asks.
“You!” You moan, his length stroking your walls. You can feel his head brushing your cervix repeatedly.
”And who does this cock belong to?” he asks. You’re so cockdrunk that you can hardly think straight but you know you have to answer his question if you want him to let you cum.
“Me. It belongs to me.” You tell him. He smiles, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.
“Let go for me, baby.” He tells you and you immediately do, cumming all over his cock. He keeps fucking you, working towards his own orgasm and soon enough, he shoots his load deep inside of you before pulling out and peppering soft kisses all over your bare back.
“I missed you, Matty.” You mumble, letting yourself collapse forward on the bed, to which he chuckles, gently running his fingers down your back. His eyes are trained on your pussy and he uses his fingers to stuff his cum back inside you before it can leak out, your body jolting at the sensation.
“Not as much as I missed you, baby.” He kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.
Your eyes fall on his discarded green tie on the floor next to your green dress. You smile.
summary: you and mattheo attend the yule ball separately after breaking up (we’re pretending the yule ball happens every year <3)
warnings: exes to lovers, angst (?), SMUT, face sitting/riding, piv, unprotected sex (they have magic, you don’t. wrap it!), mirror sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise and degradation, creampie, nipple play (? like for one sentence), dom!mattheo, profanity, use of y/n, i think thats it but let me know if you notice anything else <3
words: 4.6k
masterlist
“Find your partners and follow my lead,” McGonnagall’s voice rings through the room. You groan internally. Who the hell are you supposed to dance with?
At the dancing lessons for the Yule Ball throughout the past few weeks, you and your perfect boyfriend, Mattheo, had practiced together. The two of you had gone together last year as well, and the night was quite literally magical. It’s safe to say that last year’s experience really set your expectations as high as possible. The idea of experiencing that same magic again made your heart flutter with excitement. You couldn’t wait.
That was until Mattheo Riddle crushed those dreams.
Yeah, he broke up with you last week. Completely crushed your spirit. Now you have to go to the ball alone.
He’s not even here right now. Merlin knows how the hell he got out of dance practices, but he’s not here and to be honest, you’re grateful because if he was, you’d have to dance with him and that just would have been awkward.
Adrien Pucey takes notice of your lonely presence from across the room and quickly approaches, somehow oblivious to the clear grimace on your face. What choice do you have? Everyone else already has a partner.
So, you give in and try your best to keep up a polite front, taking his hand and stepping to the music, despite the burning sensation on your skin every time he touches you. It’s not a good burn like when Mattheo touched you. It doesn’t make you want to ignite the rest of your body with those flames. It makes you want to drown yourself in the Black Lake just to get away from this guy. Dancing with anyone but Mattheo feels inherently wrong. Mattheo’s hands were always cold. Pucey’s hands are warm and it’s nauseating.
You’d never really spoken to Adrien too much before but from this single dance, you’d learned one thing about him: he never stops talking.
Practically beaming with relief once it’s over, your feet carry you away before you can even realize where you’re walking, ears unconsciously tuning out the sound of Adrien yelling after you.
When you and Mattheo were dating, the whole school knew that you were off limits, Mattheo had made that abundantly clear. Boys were nervous to even think about you in the wrong way, afraid that Mattheo would somehow sneak into their minds and find out. Once the news that you two broke up spread, people were practically throwing themselves at the two of you. You could only hope that Mattheo wasn’t interested in those girls the same way you still weren’t interested in other boys.
“Get me out of here,” you whine as you grab Astoria’s wrist tightly in your hand, dragging her out of the crowded room.
After dinner in the Great Hall, you’re speed walking down the corridors back to your dorm. This was actually a great feat. For days on end, you’d been so wrecked that you could hardly get out of bed, much less leave your dorm for anything other than classes with your red eyes and messy haired state. Astoria and Pansy had been bringing you your meals. So the fact that you finally went to the Great Hall today is an accomplishment.
“Y/n! Wait!” You freeze in your tracks. God, please no. Please tell me that’s not his voice.
“Slow down. I need to talk to you, dove.” Shit, it is him.
Wait, how dare he call you that? He knows how much that nickname makes your heart melt. He can’t just go around calling you that after breaking your heart. It’s not fair.
“Do not call me that. What do you want?” You say, careful to keep your voice cold as you turn around to face him.
“Don’t be like that, dove.” Oh, screw him. “I just… I heard you’re not doing well. Hardly eating, barely sleeping, you never leave your dorm. I didn’t mean to—”
“Well, you did. That’s kind of what happens when you get dumped with no explanation.” You snap and he flinches.
“I did give you an explanation.” He counters and you feel like your head is going to explode. “Did you? My bad, it felt like a dumb excuse to get away from me. Maybe I just heard it wrong,” The sarcasm in your voice is unmistakable.
“We were toxic and you know it. I’m toxic. You deserve better.” He says softly, giving you the same shitty excuse again.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. If you’re bored of me, just say that. Don’t make up some idiotic excuse about how you’re not good enough for me because if it was really that way, you’d love me enough to be better for me.”
He looks like a kicked puppy. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are soft and vulnerable and he has the cutest frown on his face that you just want to kiss away. But you can’t. He sighs, gathering the strength to speak again.
“Take proper care of yourself, please. If not for yourself, then for me.” And with that, he leaves. You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your hand over your heart that seems to be aching harder than it was before.
The ball is tonight. Mattheo has a date, you heard. Hardly 2 weeks after the breakup and he’s already got another girl hanging off his arm.
Your mind refuses to process the information. He dated you for a year. He still seems to be concerned about your well being. So how did he move on so easily? It’s not fair that you’re hurting while he’s enjoying his time with some other girl.
You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts. Your beautifully styled hair cascades over your shoulders, emerald green dress flowing around you. You’d considered not going to the ball at all, but eventually decided against it, your girls telling you that you couldn’t miss out on this just because of your ex.
“You look beautiful as ever, Y/n/n.” For someone who can’t go 10 seconds without being sarcastic, Astoria sounds uncharacteristically genuine right now. You give her a soft smile. “Thank you, Tori. You look beautiful too.”
“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Pansy ushers the three of you out of the room.
By the time you get down to the ballroom, Mattheo’s already there with his date. You’d tried your hardest not to search for him in the crowd, knowing it’d only hurt, but of course, you gave into temptation. The girl was completely unfamiliar. You’d never seen her before. Could he really not have found anyone less irrelevant?
Still, your face falls and Pansy follows your line of sight, falling on Mattheo who has his arm around some girl in a red dress. You’d worn a red dress to the ball last year and you can’t help but wonder if he remembers.
Pansy steps in front of you, blocking your view. “You look better than her.” This makes you giggle. You know it’s wrong to say things like that, but in this moment of insecurity, the reassurance feels nice.
“Don’t let it get to your head. He’s not worth it.” She takes your hand and leads you to your table, but not before you take one last glance in Mattheo’s direction. This time, you notice something that makes your heart stop.
He’s wearing a green tie.
His date is in a red dress. He’s wearing a green tie. And you… you are in a green dress.
Oh my God?
Before you’d broken up, you’d planned out your outfits for the ball and obviously, his tie had to match your dress. But you didn’t expect him to still wear it after he dumped you.
Maybe you’re reading too far into it. Maybe he just couldn’t find a red tie? Maybe he couldn't find any other tie at all? No, it can’t be. He had to have done it on purpose.
You tear your eyes away from him and walk away. Mattheo, meanwhile, is dying on the inside. The second he stepped into the ballroom, his mind was flooded with memories.
Memories of last year at the Yule Ball with Y/n, his Y/n. Her long red dress with the slit on the side and the off the shoulder sleeves and the sparkles at the top. He remembered every detail of that dress. She was always gorgeous, but he was sure she'd never looked more beautiful than she did that night, and it wasn’t only because she was all done up. It was because she had this excitement that night, this dazzling smile on her face. He was hypnotized.
No other girl compared to her. Every other dress looked like a damn dishrag in his mind compared to you. All night, the only question in his mind was, “How did I get this lucky?”
He remembered dancing with you that night. It was early in your relationship, you hadn’t even had your first kiss together yet. It was still easy for him to make you blush. You giggled at every stupid word, every corny pick up line he whispered in your ear.
“That dress looks uncomfortable. You should let me take it off of you.” He’d whispered with a wink as you waltzed and you’d blessed him with the angelic sound of your laugh, shushing him. He kept stepping on the ends of your expensive dress, but it was even because you kept stepping on his shoes with your heels. You blushed in embarrassment every time and he’d have to pry your hands away from your shy face.
You’d bumped into people while dancing but you were too wrapped up in each other to be embarrassed or to even notice. Mattheo flipped off anyone who stared or gave you weird looks for laughing too loud.
“Don’t mess up my makeup. I spent an hour on it.” You’d told him, to which he’d smiled mischievously and ended up kissing your cheek. It was only at that end of the night, after he’d walked you back to your dorm whilst carrying your heels, that he’d kissed you for the first time with his hands on the soft, supple skin of your face. The way you’d stared at him with your cute doe eyes, full of wonder and joy, after he’d pulled away is forever engraved in his brain. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks were red and in Mattheo’s opinion, you’d never looked more adorable. He remembered looking down at you and seeing the glow of your makeup in the dimly lit dorm halls. God, you had him mesmerized.
But that was over now. He has a different girl on his arm now. He should at least try to enjoy his night, right?
He looks at the girl only to find her already staring at him and as guilty as he feels for it, all he can think is that she can’t hold a candle to Y/n. Not to her beauty, her wit, her humor, her soft voice, her captivating eyes, her radiant smile. Nothing.
His eyes mindlessly wander around the room and land on Y/n for the first time and suddenly he’s floored. He’s frozen, butterflies flying from his stomach and up his throat.
He hadn’t seen you in your dress before. He thought that you in your red dress at last year’s ball was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. Oh, how wrong he was.
You look unreal tonight. He can’t help but wonder if you even came from this planet. Is it possible for a human being to be so perfect?
The only thing missing is that radiant smile you showed off last year, the one he was so used to seeing grace your pretty face every time he walked into a room with you in it.
Now, you just look… bored. Empty, even. And he wishes he could put back the smile that he stole from you. You look incomplete without it.
His own stupid self-sabotaging tendencies are the reason why he’s not dancing with you right now and he hates himself for it. He knows he’s nowhere near good enough for you, but is it so wrong to be selfish? He is just a man, after all.
The night goes by miserably for the both of you. You, sitting alone at your table, occasionally walking over to get some punch, and Mattheo, dancing with a girl who he guiltily pretends is you.
Occasionally, you’d make eye contact and you wouldn’t even bother to hide the pain in your eyes, looking from him to the girl beside him. You hope he feels bad.
He does.
Picking at your freshly done nails, you huff in boredom. Glancing up, you notice something strange. Pansy’s talking to Theodore in the corner of the room? Well, it’s not too strange, I guess, but it’s interesting. Pansy stopped talking to Theo as a sign of loyalty to you, since Theo was Mattheo’s best friend. So what could they possibly be talking about?
The night is filled with tension filled staring and lingering glances with Mattheo and suddenly, you’ve had enough of sitting around, informing Pansy that you’re leaving. She frowns in disappointment.
“Hold on, just one more dance. Please?” She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you sigh, giving in. Pansy drags you to the dance floor where the two of you move together to the upbeat music, when suddenly, a slow song starts playing. You sigh, turning to leave when Pansy grabs your hand. “Nuh uh, just dance with me.” She tells you, putting her hands on your waist.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion but don’t object.
Her smile turns from gleeful to apologetic within a second. “Hey, I’m really sorry.” She winks at you and now you’re more confused than ever. “What?” You ask but before you can get a response, you’re being shoved away. You stumble over your dress and your back crashes into some guy's chest, his hands instantly finding your shoulders to steady you.
“I’m so sorry, I—” You start but cut yourself off when you recognize the scent of the cologne behind you. You turn around to find your ex-boyfriend who seems to be glaring at Pansy behind you. You weren’t supposed to push her that damn hard, He thinks.
“Sorry,” You repeat bluntly before trying to walk away but he catches your arm. “Don’t walk away.” He tells you, his voice firm but you can hear an underlying sense of… desperation?
“Having fun with your date?” You ask bitterly, a petty smile on your face. It seems you couldn’t care less that you were on the dance floor in the middle of a bunch of people. You were ready to argue right here, right now. His jaw clenches in frustration. “No.” He answers simply.
“No? Seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me.” You tell him. You know that’s not true, even you could admit that he looked miserable all night, but you were caught up in jealousy. What could you do?
“Y/n, she’s nothing to me.”
You just scoff. “Yeah, right. You know, I actually don’t doubt that. Clearly you have a way of getting girls to believe they mean something to you only for you to drop them like they’re nothing.” You practically rip your arm out of his grasp and walk away, leaving the ballroom. He follows you outside into the courtyard.
“Dove, please. Listen to me,” he begs.
You don’t reply as you just keep walking.
“I love you!” He shouts in a desperate attempt to get you to stop running from him.
And you stop in your tracks. You can’t move. Your limbs are frozen. Why can’t you move? Move!
Taking advantage of your solid state, he walks to you and stands in front of you, taking your face in his hands. Suddenly, you’re teary eyed.
