His body comes willingly allowing you to lead him like a dog, fussing only lightheartedly with playful remarks about how needy you are being. "Alright—quit it." He mumbles shrugging his shoulder out of your grasp finally, slouching up against the wall opposite you.

The hall is dark clouding your features, though he can still make out the little frown on your face, it's cute as fuck paired with your crossed arms. His tongue wets his lip gently, tugging the flesh between his teeth, you watch bewitched, the furrow of your brows smoothing over in your trance.

Mattheo's lips twitch growing into a grin full of arrogance noticing the reaction, he clears his throat finding it adorable how your eyes blink away the fog, lifting to meet his and the grump returns.

"Aw don't scowl, your too cute when you do that."

Your glower deepens in response, scolding yourself for allowing your guard down. It's not a surprise that he can still get to you, the two of you don't stay a part for very long. But as of right now, you are so not happy with him.

"Cut it. When were you gonna tell me?"

Mattheo scratches the curve of his neck, there's a loud pop when he clicks it lazily, the topic of discussion little interest to him. "Hm, tell you what?"

Your eyes narrow, with impatience, irritation setting in your tensed jaw. "Theo said he saw you with Parkinson. That true?"

Mattheo huffs quietly at the mention of his friend's interference, he's certain they love the drama and chaos more than he loves you. But nevertheless, you two are broken up he doesn't owe you a proper answer, his stubbornness answering for him with a shrug, "and if it is true?"

"then you're a fucking prick who can't keep a damn promise."

He releases a low mocking laugh, "you want to talk about promises, I have a whole list of shit you broke too—"

"So, it is true!"

"That's what you're focusing on. Merlin, do you hear yourself. If the jealousy wasn't so cute, I'd rip my ears off."

You scoff with disbelief, "jealous? Now that's just insulting Mattheo."

He shrugs, rolling his muscles back, allowing the tension and seriousness of the convo to chip off him. Taking a step closer, his hands capture your waist and pull you into him with playful force. He smirks at the quiet complaint that escapes you, his grin only widening at the attempt of dissatisfaction you're pretending to make.

Your eyes narrow, fighting to ignore his proximity, the way it weakens your heart, and try to change the subject. "Your breath stinks."

He laughs, not believing you.

"I don't know why you're so mad, I've done nothing wrong."

You technically know it's true, but that doesn't mean you want to give him that satisfaction of being right. Nothing worse than a big-headed Mattheo.

"I'll be the decider of that."

"I'm an open book with you, hit me. Interrogate me, maybe even tie me to a chair." he purrs playfully.

Your eyes roll back, "you're ridiculous. You'd enjoy that too much."

He grins, "maybe. you know how much I like you in charge."

"Says the subject who never listens."

He rolls his eyes, with a huff before hardening his gaze. "You always have my full attention, what does it matter if I zone out one of your many whines."

You cross your arms grumpily, "boyfriends aren't suppose to do that."

"Good thing I'm an ex then."

"That doesn't mean shit when we get back together — and we will," a threatening finger points at him, and he grab it pressing a light kiss to the flesh. Humming in agreement at your counterpoint, his teeth scrape nipping at the tip, "stop it."

"Why?"

You give him a deadpan look but don't pull your hand back which he takes as a sign to continue. His other hand caresses your waist, his thumb sliding under the shirt, relishing in the heat of your skin. Kissing down your finger, rolling your wrist to press gentle kisses up your arm making you shiver and squirm from the brush of his tickling stubble.

Your bodies are inches apart from one another, the air is warm with charged energy and Mattheo can't pull his hands from you. You look so pretty watching him, tilting your neck back habitually exposing the delicate skin to him further. He can't even remember why you were fighting when your submissive like this, his thoughts clouded by the sweet smell of your perfume.

"Do you really want me to stop?" He whispers, the heat of his breath warm against your ear. You both know the answer, it all depends on how stubborn your feeling right now.

Your breath is shallow, cheeks inflamed with humiliation at how easy he gets to you. Weak, an emotional wreck of obsession wrapped in love for him.

