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writingsbychlo · 7 months

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LAST NIGHT | mattheo riddle

summary; on again, off again, you and mattheo have always gone round and round in circles, but this is the last time.

word count; 3962

notes; based on this song! my first ever mattheo fic, or even slytherin boy fic, so hope you enjoy, sorry if it sucks lmao <3

“I’m done, Mattheo!” Your voice bounced off the walls, giving the half-arsed silencing spell you’d cast two hours ago a run for its money. “I’m fed up of this. I’m fed up of your attitude, and your bullshit, and the way you just don’t seem to care about anything!”

“Oh, you’re done?” He mocks, bringing the cigarette back to his lips as he sits on the windowsill, rolling his eyes and blowing smoke out into the night air.

“Yes, I’m done.”

“Bullshit. You say that every other week. What is this, our fourth breakup this year? Fifth?” Stubbing out what was left on the stone wall, he flicked the butt out into the darkness, finally swinging his legs back to the floor and turning to face you. “You had no problem with my carefree attitude and my bullshit and my laidback nature when we started dating. Why are you throwing a hissy fit now, what’s this really about, huh?”

Your jaw clenched, clenched so hard it hurt. He smirked at that, wider when your fists balled by your sides, and he took an arrogant swig of the firewhiskey the two of you had been splitting. The very drink that had given you the courage to do this in the first place.

“Nothing to say, then? That’s what I thought.”

“Mattheo—”

“Storm your pretty arse out the door, love. Slam it, like you always do. You’ll come back in the middle of the night, like you always do, and I’ll be here waiting for you.” A lump caught in your throat, and the fiery anger in your body settled into a cool rage.

“It’s different this time, Mattheo. When we started dating in the fifth year, nothing but having a date to Yule Ball mattered, but we’re two months from graduation, and you— you’re hopeless. We’re hopeless.” His brows pinched, a snarl taking over his features at your harsh words and the small seed of victory was squashed by the tension building in the air. “You won’t tell me anything about our future, about your own and if I even have a place in it. You won’t make plans, you’re barely even passing your classes and you don’t care. It’s been years, Matt, and you still treat me like I’m just some fun.”

“Exclusive fun. At least I’m not sleeping with anyone else.” He smirked again around the words, throat bobbing as he swigged at the whiskey, a golden drop leaking down his chin and your hands itched to wipe it away. “You knew who I was when we met.”

“Yes, I did.” Your voice cracked, and just like that, a gaping cavern seemed to split through all those emotions, leaving a feeling of hollow, cold numbness to fill your chest in its place. So wide it was dark, echoes of feelings bouncing on stone walls, and you rubbed over your chest. “But I wish you were someone I never met.”

Silence filled the space between you both, airtight like the oxygen was starting to thin. “You wish I was someone you never met?”

“Yes.” Your voice shook even as you said it, the glass bottle clinked on the stone ledge as he set the bottle down. His shoes scuffed on the floor, as he made his way over to you, long strides that you matched backwards, until your back was pressed to the door. “Mattheo.”

His hands slammed onto the wood on either side of you, crowding you until your noses were brushing, the warmth of his body seeping into you. His voice was like a growl, skittering along your body like a reverberation as he spoke, “You wish you never met me?”

“I didn’t—”

“No. You didn’t.” He cut you off, your shoulders slumping in defeat as that red in his gaze took over. There was no sentience now, nothing to be said, not as your hand slipped across the wood towards the doorknob behind you. The time for talking was over, there was nothing left to be said now.

He was right.

He knew you far too well. Just like every other time, you wanted to storm out, slamming the door and cursing his name, promising you’d never go back. Just like every other time, you’d end up coming back to him, over and over again, a vicious circle where you crawl back into his bed, and he whispers sweet things in your ear that never come true, and you go on like it never happened.

Over and over and over.

You released the doorknob, his eyes searching your own, and instead, you gripped his jaw. He startled, even more when you yanked his mouth down to yours, hands sliding around until you were pulling yourself up to his height. He groaned, a deep sound as his mouth opened against your own, wet and needy with desperate kisses.

His body collapsed against yours, pinning you to the door, only interrupted by his own arms sliding around your waist, bodies flush and racing hearts pounding together through your chests.

“See, isn’t this so much better?” He muttered, nipping at your lower lip as your head tipped back to rest on the wood, his mouth beginning to make tracks along your jaw instead. “When you just shut up and stop overthinking, and let things go how they work, huh?”

That same hot mouth continued its path, your breath shallowing as he kissed down and down, wet tongue licking across your collarbones and the swell of your tits. Rough hands pushed up at your shirt, bunching the fabric up as your shaky hands attempted to undo the buttons, falling into every touch and lie that came from his mouth.

Just like always, you fell into his trap, like a bee to honey, he knew every weakness. Dropping to his knees before you, pretty brown eyes all but sparkled as he smirked up, glittering with victory. His tongue laved over the soft skin below your belly button, tracing the edge of your skirt, fingers toying with the hem line when your own laced into the soft brown curls, pushing them back.

“Matty…”

“That’s right, baby.” Another wet kiss to your stomach, one sensual enough to leave your back arching against the wood, pushing closer to him as his hands dipped under the skirt to find the sides of your panties. Peeling them slowly down your legs, he propped his chin on the soft pudge of your stomach, peering up. “The only thing that mouth should be screaming at me is prayers to God and begs of my name.”

Your scoff was lost to a moan as he slapped the tender back of one thigh, skin stinging, the welts that would be left by the cold rings decorating his fingers only made you tremble with further excitement, further need. Need for him, desperation for the man who knew you so well, like the back of his hand. Every touch, every tell, every weakness exploited was by design and knowledge.

“You want my mouth, baby? Say it. Tell me what you want.” A nip to the inside of one thigh, delicate skin abused by teeth and lips, a bruise there he would leave so proudly.

“I want your mouth.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Tell me, who would make you come like I can if you left me, huh?”

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue, stinging words with a bitter bite, ready to chew his head off once more for his arrogance, but it all died away as your head thumped back on the door. His tongue swept through your folds, head hidden under the pleats of your skirt as he lapped from your entrance to your clit, hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin as he moaned.

He wasn’t gentle, nor was he patient, not as he set to work on something he enjoyed just as much as you did. His tongue worked you over, your thighs trembling on either side of his head as he licked and swirled, fingers sliding up the sides of your legs. You didn’t want to speak, to give him the satisfaction of rewarding him for his effort, teeth sinking into your lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.

He took it as the challenge it was, growling against your core, the vibrations shaking along your spine and lighting you up like fireworks in the crisp night air, sparking you to life like a fuse. He doubled down on his efforts, wet and messy, pulling on every trick he knew you loved, tongue sinking into your hole just to pull back as you clenched, teasing and taunting until you were dizzy.

