#mattheoxreader

Based off of the song "Rumors" by Neffex. What can i say, im a gacha kid at heart afterall🥹

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle X Fem!Reader

summary: when the well-known hogwarts heartbreakers clash at Mattheos common room party, things could not possibly end well. unless......??

barrier creds to: @kthice !! cute barriers i love🥹

You had heard the whispers trailing through hogwarts like a lingering perfume, (except it probably smelled like sex instead of vanilla cupcakes.) about the infamous Mattheo Riddle. How he would leave girls aching at their cores, sore all over from a night full of bliss in his dormroom. You had never involved yourself with him of course, you had always brushed him off. Your ego too high over your head to realise that the whispers followed you too.. the words of men you had shamelessly used for your own pleasure. Many would call you the meanest bitch in hogwarts, walking men like your dogs until you were done playing with them, ripping them of everything they hold dear. Some would even go far as to call you a evil slut. This hectic sex life earned you quite the reputation at hogwarts.

"Hey your going to the party tonight right?"

your roomate pansy questioned, although you were already halfway done with your makeup, all that was left was to pick a dress.

"Bitch, you know i never miss a good ass party, never."

"I would expect nothing less from little miss heartbreaker over here." Pansy playfully rolled her eyes while applying her lipgloss. "Y'know.. little Matty is gonna be there"

"Matty? as in, Mattheo riddle the manslag?"

"Yup. that one."

"Why should i be concerned about that loser."

"Oh nothing.. i know you usually dont concern yourself with the feelings of men but theres a bet going around. Allegedly."

Pansys tone feigning pure mischief.

Your ears perked up at the word.

"Bet? Pansy what are you on about."

"Just some shit i heard from Blaise earlier in the great hall. He was spouting on and on about how theres a bet running with the Slytherin boys that the Mattheo riddle couldnt get the infamous y/n in his bed at his Slytherin common room party tonight."

Your face contorted with an expression of disgust, but an underlying tone of curiosity. Afterall, you had heard a good deal of Mattheo Riddle and how his cock would ruin all other boys for the girls dumb enough to sleep with him. You honestly called bullshit at their idiotic claims. But still a part of you damn that part. remained a little, just a tiny, feeble bit, curious.

"Pfft, stupidity. As if that irritatingly handsome fuckboy could get his grimy little hands on y/n l/n." You spat.

"Alright, whatever you say girl. May i warn you tho, he can be.. persuasive. tempting even."

____________________________________________

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Your four too many shots deep into firewhiskey after losing some dumb drinking game Astoria somehow convinced you to play, the bass of some Childish Gambino song rocking the room, dimly lit with tones of purple and green. Your eyes scanned the room for the girl who dragged you along to this party, and newsflash! she was making out with Blaise Zabini on an armchair beneath the slytherin common rooms dim light. You rolled your eyes at the lovesick duo, eyes darting back to the crowd. and thats when you caught him staring.

Mattheo. Fucking. Riddle. obviously he would be here, its literally his party, but you cant seem to ignore the aching feeling at your core as you analyze the state hes in. The way that smirk of his plays at the corner of his lips, his deep brown eyes burning holes through you as he scans the curve of body through your dress, his eyes darting down, and then up to your low-cut too low. square neckline through his brown curls. Within a blink hes standing right infront of you.

"Hey. enjoying the party i presume?"

You smile. sweetly, enough to give Mattheo a sweet tooth.

"Why are you talking to me Riddle?"

"Wow. Chivalry isn't dead now."

Mattheos tone is of a man who is up to absolutely no good.

You roll your eyes, a snarl forming onto your pretty little mouth.

"Many girls would say otherwise."

"Careful pretty girl, you roll your eyes that far back they may stay stuck like that."

"Oh please, how old are you Riddle."

Mattheo leans in, lips brushing your ear. You feel his breath caress the back of your neck.

"Im gonna fuck that bratty attitude out of you."

You feel a pool of heat rush to your lower belly. This certainly should not turn you on. But your body was betraying you as you pulled Mattheo flush against your lips.

"God you make me crazy, you know that?"