“I love you.” He reiterates in a whisper. “I still do.”
You swallow hard. Why is your chest burning? Is it hope or is it anger?
“Let me explain, okay? I wanted to be here with you tonight. That girl… She’s just a distraction. I thought… I thought that if I came with someone else, maybe I’d get you out of my head, but it only made it worse, baby.” He says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Your stomach flips at the pet name.
“I hate that I took that beautiful smile off of your face. You look fucking stunning, dove. But you don’t look right without your pretty smile… I’m so fucking sorry I broke your heart. I thought I was doing it for your own good but you’re hurting now and that hurts me. Look, baby, I’m not good enough for you. I know that. But for once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna let myself be selfish. Please come back to me.”
You’re left in silence, stunned, lips parted to say something but you can’t fucking speak.
“My arms feel empty without you in them.” He whispers. “Say something, please. Don’t let me get my hopes up.” He sounds so sad but his eyes are so big and hopeful.
Fuck. Did you ever really believe you stood a chance against his charm? Of course, you’d give in.
You lean up and place the softest, most tender kiss possible on his cheek and his eyes widen. The most beautiful smile graces his lips and he kisses you as if he’s never done it before, like he’d never get the chance to do it again.
You kiss him back feverishly, hands running through his tousled curls and his hands squeeze your hips. The kiss quickly becomes hungry, passionate, desperate, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck. When you pull away, it’s only because you need air. Breathless, you rest your forehead against his.
“Baby… Let me show you just how much I love this dress on you. Let me show you how beautiful you are.” His voice is husky and raw and you can’t help the heat that rushes between your legs.
You nod vigorously and he takes your hand, walking you towards his dorm but your heels are slowing you down far too much for his impatient self. Without warning, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to his dorm, holding your heels in his other hand.
He lets you down and locks the door the second you get in before walking you over to the floor length mirror by his bed, standing behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder as you stare at yourselves in the mirror. His hands run up and down your body, running over the silk material of your dress.
“How did I survive two weeks without touching you?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You see how fuckin’ beautiful you look? You couldn’t expect me to control myself all night.”
His hand goes to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulder before undoing the back and letting the dress fall down, the green silk pooling around your ankles.
“Two weeks without this sight… Why did I do that to myself?” You’re sure he’s practically talking to himself at this point, but you don’t mind, enjoying the feeling and the sight of his fingers grazing over your hardening nipples in the mirror.
“I’m gonna fuck you right in front of this mirror so you can see how perfect you are… So you can see that no other girl, especially not my little date that you were so jealous of, could ever compare to you…” Standing behind you, his chest pressed against your now bare back, he placed kisses on your neck and down to your shoulder before shedding off his jacket and button up.
His index and middle finger travel to your jaw, turning your head to the side so he can kiss your perfect lips. His tongue grazes over your bottom lip while his hand squeezes your tit, eliciting a gasp from you and he slides his tongue in between your lips, exploring your mouth.
He kisses you as if to make up for the time that he couldn’t, as if those two weeks were an eternity of being away from you. To him, that’s what it felt like.
His mouth trails down from your lips to your jaw and to your neck, lightly sucking and leaving wet kisses. One hand stays firmly placed on your breast while the other wanders down your belly, to between your legs. You gasp, watching in the mirror. His fingers push your panties to the side and run over your soaked folds, teasing and stroking lightly but never entering you.
“Mattheo…” You murmur, staring at his biceps in the mirror, your eyes wandering down to the bulge in his pants, making it obvious that you want him naked too.
“Shh, baby. We’re gonna take it slow this time, okay? I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you.” He kisses your temple before laying down on the bed, flat on his back.
“You know what to do, dove.” He murmurs and your breath hitches. You quickly strip off your panties and move to straddle his face between your legs. You hover over him hesitantly and he senses your uncertainty.
“Relax, baby. I’ve got you.” He encourages you, rubbing his hands on your thighs soothingly. “Sit.” He demands, his voice gentle but firm.
You give in, slowly sinking down and his hands are instantly on your ass, urging you closer to him. He groans appreciatively as he feels the full weight of your pussy against his face. His tongue flicks against your clit before licking a long stripe up your slit, exploring deeper. His hands move to your inner thighs, kneading the muscle gently as he continues to worship your womanhood. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you ride his face.
“Fuck, Matt,” You lose yourself in pleasure, grinding against his face and he moans into your pussy, the vibrations driving you wild. His tongue circles your entrance and you let out a soft gasp.
His ministrations never falter, it seems like he could never get tired of tasting you. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of it in the mirror and you feel like you could cum just looking at it.
His tongue darts in and out of your pussy bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He sucks on your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body, your moans and cries of delight only encouraging him to continue his sensual assault on your cunt. Your breathing turns shallow, struggling to hold yourself back as he fucks you with his tongue.
“ ’m gonna cum, Matty,” You mumble, too dazed to think straight. Mattheo’s mouth waters as he feels your juices drip down his chin while he continues to feast on your cunt. His hands squeeze your ass tight, encouraging you to ride his face harder, savoring the taste of his work. “Cum for me, baby.” He whispers sweetly, hot breath against your cunt.
You let go and come all over his mouth while he works to swallow every drop. You pant, finally looking away from the mirror as you get off of him. He smiles at you from below before sitting up and kissing you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips.
“You taste like heaven, dove.” He tells you, stroking your cheek gently as he watches your pretty face in its post-orgasmic grace.
“Need your cock, Matty.” You mumble.
“Oh, do you, now? Two weeks and you’re this desperate to be fucked? You really are my little cockslut, aren’t you?” He coos at you and you look away, embarrassed knowing that he’s right.
While he strips off his dress pants, you get on all fours, ready for him to take you from behind, facing the headboard. His hand finds purchase on your hip and flips you over to the other side of the bed so you’re facing the mirror.
“Know just what to do, don't you? Such a good girl. But, now I want you to watch me as I fuck you so hard, you can’t see straight.” He tells you, positioning himself behind you. His hand presses down on your lower back, urging you to arch.
“You ready?” He asks, running his tip over your folds and teasing you. You nod desperately. “Words, baby.” He commands.
“I’m ready, just please fuck me, Matty.” You whine desperately. He gives a dark chuckle before sliding in without warning, watching carefully in the mirror as your face scrunches up in pleasure.
He leans down to place a tender kiss on your head as his thrusts speed up. You feel a shift in motion as Mattheo starts to move faster inside you, his hips slamming against your ass. Your head falls forward as you feel your brain turning to mush in mind-numbing pleasure. His hand grasps you by the hair and pulls your head up so you’re forced to watch him fuck you from behind in the mirror. His other hand slides down to your chest, rolling and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefingers.
“You see how fuckin’ pretty you look like this?” He asks, his voice soft yet hoarse as he stares you in the eyes. “Couldn’t ever live without this.” He groans.
“Talk to me, princess. Tell me how it feels.” He says it like he absolutely needs to hear it from you. “So good… Y’fuck me so good, Mattheo.” Your words come out in incoherent babbles and he smiles, loving how dumb he can make you.
His hand travels down your body, finding its way between your legs and rubbing at your clit while each movement of his thrusts push him deeper inside you.
“I’m close.” You warn him. “I know. I can feel your pussy fucking squeezing me.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s holding back.
He lets go of your hair to bring his hand down to your stomach, just below your navel, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach made by his dick. “You feel me, baby?” He pants, his voice husky.
You nod, a few tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined. “Feels so good, Matty.” You whimper.
”Who does this tight little cunt belong to?” He asks.
“You!” You moan, his length stroking your walls. You can feel his head brushing your cervix repeatedly.
”And who does this cock belong to?” he asks. You’re so cockdrunk that you can hardly think straight but you know you have to answer his question if you want him to let you cum.
“Me. It belongs to me.” You tell him. He smiles, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.
“Let go for me, baby.” He tells you and you immediately do, cumming all over his cock. He keeps fucking you, working towards his own orgasm and soon enough, he shoots his load deep inside of you before pulling out and peppering soft kisses all over your bare back.
“I missed you, Matty.” You mumble, letting yourself collapse forward on the bed, to which he chuckles, gently running his fingers down your back. His eyes are trained on your pussy and he uses his fingers to stuff his cum back inside you before it can leak out, your body jolting at the sensation.
“Not as much as I missed you, baby.” He kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.
Your eyes fall on his discarded green tie on the floor next to your green dress. You smile.
He never stopped being yours.
first fic! i lowkey hate it and this is my first time writing smut so i apologize if its a bit awkward or confusing 😕💔 thank you sm for reading !! 💘
summary; a restless night by the lake, where longing and unspoken tension linger in the air, and neither of you dares to close the distance.
words ; 1.2k
warnings ; angst?, confusing dynamic
navigation mattheo riddle masterlist
The night air was still, heavy with the scent of summer. The sky stretched endlessly above the Black Lake, a sea of dark velvet studded with flickering stars. The moon hung low, casting a pale glow over the rippling water, turning it into a mirror of light. And there you were, standing at the edge of it all, your silhouette sharp against the backdrop of night, your presence pulling him in like gravity.
Mattheo couldn’t take his eyes off you. Not now, not ever.
There was something about you that made him restless. He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was the way you seemed so distant, even when you were near, your thoughts always miles away from the noise of the world. Maybe it was the way you laughed—soft and easy, as if you were keeping a secret from everyone else, one that he desperately wanted to know. Or maybe it was the way your eyes met his in fleeting moments, like you could see right through the mask he wore so well.
He watched you now, the breeze tousling your hair as you gazed out over the water. You were like that—quiet, contained—but there was a fire underneath, something simmering just beneath the surface. And every time Mattheo got close enough to see it, you pulled back, leaving him wondering if he was imagining it all.
He hated it. He hated the way you made him feel unsteady, like he was losing control. Control was everything to Mattheo—had been ever since he could remember. He had mastered the art of pretending, of knowing exactly what to say to get what he wanted. Girls? Easy. They were always the same—predictable, eager to fall into whatever role he needed them to play for the night. It was a game, and he knew the rules inside out.
But with you? The rules didn’t apply.
And it infuriated him.
He leaned back against a tree, his arms crossed, watching as you finally sat down on the grass, pulling your knees to your chest. The moonlight caught on the soft curve of your jaw, the delicate slope of your shoulders. His jaw clenched. He wanted to go to you, to sit beside you and ask what the hell you were thinking about. But he didn’t. You never gave him that satisfaction.
This thing between you two—it was like chasing shadows. Every time he thought he had you figured out, you slipped through his fingers, leaving him empty. And still, he couldn’t stay away.
You had become an obsession, the one thing he couldn’t conquer.
A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the soft murmur of the lake. Mattheo’s thoughts drifted, his mind wandering back to the countless nights before this one—nights spent in dark corners, your voice low and teasing, your touch always just out of reach. He remembered the way you had laughed at him once, telling him he didn’t know how to take things seriously. He had scoffed at you, brushing it off. But later, when he was alone in the quiet of his dorm, your words lingered, biting deeper than they should have.
Because maybe you were right.
Maybe he didn’t know how to take anything seriously. Maybe that’s why he was so damn terrified of whatever this was with you.
Mattheo pushed himself off the tree, his feet carrying him toward you before he even realized what he was doing. You didn’t look up when he sat down beside you, though he could feel the shift in the air between you. Tense, like you were waiting for something to happen.
His gaze slid over to you, taking in the way your lashes fluttered as you stared out at the lake. He wondered what you saw out there. What was going on inside that head of yours?
“You always come here,” he said, his voice low, almost accusing.
You didn’t look at him. “So do you.”
He huffed a laugh, the sound bitter. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m waiting for something.”
That got your attention. You turned your head, your eyes locking onto his. His heart skipped a beat—something it had no business doing—and for a second, he thought you might say something that would change everything. But you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you just looked at him, as if you were searching for something in his expression, something that never quite showed.
“You always wait,” you murmured. “But you never move.”
The words hit him harder than he expected. He had heard things like that before—people telling him he didn’t care, that he was incapable of actually feeling anything real. He had shrugged it off, letting the words slide over him like water. But when you said it, it felt different. It felt like a challenge.
Mattheo leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower. “Maybe that’s because every time I try to move, you pull away.”
You blinked, your lips parting slightly as if you were about to speak. But then, you didn’t. You just stared at him, and for the first time in a long time, Mattheo felt vulnerable. Exposed.
He hated it.
His hand reached out before he could stop himself, his fingers brushing against your arm. You didn’t pull away, and that was enough to make his pulse quicken. He could feel the warmth of your skin beneath his, the electric current that always seemed to crackle in the air when you were near.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than he intended.
But you didn’t. You just looked at him with those eyes that always seemed to know too much, and something inside him twisted. He didn’t understand you. He didn’t understand why he was drawn to you like this, why every girl before you had been so simple, so easy, and yet you were the one thing he couldn’t grasp.
You looked away, breaking the moment, and Mattheo’s chest tightened with frustration. He was desperate to know what you were thinking, to know why you kept him at arm’s length. Every time he tried to get closer, you slipped further away.
And yet, he couldn’t stop chasing you.
The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. The night was still, the world holding its breath as if waiting for something to happen.
Then you stood up, brushing the grass off your skirt. “It’s late,” you said softly, your voice distant, like you were already gone.