Instead, you stuff all your gooey emotion inwards, and throw your arms around his neck, tugging him closer by the shoulder. He turns his head to meet you, and it's so plainly obvious that he feels the same way. His usual brown eyes, appear a darken void, pupils twice as large, they search your face for any sign this isn't what you want.

"Yes. I'm not doing anything with you while your dicks contaminated." You finally answer.

There's a pause, a moment that lingers additionally long it stalls your breath awaiting the expected raging bull. "Well it's a good thing I had nothing to do with Parkinson then."

Your eyes flutter blinking back his words, there's no use even trying to hide your expressions, as they flash across your face like a slideshow.

He spots the smile too quick, rolling his eyes with amusement. "You're vicious you know. As if I would ever put my dick anywhere near that."

"I don't know what you do in your spare time Riddle." You respond, brushing a hand through your hair with feigned casualness, struggling to hold in the giddy smile from breaking through. "I was just looking out for your hygiene that's all."

He snorts, taken back by the ridiculous of the answer, the jealously is so delicious he's feeling a little lightheaded from the ego boost.

"Last I remembered you told me to stick my dick where the sun don't shine." He teases with a snicker, recalling the words of anger you lashed at him only days before. He chuckles watching the flicker of irritation resurge behind your eyes at the truth, "Now you care about my hygiene?"

You sigh dramatically, pursing your lips in thought, you brush his shoulders of imaginary dust before you pat his biceps lightly like a supportive friend. "Well, I'm gonna have your babies someday, and somebody has to keep you in prime condition."

Mattheo spurts a sound you've never heard before, caught between a cough and a wheeze. Folding forwards in front of you, he laughs swept completely off guard by the casualness in which you decide to bring up future offspring.

"Fucking hell you're mental aren't you." He's smiling so much his dimples dig into his cheeks, enjoying the familiar banter between the two of you. How you keep finding ways for him to love your insane ass more, he doesn't know. Straightening up, he gives your hips a loving squeeze. "Admit you were jealous and we can arrange all your wishes baby."

You scoff irritated at the ease in which he just accepts your answer, "Was never jealous." Your arms crossing in denial, "but you lied to me."

"I merely tweaked the truth a bit! It's not lying baby." He tilts his head, playing innocent with his big brown eyes. "It got your attention though, didn't it." He smirks with triumph, "And! It got you right back in my arms."

"You let me believe you slept with her! And I grabbed you dimwit don't take my credit." You huff, eyes only narrowing harder at this adorable puppy face.

He scoffs playfully, "Who gives a crap, we still ended up together didn't we. Like we always do. Because damn right your gonna have my babies."

Finally, your face relaxes and your smile settles back home at his words. Mattheo matches it, his heart soaring because it’s one of his favourite moments. When all the shadows evaporate taking away the snark, the biting hatred and leaves behind the glowing sun and his sweet Angel. He feels the urge to tuck your hair back, cocoon you in his love and forgive every shitty thing said between the both of you.

His lips are on yours in lighting, a palm caressing the underside of your cheek with a gentleness that is absent from his kiss. It's as if the last 48hours cease to exist, time rewinding back past all the blurriness of messy arguments, an distance that causes pain only heartaches after nights alone. His grip is firm, comforting as your lips smack together, breaths stolen by one another.

Your hands have lost all sense of control, roaming widely under his shirt feeling every ridge of his muscles, spiking his skin alive you can't help but grin when he shivers.

Mattheo pulls back, shooting a lighthearted glare at your devious delight, "Don't get ahead of yourself sweetheart, your not in the driver seat."

You smirk, purring back flirtatiously, "That's okay, I don't mind being the passenger princess."

He laughs, finding your submission adorable, "Oh that is good news." He comments with light sarcasm, "And here I was worried I'd have to punish you for all that dancing you were doing on Pucey."

Surprise overtakes you, having entirely forgotten about your own scandalous moment earlier in the night. You grin up at him innocently, amusement dancing in your eyes as you giggle, “Oh that.”

“Yeah that. Got about two seconds to try and talk your way out of that.” He grunts unamused, a cheeky pinch sneaking under your skirt before he’s wrangling you over his shoulder, your loud squeal ringing in his ear.