"What can i say, Its my specialty." you reply, tone cocky as ever.

lets just say you wake up the next morning in mattheos dormroom, markings across your body with mattheo sleepy ever so peacefully next to you ;)

⤿ Mattheo riddle, angst! synopsis : It has been a long time since mattheo left hogwarts. All he could think about now, was you, and it was killing him.

It's been a long, long time since I've memorized your face

How many years had passed? He stopped counting after the first one. For how he was feeling, it could have been two just like twenty. His days were just a blur now, his thoughts and memories lost in the hours he passed trying to survive, trying to live through what he had done. Through what he had become.

It had been four years, exactly. Four years since he left that place. Three years since the war ended. Two years since he managed to run away, managed to elaborate what happened.

Two of his friends died that night. His most closed ones. His parents died. Not that they had ever been present, but now that void was louder, and more real. He lost everything.

If he only knew how much lonelier he could've been, he would've appreciated those moments at hogwarts a lot more. But it was too late. There was no possible way of turning back. No second chance, no happy ending, no plot twist. Everything he had disappeared in just one night. The only family he had, the only people he ever trusted, the only girl he ever loved.

He never had much, but he got robbed of everything that reminded him of being human, of being alive.

He was numb.

He wasn't sad, wasn't angry, he wasn't even hungry anymore.

He felt nothing.

Sometimes, when the nights were too long, when sleep never came, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander off to different nights.

He remembered when he used to smoke with Theo and hear gossips from Lorenzo. When he had to pretend to get annoyed at hearing them complain about girls but secretely smiled for his friends happiness. When he used to smile at the mere thought of her face. When he used to draw her eyes just in case he couldn't see them for more than one day, in order to never forget her.

The sketchbook he always used to carry around was burnt in that castle with many other things. His drawings and everything he ever wrote were now gone, alive only in his memories.

Those nights were the only moments in which he managed to feel again. Sadness, regret, anger. But it was still better than nothing.

"She's still alive, somewhere"

Those were the only words he said. Words he repeated like a mantra. Words that kept him focused on the present, on what he had to do.

He stopped speaking, stopped interacting with anyone. Not that anyone would have ever interacted with him.

He was a monster, he was just the only thing the dark lord left on this world. Rubbish.

He was sure he should've been the one to die that night. Not Lorenzo. Not Theodore. It should have been him.

But it would have been too easy, and life had never been easy or condescending for him.

No, he couldn't escape from himself that easily. He had to live through all of this before.

He couldn't die without saying goodbye.

After all, he was the one that left. He was the one that got away without telling her. He was the one that shut her off. And now it was eating him alive.

The only decision he took for another person was the one that brought him there. The one that destroyed him completely.

He wanted to stay, he wanted to tell her he loved her, to promise her he would have been better for her, good. But he knew he couldn't. He knew the genetics would have taken over him. He couldn't promise her something he wasn't able to mantain.

So he left. He left and never came back.

But now too many years passed, too many nights regretting that decision. Too many days wandering who would even miss him if he just ended everything.

Too many hours since he last saw that pair of eyes he loved so much.

Yeah, he had to at least say goodbye.

And i won't stay very long, but you are the life i needed all along.

When the witnesses found the pale body under the small bridge, they instantly understood who it was. Curly dark hair, scars scattered all over and a mark on the left arm. And even though the mark was now damaged with all the times he tried to cut it off, everyone who lived through that tragedy could recognise it.

What those people couldn't comprehend was how angelic the features they saw were. Everyone knew how the son of the dark lord looked like. But no one had ever seen him like that.

No one who was still there, at least.

Because Mattheo Riddle died at peace. He died with venom in his vein and a relieved smile on his face.

The investigators will never understand why. They will wonder and formulate hypothesis but nothing ever came near the truth. Mattheo wasn't scared, he wasn't running away from anyone. He hadn't any debt. He just wanted to die. He wanted to reunite with his friends. He wanted to stop being himself. He wanted to escape.

And now, for the first time in his whole life, Mattheo Riddle was finally at peace with himself.

He managed to say goodbye.

And the investigators will never find the letter.

Because the letter had never been sent.

i do love you.