Sucking on your clit until your knees shook, almost threatening to give way, he sank one finger into your dripping cunt, and your pledge for silence gave way, a loud cry slipping from you and bouncing around the room. He nipped at your sensitive clit to celebrate his own victory, a squeaky sound escaping at the sensation, and your nails scratched into the wood of the door, doubtless leaving claw-marks he’d never let you live down.

That one finger became two, scissoring and curling until you could no longer take it, exploding around his digits with frantic rolls of your hips into his hand. He let you ride it out, never letting up, never stopping his assault, your body spasming under his hold until he was pulling back, other hand pinning your hips to the door.

Your legs finally gave way, only held up by the support of his body as he kept you locked where you were, slamming those fingers in and out of you until you were begging. Begging for another release, begging for reprieve, begging for anything at all, as he barrelled you towards another orgasm.

When this one struck it was with a scream, with a burning heat so intense you thought your clothes might turn to ash on your very skin, melt away into nothing the same way every thought in your head had managed to do.

He finally pulled back, slick and shining fingers going straight to his mouth as his body supported your own, one hand slipping to your hip and holding you tight, steadying you against the door until your shaking breaths evened out.

The taste of yourself was still on his tongue as his mouth crashed into your own, your shaking hands nothing like his steady ones as the two of you tore at one another’s clothing, stumbling together in a tangle of limbs and kisses towards the bed. Stripping on another of clothes in rough movements and angry tugs and rips, until you were bare, his hot cock pressing to your stomach, smearing precum over your skin and letting you know just how much he wanted you.

He may have you fucked stupid, wrapped around his little finger, but at least you knew you had him in that same helpless grip.

Reaching between your bodies and taking his hard cock in hand, he let out a stuttered moan at the first pump, the drag of his flesh in your hand, precum spilling out over your fingers in a sticky trail. His need tasted like sin on your lips, your name a mumbled praise that sounded like a curse as you pumped him slowly, his hands flexing so tightly on your hips they’d no doubt leave tainted marks.

“Fucking hell, baby. Gonna’ fuck you so good, gonna’ fuck you ‘til you remember some sense, ‘til you’re screaming the way only I can make you.” With one rough shove, you were spilling out across his mattress, gripping the sheets with your fingertips as he crawled up and over you.

A quick movement and you were flipped, finding yourself face down into the bedsheets, his weight pressing into you at every angle from above, and then—

Then the stretch, the slow drag as he sank into you, joint moans as he gave you no time to adjust. The burning rage in his veins drove him into you until your hips sat snugly together, his throbbing cock stretching out every wall within you to that delicious brink between pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, Mattheo…”

“Don’t say my name again tonight unless you’re fucking screaming it.” He pulled back, snapping his hips into your own with such brutality that the sound echoed around the room, your fingers screwed into the sheets practically turning white-knuckled with how your body tensed and shuddered. He did it again and again, slamming into you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs every time. “I’m still so goddamn mad at you, but you’re just too hot when you yell at me.”

“Fuck you.” Your words didn’t have nearly as much vitriol as you wanted, not when they were muttered out into the sheets as your face pressed into them, drool on your lips from every slam of his cock into you. He caught them though, fingers lacing into your hair and yanking your head up, the pace never slowing, even as his body covered your own, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I already am, sweetheart. You just can’t help yourself, giving yourself over to me even when you’re mad. My pretty little slut.”

A particularly sharp thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as every other feeling seemed to melt away until only the pound of his hips into your own was left. You could feel him everywhere, outside and inside, as he filled your every thought and every cell. It had always been like this, utterly intoxicating with him since that very first kiss, the moment those captivating eyes had locked on your own and you’d been tangled in the web that was Mattheo Riddle.

The first scream slipped free from your lips as his hand came down across your arse with a slap, a condescending chuckle followed it and he rewarded you with an extra hard squeeze. Driving into you with renewed force, he left a matching handprint on the other side, and you cried out his name with cracked voice. “That’s right, fucking take what I give you.”

“Mattheo!”

His name was like a chant now, unstoppable as pleasure swelled and built inside of you, brain going foggy and his name the only thing that was clear, His touch was grounding but his kisses were like a drug, trailed along your shoulder and spine as he smothered you into the mattress, tears building in your eyes with the delicious overwhelm of it all.

Trembling, shaking, your body was hardly your own as you squirmed beneath him, pushed down into the bed as tears wet the sheets from your eyes, used like a whore and loving every second of it.

Another peak was building, the tangling in your stomach a telltale sign as your body tensed under his touch, like an instrument he knew just how to play as his fingers skated along your body, tweaking nipples and travelling down to your clit, harsh circles rubbed into the swollen bud.

With only a couple of unsteady circles, you exploded, screaming his name just as he promised you would heat flaring through you, sweat slick between your bodies.

His lips left sloppy kisses along your neck as he never let up, only stopping enough to pull back, and leave you for just a second as a trembling mess on the sheets. Long enough to flip you over, to push your knees up until they were almost to your chest, hooked over his shoulders as he sank back into your wetness.

Your hands were shaking, coming up to grip at his biceps, half-lidded gaze locked on that fiery stare of his own, even when his forehead came down to press to your own. Your nails tore welts into his arm, a pleasured hiss on his lips and his hips stuttered, lips tugging up at the edges in a pain-fuelled smirk of sheer bliss.

“God, look at you. My perfect girl, and this perfect pussy grippin’ me so good. I fucking love you, and you love me.” You could only muster a whine in reply, arching your back until your nipples brushed his chest, the added stimulation making your eyes roll back in your head, shuddering right down to every last nerve you had.

“Mattheo…” Your voice was raw, unable to scream anymore, and a sick gratification flashed over his features, open mouth brushing yours, letting you swallow every moan he let out.

His hips rolled, the fluttering and spasming of your inner walls sending him toppling over the edge, and with one last rough stutter of his hips into you he stilled. Bracketed between your thighs his weight collapsed atop you, heat flooding your core as he spilled into you, pump after pump, the aftershocks of your orgasm reigniting a little at the feeling, drawing out until you tingled right down to your fingertips.

If you’d had any strength at all, any ability to even move, you’d shove him off of you, roll away from him out of his grip. Instead, he lay against you, panting, tracing his fingertips softly up and down your ribs in that way he knew you loved, until he’d gained enough of his own strength to push himself up.