Mattheo’s heart sank, his hand clenching into a fist in the grass. He watched as you walked away, your figure fading into the darkness, and for a moment, he wanted to call out to you, to tell you to stop running. To tell you that he was falling—harder than he ever had before—and he didn’t know how to make you see it.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he sat there, watching your shadow disappear into the night, knowing that he’d keep waiting. Just like he always did.
this was inspired by ‘each time you fall in love’ by cigarettes after sex!! also thank you @ur-local-wizard and @riddleswhcre for proof reading this a while ago i love you guys <3
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You’ve recently started seeing a new guy… but this incubus isn’t happy about that.
MDNI!! an incubus is a demon, sex dreams, slight coercion, creampie, unprotected piv, blood, biting, fingering, possessiveness, jealousy, incubus!mattheo x fem!reader, I am not responsible for your media consumption.
w/c: 1,786
nav masterlist au list
a/n: my very late contribution to week 2 of @acourtofchaos's au event!
The dreams started the night you kissed that gryffindor boy. Alex and you weren’t exclusive, never have been. You’d been going on dates, and he seemed to like you, but you two never agreed to anything official. He was kind, there was no doubt about that. Safe, too. He was the kind of boy who asked to kiss you, who would never go farther than holding your hand.
But you two never shared that spark, that fire, that aching intensity that’s been haunting you ever since you slept with the boy everyone steered away from – Mattheo Riddle. But unfortunately for you – and your pussy – that was just a fling; a one time occurrence. You were over it, over him. Or so you thought.
Because when you went to bed after that first kiss, sweet, chaste, forgettable, you dreamt of sex. Of teeth scraping against your neck. Of a hand wrapping around your throat. Of someone pushing you down onto your mattress, forcing your thighs apart with a noise that said he’d needed this. Needed you.
The first time it happened, you attributed it to stress. Maybe it could’ve been your lack of recent sex. But the second night, you dreamt of his mouth. Wet kisses trailing down your throat. His mouth nipping at your thighs. You could practically feel his breath blowing gently against your ear as he whispered, “You think he can fuck you like this?” And, “Is this how you moan for him?”
By the fifth night, you were trembling when you woke up. Your skin was slick with sweat, your panties ruined by your arousal, and an unbearable ache between your thighs. And worst of all? You felt like you were being watched, like someone was drinking up all your pent up need and savoring it like the finest wine.
By the second week, you knew this couldn’t possibly be a coincidence anymore. Every erotic dream you had, every lustful image you thought of, was centered around him – Mattheo Riddle. Touching yourself at night didn’t help. Instead, it only made things worse. Not only that, but you kept seeing him around the castle. His gaze was always on you, dilated eyes never failing to meet yours. The expression on his face was always one of hunger. These dreams were meant as punishment. Torture. A warning.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Mattheo’s hands are everywhere. He’s trailing his hands down your body, then grips your thighs, forcing them apart. He loops his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulls them down without a second thought.
For some reason, you’re begging. Not softly, not sweetly. You’re begging desperately, your body writhing under him.
“Please,” you gasp, his name like a prayer on your tongue. “Fuck. Mattheo, I need you.”
The bastard only chuckles that rich, dark laugh that makes your stomach flutter. You groan, annoyed.
“Please what, sweetheart?” He purred against your inner thigh, sucking marks into the sensitive flesh. “Tell me what you want. I may be a demon, but I can’t read thoughts.”
Your whole body tensed. “Please. I want you. I need you to-”
You woke with a gasp, body jolting to a sitting position. Heart pounding, sweat clung to your skin. And then you realized you weren’t alone. Mattheo was sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you.
“Miss me?” He asked, voice low and rough, curls shadowing his face. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, those perfect eyes trained solely on you as you jerked back against the pillows. He could practically hear your heart slamming against your chest.
“What the fuck?”
“Shh. You were moaning my name, sweetheart. Loud enough for the whole castle to hear. Poor little Alex is going to be crushed, won’t he?” He mused with mock sympathy, watching your face flush. “Quite the dream you were having, huh?”
“How’d you get in here?” You questioned, attempting to change the subject.
He smirked. “You invited me, love. Every moan. Every dream. Every fucking time you touched yourself at night, imagining my hands instead of that grimy gryffindor’s. You opened the door – gave me the opportunity.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
He shushed you before you could finish, “voice low like a purr, “Shh… But you did.” His hand crept under your blanket, finding your thigh, touch so warm it was inhuman. You should’ve pushed him away. You didn’t.
Your thighs clenched together, and he felt it. He inhaled deeply, groaning. “So wet already, fuck. Your desire is so sweet. Been feeding off this for weeks, sending you all these dreams. But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.”
“That was you?” You asked, incredulous. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be able to be here,” you panted, trying to make him leave.
“What, you want me gone?” He asked, dark eyes locked on yours. There was a knowing smirk on his lips, like he knew you wouldn’t object. But he still wanted to give you a chance to say no, wanting you to fully want this.
You didn’t answer, silence filling the void between you.
He moved to hover over you, forcing you to lay back down, his arms caging you in. “Tell me to stop.”
But again, there was silence.
Mattheo’s mouth crashed onto yours, his kiss feral, hungry, demanding. His hand slid between your legs and you gasped as his fingers ran over your soaked panties.
“Look at you… fucking dripping. And that's all for me. No one else,” he rasped. In one swift movement, he hooked his fingers in your panties, pulling them right off you. Just like in your dream.
“You fucked me once, and now nothing else will do. Nobody else will do,” he rasped, shoving two fingers into you without warning. “So fucking tight.”
A whimper escaped your lips when he curled his fingers just right, and he smirked as he left kisses down your neck.
“You’re going to come for me,” he hissed, pumping his fingers at a rapid pace. “You’re going to come on my fingers and then beg me to fuck you properly. You hear that, love?”
All you could do was moan loudly as your hips bucked, rocking against his hand. That’s when he bit you, teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder. “Fucking answer me,” he barked, but the pain only doubled your pleasure.
Your body convulsed, walls clenching around his fingers as you came with a broken cry. The orgasm hit hard and fast, making your vision blur at the edges as your nails clawed at his back. You could feel his tongue lapping at your wound, drinking up not only your blood but also your pleasure. When he pulled back, lips stained crimson, he looked like not only the demon he was, but sin itself.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured, hands moving to drag your shirt over your head. He landed kisses on every inch of newly exposed skin, nipping at your chest until your breasts were littered with marks.
“You want me to be gentle?” He asked, voice soft. His face was level with yours now, arms caging you in as he hovered over you. “Last chance, sweetheart.”
You looked into his eyes, and whispered, “No. Prove to me that this isn’t just another fling.”
He looked startled at that, but the next thing you knew, his belt was clanging to the floor, cock pressing against your entrance.
“You’re mine. Say it. Say it and ask me to give you what you want” he panted, voice trembling with restraint.
“I’m yours,” you breathed, your expression full of longing. “Please. Please, I need you, Mattheo.”
You barely got to finish your sentence before he slammed into you, bottoming out in one brutal thrust. A moan left your lips, and he didn’t move for a long moment, letting you adjust. Then, his hips started to move, slow at first, then faster. The bed creaked beneath you both as his thrusts grew deeper, harsher. You were absolutely soaked – the obscene sounds of sex filling the room.
“Fuck,” he murmured, head falling to rest in the crook of your neck, “you were made for me.”
His hand reached between you to rub your clit, moving his fingers in fast, rapid circles.
“Does he fuck you like this?” Mattheo demanded. “Does he make you moan like this? Like the pathetic slut you are?”
You couldn’t speak. All you could do was mewl and squirm, which did not help his temper.
“Fucking answer me.”
“No,” you sobbed. “Only you, Mattheo.”
He laughed, dark and cruel, before gripping your throat with just enough pressure to make your eyes flutter. He sucked a mark into the flesh just above your breast before biting down, and blood welled up immediately. “You’re mine now,” he rasped against your chest. “Mine to fuck. Mine to make bleed.”
He licked up your blood with a low groan, his cock twitching inside you from the taste.
“You have no idea what you do to me. I’d kill him – that gryffindor bastard. Tear him apart for touching you,” he muttered, now littering kisses over your fresh wound.
“Then do it,” you gasped. “Prove it.”
Something snapped in him then, and his pace turned pushishing. You couldn't think, couldn’t breathe. Every one of his thrusts sent sparks through your body. Every bite, every filthy praise he muttered into your ear pushed you closer to your next climax.
“Mattheo… I’m gonna come,” you sobbed. “Please. Don’t stop!”
“Come on my cock,” he snarled. “You can do it. Let me have you.”
Your orgasm hit like fire. Vision going white, your body trembled as you clenched around him, and he came next with a low moan. Hot, thick, he spilled deep inside you, never bothering to pull out. Instead, he rocked into you slowly, letting you feel all of him in your overly sensitive state. He grinned, his teeth still stained red with your blood.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “Forever.”
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
When you woke up the next morning, he was still there. Lying beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, he had a hand splayed possessively over your stomach, the other buried in your hair, as if he was playing with it as he fell asleep.
You ached everywhere, yet you’d never felt so satisfied. The bite marks on your skin were still fresh, still stinging. Your thighs were sticky with the mix of both your cum. You should’ve been embarrassed, ashamed. But all you felt was his. His, and absolutely adored.
He opened his eyes, gaze tired but loving. “Morning, angel.”
You didn’t speak, just pressed a soft kiss to his lips and settled back into his embrace.
hope you enjoyed!! reblogs and comments are VERY appreciated and motivate me lots! <3
tag list: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink @voidangxls @viperify @winnie1emon @catching-fire-in-the-wind
And then you realized you weren’t alone. Mattheo was sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you.
“Miss me?” He asked, voice low and rough, curls shadowing his face.
YES I DID!!!!!!
You could feel his tongue lapping at your wound, drinking up not only your blood but also your pleasure.
usually not into blood but.......... IDK something about biting makes me go insane.
You should’ve been embarrassed, ashamed. But all you felt was his. His, and absolutely adored.
yeah i would have NO regrets after sleeping with him :pp okay but seriously soph that was so good!! i love the sneaky cheating trope im sorry !!!
Mattheo Riddle, an incubus, is used to getting his way. But when he falls for you --the one girl immune to his charms -- and learns of your innocence, he's overcome with the want to ruin you for anyone else.
MDNI! corruption kink, praise, fingering, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, creampie, loss of virginity, incubus!mattheo x fem!reader, I am not responsible for your media consumption
w/c: 1.6k
in response to this request!
masterlist au list
a/n: first smut ever!! I hope this lives up to all the expectations! <3
Seduction came to Mattheo Riddle as if it was his mother tongue – natural, unhurried. He knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and the way to angle his smirk just right to make people weak in the knees. His smile was devastating, his voice rich and deep, his touch always featherlight yet never failing to leave a scorching heat behind. He thrived off sexual innuendos, his existence woven into every fantasy and every intimate thought that flitted through every mind.
But you seemed to be immune to his charms.
Remaining blissfully ignorant to his attempts, you somehow escaped every interaction with the demon entirely untouched by the sin that dripped from his lips. It was confusing, infuriating, yet somehow intoxicating; only serving to make him thirst for more.
“You know,” he purred, leaning closer to where you sat in the common room. “If you ever need help with anything, I’m here. You only have to ask.”
You blinked up at him, and a wholesome smile spread across your lips. “That’s so sweet of you, Matty. You’re such a good friend.”
He nearly choked on his own spit at your response. Friend? He was a literal demon of temptation and desire, and yet you thought his actions were friendly?
His flirtations only escalated after that. Every smirk, wink, lingering touch, was only met with a beaming smile or polite nod. You were a puzzle, a challenge. He wanted to figure you out – to understand how to get his message across. And yet he found himself drawn to you in other ways; ones that weren’t driven solely by physical need.
Then he heard the rumors.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He was just drinking at a party like usual, when he heard Pansy’s voice. “Y/n’s a virgin? Makes sense I guess. But with a face like that, I expected more,” he heard her say.
He felt the world tilt for a moment, and not from the alcohol he was drinking. Everything in him was screaming, the depraved part of him clawing at the edges of his restraint. A virgin. Pure. Untouched.
His body ached at the thought, and the demonic part of him longed to find you and corrupt you, defile you. But the last thing he wanted was for you to see him as he was – a monster, a predator, a creature of hunger and lust. He wanted you desperately, needed you even, but he would never force anything on you.
For the first time in his life, Mattheo Riddle was at a complete loss for what to do.
Although it was difficult, Mattheo tried to distance himself after that revelation. He told himself that it was for your own good, that you were better off without him, that he would ruin you if he got too close.
But the more he resisted, the more unbearable the distance from you became. He still heard your laugh echoing throughout the corridors, still caught glimpses of you in the Great Hall, still felt the echo of your innocent touches that lingered, their memory like a brand seared into his skin.
However, you noticed the change in his behavior almost instantly, and began to wonder if you’d done something wrong.
“Matty?” You asked one day, your voice soft and uncertain. You’d caught him just after curfew, when everyone was meant to be heading to their dorms. “Are you mad at me? Have I done something?”
Mattheo’s fists clenched at his sides, not able to stand the way your doe eyes were filled with guilt and concern. No fear, no anger, no suspicion, just pure and genuine worry. It broke his heart, and he had to look away. “No angel, you didn’t do anything.”