Hello my love, You'll never receive this letter, and it's not because i won't send it. For the first time in my life, i was ready to tell you everything. Everything i felt, everything that ever happened inside my head when you were around. I would have told you that you made my day better just by smiling at me at breakfast. That your voice calmed me down even when everything seemed to go against me. That your hair were the softest thing i ever touched. That my hands trembled when they were near you because i was so afraid of ruining something so pure and fragile as you. I would have showed you my drawings, every single one of them just for you to realise they were all inspired by you. I'm smiling right now, you know? I haven't smiled in a long long time, since the last time i saw you. But now, i do. I'm smiling because i remember your words. Writing my thoughts off is better than bottling them up, but i never listened to you, didn't I? I know, i was a dickhead. But i was wrong. I could have been better with you. I could have been present, i could've tried. You made me good. And i should've let you. But now it's too late my love. Because you're gone too. You, who were the only thing that kept me on this damn earth. You are gone too. I will take this letter with me and i will read it to you. Because this time, i'm not letting you go. I do love you. With all of me. And in every lifetime, i want to keep you near. I want you to make me good. See you soon, my sweet girl.

-Mattheo

i do love you.

tw: strong language, sex, weed

mind magic

at the black lakes shore, all of the 7th to 8th graders were there. the school had just started again like a month ago. studets were drinking and doing stupid stuff.

some sitting by a bonfire, others swimming, all just enjoying.

your enemy mattheo, the guy you despised over everything, was drunk. But so were you, more tipsy than drunk.

you were laughing and sitting with your friends, drinking your tropic fruits flavored drink, it was refreshening.

pairing: mattheo riddle x f!reader

Summary: mattheo is your ex who upon hearing that some boy invited you on a date, realises how important you are to him.

Word count: 1,6k

Warrnings: cussing

Authors note: yearning mattheo. :p

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I sat on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, my arms folded tightly across my chest.

“I don’t give a fuck who you’re seeing” he said coldly, his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.

I rolled my eyes, though a faint ache twisted in my chest.

“See? Then you should’ve gone on that date with Jake” Pansy chimed in, inserting herself straight into the middle of our argument. A sly smirk curled across her lips as her gaze flickered between me and Mattheo again and again.

At her words, Mattheo’s head snapped towards me, fury blazing in his eyes.

“Him? Seriously?” he scoffed.

“The fuck is your problem? I thought you said I could see whoever I wanted” My voice dripped with mockery. I wasn’t even trying to hide how much this argument was getting under my skin.

“But him? Out of every fucking bloke?”

His stare burned straight through me, yet I couldn’t bring myself to look back at him.

“You said you didn’t care” I murmured quietly, my heartbeat thundering harder with every second.

“I don’t” he replied coolly, though we both knew he was lying. “It’s just… he won’t be good for you” The last part came out quieter.

“And what the fuck is your problem with him anyway?” I snapped suddenly, finally meeting his gaze with open irritation.

He parted his lips as though he were about to say something, only to shut them again a second later.

An uncomfortable silence settled between us.

“He’s boring” he said finally. “What the hell are you even going to do with him, play chess?” he added coldly, letting out a mocking laugh.

I said nothing. I genuinely didn’t know what to say.

“You deserve someone spontaneous. Someone who’ll actually make you feel alive, not some pathetic little twat” Mattheo went on.

“Someone like you?” I asked, rolling my eyes at the implication. Who the fuck did he think he was? We broke up six months ago. It was my life.

“Yeah. Exactly someone like fucking me!”

He said it louder than he’d meant to, with far more emotion than he’d shown until now.

My eyes nearly widened out of their sockets. I was so shocked at first, but then anger flooded through me in an instant.

I only caught Pansy muttering, “oh, fuck” under her breath before I rose to my feet and strode closer to him.

he’d already slipped that cold bastard mask back into place. he stood there unmoved, wearing a perfectly stony expression, pretending none of it had affected him at all.

“I was fucking insane, yeah, but we used to sneak out together, you never got bored with me, we were always laughing” he said right to my face, sounding as though he genuinely believed he’d been the perfect boyfriend.

I was furious with him. Standing there in front of him, watching every flicker of expression across his face, I finally snapped.

“Yeah, except you conveniently forgot the part where you were constantly fucking stoned or drunk. I never knew where you were because you didn’t give a shit about me! Do you even remember me lying awake in bed worrying about you, and then you’d just tell me it was ‘nothing serious’? You spent more time off your face than you ever did with me on all those fucking ‘sneaking out’ nights or ‘laughing together’!”