A whimper slipped free from your lips as he pulled out, wetness leaking from you immediately in his absence, goosebumps covering your skin as his body peeled away from your own. Kneeling back between your aching thighs, Mattheo’s lips twisted in a cruel smirk as he eyed the mess he’d left between your thighs, only growling at the embarrassed flush that covered your body as you attempted to snap your legs shut.

That burning look of anger and passion still flared somewhat in his eyes, no longer a blazing inferno but lingering enough like smouldering ashes, and he barely bothered to reach over the side of the bed and snatch up his abandoned shirt, tossing it onto your chest for you to clean yourself up. He collapsed down onto the bed beside you, a satisfied sigh escaping him as he propped one bent arm behind his head, rolling onto his side and watching you mop between your thighs with amusement, snickering at the sensitive gasps that occasionally slipped free.

When you were done, his arm snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to face him as you tossed the ruined shirt down onto the floor somewhere to be cared for later. Sometimes he’d light up a cigarette at this moment, in others, he’d pull the hidden bottle of firewhiskey from under his mattress and take a mouthful. Today was one of the rare occasions when he did neither, settling into your side with a smile on his face, eyes slipping closed and he nuzzled half of his face into the pillow on your side.

Your eyes remained open, though. Studying him. It was no wonder you had caved so many times, no wonder it had been so easy every other time to fall into his arms, to believe all his embellished promises and pretty words. So easy to stay, when he looked like an angel, innocent and sweet and kind, with half a smile on his face and an adorably possessive arm over your waist as you cuddled into him. It was just like every other time you’d caved to him.

But not this time.

No, for once, you’d be strong. You’d endure the pain of leaving him, endure the suffering of being without him if it meant being happy, being healthy, being the kind of woman a daughter could look up to one day. You would never let your own child, your friends or family endure this kind of toxicity, so why did you continue to allow it for yourself?

No more handsome smiles and golden eyes drawing you back in.

It was as you were making this decision, taking a bracing, deep breath, that his eyes cracked back open, focusing on where you lay mere centimetres from him. Staring at you from a shared spot on the same pillow, he gave a hint of a smile in the dim lighting of the room, eyes sparkling, like things might really be different this time.

You’d fallen for it one too many times.

His lips puckered slightly, expectant for a kiss, and your own lips pressed together, resisting the urge to find his. Instead, you rolled over, throat stinging and eyes burning as you faced away from him, sliding out of the bed. The stone was cold under your feet as they hit the floor, every step from the comforting warmth of the sheets was like stepping into the Arctic.

“Why are you not in bed right now?” Mattheo groaned, and you heard the sheets rustle as you gathered your clothes. He rolled in the bed, clutching a pillow to his chest instead, an amused look on his face. “You don’t need clothes, I’ll keep you plenty warm.”

Tugging on your shirt, you only bothered with two buttons, his brows rising and smile beginning to dim, as you tugged on your skirt and yanked up the zip. Socks didn’t matter, nor did your tie, shoving them into the pockets of your robe, and he propped himself up among the pillows.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“This again?” He said, still not taking you seriously. His messy hair, swollen lips, those pretty brown eyes, it was all so hard to resist. The frown on his face, the disbelief in your conviction, less so. “Stop being ridiculous and come back here. You’ve made your point, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Whatever.”

“No, Mattheo. That’s just it.” Finding your shoes and scooping them up, your toes flexed on the cold floor, a protest at the cold, but you’d make it back to your room before they got frostbite. “You won’t change. You never change. I’m not doing this again.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“Yes, and you were right.” His eyes narrowed, confusion flashing over his face at your concession. “I always leave, and right about this time, I always come back, and crawl into your bed, and I’m not doing this again. This time it’s different. This time it’s over, Mattheo.”

“It can’t be over.”

“But it is. This is the best decision for us both, really.”

“I think I should have been part of a decision that's in my interests, then!” He burst, scrambling across the sheets and standing himself, beginning to tug on his own clothes. “We’re not over. We can’t be, you don’t mean that.”

“Mattheo, stop.” He did, pants sitting low on his hips, unbuttoned as his hands fell slack to his sides instead. “Just, give it some thought. You’ll see, I’m right.”

“You’re not right.”

“Sleep on it.” You couldn't do it anymore, any longer and you’d give in like always, fall into his arms and let him temporarily kiss it better.

“I’m still gonna’ wake up wanting you and me.”

You sighed, hand closing around the door handle again. This time, you had the strength to open it. For once, you truly felt like he was listening to you, like the threat of leaving was at last finding its home within him. He was hearing it.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered as you stepped into the hall, the silencing spell crumbling around you as you left the bubble, and the sounds of the world came crashing back in. The howl of the wind outside, the shuffle of midnight wanderers in the common room, and owls hooting to the moon, all fill the empty space. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

“Become something worth staying for, and I’ll keep loving you too.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #mattheo riddle x reader smut #mattheo riddle/reader smut #slytherin boys #harry potter #benjamin wadsworth x reader #benjamin wadsworth/reader

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enha-doodles · 1 month

Note

Hey can you do a reaction to Slytherin boys reacting to the reader being a bookworm ?

Thankyou 💗💗

SLYTHERIN GUYS REACTION TO YOU BEING A BOOKWORM | ✧⁺。

Pairing : ( Mattheo , Tom , Theodore, Lorenzo, Draco ) x reader

Note : tysm for the request and i hope you enjoy it hehe 🤭🤭

Warnings : none

Mattheo Riddle

Even though Mattheo thinks reading sessions are about as thrilling as watching paint dry compared to his usual parties, he puts on a brave face for your sake because he loves you so much . He sticks around while you bury your nose in books, though his mind might wander to livelier activities. Despite the occasional yawn, he's willing to endure the quiet moments for his darling , he is a romantic and caring guy afterall

Tho he'll complain and whine all the while you won't pay attention to him and roll his eyes upon your books

Tom Riddle

Tom secretly enjoys the peaceful vibe when you're both lost in your own literary worlds. He won't admit it out loud, but he finds it oddly comforting to share comfortable silences with you, even if he'd rather be plotting world domination. Who knew the Dark Lord had a soft spot for reading?

He'd leave some of his books on your table so you'd read them , he loves seeing you smile while you read something interesting especially of his choice , your reactions making him obsessed fall deeper for you .

Theodore Nott

Theodore scratches his head trying to figure out why you're so obsessed with books, but he's a good sport about it. He might ask you why on earth you spend so much time with your nose buried in pages, but hey, to each their own, right? As long as you're happy, he's cool with it, even if he doesn't get it.

He is someone who is smart without much effort - that is the reason he doesn't understand your affection with books , which also has some people wonder why he's not into ravenclaw but then his Slytherin tendencies prove his loyalty to his house

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo is like a kid in a candy store when he realizes you both share a love for books. He's all in, racing you to finish books first and gleefully bragging when he beats you to the last page. Who knew reading could be such a competitive sport? But hey, it's all in good fun, right?