You tilted your head in confusion, and your brows furrowing. “Then why have you been avoiding me?”
His mouth floundered as he searched for something to say. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t scare you? That wouldn’t hurt you? Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie either. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, giving a non-answer while shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Then explain it to me,” you said, looking up at him expectantly.
Finally, his eyes meet yours. You stood firm, gaze unwavering, arms crossed over your chest. The sight of you, so determined, so concerned, made him snap.
“You drive me mad, you know that? Every time you smile at me, every goddamn touch, makes me go absolutely insane. I want you so bad… I wanna ruin you for anyone else.
“So? Who said I didn’t feel the same way, Matty?”
He stared at you in utter disbelief. “But all the hints I threw-”
“Yeah, I get those now,” you grumble. “After I realize you share the same feelings. I just… didn’t want to assume.”
He scoffs and takes a step closer. “So you want this too?”
As soon as you nod, he’s on you. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging lightly, as he backed you against the wall. One hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, and you could feel his desire pressing against you. The kiss was fervent, full of pent-up desire, yet beneath the urgency there was tenderness.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot on your skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re so fucking perfect.”
His hands were warm as they slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. Your bra was next, falling away to meet your shirt, and you should have been mortified of being so exposed in the common room. But you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Not when his touch ignited something within you that you never knew was there, not when his lips brushed against your ear, whispering sweet praises that made your stomach tighten with need.
His own shirt was next, falling into the growing pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Hands finding your hips, he spun you around, and you immediately braced yourself against the wall. The stone was hard and cold against your hands, and the cold air of the common room caused your nipples to pebble. His touch drifted down your back, before slipping under your skirt to rub against your core. Letting out a gasp of surprise, your hips jolted towards his touch, earning a soothing hum from the man behind you.
“I’ll be gentle, okay? So fucking gentle,” he murmured as he moved your panties to the side. Two fingers slipped inside your cunt with ease, earning a whine from you.
“Fuck. You're so tight. So wet,” he groaned as he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars. “I really am the only one to touch you like this? Gonna be the first and last, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you moaned, head falling forward as a knot started to form in your belly.
His fingers picked up their pace, pumping and curling just right, just enough to drive you dangerously close to the edge. “I want you to promise, angel. Promise me I’ll be the only one to ever see this beautiful pussy of yours.”
You nodded enthusiastically, but that didn't satisfy him. Right as you were about to finish, he tore his hand away from you, leaving you teetering on the brink. The loss and emptiness made you whimper, but when you heard him unbuckling his belt, anticipation replaced the frustration. The suspense made you tense, your thighs pressing together in search of relief.
The head of his cock brushed against your entrance, teasing, but he didn't move. “I want to hear you say it. Promise me, angel.”
“I promise,” you whined, growing impatient from the loss of sensation. You wanted him desperately.
That was all he needed to hear, his hips surging forward, thrusting into you with one swift motion. A choked gasp escaped your lips, the stretch making you wince. He stilled, letting you adjust, though his grip on your hips tightened like he was barely holding himself back.
“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. Your fingers curled against the wall, and when you started to squirm, he took that as a hint to move. His first thrust was slow, gentle. It was your first time after all. But eventually his restraint snapped. His rhythm was deep and deliberate, fucking into you as if this was the last thing he'd ever do.
One hand snaked around your body to rub tight circles on your clit that made your knees buckle. He caught you, keeping you upright as his pace never faltered.
“Feel so good. Like you were made for me,” he moans, his voice raw.
His continued ministrations made pressure build once again, white-hot pleasure beginning to curl insistently in your stomach. You could feel it, the inevitable, and his increasingly erratic movements were a tell-tale sign that he was close too.
“Come for me,” he whispered, coaxing you. “Prove to me how perfectly you were made for me.”
Pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming. You tightened and fluttered around him, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his throat. He followed soon after, burying himself deep with a groan.
For a moment, neither of you moved, lost in the shock of what had just happened. Then he pulled out and turned you around, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.
“You did perfect, just like I knew you would.”
tag list: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink @voidangxls @riddleswhcre @riddleshire
my activity on tumblr is fluctuating so hard currently but i am so glad i didnt miss this.
“Y/n’s a virgin? Makes sense I guess. But with a face like that, I expected more,” he heard her say.
stop u flatter meeeeeeee (my face is CLAPPED)
“Yeah, I get those now,” you grumble. “After I realize you share the same feelings. I just… didn’t want to assume.”
ugh kinda real i cant take hints unless im run over by them
You nodded enthusiastically, but that didn't satisfy him. Right as you were about to finish, he tore his hand away from you, leaving you teetering on the brink.
not to be a freak-a-zoid but who doesnt love a good tease idk ...
summary ; being an animagus comes with its perks, and its unexpected challenges. especially when you’re sick, stubborn, and your brother’s best friend is trying his best to take care of you.
words ; 1.8k
warnings ; fluff, bunny animagus!reader, brother’s best friend!mattheo, illness
navigation 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.
summary: quidditch is a sport that demands strength and stamina, resulting in physical exertion. exertion equals releasing disproportionate amounts of warmth, which, as it turns out, feels better shared.
pairing: mattheo riddle x reader
cw: 18+ smut, enemies to lovers, rough p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, spanking, choking, degrading, hair grabbing, cursing.
wc: 3.1k
a/n: the first fic of the naughty side of the list, so buckle up for the filth!! hope you enjoy <3
The entirety of the Quidditch stadium roared as Harry Potter hovered proudly in the air, the Golden Snitch snug between his fingers. The ultimate rivalry between the houses never ceased to exist, be it on the school grounds or on the pitch, the students from other houses having chosen a side long ago and now discreetly passing galleons to each other in the stands. You craned your neck a bit, your loosely tied scarf sliding off as you watched the players descend onto the ground, the green and silver side clearly trying to get off the pitch as hastily as possible.
Mattheo was, for all intents and purposes, pissed. His nostrils were flared, his breath coming out short and ragged, the exertion from the long-winded game straining his aching muscles. His bat was clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles almost translucent as he fought the urge to swing it at the annoyingly smug Gryffindors who seemed to be very purposeful with the loudness of their celebrations. A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth – the opportunity was too golden, no pun intended, to have a go at the guy, even though you knew that now, of all times, he wouldn’t dream of holding back. It was a constant push and pull between the two of you, a burning need to kick the other while they were down, and a loss of a very important game was a chance presenting itself on a silver platter.
"Hey, Riddle!"
The sound of your voice made Mattheo grit his teeth, the vibration echoing in his already ringing ears. His eyes briefly darted to you descending the stairs from the top of the stands, the look in them as close to murderous as it can possibly get.
"Don’t," he muttered, continuing to stride across the field, towards the tunnel, where the other players from the Slytherin team had already disappeared.
"Don’t what?"
Your voice was clearly taunting as you approached him, your arms crossing on your chest as you fixed him with a smirk. Unconsciously, your gaze slid down his body, taking in the sight of his Quidditch jersey clinging to him, damp with sweat and accentuating the ridges of his toned abs. You licked your lips, the action coming out of your subconsciousness that craved to feel those abs underneath your palms, although you had yet to admit it.
"Don’t fucking try me right now," Mattheo retorted without sparing you a glance. He was already more than a little aggravated, and the last thing he needed was your teasing and endless quips, combined with the effortless allure you always held despite being an insufferable little cunt. His uniform suddenly felt too tight, which prompted him to take off the green jersey, harshly tugging it over his head with one hand.
Your lips parted ever so slightly as you watched his torso opening up to you in all its firm, built glory. But the muscles weren’t the first thing that you noticed – as much as the view was enticing, it was also not completely new. No, the thing that made your breath hitch was the fact that he was literally steaming, as if he had just left a sauna. Translucent whirls were emanating from his heated body, his skin breaking out in goosebumps in the chilly December air. Mattheo didn’t even shiver, throwing the piece of clothing over his shoulder and flicking the bat from one hand to the other. His pace was firm and purposeful, leaving no doubts about his intentions to leave the Quidditch pitch as quickly as possible.
You had entirely different plans for him, though.
Without thinking much, you followed him into the tunnel leading out of the stadium, barely able to match his long steps.
“Or what?” you called out defiantly, finally reaching him at the price of your breath getting shallow and your heart beating faster than normal. You weren’t one hundred percent sure it was just the effect of walking quickly.
Mattheo stopped in his tracks, nearly making you stumble into his broad back. His eyes closed shut for a moment, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath, feeling his already nonexistent control slipping away with every single sound of yours he heard behind him.
“You will regret it,” he muttered through gritted teeth, not making a move to turn around to look at you – he knew that if he did, he could say goodbye to any traces of restraint still left in him.
“Oh, really?”
You knew you were walking a dangerous line by taunting him like that, but at this point, you couldn’t stop. Was it a sudden surge of bravery, was it recklessness or something else, deeper and yet uncharted, you couldn’t tell. You just knew that if you stopped right now – that was what you’d regret for a long, long time, possibly for the rest of your life. You stepped closer, your chest almost pressing against his back, feeling his muscles tense as your proximity registered in his mind and sent signals through his whole body.
That step was all it took for him to finally snap. In a split second, his hand was wrapped around your throat, pressing you against the wall of the tunnel. A strangled gasp escaped your parted lips, your pulse fluttering wildly as his fingers pressed right on the point, curling around your neck as if he was ready to snap it in half. He probably could, if he wanted to.
“Say another word and find out,” Mattheo hissed, the warm air of his breath brushing against your flushed face. His already dark chocolate eyes darkened further – you swore you could see his pupils dilating in real time, the dimness inside the tunnel failing to hide the mixture of anger and lust swirling in their depths.
“I’m not scared of you,” you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with a strange type of determination. Whatever was happening was something completely new in your dynamic, yet it felt like it had been building up the whole time you spent bickering and trying to get to each other using the power of biting words.
Mattheo’s hold grew tighter around your throat, almost cutting off the stream of much needed air flowing into your lungs.
“You should be.”
A loud thud echoed through the tunnel as his bat hit the floor, thrown away and immediately forgotten about. His newly freed hand gripped your waist, pressing you harder into the wall, the coldness of the surface seeping through the fabric of your winter robes. Mattheo’s body was flush against your front, creating a sharp contrast between the chill of the air surrounding you and his fired up skin, dampening your shirt with small rivulets of sweat dripping off him.
You swallowed thickly, unable to tear your gaze off his face, his dangerously handsome features tense and barely moving. You had no idea what to do with your hands, so they ended up on his bare chest without any real input from your mind, which, you could tell, was slowly turning off anyway. A hiss coming from him once your skin touched his was a surprise, but you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy his reaction. For some reason, you found yourself bold enough to try exploring this newfound knowledge, sliding your hand down his chest, along the firm planes and ridges. Two things happened at the same time: Mattheo’s fingers dug deeper into the sides of your throat, causing a strangled sound to escape your lips, while his other hand left your waist to grab your traveling wrist.
“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing right now,” Mattheo muttered, and you swore you could hear his teeth grinding against each other. “I’ll show you, though. I’ll fucking show you.”
Next thing you knew, you were lifted off the ground, stuck in the iron bars of his embrace. The instinct in you that still tried to persuade you that this whole thing was wrong made your dangling feet try to hit Mattheo’s knee. This weak attempt at defiance was quickly stopped by his arm moving down and tightly locking around your thighs, stopping your legs from moving altogether.
“Asshole.” You did hear the treacherous breathlessness of your voice, but also didn’t have it in you to care. The heat between your legs was rapidly intensifying, the friction created by your pressed up thighs only making you more desperate for something real, something substantial to quench your undeniable thirst.
A dark smirk appeared on Mattheo’s face, the one that did nothing to soften his expression – it only made him look more like the devil he appeared to be. A second later, his foot was pushing a door you didn’t even know was there, doing the same from the other side once he walked into a dark room that smelled like wood and broom polish. You didn’t have time to think or formulate a snarky response to his actions before you were getting turned around and bent over, Mattheo’s hand pressing insistently on the back of your neck. You barely had time to stabilize yourself against the cold wooden bench that stood at the wall, your scarf sliding off completely and falling to the floor.
“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, although it was more of a formality, since you made no actual attempt to get up from the new position. Mattheo, of course, took notice of that, his smirk widening a bit.
“This the only thing you can think of?” His voice was cold and mocking at the same time, not failing to send a shiver down your spine – it was huskier than usual, an undertone of desire obvious even to untrained ears. Mattheo effortlessly lifted up the hem of your robes, the rumpled fabric of your skirt splayed across your ass in a way he found sinful. “Where’s the smartass attitude, hm?”
A sharp smack landed on your ass, stinging even through several layers of clothing. Your body jolted forward, a yelp breaking out of your throat both at the unexpectedness of it and a wave of pleasure the smack sent straight between your legs. Mattheo found himself enjoying your reaction, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, fingers curling and pressing into the flesh.
“Fuck y-,” you started to mutter, glancing at him over your shoulder, but another smack shut you up pretty quickly. You could feel the sting, only intensified when his strong hand grabbed a handful of your ass, roughly kneading and squeezing.