The words exploded out of me as I screamed every single thing at him that I’d never had the courage to say when I broke up with him.

The silence that followed my words was even louder than before.

Mattheo had gone pale, and for a moment it felt as though he stopped breathing entirely, until I finally forced myself to move.

I turned away from him and started walking towards my dorm.

“Wait— Y/N, wait!”

I heard his voice behind me, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps rushing after me. A second later, his hand closed around my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to face him. He took his hand off of me.

“What?” I began sharply. „am I fucking wrong, Mattheo?” I asked in a cold voice.

Mattheo looked at me now without that empty stare he always hid behind. I could see that what I’d said had hurt him.

He dragged a hand through his hair, looking at me with those brown eyes I’d once loved the most.

“I—” He swallowed hard. “You’re not wrong”

He said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

We stood there on the staircase, suddenly alone together. Just the two of us.

“I cried almost every night because I didn’t know what to do to make you good to me” I whispered..

Tears welled in my eyes, so I turned away before he could see them and started walking towards my room.

This time, he didn’t stop me.

⟡

It was dark when loud knocking at the door dragged me out of sleep.

Reluctantly, I pulled myself from bed and stumbled towards it before opening the door.

To my surprise, Mattheo was standing there.

The water dripping from his hair and the state of his soaked clothes made it obvious he’d been outside for a while.

He stood in the doorway pale-faced, his eyes glistening strangely in the dim light. I could smell alcohol on him, mixed with cigarette smoke and his cologne.

For a moment, neither of us said a word. We simply stood there in silence, staring at each other.

And then, to my complete surprise, he suddenly closed the distance between us, cupped my face in both hands, and kissed me.

At first, I didn’t know what to do, but after a moment I kissed him back, threading my fingers through his wet hair.

The kiss was filled with longing.

His lips were cold from the rain, but the kiss burned.

Mattheo let out a quiet groan against my mouth. He kissed me like a drowning man finally dragging in breath after hours spent beneath the water. A kiss carrying six months of silence, anger, regret.

One of his hands cradled my jaw while the other settled on my waist, pulling me closer as though he were terrified I might disappear.

The moment our lips finally parted, Mattheo rested his forehead against mine. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the rain beating softly against the windows outside.

At last, he opened his eyes and looked at me as though he hadn’t seen me in years. He swallowed hard before whispering in a voice roughened by alcohol,

“I miss you”

I looked back at him sadly.

“You’re drunk, Mattheo” I whispered.

My words changed nothing.

Before I could push him away or shut the door, he caught hold of my wrist. His eyes were burning now.

“I’m not lying” he whispered sharply. “I miss you every fucking day” His voice cracked on the last word.

It was the first time in my life I’d ever seen him like this.

“I didn’t realise it… i didn’t fucking understand when we were together” He swallowed hard. “I was stupid. Always high. I walked away when i should’ve been with you” His voice broke again. “I didn’t know how to be good to someone who actually mattered, because no one had ever mattered to me the way you do”

“Mattheo—” I started, but he lifted his hand, pressing his finger gently against my lips to silence me.

I decided there was no point arguing with him in that state.

“Hearing Pansy say your name alongside Jake’s, hearing about some other boy taking my place…” He stopped for a moment, as though the words themselves were difficult for him to force out. “I wanted to fucking hit him just for daring to ask you out”

He let out a quiet laugh, though there was nothing happy about it.

Then he took both of my hands in his. He brought one hand up slowly and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

“You were my best thing” he murmured “And I ruined it”

Then suddenly

He dropped down onto his knees right there on my bedroom floor and wrapped both arms around my waist tightly, burying his face into the fabric of my nightgown.

“I want another chance” he whispered brokenly “Please… give me one more chance”

I looked down at him, feeling something inside me crack apart, and that was when it hit me that I still loved him.

Pulling myself free from his grasp, I knelt down in front of him and wrapped my arms tightly around him.

“I don’t know what to do” I admitted quietly, stroking the back of his head gently.

He wrapped his arms around me.

Then he spoke, his voice rough and hoarse.

“I’ll be better, i swear to fucking everything, i won’t drink this much anymore, i won’t disappear, i won’t make you sad”

He pulled me back slightly just so he could look at my face properly.