He's also a very literature typa guy so he'd have you on his lap while you're cuddled into him and you're both reading the same book . You have many of your dates in the library and none of you seem to mind .

Draco Malfoy

Draco puts up a fuss about your bookworm tendencies, claiming they're not even close to being as exciting as qudditch or poker or any other rich kid shit he has done . But secretly, he's low-key intrigued by what you're reading. He'll grumble about it, of course, but then he'll sneakily ask about the plot or characters, trying to act like he's not interested. Classic Draco, always putting on a show.

He's also very bratty so he'll be annoyed af if he's speaking and you'll tell him to shut up because you're on a good part atm coz sweetheart does he look like he cares ? He does

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

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ageofstarkey · 8 months

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nervous energy ✰ m. riddle

summary: it’s just been one of those days, and you seek out matthéo to make it better.

pairing: best friend! (but maybe something more?) matthéo x reader

warnings: nothing really!! just some very vague mentions of anxiety related thingssss

note: another lil baby matthéo blurb!! just love-sick théo being an absolute softie for reader :’)))) also if you’re new here - i headcanon matthéo as french (hence the accent on the e!! so his name would be pronounced muh-tay-o, and théo would be tay-o bc i think it’s a cute nick name) okay okay anyways hope you enjoy!! feel free to submit hp requests (marauders or original era!! no smut!! <3)

masterlist

reblogs & comments are so appreciated <3

✰ ✰ ✰

with a quiet little sigh, you knock at the door of the boy’s dormitory. you’re filled to the brim with nervous energy, fingers worrying at the sleeves of your sweater as you wait.

after what feels like a near lifetime, the door swings open with a loud, familiar groan. matthéo stands on the other side, and the mere sight of your best friend causes you to lose any semblance of composure.

before he can even so much as say hello, you’re throwing your arms around his neck. “woah - hey” he stumbles back but quickly steadies himself, wrapping tentative arms around your waist. “what’s wrong?” his voice is soft in a way it only ever is around you, and it takes everything in you not to break down and cry.

“bad day” you murmur weakly into the fabric of his t-shirt. your voice is muffled, but his arms tighten around you in silent understanding. “i just feel weird”

“d’you wanna talk about it?”

you make an awkward attempt at a shrug, arms still wrapped firmly around matthéo’s neck. “i don’t think so.”

“okay. that’s alright.” he’s quiet for a few seconds, one hand stroking up and down the length of your spine absentmindedly. “is there anything you need?”

you sigh softly as you pull away from matthéo. your arms fall back to your sides, and you try to ignore the way one of his hands remains firmly on your waist. “can i just… stay here for a little?”

his lips turn upwards in the barest hint of a grin. “you can stay as long as you’d like.”

#i don’t know how much i like this but i’m posting it anyways LOL #please send reqs!!!!#ageofstarkey writing <3 #ageofstarkey harry potter <3 #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys fanfic #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin boys blurb #mattheo riddle #benjamin wadsworth #marcus lopez

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crysttalsblog · 3 months

Text

WELL YOU HAVENT SEEN MY MAN.

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slut4slytherinss · 6 months

Text

Gold Rush

SEND REQUESTS!!

Summary: in which (fem!)reader is in love with Mattheo, but so is everyone else. Reader pushes her feelings deep down, convinced Mattheo, beautiful Mattheo could never love her. In doing so, hurting herself, and a certain curly haired boy.

3,014 words

Warnings: cursing, fighting, slight mention of sexual content, reader being self-conscious, Mattheo being an idiot, Mattheo and his big ego, angst, potentially more parts(???), not proofread bc I don’t have time, a few references to movies IF YOU SQUINT, possibly ooc Mattheo (I haven’t read Everything Black in a hot minute forgive me), use of Y/n, Tom Riddle is Mattheo’s father in this, Regulus is in fact dead (rip my man), Mattheo and reader being a bitch lol, in character-ish Enzo but not headcannon Enzo, THEO IS IN THE SLUG CLUB FOR THE PLOT IM AWARE THAT HE WASNT IN THE BOOKS

2nd person pov

Hufflepuff prefect reader

Female reader

Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. So inviting, I almost jump in.

Your eyes are trained on the dark haired boy, specifically those deep eyes. “I know I’m pretty, you don’t have to stare, love.” Mattheo grins, you quickly dart your eyes away, “I wasn’t staring.” you murmur. He scoots his chair back, the feet scraping against the old library floor, he stands up and walks towards you— not even bothering to push the bloody chair back in. He takes a seat right next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder, “You really should be studying, y’know? Can’t have m’girl failing her exams.” My girl. You roll your eyes. “I’m immune to your charms, Riddle.” You say, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself of that. “Are you, though? I mean, remember in first year when you—“ you quickly cut him off, a foreign red flush invading your cheeks. “I was eleven!” You whisper-yell, his grin widens at your embarrassment. “Okay.” He drags the word out, “Some things never change, badger.” You furrow your eyebrows “Excuse me?” “Y’know? Badger, you’re a Hufflepuff, unless you’re shagging Diggory and stole his tie.” He gestures to your yellow tie, you roll your eyes. “First of all, Cedric is taken and if you call me badger again, I will ruin your pretty face.” “You think I’m pretty?” Another eye roll. “If you keep rolling your eyes at me, they’re gonna get stuck back there.” Before you can reply, a girl you recognize as a Slytherin fifth year, only younger than you by a year, calls for the boy sitting in front of you. “Mattheo! I don’t have all day, c’mon.” He looks back at the blonde girl and sighs, “Merlin’s beard,” he murmurs, then calls out to her “I’m coming Eloise!” Causing you to let out a laugh. He gives you a look, making you laugh even harder. But once he walks away, you realize that he, Mattheo Riddle, is probably hooking up with that girl, that absolute model, making your smile fade. Making you feel like an idiot for even thinking that he’d like you. For thinking you should inflate his ego even further by confessing.

But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush. Everybody wants you. Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

You clutch your books close to your chest, dodging the hundreds of children rushing to get to class. Like every other day. A paper airplane comes straight toward you, it’s about to hit you clean in the forehead, you duck just in time— but a hand reaches out and catches it. You look over to thank the person, it’s Mattheo. Of course it’s Mattheo. That damned boy never leaves you alone. “You alright?” He asks, seeming genuinely concerned. Of course he does. He always does. “I’m fine, Riddle.” You spit out, fighting back your horrid feelings. He tries to speak but you just walk toward the potions classroom.