“Much better from this angle,” Mattheo murmured, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek as his eyes shamelessly roamed your body up and down. His free hand slid up your back, pushing you to lean further down against the bench until he reached your hair. His fingers threaded through your locks in an almost tender gesture, one so uncharacteristic of Mattheo Riddle, before he yanked your head back, making you hiss from the harshness of the pull.
The warmth of his body enveloped you whole as Mattheo bent over, his flaming chest covering the entirety of your back. A fleeting thought flickered in your mind, that even the warmest robes couldn’t hold a candle to the human heater that was Mattheo after a Quidditch game. As his mouth neared your ear, his hand never stilled on your ass, lifting your skirt up to bunch up at your waist and running over the fabric of your tights.
“Really?” he asked, mockingly, making you want to strangle him and kiss the hell out of him at the same time. Your lips parted when you felt his sneaky fingers pressing between your legs, causing your thighs to clench. “D’you know I can feel you getting wet?” he cooed, brushing his lips against your ear, you were sure, very deliberately. You closed your eyes, unwanted embarrassment making its way to your cheeks, and you just knew the bastard was smirking again. You couldn’t control your body’s reaction to him, though, and your wetness seeping through your tights fully gave you away.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I thought your smartass mouth could handle better than that.”
Mattheo gave your hair another tug before his hand slipped down, curling around your throat again. His grip was tight, not allowing even a single millimeter of movement, a strangled gasp escaping you once you felt his hips pressing to your ass from the back. His hard-on was firmly planted between your cheeks, straining against his Quidditch trousers, as if he was trying to break through the layers of your clothing.
“But when I’m next to you,” Mattheo continued murmuring into your ear, a malicious smirk giving his words a dangerous hint, “you’re just a bitch in heat.”
“Fuck. You.”
You somehow managed to find words, the ones you couldn’t bring yourself to say before. Mattheo chuckled darkly, feeling your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his thumb – you really weren’t the best in hiding your deepest emotions, though your face still tried to keep its defiant stance.
“That’s the plan,” he answered, as his fingers moved against your covered pussy, the sound of it, though muffled, still embarrassingly wet. Once his torturous movements stopped, you nearly whined, biting your bottom lip in order to save yourself from further humiliation. Your teeth sunken into your lip didn’t go unnoticed – Mattheo licked his own, his hand on your throat lifting you up just a bit, his body heat a fire burning your back.
“Didn’t know having you speechless would be so…” Another smack on your ass interrupted his words, a squeal caused by the mixture of pain and pleasure sounding through the dark room. “…so fucking hot.”
You gained the courage to push your hips back, a satisfied hum rolling out of your mouth as you felt his cock twitch at the friction.
“So damn impatient,” Mattheo whispered into your ear. His own hips bucked forward, forcefully, enough to make your body jerk again. “But you’re lucky, because…”
He suddenly straightened up, roughly pulling down your tights and baring your skin to the chilly air. It was already stinging from the previous slaps, the sensation now stronger as the frost of early winter bit at the sensitive flesh.
“…me too.”
You didn’t notice the moment Mattheo’s trousers pooled at his feet, but they definitely did, along with his boxers. You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when his warm, slicked up cock slid through your folds, making you feel every inch of him, providing the friction you desperately craved. Your entrance clenched, as if trying to suck him in but failing. His tip prodded at your hole, your whole body backing against him in an attempt to finally let him inside.
You didn’t have to wait – a single deep thrust, and he was splitting you open in the best, most mind blowing way possible. Your high-pitched moan was so loud it could be easily heard outside, but you didn’t care – you couldn’t care. Mattheo’s groan matched up in volume, his hands gripping your hips with brushing strength.
“If I knew you’d be so fucking tight…”
He pulled out only to thrust right back in, making you moan so loudly you could feel the air shake around you.
“…I’d shut you up like that every. Single. Time.”
Each word was accompanied by another thrust, each one deeper than the last, even though it was physically impossible – at least you felt like he discovered new depths within you every time. The squelching sounds of your pussy roughly meeting his dick echoed through the narrow space you were squished into, the slapping of your bodies surely making its way into the tunnel behind the door. It was something you’d never felt before – the passion, the lust filling your very essence, consuming and turning your brain into mush.
Mattheo’s palm connected with your asscheek again, making it bounce and ripple. Immediately after, he squeezed the round mound, and you hissed, another sting shooting through your body. His pace was unforgiving, but you didn’t want to be forgiven – if that was punishment, you’d rather be guilty for life. The stretch of your walls around his cock felt like it was tearing you apart and gathering you back in one piece right after, and at that moment you were sure that no one else could fuck you like that.
His hand ended up in your hair again as he tugged you up, making your back press against his chest again. Somehow, it was still just as hot as before, causing you to break out in sweat from the exertion and his body heat seeping through your skin and bones. If the room had windows, they would certainly be fogged up. However, the only foggy thing was your mind, getting more and more dazed as your peak approached.
“You wanna cum, huh?” Mattheo growled, his laboured breath prickling at the sensitive skin of your neck. “Wanna cum on my cock, like the slut you are?”
As much as you hated yourself for admitting that, cumming around him was the only thing swirling in your head. You tried to nod, but his grip on your hair didn’t allow it.
“Words,” he muttered, his teeth clenching as he tried to hold his own orgasm back, determined to make you fall apart first. “The only time I want you to use your fucking words.”
“I wanna– Fuck! Wanna cum on your cock,” you managed to mumble, your cheeks heating up at the fact that you had just given in, had given him control over the pleasure you yearned for.
“Do it, then.”
With another rough slap on your ass, you came, wave after wave making your body tremble and shake. Mattheo was quick to finish right after, his growl bordering on animalistic as he spilled deep inside of you. The warmth of his cum felt like it was etched into your very soul, hot and sticky, your clenching hole squeezing some out to trickle down your thighs. Mattheo could get hard all over again just from the sight alone, but he resisted, pulling your skirt down to cover the delicious view.
For a few moments, you could only try catching your breath, leaning on the bench still somehow holding up in front of you.
“Next time you lose, you know where to find me.” Your voice was shaking, yet already filled with the cockiness of knowing that you, in some way, made Mattheo Riddle lose control.
“Next time I win, you won’t be able to walk for days,” he retorted, his tone bearing something akin to a threat. Or a promise.
“But when I’m next to you,” Mattheo continued murmuring into your ear, a malicious smirk giving his words a dangerous hint, “you’re just a bitch in heat.”
FREAKKYKYYY STOPTPPPP
“The only time I want you to use your fucking words.”
summary: quidditch is a sport that demands strength and stamina, resulting in physical exertion. exertion equals releasing disproportionate amounts of warmth, which, as it turns out, feels better shared.
pairing: mattheo riddle x reader
cw: 18+ smut, enemies to lovers, rough p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, spanking, choking, degrading, hair grabbing, cursing.
wc: 3.1k
a/n: the first fic of the naughty side of the list, so buckle up for the filth!! hope you enjoy <3
The entirety of the Quidditch stadium roared as Harry Potter hovered proudly in the air, the Golden Snitch snug between his fingers. The ultimate rivalry between the houses never ceased to exist, be it on the school grounds or on the pitch, the students from other houses having chosen a side long ago and now discreetly passing galleons to each other in the stands. You craned your neck a bit, your loosely tied scarf sliding off as you watched the players descend onto the ground, the green and silver side clearly trying to get off the pitch as hastily as possible.
Mattheo was, for all intents and purposes, pissed. His nostrils were flared, his breath coming out short and ragged, the exertion from the long-winded game straining his aching muscles. His bat was clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles almost translucent as he fought the urge to swing it at the annoyingly smug Gryffindors who seemed to be very purposeful with the loudness of their celebrations. A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth – the opportunity was too golden, no pun intended, to have a go at the guy, even though you knew that now, of all times, he wouldn’t dream of holding back. It was a constant push and pull between the two of you, a burning need to kick the other while they were down, and a loss of a very important game was a chance presenting itself on a silver platter.
"Hey, Riddle!"
The sound of your voice made Mattheo grit his teeth, the vibration echoing in his already ringing ears. His eyes briefly darted to you descending the stairs from the top of the stands, the look in them as close to murderous as it can possibly get.
"Don’t," he muttered, continuing to stride across the field, towards the tunnel, where the other players from the Slytherin team had already disappeared.
"Don’t what?"
Your voice was clearly taunting as you approached him, your arms crossing on your chest as you fixed him with a smirk. Unconsciously, your gaze slid down his body, taking in the sight of his Quidditch jersey clinging to him, damp with sweat and accentuating the ridges of his toned abs. You licked your lips, the action coming out of your subconsciousness that craved to feel those abs underneath your palms, although you had yet to admit it.
"Don’t fucking try me right now," Mattheo retorted without sparing you a glance. He was already more than a little aggravated, and the last thing he needed was your teasing and endless quips, combined with the effortless allure you always held despite being an insufferable little cunt. His uniform suddenly felt too tight, which prompted him to take off the green jersey, harshly tugging it over his head with one hand.
Your lips parted ever so slightly as you watched his torso opening up to you in all its firm, built glory. But the muscles weren’t the first thing that you noticed – as much as the view was enticing, it was also not completely new. No, the thing that made your breath hitch was the fact that he was literally steaming, as if he had just left a sauna. Translucent whirls were emanating from his heated body, his skin breaking out in goosebumps in the chilly December air. Mattheo didn’t even shiver, throwing the piece of clothing over his shoulder and flicking the bat from one hand to the other. His pace was firm and purposeful, leaving no doubts about his intentions to leave the Quidditch pitch as quickly as possible.
You had entirely different plans for him, though.
Without thinking much, you followed him into the tunnel leading out of the stadium, barely able to match his long steps.
“Or what?” you called out defiantly, finally reaching him at the price of your breath getting shallow and your heart beating faster than normal. You weren’t one hundred percent sure it was just the effect of walking quickly.
Mattheo stopped in his tracks, nearly making you stumble into his broad back. His eyes closed shut for a moment, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath, feeling his already nonexistent control slipping away with every single sound of yours he heard behind him.
“You will regret it,” he muttered through gritted teeth, not making a move to turn around to look at you – he knew that if he did, he could say goodbye to any traces of restraint still left in him.
“Oh, really?”
You knew you were walking a dangerous line by taunting him like that, but at this point, you couldn’t stop. Was it a sudden surge of bravery, was it recklessness or something else, deeper and yet uncharted, you couldn’t tell. You just knew that if you stopped right now – that was what you’d regret for a long, long time, possibly for the rest of your life. You stepped closer, your chest almost pressing against his back, feeling his muscles tense as your proximity registered in his mind and sent signals through his whole body.
That step was all it took for him to finally snap. In a split second, his hand was wrapped around your throat, pressing you against the wall of the tunnel. A strangled gasp escaped your parted lips, your pulse fluttering wildly as his fingers pressed right on the point, curling around your neck as if he was ready to snap it in half. He probably could, if he wanted to.
“Say another word and find out,” Mattheo hissed, the warm air of his breath brushing against your flushed face. His already dark chocolate eyes darkened further – you swore you could see his pupils dilating in real time, the dimness inside the tunnel failing to hide the mixture of anger and lust swirling in their depths.
“I’m not scared of you,” you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with a strange type of determination. Whatever was happening was something completely new in your dynamic, yet it felt like it had been building up the whole time you spent bickering and trying to get to each other using the power of biting words.
Mattheo’s hold grew tighter around your throat, almost cutting off the stream of much needed air flowing into your lungs.
“You should be.”
A loud thud echoed through the tunnel as his bat hit the floor, thrown away and immediately forgotten about. His newly freed hand gripped your waist, pressing you harder into the wall, the coldness of the surface seeping through the fabric of your winter robes. Mattheo’s body was flush against your front, creating a sharp contrast between the chill of the air surrounding you and his fired up skin, dampening your shirt with small rivulets of sweat dripping off him.
You swallowed thickly, unable to tear your gaze off his face, his dangerously handsome features tense and barely moving. You had no idea what to do with your hands, so they ended up on his bare chest without any real input from your mind, which, you could tell, was slowly turning off anyway. A hiss coming from him once your skin touched his was a surprise, but you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy his reaction. For some reason, you found yourself bold enough to try exploring this newfound knowledge, sliding your hand down his chest, along the firm planes and ridges. Two things happened at the same time: Mattheo’s fingers dug deeper into the sides of your throat, causing a strangled sound to escape your lips, while his other hand left your waist to grab your traveling wrist.
“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing right now,” Mattheo muttered, and you swore you could hear his teeth grinding against each other. “I’ll show you, though. I’ll fucking show you.”
Next thing you knew, you were lifted off the ground, stuck in the iron bars of his embrace. The instinct in you that still tried to persuade you that this whole thing was wrong made your dangling feet try to hit Mattheo’s knee. This weak attempt at defiance was quickly stopped by his arm moving down and tightly locking around your thighs, stopping your legs from moving altogether.
“Asshole.” You did hear the treacherous breathlessness of your voice, but also didn’t have it in you to care. The heat between your legs was rapidly intensifying, the friction created by your pressed up thighs only making you more desperate for something real, something substantial to quench your undeniable thirst.