His thumb brushed away the tear sliding down my cheek.

“You were right about everything” he whispered. “I was selfish and stupid, but if you let me try, if you give me one more chance, i’ll fix this”

I looked at him, smiling through tears.

“Do you know how long I waited to hear that?” I said, my voice trembling.

“I’m just a fucking idiot” he laughed softly, and a second later I found myself laughing with him.

“I love you, Y/N. I never stopped” he whispered.

And the moment I heard those words, I crashed my lips against his in a kiss.

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: mattheo Riddle is your best friend, the kind who’s constantly getting himself into fights, only to turn up at your door afterwards asking for help patching him back together. But is it really just recklessness and bad decisions… or is there something more behind it, something that has everything to do with you?

Word count: 790

Warrnings: fluff, and fluff and just fluff, enjoy.

Authors note: so um my first one shot, i hope youll love it

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Just as I was getting ready for bed, I suddenly heard loud knocking at my dormitory door.

Irritated, I climbed out of bed, sighing in annoyance at least five times on my way there, but the frustration vanished the moment I saw Mattheo standing in the doorway.

His face was covered in cuts and bruises, blood running from his nose and eyebrow.

Yet he only smiled and asked, „Care to help me?”

Then he flashed me a stupid grin, his teeth, unsurprisingly, stained with blood as well.

“What the hell did you do, you idiot?” I asked, opening the door wider.

Mattheo winced as he stepped inside, one hand pressed against his side. A smirk still tugged at the corner of his bloodied l lips.

“Fell off my broom during training” he said with mock innocence, though the look in his eyes gave him away immediately.

Without waiting for an invitation, he stumbled over to my sofa and collapsed onto it with a groan.

“Who did you beat up this time?” I asked, walking over to the wardrobe to grab the first-aid kit.

“Some idiot from Gryffindor started mouthing off to me during training” Mattheo replied with a scoff.

I, however, didn’t find it amusing in the slightest.

“He said that in a real match he’d wipe the floor with me, so I made sure I got there first” he said, drawing in a breath,partly irritated, partly entertained by his own stupidity.

By then, I was already standing in front of him with the first-aid kit in my hands.

I rolled my eyes at his words and poured some peroxide onto a cotton pad.

“This might sting,” I said quietly before gently pressing it against the cut.

Mattheo Riddle flinched slightly, but kept up his usual tough act.

I could feel his eyes on my face, but I was too afraid to meet his gaze.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke. “So you’re not going to tell me off?” he asked, sounding surprised by my lack of reaction. “I’ll think about it” I replied coldly.

I was angry with him. I didn’t want him getting into these pointless fights, one day, something could genuinely happen to him.

“That’s the second time this week” I added quietly. For a moment, Mattheo said nothing while I continued cleaning his wounds. “You’re worried about me?” he asked with a teasing grin.

The second I finally looked him in the eyes, his expression immediately faltered.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you” I said quietly. For a moment, Mattheo simply sat there staring at me while I stopped tending to his face.

“But nothing’s going to happen” he said irritably, even rolling his eyes. “You don’t know that, Mattheo.” Now I was getting angry too. I stepped back from him.

At my movement, he stood up, towering over me easily. I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N” he muttered, stepping closer and closer until there was barely any distance left between us. “Why do you have to be like this?” he asked quietly.

I looked up at him sharply. “Like fucking what?!” I shouted back.

“Like Perfect.” he whispered.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What?” I asked, confused, our chests pressed against each other.

Mattheo looked down at me, jaw tense, like he was fighting with himself over whether he should say any of this at all.

“Do you know why I keep getting into fights?” he started.

I stayed silent, only staring at him. “Because I know I’ll have a fucking excuse to come to you afterwards” Mattheo admitted, his voice low and rough.

“So you’ll take care of me.”

He paused for a second, gently catching my chin between his fingers. “When you’re not around, I lose my fucking mind” he whispered. “I can’t focus because every thought I have ends up coming back to you.”

His grip softened slightly as his forehead almost brushed mine. “And it’s driving me completely fucking insane” he breathed.

Then, almost helplessly, he whispered: “What the hell are you doing to me?”