Walk past, quick brush. I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush.

You sigh as you walk into the lavatory. Standing in front of the sink, you splash your face with some water. Trying to cool yourself down. “Y/n?” Fucking Mattheo. “I really don’t have time for your bullshit, what are you even doing in the girls la—“ you cut yourself off as you see Mattheo, a girl against the wall, not Eloise, a different girl. An older girl, a seventh year. Looking annoyed as ever. You let out a breath of surprise. Shaking your head you turn back around and walk out of the bathroom. Feeling like an idiot. Like always when it comes to that boy.

I don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush. Everybody wants you. But I don’t like a gold rush.

“Wait! Y/n—“ he rushes out of the bathroom to follow you, he grabs your wrist and you turn around quickly. “Let go.” You spit out, he tenses his jaw. “Why are you even acting like this? You don’t need to get so pissed just because you’re jea—“ Slap. Your eyes widen, as well as his, “Did you just slap me?” “No.” you reply quickly. “You just slapped me.” he persists, “No I didn’t.” “Yea, you did.” “Yes I did.” you finally admit. “Why?” He asks, “You said I’m jealous, I’m not jealous. You just have a big head.” “I have other big things.” You slap him again. But this time on his forearm. And, oh Merlin. Why is his arm so muscular? Why are his eyes so deep and brown and beautiful? Why do his oh so pretty brown curls look so pull-able? Why do his lips look so perfect and kissable? Was he always this beautiful? Of course he was. He was always beautiful. You’ve known that since the first time you saw him.

What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos.

You walk into the Slytherin common room with Dorothea, one of your closest friends, she’d convinced you to come to this party. And you’d stupidly agreed. You stupidly got drunk. You stupidly found Mattheo. You stupidly kissed him. You stupidly hooked up with him.

You look around the room, Mattheo has his arm under your neck. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself “yeah, okay. I can get out of here.” You roll over a bit, pulling the covers off of yourself carefully. You easily get out of his warm, soft bed. An odd coldness filling your body as you do so. You slip on your shoes and realize that you don’t have your shirt on, you look around his room, which is surprisingly clean— minus the clothes everywhere, on the doorknob, there’s your shirt. How did it even get there? You shake your head and walk over to it, putting it on over you. You hear Mattheo groan and you quickly look over, he’s still asleep, but reaching out in the bed, as if looking for you. It takes you a moment before you realize that you need to leave before him and his charm pull you back in.

I see me padding ‘cross, your wooden floors. With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door.

It’s been 3 weeks. 3 weeks since you went to that party. 3 weeks since you found Mattheo. 3 weeks since you kissed him. 3 weeks since you hooked up with him. 2 weeks and 6 days since you woke up in his room and mission impossible escaped. You haven’t spoke to him, or anyone in Slytherin at all. In fear that he told everyone he knows and you’d never live it down. He didn’t. But you don’t know that. You’re choosing out a dress for dinner, you’re in the slug club, but so is Theodore Nott and those two are friends, best friends even. So of course Mattheo was the boys plus one. No matter that. Dorothea suggests a simple dress that shows off your body, but you shake your head, “No, Dor, that— that doesn’t compliment me right.” So you choose a dress that goes down to your knees, it’s long-sleeved, completely covers your cleavage, which was the goal of course. You paired it with some old converse, not liking the feeling of heels on your feet all night. You have your hair done nicely in your favorite style.

“No Mattheo, I really don’t agree with that, you’re so— so contrarian.” You shake your head, “Oh give me a break!” He groans, but you just give him a look, calling him an asshole with your eyes. He’s just told you an opinion on the muggle-world, he’s a pure blood, seriously, who does he think he is? Giggles can be heard from others sitting around you, including Dorothea and Theodore who are sitting next to each other. Slughorn tries to get you two to stop, “O—okay, Mr. Riddle, Ms. Y/l/n, please refrain from arguments at the table.” “This isn’t an argument, it’s a debate.” You correct.

As you’re walking back to your common room, you overhear some girls talking “Oh, wouldn’t they be such a cute couple?” One of them giggles, the other nods in agreement “They argue so much, plus, doesn’t Y/n Riddle sound so nice?” “Oh I dunno, I’m kind of jealous of her.” A third one adds. Your eyes widen as you realize they’re taking about you and Mattheo. You quickly butt in their conversation, “We would not be a cute couple! He’s insufferable and his ego is larger than himself!” You huff.

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit. And the coastal town, we wandered ‘round, had never seen a love as pure as it.

“You know that you can’t avoid him all day, right?” Cedric tells you as he notices you staring in Mattheo’s direction in the Great Hall. “I can and I will.” The boy rolls his eyes, “C’mon, when me and Cho get into—“ “Don’t compare you and your girlfriend to me and Mattheo— that’s just.. no!” you mock gag, shaking your head. Cedric just grins at you knowingly, “Why are you smiling at me like that?” you ask, Cedric licks his lips “No reason.” “Shouldn’t you be making out with Cho in a broom closet or something?” you tease, he laughs “Yeah, probably. Shouldn’t you be getting in Mattheo’s pants again?” “Leave it Ced, it will never be.” You murmur as you look down at your tea, mixing it around lazily with your spoon.

And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea. ‘Cause you know it could never be.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You stop dead in your tracks, goddamnit. Why is he everywhere? You slowly turn around on your heels, face reddening, “I’m not avoiding you.” you reply simply with a shrug. “Yes you are, I’m sick of it.” He rolls his eyes. “What’s it matter to you? We aren’t friends.” “What are you talking about? Yes we are.” “No, we’re really not Mattheo, you only talk to me when you know I’m going to leave.” You spit out, annoyed with everything, “No I don’t! I talk to you all the—“ you cut him off “Just leave it, I’m done here anyway.” You say before turning back around and walking away, “Well— don’t come crying back to me when you realize no one else cares!” He yells, letting his emotions and large ego get the best of him. “Fuck you!” “You’ve already checked that one off!”