A dark smirk appeared on Mattheo’s face, the one that did nothing to soften his expression – it only made him look more like the devil he appeared to be. A second later, his foot was pushing a door you didn’t even know was there, doing the same from the other side once he walked into a dark room that smelled like wood and broom polish. You didn’t have time to think or formulate a snarky response to his actions before you were getting turned around and bent over, Mattheo’s hand pressing insistently on the back of your neck. You barely had time to stabilize yourself against the cold wooden bench that stood at the wall, your scarf sliding off completely and falling to the floor.
“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, although it was more of a formality, since you made no actual attempt to get up from the new position. Mattheo, of course, took notice of that, his smirk widening a bit.
“This the only thing you can think of?” His voice was cold and mocking at the same time, not failing to send a shiver down your spine – it was huskier than usual, an undertone of desire obvious even to untrained ears. Mattheo effortlessly lifted up the hem of your robes, the rumpled fabric of your skirt splayed across your ass in a way he found sinful. “Where’s the smartass attitude, hm?”
A sharp smack landed on your ass, stinging even through several layers of clothing. Your body jolted forward, a yelp breaking out of your throat both at the unexpectedness of it and a wave of pleasure the smack sent straight between your legs. Mattheo found himself enjoying your reaction, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, fingers curling and pressing into the flesh.
“Fuck y-,” you started to mutter, glancing at him over your shoulder, but another smack shut you up pretty quickly. You could feel the sting, only intensified when his strong hand grabbed a handful of your ass, roughly kneading and squeezing.
“Much better from this angle,” Mattheo murmured, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek as his eyes shamelessly roamed your body up and down. His free hand slid up your back, pushing you to lean further down against the bench until he reached your hair. His fingers threaded through your locks in an almost tender gesture, one so uncharacteristic of Mattheo Riddle, before he yanked your head back, making you hiss from the harshness of the pull.
The warmth of his body enveloped you whole as Mattheo bent over, his flaming chest covering the entirety of your back. A fleeting thought flickered in your mind, that even the warmest robes couldn’t hold a candle to the human heater that was Mattheo after a Quidditch game. As his mouth neared your ear, his hand never stilled on your ass, lifting your skirt up to bunch up at your waist and running over the fabric of your tights.
“Really?” he asked, mockingly, making you want to strangle him and kiss the hell out of him at the same time. Your lips parted when you felt his sneaky fingers pressing between your legs, causing your thighs to clench. “D’you know I can feel you getting wet?” he cooed, brushing his lips against your ear, you were sure, very deliberately. You closed your eyes, unwanted embarrassment making its way to your cheeks, and you just knew the bastard was smirking again. You couldn’t control your body’s reaction to him, though, and your wetness seeping through your tights fully gave you away.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I thought your smartass mouth could handle better than that.”
Mattheo gave your hair another tug before his hand slipped down, curling around your throat again. His grip was tight, not allowing even a single millimeter of movement, a strangled gasp escaping you once you felt his hips pressing to your ass from the back. His hard-on was firmly planted between your cheeks, straining against his Quidditch trousers, as if he was trying to break through the layers of your clothing.
“But when I’m next to you,” Mattheo continued murmuring into your ear, a malicious smirk giving his words a dangerous hint, “you’re just a bitch in heat.”
“Fuck. You.”
You somehow managed to find words, the ones you couldn’t bring yourself to say before. Mattheo chuckled darkly, feeling your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his thumb – you really weren’t the best in hiding your deepest emotions, though your face still tried to keep its defiant stance.
“That’s the plan,” he answered, as his fingers moved against your covered pussy, the sound of it, though muffled, still embarrassingly wet. Once his torturous movements stopped, you nearly whined, biting your bottom lip in order to save yourself from further humiliation. Your teeth sunken into your lip didn’t go unnoticed – Mattheo licked his own, his hand on your throat lifting you up just a bit, his body heat a fire burning your back.
“Didn’t know having you speechless would be so…” Another smack on your ass interrupted his words, a squeal caused by the mixture of pain and pleasure sounding through the dark room. “…so fucking hot.”
You gained the courage to push your hips back, a satisfied hum rolling out of your mouth as you felt his cock twitch at the friction.
“So damn impatient,” Mattheo whispered into your ear. His own hips bucked forward, forcefully, enough to make your body jerk again. “But you’re lucky, because…”
He suddenly straightened up, roughly pulling down your tights and baring your skin to the chilly air. It was already stinging from the previous slaps, the sensation now stronger as the frost of early winter bit at the sensitive flesh.
“…me too.”
You didn’t notice the moment Mattheo’s trousers pooled at his feet, but they definitely did, along with his boxers. You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when his warm, slicked up cock slid through your folds, making you feel every inch of him, providing the friction you desperately craved. Your entrance clenched, as if trying to suck him in but failing. His tip prodded at your hole, your whole body backing against him in an attempt to finally let him inside.
You didn’t have to wait – a single deep thrust, and he was splitting you open in the best, most mind blowing way possible. Your high-pitched moan was so loud it could be easily heard outside, but you didn’t care – you couldn’t care. Mattheo’s groan matched up in volume, his hands gripping your hips with brushing strength.
“If I knew you’d be so fucking tight…”
He pulled out only to thrust right back in, making you moan so loudly you could feel the air shake around you.
“…I’d shut you up like that every. Single. Time.”
Each word was accompanied by another thrust, each one deeper than the last, even though it was physically impossible – at least you felt like he discovered new depths within you every time. The squelching sounds of your pussy roughly meeting his dick echoed through the narrow space you were squished into, the slapping of your bodies surely making its way into the tunnel behind the door. It was something you’d never felt before – the passion, the lust filling your very essence, consuming and turning your brain into mush.
Mattheo’s palm connected with your asscheek again, making it bounce and ripple. Immediately after, he squeezed the round mound, and you hissed, another sting shooting through your body. His pace was unforgiving, but you didn’t want to be forgiven – if that was punishment, you’d rather be guilty for life. The stretch of your walls around his cock felt like it was tearing you apart and gathering you back in one piece right after, and at that moment you were sure that no one else could fuck you like that.
His hand ended up in your hair again as he tugged you up, making your back press against his chest again. Somehow, it was still just as hot as before, causing you to break out in sweat from the exertion and his body heat seeping through your skin and bones. If the room had windows, they would certainly be fogged up. However, the only foggy thing was your mind, getting more and more dazed as your peak approached.
“You wanna cum, huh?” Mattheo growled, his laboured breath prickling at the sensitive skin of your neck. “Wanna cum on my cock, like the slut you are?”
As much as you hated yourself for admitting that, cumming around him was the only thing swirling in your head. You tried to nod, but his grip on your hair didn’t allow it.
“Words,” he muttered, his teeth clenching as he tried to hold his own orgasm back, determined to make you fall apart first. “The only time I want you to use your fucking words.”
“I wanna– Fuck! Wanna cum on your cock,” you managed to mumble, your cheeks heating up at the fact that you had just given in, had given him control over the pleasure you yearned for.
“Do it, then.”
With another rough slap on your ass, you came, wave after wave making your body tremble and shake. Mattheo was quick to finish right after, his growl bordering on animalistic as he spilled deep inside of you. The warmth of his cum felt like it was etched into your very soul, hot and sticky, your clenching hole squeezing some out to trickle down your thighs. Mattheo could get hard all over again just from the sight alone, but he resisted, pulling your skirt down to cover the delicious view.
For a few moments, you could only try catching your breath, leaning on the bench still somehow holding up in front of you.
“Next time you lose, you know where to find me.” Your voice was shaking, yet already filled with the cockiness of knowing that you, in some way, made Mattheo Riddle lose control.
“Next time I win, you won’t be able to walk for days,” he retorted, his tone bearing something akin to a threat. Or a promise.
“But when I’m next to you,” Mattheo continued murmuring into your ear, a malicious smirk giving his words a dangerous hint, “you’re just a bitch in heat.”
FREAKKYKYYY STOPTPPPP
“The only time I want you to use your fucking words.”
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summary ; mattheo’s got a crush that’s hard to ignore, but every time he tries to get close, you disappear. good thing he’s got a few ways to catch you when you run.
words ; 3.9k
warnings ; smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, creampie, spanking, mentions of blood
navigation masterlist
The corridor was unnervingly quiet, save for the the faint scrape of shoes against stone. You hugged your books tightly to your chest, trying to make yourself invisible as you hurried toward the library. The cold December air seeping through the castle walls bit at your skin, but it wasn’t nearly as alarming as the warmth you suddenly felt—someone approaching from behind.
“Hi.”
His voice slid into your awareness before you even heard the sound of his footsteps, sending your heart skittering like a startled bird. Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of him—dark curls falling into his eyes, his signature Slytherin tie loosened at his throat, and that grin. The grin that made your chest feel too tight and your thoughts scatter like spilled ink.
Your first instinct, as always, was to flee.
Before he could say more, you ducked your head and pivoted on your heel, muttering something about being late to the library.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” His hand was warm and firm around your wrist, stopping you mid-flight. He turned you gently to face him, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your cheeks burn. “Would you please stop running away from me? It’s worrying me, you know. The way you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time I’m around.”
You didn’t dare meet his eyes. Not yet. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the traitorous flush that gave away just how much he affected you. “I’m not running,” you mumbled, though the evidence was damning.
“Oh, come on.” He laughed, soft and incredulous. “You bolt every time I so much as look at you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to catch up with you? You’re like—like a mouse slipping through cracks.”
Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. He tilted his head, the faintest frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t bite, you know. Not unless you ask.”
His teasing tone made your stomach flip. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, dropping your gaze to the floor.
“Don’t be,” he said softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go entirely. “I just—look, you know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”
“I-I know,” you stammered, and it was true. He wasn’t threatening to you, not even close. But that didn’t make the rapid thudding of your heart any less overwhelming.
His brow furrowed slightly. “Then what is it?” His voice dropped, quieter now, as if he was trying not to spook you. “Am I too much? Too… loud? Intense? I can tone it down if that’s what you need.”
The earnestness in his voice nearly unraveled you. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault—that it was you, and your inability to handle the way he seemed to draw everyone’s attention with effortless charm. The way he smiled like he knew every secret in the world. The way his presence made you feel like you were standing too close to the sun.
“I—” You bit your lip, scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, but your brain seemed to be short-circuiting under his gaze. “I’m just...not used to people like you.”
“People like me?” His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a half-smile. “What does that mean?”
“You know.” You waved your free hand vaguely, avoiding his eyes again. “Confident. Charming.”
“Ah.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and rich, wrapping around you like a blanket. “So, what? You’re allergic to confidence?”
“No! I just—” You huffed, flustered, and Mattheo’s grin widened.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” he said, and your stomach flipped violently.
“I am not,” you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks.
“You are,” he insisted, his tone teasing but gentle. “And I’m not saying that to make you run away again, by the way. I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.”
You glanced up at him then, your heart doing somersaults at the soft, hopeful look in his eyes. And for a moment, you thought maybe you could do this—stay, talk to him, let yourself believe that someone like Mattheo Riddle could actually like someone like you.
But instead, you mumbled something incoherent and, in a sudden burst of courage—or cowardice—twisted out of his grasp and darted down the hallway.
“Wait—! Oh, come on! Slow down!” His exasperated laugh echoed behind you, followed by his voice, playful but resigned. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
Oh, but you weren’t getting away that easily.
Because by some twist of fate—or Mattheo’s uncanny ability to be everywhere you didn’t want him to be—you found yourself crossing paths with him again that very afternoon. And this time, there was no escaping.
The hospital wing was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around you like a blanket, broken only by the soft clink of glass vials as you worked. You were perched at Madame Pomfrey’s desk, carefully restocking rows of remedies, when the heavy wooden door creaked open.
You didn’t look up at first, assuming it was Madame Pomfrey returning from her rounds. But then you heard the familiar drawl.
“Madame Pomfrey, I—oh.”
Your hand froze mid-reach for a jar of bruise balm. Your stomach plummeted. You knew that voice. Slowly, as though moving too quickly might summon some greater disaster, you turned your head toward the door.
There he was.
Mattheo Riddle, leaning casually against the doorframe, one arm tucked against his side, the other pressed lightly to his jaw where a streak of blood stood out against his pale skin. His shirt was untucked, his tie gone, and his dark curls were just messy enough to make him look infuriatingly perfect.
Your heart started to pound, the air in your lungs thinning to a whisper. “You,” you said before you could stop yourself, the word barely louder than a squeak.
Mattheo grinned, even as he winced slightly, straightening from the doorframe. “Me,” he echoed.
You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk as if it might keep you grounded. “What... what happened?”
“I fell,” he said simply, though the smirk on his lips made it impossible to believe him.
“You fell,” you repeated flatly, crossing your arms.
He nodded solemnly, though there was nothing solemn about the way his eyes flicked over you, taking in the rolled-up sleeves of your uniform and the faint smudge of ink on your wrist from earlier. “Tragic, I know. But lucky me—I’ve landed in the most capable hands.”
Your cheeks burned, and you immediately dropped your gaze, fussing with the nearest jar of ointment to avoid his eyes. “Madame Pomfrey isn’t here,” you mumbled. “I’m just helping... for now.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said, moving toward one of the hospital beds. “I think I like the idea of you taking care of me.”