“Matty, I…” I didn’t know what to say. I could only stare into his eyes, which seemed brighter now than I’d ever seen them before.

“Say one word and I’ll leave” Mattheo Riddle whispered, resting his forehead against mine as he let go of my chin.

“But I fucking promise you… If you’re gonna be mine, I’ll do anything for you”

Not waiting any longer, I cupped his face in both hands and crashed my lips against his. He kissed me back instantly, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tightly against him.

“I’ve always been yours anyway” I whispered against his lips.

paired up - mattheo riddle

You’ve been paired up with your enemy for a two week project

tw: curse words

fluff btw

Once you heard your and mattheos name come out of your teachers mouth, your smile fades from a conversation with your friend.

”you cannot be serious” you mutter under your breath

You turn your head to the other side of the classroom, where mattheo sat with his friends. Theodore and Enzo were looking at you, mattheo staring at the teacher with a deadpanned expression.

he turned his head towards you and once your eyes met, you rolled your eyes looking away.

summary: mattheo being a distracting little shit while you try to study.

warnings: mdni! fingering, public setting, language, praise kink, dom/sub (kind of)

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The library was silent, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made every small sound reverberate louder than it should. Dust floated lazily in the shafts of candlelight, soft motes drifting like suspended stars. The air was heavy with the dry tang of parchment and the faint musk of leather bindings, that old-library scent that always seemed to settle in your lungs.

You were curled over your textbook, quill poised but useless, ink bleeding into a dark blot where you hadn’t moved in minutes. Your eyes followed the lines of text, but not a single word took root in your mind—not with him there.

Mattheo sat close, too close, his shoulder brushing yours every time he shifted. That casual contact sent jolts up your arm, even as he pretended not to notice. His scent curled around you, dizzying and warm: smoke clinging to his clothes, spice from some cologne he probably didn’t even remember putting on, and beneath it all the sharper note of leather that always seemed to follow him. It was maddening, like every inhale was a reminder that he was right there.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his thigh almost—but not quite—touched yours, a constant tease in the sliver of space between you. His quill scratched steadily across parchment, his focus seemingly unshakable, and it only made it worse. How could he write so calmly when your heart was stuttering, when every nerve in your body seemed tuned to the sound of his breathing?

Then his hand slid under the table. Warm. Steady. The brush of his knuckles grazing the bare skin of your thigh beneath your skirt was so subtle at first you thought you imagined it. But the heat was undeniable, spreading like fire from the point of contact.

Your quill slipped in your hand, ink streaking across the parchment in a crooked line. The scratch of the nib against paper was far too loud in the heavy quiet of the library. You froze, pulse hammering, every thought scattering.

Mattheo didn’t move his hand away. If anything, his touch grew bolder, dragging slowly back up, the edge of his fingers leaving gooseflesh in their wake. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge it—his eyes stayed trained on his textbook, quill gliding with effortless ease, as though he wasn’t undoing you with the slightest movement.

Then, at last, he tilted his head just enough to catch your expression from the corner of his eye. That faint smirk tugged at his lips, lazy, knowing, infuriatingly sure of himself.

“You dropped your quill,” he murmured, voice pitched low, husky with amusement. His hand squeezed, a gentle pressure that carried the weight of a promise—or a warning. “Distracted, darling?”

“Keep writing,” he whispered, his voice a low hum against your ear, each word curling down your spine like smoke. “Don’t let me distract you.”

But his fingers pushed higher, steady, unhurried, like they already owned the path they took. His knuckles nudged your skirt further up your thighs until the cool air of the library licked at skin you hadn’t meant to expose. Then—deliberately, maddeningly—his hand found the heat between your legs.

You stiffened, quill trembling in your grip as his fingers pressed against the thin fabric of your knickers, the slow drag of his touch making your breath catch. He traced the damp patch blooming there, feather-light, teasing—drawing circles that made your thighs twitch open before you even realized you were yielding.

The scratch of your quill across parchment sounded uneven, betraying you, the ink stuttering just like your breath. Mattheo chuckled low in his chest, the sound a soft vibration against your ear. “You’re soaking through them already,” he murmured, voice velvet-dark. “And I’ve barely touched you.”

He pressed more firmly, parting you with the pad of his finger through the fabric, the friction unbearable in its restraint. Your hips jerked despite yourself, a muffled gasp escaping that you instantly bit down on.