‘Cause I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush. I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch. Everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

He is such an asshole! Who the fuck does he think he is?! He has no right to speak to you— or anyone for that matter — like that. You huff as you walk into the Great Hall, feeling his gaze immediately land on you. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of meeting that gaze. Taking a seat at your own houses table, you can hear his friends laughing loudly, stupid boys. The only time you do look over at him is when you hear his fork slam against the table and he stands up from his seat, to be fair, the entire Great Hall looks over at him. He ignores his friends and clenches his jaw as he walks out of the huge room, brushing right past you and leaving a small gust of wind from where he walked. Your lips slightly part as you watch him, but you look away just as quickly. Refusing to let him get his way. You shake your head as you now look over at his friends — who you now realize are staring over at you. Furrowing your eyebrows you mouth an annoyed “What?” to them, hoping to get any explanation. Theodore just shakes his head at you, and Lorenzo Berkshire mouths back a “Nothing.” making you even more annoyed with these boys. You decide to take matters into your own hands and stand up, making your way to the Slytherin table where they’re sitting. “Hello, boys.” you raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Uh — hey..” Blaise Zabini murmurs, “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with that dickhead who just walked out of the Great Hall making a scene?” Draco Malfoy laughs at that “Dickhead? Did you just call your little boyfriend a dickhead?” “He’s not my boyfriend Malfoy!” you exclaim which causes Draco to laugh and Theo to nudge his arm, Enzo speaks up “Um, Y/n he’s just upset you’re ignoring him.” now the rest of the boys groan, collectively murmuring little “C’mon man!”’s and “Enzo!”’s he throws his hands up in apology. Eyebrows going up you look at them, “Seriously?” you scoff “he’s mad at me because I’m not talking to him? After what he did?”

Walk past, quick brush. I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush. I don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush.

“Why don’t you just make it easy for him and tell him how you feel?” Theo speaks up with a shrug. “Excuse me? And how exactly do I feel Theodore?” you ask, twisting toward him. “You want him, obviously.” “Everybody wants him! I don’t — I don’t like that horrid feeling!” you exclaim loudly, catching the attention of others around you.

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush.

Lowering your voice, you rest your hands on the table, pushing Blaise’s plate away to do so. He stops in the middle of his chewing to give you a glare, then continues slowly chewing. “You’ve liked him since fist year, admit it.” Blaise speaks with his mouth full, so it’s a bit muffled. “Shut it and eat your potatoes Zabini.” you spit out. He shrugs and does just that. With Zabini out of the conversation Draco speaks again, “But really, stop leading our boy on.” “I haven’t led him — or anyone for that matter — on!” now it’s Theo’s turn to speak “Well.. you did kinda sleep with him and then leave the next morning,” “That was a mistake.” “Still shitty.” Enzo says. You huff, “That’s — no! Even if it was shitty, it’s not like I’m in love with him. He shouldn’t’ve expected anything from me.” Draco raises an eyebrow “Wow, didn’t know Hufflepuffs were such—“ “Dude, don’t finish that sentence.” Enzo says with an eye roll before looking toward you, “If you don’t like him, then don’t lead him on, it’s not difficult.” Looking him up at down for a moment, you sigh and your eyes move around the group at a quick pace. “Tell him I don’t like him, and — that I’m sorry or whatever.” Damn. That hurt you to say. Who knew it’d be this hard to get over him.

What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful, with your hair falling into place like dominoes?

As you lay in your bed, miserable and alone, you think about Mattheo. Because of course you do. He’s plagued your mind since first year. Rolling your eyes, you silently curse yourself for not realizing how horrible it was to fall for him. He’s got the perfect life, minus the fact his father is literally the dark lord, still, he’s rich. He has hundreds of girls in love with him and multiple in his bed. You aren’t going to be any of those girls, not now at least.

My mind turns your life into folklore. I can’t dare to dream about you anymore.

You hear your name called out by a familiar voice, Pansy Parkinson, her loud — but not angry — footsteps reverberate along the stone walls of the castle. You stop walking just as she catches up to you, out of breath. She reaches for your shoulder to steady herself and you grab her arm to help her. “What’s wrong Pans?” You ask once she catches her breath. “Riddle told me about what you said.” You wince at the mention, “Oh.” She must notice the look on your face since she adds a quick, “Don’t worry, I’m not mad, that boy needs to learn that not every girl is in love with him.” As an afterthought. “Never mind that, you are,” you furrow your eyebrows “—in love with him. You’re in love with him.” She finishes, which causes you to stammer out a quick and defensive, “Am not!” In response. “You literally gave him a bouquet of flowers, which you handpicked, in first year.” “In first year! Yeah, but that’s not now!” She rolls her eyes, “Come on Y/n/n, you’re just going to end up hurting yourself if you keep saying that.” She then removes her hand from your shoulder and you do the same, “Okay, I’ve got detention now, see ya later.” Then she runs off. She literally runs off after telling you that you’re in love with Mattheo Riddle. As if you didn’t know that. As if you didn’t sleep with him.

I see me padding ‘cross your wooden floors. With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door.

The last slug club meeting of the year before you leave for Christmas. You aren’t supposed to bring plus-ones, but Slughorn likes Theo too much and let him bring Mattheo. You sit slumped in your chair, dressed nicely though. Dorothea is sick so she couldn’t come. And Mattheo has the audacity to sit right fucking next to you. Purposely making those contrarian remarks, to get you to speak, so he can hear your voice again. Annoyed or not, he wants to hear it. But you don’t. You just stand up and move to sit beside Theo. Mattheo swallows and stops talking, looking down at his food.

At dinner parties, won’t call you out on your contrarian shit.

You sit by a garden in Hogsmeade, looking at the flowers silently. Of course, thinking about those girls from a few weeks ago at the Slug club meeting, how they were talking about you and Mattheo. Did everyone think that way? That’s impossible, he’s him, you’re just you. You barely know jack shit about each other. Sighing, you lay back in the grass and fiddle with the strings on your cardigan. It will never be.

And the coastal town, we never found, will never see a love as pure as it. ‘Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea. ‘Cause it will never be.

He stands at your doorframe, knocking on the door rapidly. Hearing you groan on the other side and sheets ruffling. He quickly tries to fix up his messy curls and look at least a hit presentable, you open the door as he’s smoothing out his shirt, he’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you’re — well —in your pink unicorn pajama set, that causes him to grin widely. But then he hears your voice murmur a sleepy “Mattheo?” and becomes serious again. “Um—hey.” He smiles gently, out of character for him. “I know it’s late and all, I just had to um.. talk to you.” You rub your eyes and yawn, “Well?” You ask, eyebrows raised expectantly. “I know we aren’t close or anything, but I really fucking like you. I mean—really like you. It’s so weird for me to feel this strongly over.. well, y’know a girl who I barely know. But you’re just different, you make me feel things—things that no one else does.” He watches you watch him nervously, this is really different than the Mattheo you know. “Anyway.. what I’m trying to say is, I think we’d be really good together. I want us to try it out, if you’d have me?” “Mattheo I—“

Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. So inviting, I almost jump in.

A/N: IM SOOO SORRY FOR THIS TKAING SO LONG TO WRITE(literally ignore my spelling mistakes wtf) ANYWAY YEAH, LMK IF I SHOUKD MAKE A OART TWO OR SMTHING?????