Your fingers fumbled, nearly knocking over a bottle of murtlap essence. “Sit,” you said quickly, pointing to the bed without looking at him. “You need to sit so I can... um... look at that.”
He chuckled softly but complied, settling onto the edge of the bed. “As you wish.”
You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you grabbed a cloth and some antiseptic. But when you turned back, he wasn’t sitting anymore. He was standing again, closer now—too close, that lazy grin still firmly in place.
Your breath caught. “You—what are you doing?”
“Stretching my legs,” he said easily, his voice low and warm.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to sound firm. “You’re injured—”
“It’s nothing,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned against the desk, his dark eyes fixed on you. “I’m not that fragile, you know.”
“But—”
“Do I make you nervous?” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly, his curls falling into his eyes.
You immediately shook your head, even though you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. “N-no. I mean—why would you think that?”
“Because you’re practically shaking,” he said, his tone softer now, though no less teasing. “And because you keep looking anywhere but at me.”
Your eyes flicked up to his for a fraction of a second before dropping back down to the floor. “I’m not... I mean, I just—”
“You’re adorable,” he said, and the warmth in his voice made your pulse race.
You froze, your fingers tightening on the cloth in your hands. “I should clean your cut,” you mumbled, stepping back toward him.
But before you could reach him, he moved again, his hands finding the edge of the table on either side of you, caging you in.
“Mattheo—”
“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur. His dark eyes held yours, the intensity in them stealing the words right out of your throat. “So stop running.”
His face was so close now, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your cheek, making your skin tingle. You could see the individual lashes framing those mesmerizing eyes, the slight curve of his lips, the way his teeth nipped gently at his lower lip...
"Come on," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. You lifted the antiseptic in your hand. "Just... please let me help you."
It sounded weak, pathetic even, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.
For a long moment, he simply looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stepped back, giving you space to breathe again.
"You're right," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. "Thank you."
He sat back down on the bed, his posture a bit less casual now, more tense. He looked up at you through his lashes, his gaze softer than before.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just..." He paused, seeming to struggle for the right words. "I like you, Y/N. A lot. And sometimes I forget myself around you."
You blinked rapidly, processing his words. "You... really?" you asked softly, hardly daring to believe it. Slowly, hesitantly, you took a step closer, drawn to him despite your nerves.
"Yes, really," he confirmed, his voice low and sincere. As you drew near, he reached out, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. In one smooth motion, he pulled you down onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to steady you.
You gasped, your hands flying up to press against his chest. You could feel the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Your own heart raced in response, your cheeks flaming with heat.
He smiled softly, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hip bones as he held you close. "There," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Isn't this better?"
You squirmed slightly in his lap, hyper-aware of every point where your bodies touched. "I... I don't know if this is a good idea," you whispered, even as your traitorous body melted into his embrace. Your hands slid up his chest to loop around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls at his nape.
He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through you. "Why not? We're alone, aren't we?" His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through your blouse. "No one has to know..."
He leaned in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. "Let me take care of you," he breathed against your skin, his other hand sliding down to palm your ass. "I promise I'll make it feel good."
You whimpered softly as his lips and tongue worked magic on your sensitive skin, your head lolling back to give him better access. But as he kissed lower, you suddenly felt something wet and sticky on your throat–his cut.
"Wait," you gasped, pulling back slightly. You brought a hand up to your neck, your fingers coming away streaked with blood. "You're still bleeding, Mattheo. We should clean that first before... before anything else happens."
He paused, looking up at you with lust-darkened eyes. A slow, amused grin spread across his face. "You think I give a fuck about that right now?" he muttered, pulling you flush against him again. "Don't worry about that."
His hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he attacked your throat with renewed fervor, licking and sucking at the bloodied skin.
"M-Mattheo," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "We shouldn't... not here..."
Even as you protested weakly, your hips started to move of their own accord, grinding down against the growing hardness you could feel pressing against your thighs. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making your head spin.
He groaned into your neck, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and into yours. His hands tightened on your hips, encouraging your movements as he rocked up against you.
"Oh, fuck. You're not as innocent as you pretend to be, huh?" he noted, his voice rough with desire.
In one fluid motion, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the bed as you stumbled back. His hands roamed possessively, sliding from your waist to the curve of your lower back before trailing up to cup the soft swell of your tits. His touch was rough and insistent, squeezing and kneading as if he couldn't get enough of you.
Before you could catch your breath, he turned you around, his firm grip guiding you into place. His hand pressed against the small of your back, a silent command that sent heat pooling in your belly as you bent forward, your chest and palms flattening against the bed.
You felt the air shift around you, cool and heady against your heated skin, as Mattheo's fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. He dragged it up slowly, deliberately, his movements measured, as though savoring every inch of you revealed to him.
"Running from me, again and again," he muttered, his voice dark and edged with amusement. "And now look at you. Right where I’ve always wanted you."
Your breath caught, shame and desire tangling in your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond—not when his hands curled under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down the curve of your thighs in one slow, tantalizing motion.
"Mattheo," you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible above the pounding of your own heart.
His low laugh sent shivers through you. "Finally saying my name. Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that? And not just in your shy little apologies."
Your knees nearly buckled as his fingers teased the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, tracing lazy circles closer and closer to where you ached for him. He let the silence hang, heavy and charged, before looping his arm around your front.
"Cute,” he murmured. "You’ve spent weeks avoiding me, playing coy. But I think you’ve wanted this just as much as I have. Haven’t you?"
You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—only gasp as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks skittering up your spine.
"Answer me," he demanded, his tone soft but unyielding. "I want to hear you say it."
Your nails dug into the bedspread, and you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. "I-I don’t…"
"Don’t what?" His fingers curled around the back of your neck, squeezing lightly. "Don’t want me? Don’t need this? Say it, sweetheart, because your body’s telling me a very different story."
You whimpered, the heat pooling between your thighs making it impossible to deny him—or yourself. "I…I want you," you finally choked out, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure he’d heard.
But he did.
"Good girl," he praised, the words dripping with satisfaction. His movements quickened, drawing tight, delicious circles that had your legs trembling. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? All you had to do was stop running."
A soft gasp escaped your lips as his hand slid down from your neck, tracing the curve of your hip before gripping your ass firmly. His other hand left your front, joining its twin to knead and grope the plush flesh, his thumbs digging in with a possessive hunger that made heat bloom low in your belly again.
“You’re perfect here,” he mused, his voice a deep hum as he spread your cheeks apart, his touch maddeningly deliberate. “Bent over for me like this. Made for me, aren’t you?”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape, but Mattheo didn’t miss it. He laughed softly, the sound dripping with smug satisfaction.
“Don’t hold back now,” he coaxed, his hands trailing up and down the back of your thighs, lingering just long enough to tease but not satisfy. “I want to hear every little sound you make for me.”
You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could form a word, his palm landed on your ass with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt too much, but enough to send a jolt of heat straight through you.
“Mattheo!”
“There it is,” he purred, his hands smoothing over the spot he’d just struck, his touch soothing and warm. “You sound so fucking sweet when you say my name like that.”
Before you could respond, you felt the hard press of his length against you, separated only by the fabric of his trousers. He rolled his hips, letting you feel the full weight of him, and your knees buckled slightly at the realization of just how much he wanted you.
“You feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing the back of your neck as he reached down to unbuckle his belt. The soft clink of metal was almost drowned out by the pounding of your heart. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you run, every time you look at me with those shy little glances—you drive me fucking insane.”
The ruffling of fabric being lowered was too hard to ignore, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back over your shoulder. The sight of him—breathing heavily, his cock thick and hard, standing proudly against the taut muscles of his stomach—sent a wave of heat washing over you.
“Eyes front,” he ordered, his voice rough with arousal. When you didn’t obey fast enough, his hand came down on your ass again, the sharp sting making you gasp. “Now.”
You did as he said, pressing your forehead into the bedspread as his hands roamed over you again, his touch both reverent and demanding. One hand slipped between your thighs, spreading you open, while the other gripped your hip, holding you steady.
“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. He teased your entrance with the tip of one finger before pushing inside, curling it just enough to make you arch back against him.
“You like that?” he asked, his voice laced with a dark kind of affection as he added another finger, stretching you slowly. “I can feel how tight you are. So perfect. So ready for me.”
Your answer was a broken moan, your body moving instinctively against his hand.
“Shit,” he breathed, pulling his fingers out only to replace them with the blunt head of his cock, teasing your entrance with maddening slowness. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that?”
The stretch of him entering you was almost too much, but the way he worked you—inch by agonizing inch, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still—sent a wave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice a husky growl as he bottomed out, filling you completely. He stayed there for a moment, his breathing ragged, his hands running over the curve of your back and the swell of your ass. “You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight, so perfect. Tell me how it feels.”
“Good,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “So good.”
“Yeah?” He pulled back slowly, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you before snapping his hips forward again with a deep thrust, filling you completely. You gasped, your body jerking forward at the force, but he didn’t give you a moment to adjust. He set a slow, measured pace, his thrusts deep but deliberate, pulling out and pushing back into you with an almost agonizing slowness that made your heart race. “You like it when I fill you up like this? When I make you mine?”
Your only response was a strangled moan, your fingers clutching the sheets as he sped up his rhythm, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.
His hand left your hip, sliding down to your front to brush your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "God, you’re perfect," he muttered, his voice rough as he continued to slide in and out of you, each stroke a slow burn. "I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you right now."
The pressure inside you was building, slow and steady, like the tightening of a coil. You could feel every inch of him, each thrust dragging out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. You clenched around him, urging him deeper, and he groaned in response, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you harder into the bed.
“You’re fucking incredible,” he breathed, his voice rough and full of need. His thrusts picked up, faster now, more urgent, but still controlled, as if he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. “You feel so fucking good, so warm and tight around me. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”
Your hands gripped the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as the pleasure mounted. He hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, driving you mad with the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips.
“Please…” you gasped, not sure if you were begging for more or for him to take you faster. It didn’t matter. You just needed him.
Mattheo smirked, his fingers still pressing against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "You want it faster? You want me to make you come on my cock?"
You nodded, desperate for more. “Yes, please…”
“That’s what I thought,” he rasped, his thrusts quickening as he slammed into you with abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with the low groans escaping both of you.
With one final, devastating thrust, you shattered, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Mattheo wasn’t far behind, his rhythm growing erratic as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he followed you over the edge.
For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and the heat of his body against yours. Then, slowly, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.
“You’re not running from me again,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “Not now. Not ever.”
summary: mattheo’s got a little crush on you, but you keep running away every time he tries talking to you!
warnings: smut, unprotected piv, fingering, creampie, spanking, mentions of blood
words: 3.9k
a/n: i’m very very sorry for pushing this back so much—i’ve been really busy, plus i just procrastinated this one a lot. next one will be posted tomorrow so i can get back on schedule. anyways, enjoy!
navigation ficmas masterlist
The corridor was unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of parchment or the faint scrape of shoes against stone. You hugged your books tightly to your chest, trying to make yourself invisible as you hurried toward the sanctuary of the library. The cold December air seeping through the ancient castle walls bit at your skin, but it wasn’t nearly as alarming as the warmth you suddenly felt—someone approaching from behind.
“Hi.”
His voice slid into your awareness before you even heard the sound of his footsteps, sending your heart skittering like a startled bird. Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of him—dark curls falling into his eyes, his signature Slytherin tie loosened at his throat, and that grin. The grin that made your chest feel too tight and your thoughts scatter like spilled ink.
Your first instinct, as always, was to flee.
Before he could say more, you ducked your head and pivoted on your heel, muttering something about being late to the library.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” His hand was warm and firm around your wrist, stopping you mid-flight. He turned you gently to face him, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your cheeks burn. “Would you please stop running away from me? It’s worrying me, you know. The way you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time I’m around.”
You didn’t dare meet his eyes. Not yet. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the traitorous flush that gave away just how much he affected you. “I’m not running,” you mumbled, though the evidence was damning.
“Oh, come on.” He laughed, soft and incredulous. “You bolt every time I so much as look at you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to catch up with you? You’re like—like a mouse slipping through cracks.”
Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. He tilted his head, the faintest frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t bite, you know. Not unless you ask.”
His teasing tone made your stomach flip. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, dropping your gaze to the floor.
“Don’t be,” he said softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go entirely. “I just—look, you know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”
“I-I know,” you stammered, and it was true. He wasn’t threatening to you, not even close. But that didn’t make the rapid thudding of your heart any less overwhelming.
His brow furrowed slightly. “Then what is it?” His voice dropped, quieter now, as if he was trying not to spook you. “Am I too much? Too… loud? Intense? I can tone it down if that’s what you need.”
The earnestness in his voice nearly unraveled you. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault—that it was you, and your inability to handle the way he seemed to draw everyone’s attention with effortless charm. The way he smiled like he knew every secret in the world. The way his presence made you feel like you were standing too close to the sun.
“I—” You bit your lip, scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, but your brain seemed to be short-circuiting under his gaze. “I’m just...not used to people like you.”
“People like me?” His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a half-smile. “What does that mean?”
“You know.” You waved your free hand vaguely, avoiding his eyes again. “Confident. Charming.”
“Ah.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and rich, wrapping around you like a blanket. “So, what? You’re allergic to confidence?”