“Shhh,” Mattheo cooed mockingly, his free hand sliding up to your wrist, guiding your quill back to the parchment when it faltered. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, hot and smug. “Be a good girl. Keep writing.

“Matty—” you breathed, voice breaking on the whisper, but before you could say more, his other hand slid over yours, catching your trembling fingers and pressing the quill firmly back onto the parchment. The nib scratched a shaky line, the ink blotting as his grip forced you to keep writing.

“None of that,” he murmured, his lips brushing so close to your ear that the warmth of his breath made your skin prickle. “Don’t make a sound. Don’t stop. You don’t want anyone finding out how desperate you are under this table, do you?”

The pressure of his hand guided yours in a steady line across the page, feigning composure you didn’t have. Meanwhile, his other hand slipped beneath the damp fabric of your knickers, fingers finally breaching the barrier with devastating ease. He groaned quietly when he felt just how wet you were, the sound low and dark against your neck.

His fingers teased along your folds, slow, lazy drags that kept you teetering on the edge of frustration, circling but never giving you exactly what you needed. Your hand shook violently under his as you tried to keep writing, the words on the page dissolving into nonsense.

Mattheo smirked against your skin, teeth grazing your jaw. “You can’t even spell your own name right now, can you? Pathetic little thing.” His finger slid inside you with deliberate slowness, your walls fluttering around him, pulling another strangled gasp from your throat. His palm muffled it, covering your mouth before the sound could escape.

“Show me how smart you are, hm?” he breathed against your ear, voice honey-dark. His finger curled inside you, deliberate, knuckle pressing deep as his thumb stroked a slow circle over your clit. “Answer the next question while I make you fall apart.”

Your eyes blurred over the ink-stained parchment, the letters swimming as you tried to focus. The question in front of you was a simple one—something about defensive spells—but your lips parted uselessly, no sound coming out.

Mattheo’s smirk curved wider against your skin. “Thought so,” he murmured, thrusting his fingers deeper until your thighs shook against the edge of the chair. “Not so clever when you’re dripping all over my hand, are you?”

You choked on a gasp, biting down hard on your lower lip to keep the sound in. His palm pressed harder against your mouth, forcing silence even as your body bucked into him.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he coaxed, voice low and mocking. “Say the answer. Prove to me you’re still that perfect little know-it-all… or admit you’re just my mess now.”

Another curl of his finger had you whimpering into his hand, your quill dragging a desperate, jagged line across the parchment. His thumb pressed tighter, faster, the rhythm building heat that had your body trembling violently against his.

Your heart stuttered. The words blurred on the page as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding you slick. He groaned softly, lips brushing your temple.

Your pen shook in your grip, ink blotting into a dark, ugly stain on the parchment. Your breath caught, a sharp hitch in the suffocating silence of the library.

He dragged a slow circle over your clit—barely there, the lightest pressure, maddening in its restraint. The tiniest movement, but it sent shockwaves tearing through your nerves, had your thighs twitching helplessly against the chair.

“Easy,” Mattheo whispered, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear, velvet-soft. “So jumpy. So sensitive.” His finger never sped up, never pressed harder—just that steady, unbearable circle, enough to make you ache but not enough to bring release.

The scratch of your quill faltered again, hand trembling as you tried to keep writing. The letters bled into one another, illegible nonsense. You wanted to shove the parchment away, to surrender, but his grip on your wrist was unyielding, forcing the act of composure even as he tore it from you.

“Read it out loud,” he ordered, nodding to the page. His dark eyes glinted, sharp and possessive. “Don’t you dare stay quiet on me now.”

Your hands shook, quill trembling as it hovered over the parchment. The ink smudged beneath your fingers, illegible lines blurring into chaos. Your thighs twitched involuntarily under his teasing fingers, his slow, deliberate pressure making your body betray every attempt at composure.

“I—I can’t…” you stammered, breath shallow, pulse hammering in your ears.

“Yes, you can,” he countered, his voice low and firm, the kind of tone that brooked no argument. His thumb circled lightly over the most sensitive part of you, just enough to make your spine arc, your body quake in silent desperation.