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

798 notes · View notes

unmarlou · 3 months

Text

time to pretend.

pairings. slytherins x fem!reader

summary. a typical day at the summer house.

lacy says. saltburn inspo but no bath water :/ this is bad lol purely for the aesthetic.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

"oi!"

the morning sun was beaming down stronger than yesterday. your sunglasses weren't even enough to keep you from squinting, though the book in your hands did good job if held at the right angle. and had it not been for the towel between, your skin would've been sticking to the lawn chair.

"morning blaise..." pansy said dreamily at your right. she was still half asleep.

you looked over your shoulder and saw blaise approaching, draco in tow. "didn't even bother to tell us you were out here, i see."

"we wanted you to get your beauty sleep, darling. nice swim trunks." they had tiny hula girls on them.

"i am a man of fashion." he plopped himself at the chair to your left, adjusting his shorts and sunglasses. he flashed a smile - a pretty one that only he could own and flaunt regardless the time of day. he quickly nudged your leg and pointed to draco, who sat at pansy's feet.

he was covered in noticeable amounts of sunscreen, head to toe. not only with a look of distain on his face but his slouch conveyed a message just fine on its own.

involuntarily a snort escaped, followed by stifled laughs.

"oh shut up."

even pansy, who was curled on her side away from everyone, sticking her hand out to some small animal, laughed, "we're only admiring you.”

all he could do was roll his eyes.

"stolen my chair then, have you?"

everyone’s attention turned to the voice, only to see enzo, also in his bathing suit, holding a platter of fruit. he almost looked like the cover of a magazine your mother wouldn't let you buy.

glancing over the back of the chair you could see mattheo and theodore walking in the field, talking lazily, probably sharing their first hellos of the day.

lorenzo placed the silver plate down on the small table between the chairs. you had asked him to bring something to eat expecting a piece of toast, though with him, you should've known better.

"well we can share, you know?"

"thank you, enzo."

he gave you a quick nod and wink, his way of saying no problem, never wanting to make a big deal out of gestures he found to be the minimum in his friendships.

"want me to sit on your lap then, blaise?"

draco rang on your left, "past a strawberry… please."

your arm extended to him, presenting three instead of just one. he cracked a reluctant smile, always surprised at how well you all knew him, never letting him stay miserable for long, "thanks."

a new shadow appeared on the ground in front of you causing you to peer up and greet theodore, "fruit?"

he shook his head, eyes still puffy and barely open, indicating he had just awoken. he stretched and rested his hands on either side of yours and pansy's chairs. bringing his forehead down to his left hand, he seemed to be taking a chance at sleep again.

"theo's had a rough morning."

you turned again and almost cackled at the sight of lorenzo sitting in blaise's lap, and mattheo sitting in lorenzo's. you could've sworn you saw the chair slightly give way under their weight.

pansy teased, "but an excellent night, isn't that right, teddy?"

he groaned loudly. drinking was never his strong-suit. he could roll and smoke all day, even on his worst, but going shot-for-shot was something he did only when feeling the most audacious. and something he always came to regret.

he shuffled his way to the small dock at the pond in front of you. eyes still closed, he laid down on the edge, his arm hanging over and into the water.

"hangover so bad he had to reconnect with nature."

“we’ve all been there.”

you smiled idly. placing the book on your stomach, not even considering an odd tan line. tilting your head back, your eyes closed.

a breeze blew, giving your skin a break from the exhausting heat it was under. you could feel the full trees above sway, and hear the water of the pond move with theodore’s helping hand. the low indistinct chatter of your friends simply background noise to remind you you weren’t alone in this oasis.

most mornings were like this. easy and quiet, any and all problems excluded from this place, this bubble of a world you had. if ever asked what moment you wished you could relive again and again, it would always be this.

the large, wall lining, arched windows of the left wing hallway made it the sunniest place in the house at this time of day. and the cold tile felt nice under your concrete-burnt feet.

the windows were wide open, allowing the plants and hung-dry linens of the courtyard to creep in and fill the corridor with a scent that could make one nostalgic for a place and time they’ve never even been.

your steps were the only sound until they multiplied. by the cadence of the walk, you knew who it was.

“theodore feeling any better?”

“loads,” in the corner of your eye you could see him pull a cigarette out and spark a light, he took a long drag before continuing, “gave him one of my cures.”

you shuddered, twisting your face. mattheo had an affinity for putting ingredients in a pot, mixing it up, and saying it would fix any and all problems. sometimes you thought even he didn’t believe his own words, he just liked seeing your face contort in disgust. “let me know when his tail starts growing.”

entering the room at the end of the hall, the sound of the shower running became clear. the french doors of the back wall were open, allowing air to flow freely.

you spun on your heel and allowed yourself to fall onto the four-poster, now staring at the charm displayed up on the canopy. one you recognized, as all your parents used to do it when you were children; a depiction of the night sky, to lull you to sleep and wish you sweet dreams.

mattheo was on his stomach next to you, carefully tapping ashes off the side of the bed. in the lighting of the room you could see how summer had be treating him, skin tanned by the sun, while his hair only got lighter. he tapped your arm for your attention, and pointed to the bathroom, furrowing his brows.

“pansy.” you answered.

an oh formed on his face.

the sound of wind chimes rang in the distance, accompanied by tree leaves brushing against each other, and birds singing softly. there were actually a few birds gathered at the small balcony just outside the french doors. they always seemed to gravitate towards pansy, all the beauty in life resided to her.

“i wonder what snape is doing right about now.”

you groaned, putting your hands over your face, trying to hide from the imagine of your professor in your mind, “don’t mention him, his energy will invade the space.”

“say his name three times and he’ll appear, you know!” pansy’s shouting voice carried into the room. there was actually no need for her to, you could hear her perfectly fine seeing as the bathroom door was wide open; she hated having it closed, never wanting to be separated from the rest of world for too long.

you shouted back, “says she who flirts with him for a higher grade!”

“it’ll work one day, just you wait!”

this was true, she was absolutely convinced she could charm her way to at least Exceeds Expectations. not that anything had given her an indication it had worked in the past. or ever.

mattheo sat up, almost choking on his laugh, “just do what enzo does, pretend your best friends with him.”

the shower turned off, followed by long rustled movement before she walked out. she held a stark white towel to her body, water droplets coming off her hair and onto her freckled collarbones. “does it work?”

he ran a hand through his hair while reaching to put his cig out on the bedside ashtray, “ ‘course not. but easier to watch and keep the lunch down than your attempts.”

she made a face before opening one of the dresser drawers next to her and chucking a pair of balled-up socks at him.

suddenly the door bursted open, presenting blaise and lorenzo. they wore cheesy smiles and had their arms extended out beside themselves, “OUR DINNER OUTFITS!”

both were still wearing their swim trunks from earlier in the day, yet this time accompanied by suit jackets, ties, - that certainly did not match and they definitely dug up from the attic - dress shoes, and jewelry to go with. theo ran up behind and wrapped a boa around blaise’s neck.