“No! I just—” You huffed, flustered, and Mattheo’s grin widened.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” he said, and your stomach flipped violently.
“I am not,” you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks.
“You are,” he insisted, his tone teasing but gentle. “And I’m not saying that to make you run away again, by the way. I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.”
You glanced up at him then, your heart doing somersaults at the soft, hopeful look in his eyes. And for a moment, you thought maybe you could do this—stay, talk to him, let yourself believe that someone like Mattheo Riddle could actually like someone like you.
But instead, you mumbled something incoherent and, in a sudden burst of courage—or cowardice—twisted out of his grasp and darted down the hallway.
“Wait—! Oh, come on! Slow down!” His exasperated laugh echoed behind you, followed by his voice, playful but resigned. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
Oh, but you weren’t getting away that easily.
Because by some twist of fate—or Mattheo’s uncanny ability to be everywhere you didn’t want him to be—you found yourself crossing paths with him again that very afternoon. And this time, there was no escaping.
The hospital wing was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around you like a blanket, broken only by the soft clink of glass vials as you worked. You were perched at Madame Pomfrey’s desk, carefully restocking rows of remedies, when the heavy wooden door creaked open.
You didn’t look up at first, assuming it was Madame Pomfrey returning from her rounds. But then you heard the familiar drawl.
“Madame Pomfrey, I—oh.”
Your hand froze mid-reach for a jar of bruise balm. Your stomach plummeted. You knew that voice.
You froze, your hand stilling mid-reach for a jar of essence of murtlap. Slowly, as though moving too quickly might summon some greater disaster, you turned your head toward the door.
There he was.
Mattheo Riddle, leaning casually against the doorframe, one arm tucked against his side, the other pressed lightly to his jaw where a streak of blood stood out against his pale skin. His shirt was untucked, his tie gone, and his dark curls were just messy enough to make him look infuriatingly perfect.
Your heart started to pound, the air in your lungs thinning to a whisper. “You,” you said before you could stop yourself, the word barely louder than a squeak.
Mattheo grinned, even as he winced slightly, straightening from the doorframe. “Me,” he echoed.
You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk as if it might keep you grounded. “What... what happened?”
“I fell,” he said simply, though the smirk on his lips made it impossible to believe him.
“You fell,” you repeated flatly, crossing your arms.
He nodded solemnly, though there was nothing solemn about the way his eyes flicked over you, taking in the rolled-up sleeves of your uniform and the faint smudge of ink on your wrist from earlier. “Tragic, I know. But lucky me—I’ve landed in the most capable hands.”
Your cheeks burned, and you immediately dropped your gaze, fussing with the nearest jar of ointment to avoid his eyes. “Madame Pomfrey isn’t here,” you mumbled. “I’m just helping... for now.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said, moving toward one of the hospital beds. “I think I like the idea of you taking care of me.”
Your fingers fumbled, nearly knocking over a bottle of murtlap essence. “Sit,” you said quickly, pointing to the bed without looking at him. “You need to sit so I can... um... look at that.”
He chuckled softly but complied, settling onto the edge of the bed. “As you wish.”
You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you grabbed a cloth and some antiseptic. But when you turned back, he wasn’t sitting anymore. He was standing again, closer now—too close, that lazy grin still firmly in place.
Your breath caught. “You—what are you doing?”
“Stretching my legs,” he said easily, his voice low and warm.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to sound firm. “You’re injured—”
“It’s nothing,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned against the desk, his dark eyes fixed on you. “I’m not that fragile, you know.”
“But—”
“Do I make you nervous?” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly, his curls falling into his eyes.
You immediately shook your head, even though you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. “N-no. I mean—why would you think that?”
“Because you’re practically shaking,” he said, his tone softer now, though no less teasing. “And because you keep looking anywhere but at me.”
Your eyes flicked up to his for a fraction of a second before dropping back down to the floor. “I’m not... I mean, I just—”
“You’re adorable,” he said, and the warmth in his voice made your pulse race.
You froze, your fingers tightening on the cloth in your hands. “I should clean your cut,” you mumbled, stepping back toward him.
But before you could reach him, he moved again, his hands finding the edge of the table on either side of you, caging you in.
“Mattheo—”
“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur. His dark eyes held yours, the intensity in them stealing the words right out of your throat. “So stop running.”
His face was so close now, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your cheek, making your skin tingle. You could see the individual lashes framing those mesmerizing eyes, the slight curve of his lips, the way his teeth nipped gently at his lower lip...
"Come on," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. You lifted the antiseptic in your hand. "Just... please let me help you."
It sounded weak, pathetic even, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.
For a long moment, he simply looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stepped back, giving you space to breathe again.
"You're right," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. "Thank you."
He sat back down on the bed, his posture a bit less casual now, more tense. He looked up at you through his lashes, his gaze softer than before.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just..." He paused, seeming to struggle for the right words. "I like you, Y/N. A lot. And sometimes I forget myself around you."
You blinked rapidly, processing his words. "You... really?" you asked softly, hardly daring to believe it. Slowly, hesitantly, you took a step closer, drawn to him despite your nerves.
"Yes, really," he confirmed, his voice low and sincere. As you drew near, he reached out, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. In one smooth motion, he pulled you down onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to steady you.
You gasped, your hands flying up to press against his chest. You could feel the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Your own heart raced in response, your cheeks flaming with heat.
He smiled softly, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hip bones as he held you close. "There," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Isn't this better?"
You squirmed slightly in his lap, hyper-aware of every point where your bodies touched. "I... I don't know if this is a good idea," you whispered, even as your traitorous body melted into his embrace. Your hands slid up his chest to loop around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls at his nape.
He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through you. "Why not? We're alone, aren't we?" His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through your blouse. "No one has to know..."
He leaned in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. "Let me take care of you," he breathed against your skin, his other hand sliding down to palm your ass. "I promise I'll make it feel good."
You whimpered softly as his lips and tongue worked magic on your sensitive skin, your head lolling back to give him better access. But as he kissed lower, you suddenly felt something wet and sticky on your throat–his cut.
"Wait," you gasped, pulling back slightly. You brought a hand up to your neck, your fingers coming away streaked with blood. "You're still bleeding, Mattheo. We should clean that first before... before anything else happens."
He paused, looking up at you with lust-darkened eyes. A slow, amused grin spread across his face. "You think I give a fuck about that right now?" he muttered, pulling you flush against him again. "Don't worry about that."
His hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he attacked your throat with renewed fervor, licking and sucking at the bloodied skin.
"M-Mattheo," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "We shouldn't... not here..."
Even as you protested weakly, your hips started to move of their own accord, grinding down against the growing hardness you could feel pressing against your thighs. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making your head spin.
He groaned into your neck, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and into yours. His hands tightened on your hips, encouraging your movements as he rocked up against you.
"Oh, fuck. You're not as innocent as you pretend to be, huh?" he noted, his voice rough with desire.
In one fluid motion, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the bed as you stumbled back. His hands roamed possessively, sliding from your waist to the curve of your lower back before trailing up to cup the soft swell of your tits. His touch was rough and insistent, squeezing and kneading as if he couldn't get enough of you.
Before you could catch your breath, he turned you around, his firm grip guiding you into place. His hand pressed against the small of your back, a silent command that sent heat pooling in your belly as you bent forward, your chest and palms flattening against the bed.
You felt the air shift around you, cool and heady against your heated skin, as Mattheo's fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. He dragged it up slowly, deliberately, his movements measured, as though savoring every inch of you revealed to him.
"Running from me, again and again," he muttered, his voice dark and edged with amusement. "And now look at you. Right where I’ve always wanted you."
Your breath caught, shame and desire tangling in your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond—not when his hands curled under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down the curve of your thighs in one slow, tantalizing motion.
"Mattheo," you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible above the pounding of your own heart.
His low laugh sent shivers through you. "Finally saying my name. Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that? And not just in your shy little apologies."
Your knees nearly buckled as his fingers teased the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, tracing lazy circles closer and closer to where you ached for him. He let the silence hang, heavy and charged, before looping his arm around your front.
"Cute,” he murmured. "You’ve spent weeks avoiding me, playing coy. But I think you’ve wanted this just as much as I have. Haven’t you?"
You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—only gasp as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks skittering up your spine.
"Answer me," he demanded, his tone soft but unyielding. "I want to hear you say it."
Your nails dug into the bedspread, and you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. "I-I don’t…"
"Don’t what?" His fingers curled around the back of your neck, squeezing lightly. "Don’t want me? Don’t need this? Say it, sweetheart, because your body’s telling me a very different story."
You whimpered, the heat pooling between your thighs making it impossible to deny him—or yourself. "I…I want you," you finally choked out, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure he’d heard.
But he did.
"Good girl," he praised, the words dripping with satisfaction. His movements quickened, drawing tight, delicious circles that had your legs trembling. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? All you had to do was stop running."
A soft gasp escaped your lips as his hand slid down from your neck, tracing the curve of your hip before gripping your ass firmly. His other hand left your front, joining its twin to knead and grope the plush flesh, his thumbs digging in with a possessive hunger that made heat bloom low in your belly again.
“You’re perfect here,” he mused, his voice a deep hum as he spread your cheeks apart, his touch maddeningly deliberate. “Bent over for me like this. Made for me, aren’t you?”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape, but Mattheo didn’t miss it. He laughed softly, the sound dripping with smug satisfaction.
“Don’t hold back now,” he coaxed, his hands trailing up and down the back of your thighs, lingering just long enough to tease but not satisfy. “I want to hear every little sound you make for me.”
You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could form a word, his palm landed on your ass with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt too much, but enough to send a jolt of heat straight through you.
“Mattheo!”
“There it is,” he purred, his hands smoothing over the spot he’d just struck, his touch soothing and warm. “You sound so fucking sweet when you say my name like that.”
Before you could respond, you felt the hard press of his length against you, separated only by the fabric of his trousers. He rolled his hips, letting you feel the full weight of him, and your knees buckled slightly at the realization of just how much he wanted you.
“You feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing the back of your neck as he reached down to unbuckle his belt. The soft clink of metal was almost drowned out by the pounding of your heart. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you run, every time you look at me with those shy little glances—you drive me fucking insane.”
The ruffling of fabric being lowered was too hard to ignore, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back over your shoulder. The sight of him—breathing heavily, his cock thick and hard, standing proudly against the taut muscles of his stomach—sent a wave of heat washing over you.
“Eyes front,” he ordered, his voice rough with arousal. When you didn’t obey fast enough, his hand came down on your ass again, the sharp sting making you gasp. “Now.”
You did as he said, pressing your forehead into the bedspread as his hands roamed over you again, his touch both reverent and demanding. One hand slipped between your thighs, spreading you open, while the other gripped your hip, holding you steady.
“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. He teased your entrance with the tip of one finger before pushing inside, curling it just enough to make you arch back against him.
“You like that?” he asked, his voice laced with a dark kind of affection as he added another finger, stretching you slowly. “I can feel how tight you are. So perfect. So ready for me.”
Your answer was a broken moan, your body moving instinctively against his hand.
“Shit,” he breathed, pulling his fingers out only to replace them with the blunt head of his cock, teasing your entrance with maddening slowness. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that?”
The stretch of him entering you was almost too much, but the way he worked you—inch by agonizing inch, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still—sent a wave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice a husky growl as he bottomed out, filling you completely. He stayed there for a moment, his breathing ragged, his hands running over the curve of your back and the swell of your ass. “You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight, so perfect. Tell me how it feels.”
“Good,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “So good.”
“Yeah?” He pulled back slowly, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you before snapping his hips forward again with a deep thrust, filling you completely. You gasped, your body jerking forward at the force, but he didn’t give you a moment to adjust. He set a slow, measured pace, his thrusts deep but deliberate, pulling out and pushing back into you with an almost agonizing slowness that made your heart race. “You like it when I fill you up like this? When I make you mine?”
Your only response was a strangled moan, your fingers clutching the sheets as he sped up his rhythm, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.
His hand left your hip, sliding down to your front to brush your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "God, you’re perfect," he muttered, his voice rough as he continued to slide in and out of you, each stroke a slow burn. "I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you right now."
The pressure inside you was building, slow and steady, like the tightening of a coil. You could feel every inch of him, each thrust dragging out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. You clenched around him, urging him deeper, and he groaned in response, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you harder into the bed.
“You’re fucking incredible,” he breathed, his voice rough and full of need. His thrusts picked up, faster now, more urgent, but still controlled, as if he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. “You feel so fucking good, so warm and tight around me. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”
Your hands gripped the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as the pleasure mounted. He hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, driving you mad with the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips.
“Please…” you gasped, not sure if you were begging for more or for him to take you faster. It didn’t matter. You just needed him.
Mattheo smirked, his fingers still pressing against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "You want it faster? You want me to make you come on my cock?"
You nodded, desperate for more. “Yes, please…”
“That’s what I thought,” he rasped, his thrusts quickening as he slammed into you with abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with the low groans escaping both of you.
With one final, devastating thrust, you shattered, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Mattheo wasn’t far behind, his rhythm growing erratic as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he followed you over the edge.
For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and the heat of his body against yours. Then, slowly, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.
“You’re not running from me again,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “Not now. Not ever.”