You forced your lips open, the words coming out in a trembling, breathless stream, each syllable shaking as he watched, his gaze like fire on your skin. The scratch of your quill against parchment became secondary, insignificant compared to the pressure building inside you, the unbearable heat of his hand that had you trembling, trying to keep control while failing spectacularly.

“Pathetic little whimpers in between every answer,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear, warm and insistent. His voice was low, velvety, each word dragging over your skin like a caress—and a promise.

“Merlin, you’re so perfect,” he continued, his thumb pressing harder, circling with cruel deliberation. “Look at you—so clever, so obedient, letting me ruin you with my fingers while you try to study.”

Your quill wobbled in your grip, ink blotting across the page as your body betrayed you, hips shifting involuntarily against him. Every syllable you read aloud trembled, breath hitching in time with the precise teasing of his touch.

Mattheo’s free hand found your jaw, tilting your head so your focus was back on the page. “Don’t stop,” he murmured, teeth grazing your earlobe. “Keep going. Answer the questions. Read. I want to hear your voice breaking for me, even as you pretend to be in control.”

You shivered, trying to force focus, but his thumb traced a slow, maddening rhythm, pressing you into edge after edge, making every line of text blur, every word crumble.

Another thick finger slid inside, slow at first, deliberate, and your head fell back against the chair, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it. Your back arched without thought, quill rattling in your trembling hand.

His hand was quick to cover your mouth again, palm firm and warm, pressing against your lips as though claiming them for himself. The faint scent of smoke and iron from his clothes mingled with the sharp tang of your own arousal, grounding you even as it set your nerves aflame.

“Ah-ah. Quiet.” His voice was silk and gravel, each word dragging over your skin and pulling every nerve taut. You froze mid-breath, trembling beneath him, caught between desperate need and the sharp sting of restraint.

“You want to come, don’t you?” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear, the vibration of his words sinking deep into your chest. His fingers pressed inside you, slow and deliberate, circling, curling, teasing the very edge of your control.

Your quill wobbled, parchment trembling under your grip as your body betrayed every effort at composure. Hips jerked, thighs pressed involuntarily against his hand, and the soft, muffled whine that escaped you made him chuckle low and dark.

“Answer me,” he whispered, landing a small smack to your clit before resuming his thumb, brushing over your clit with maddening patience, “or I’ll stop. And you know you don’t want that.”

You nodded desperately, body trembling, clenching around his fingers as if your life depended on it. A strangled gasp escaped, muffled against the palm covering your mouth, and heat bloomed between your thighs, curling up into your belly.

He chuckled low and dark, a sound that vibrated through your chest. “Of course you do. Greedy girl.” His thumb pressed harder against your clit, dragging in merciless circles, teasing and punishing at once, his fingers now pushing in and out in a punishing rhythm, pushing you closer and closer to the edge you didn’t want to admit was already trembling beneath him.

“Come for me, princess,” he murmured, voice silk and steel, teeth grazing your earlobe. “Come all over my fingers, right here in this library, where anyone could see if they looked too close.”

Your body jerked involuntarily, spine arching as a rush of heat and need pulled you over the edge. Fingers tightened around his, quill slipping from your grasp, parchment forgotten. You bit down on his hand, muffling the sharp whine that tore from your throat as your body shuddered violently, riding the wave he’d coaxed with every deliberate stroke and tease.

Every nerve screamed, every muscle clenching and releasing, and he held you through it with a steady, merciless rhythm, guiding you past the edge again and again until your body was entirely his to command.

His fingers slowed, tracing feather-light circles over your sensitive flesh, coaxing out the last tremors as your spine arched and then sagged, finally collapsing boneless into the chair. Quill slipped from your hand, ink smudging across the page, forgotten, while your breaths came in ragged, uneven bursts.

Mattheo pulled his hand away, slick and glistening on his fingers, and without hesitation popped them into his mouth, the wet sound echoing faintly in the heavy silence of the library. The movement was casual, almost innocent, but it made your stomach twist and your cheeks burn all at once.

He leaned down then, brushing his lips against your cheek as if nothing had happened, as if the tremor still racing through your body were nothing but a quirk of the candlelight. His eyes met yours, dark and smug, glinting with mischief and satisfaction, and your chest tightened, caught between disbelief and want.