“no fair! i want one!”

“there’s a whole lot more in the boxes we found, hurry up and we’ll get you one.”

“didn’t think to include me, then?”

“those have to be at least 60 years old.”

“jesus enz, what kinda parties did your dad used to throw?”

he flopped on the bed, a dust cloud emerging from the jacket, causing you to cough and wave your hand through the air. “no clue,” he leaned closer to you, showing his wrist, “but look at this fancy watch i found.”

it looked as old as time.

“no doubt you’re sweating enough for all of us in those?” draco leaned on the doorframe.

“would be unnatural if we weren’t.”

pansy walked to the armoire, and shuffled her hanging clothes along until she found what she was looking for: a silk black dress. she picked the hanger off the rack and walked it over the french doors, putting on the doorframe. she turned to everyone’s eyes on her and shrugged, “might as well.”

playing dress up was always fun, especially when all the glamour was real. watches and diamonds, boas and silks.

the dining hall was lit, wall to expansive wall with candles. the curtains up high drawn back, displaying the rising moon. the long table in the center was decorated with the most gorgeous grand arrangement.

the house elves had absolutely outdone themselves, platters of food spanning each end of the table. and though you didn’t see much of them, you made a mental note to seek at least one out and thank them.

after more digging around and even a trip to the attic, which made you consider taking a second shower of the day, you had found the best box of all; charles berkshire’s record collection. bowie, zeppelin, beatles, queen - it was a 60s/70s wet dream. so for the first time in what must’ve been years, the gramophone record player of the dining hall was to be put to use.

with everyone now standing at their respective seats, prosecco was to be poured.

mattheo, who sat on the right head of the table, was the one to open it; he always was. his naturally mischievous smile was one to be admired, especially when each of you wore the same one. with a big POP! he went around and filled everyone’s flutes - although you all cheered, the night hadn’t started just yet.

each with your drinks, lorenzo danced over to the record player and placed the needle down. a night at the opera began. he slowly turned to face you all once again, raising his glass and walking back to his seat, the left head of the table. all other glasses were then raised high, and his role as host was to be fulfilled, “live forever!”

“live forever!” you chorused, arms extending closer to each other before cheers erupted once again, louder this time, accompanying the crescendo of death on two legs. cups were brought to mouths, and taking your first sip you could’ve sworn you recognized that phrase, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, but couldn’t seem to place it.

pulling chairs forward, everyone was sat. looking around, under the immense candle light their faces had a new glow, one that filled you with an unexplainable excitement. the night had begun.

the feast was lovely, you all agreed it must’ve been the best you’d ever had. though you could’ve just been drunk and hungry.

“this is the best food i’ve ever tasted.”

“best.” emphasized lorenzo.

mattheo covered his mouth, still chewing, “never been better.”

this conversation happened multiple times since you had started eating. each time blaise ended it by saying, “god we sound like our parents.”

the room smelled like the extravagant parties back home, the boys smoking their macanudo’s - inspirado black’s, they swore by - leaving strong cigar smoke lingering above you. pansy had drank enough to pull out her cigarettes, and one was passed around the table. your glass was bottomless, literally, allowing your feeling of weightlessness to continue.

the conversations around were indecipherable, you just sat picking at whatever food was left on your plate, intent on listening to the music in the background. the record player was enchanted, never needing for someone to get up and change the record; once the needle was down, and an album was over, a new one would take its place.

you took another sip of whatever it was in your glass, listening to the end of some song, what was going to play next didn’t even cross your mind until the beginning chords of a new one rang out. standing up suddenly, causing your drink to slightly spill on the hard wood, you gasped, “this SONG.”

your arm immediately shot out to pansy, who looked up at you mid-drag and smiled. you couldn’t even remember what song it was or where you had heard it before but you knew it was imperative to give it its own moment. meeting each other halfway, arms waiting for the other person and giggling, your hands interlocked with hers.

dancing, spinning around, and laughing; you had never felt so blissfully unaware. or dizzy.

more bodies appeared around the two of you, but ones you knew well and invited with the most love one could feel for another person. blaise’s boa wrapped around him and draco as they danced and sang, theodore holding a bottle of champagne while mattheo bent lower to waterfall it, and enzo grabbing both yours and pansy’s hands to spin you simultaneously.

you weren’t sure who’s laugh was who’s, or what song was playing, who’s hand you were holding, or what drink was being poured, not like any of it mattered. once again you had entered a bubble, impenetrable from the outside world.

the library couch was the comfiest in the whole chateau. the fire had been crackling for some time, accompanied by lorenzo’s piano playing on the west wall. he was actually the best you’d ever heard, though he shyly kept his talent close to his chest - until the proper moments.

you watched the embers pop off the fire mindlessly, not thinking about anything in particular. a book sat in your lap but it had been forgotten long ago, your unfocused eyes unable to retain the words. they were however able to travel upwards to the painting on the mantle, for the first time you truly looked at it - it was a group of people, slightly older than yourself. you immediately recognized lorenzo’s father, although here he was more handsome, his son certainly took after him. searching farther you spotted a woman, and after some staring you deduced it was bellatrix, her cheekbones being the exact same as mattheo and enzo. she truly was beautiful, regardless of the sinister look she was giving through the paint. you couldn’t make out the others, though you noted a boy, who was definitely younger than the rest, with curls that fit his face well and a solemn expression that carried a worlds worth of weight.

mattheo and draco sat on the rug, silently playing chess. they had become more and more fond of muggle chess as the summer went on.

pansy was sprawled out on the lounge chair to your right, the spaghetti straps of her dress daring to slip off her shoulders. her eyes were closed as she hummed - incorrectly - to the piano. she hung her head over the edge, causing her bangs to fall off her face, and her now open green eyes found yours. your smiles matched each other.

blaise, who was seated next to you on the couch, had his legs resting on the ottoman. he was holding a letter from his mother that had arrived a couple days ago, just now finding the time to read it. theodore was in the opposing lounge chair, eating the chocolates that accompanied the letter. she had sent them just for him - his favorites from honeydukes he had sorely missed. he watched mattheo and draco’s game intently.

“play that last one again.” you had called out to enzo.

he scooted his chair and looked over his shoulder, “liebestraum no. 3?”

“sure.”

“you like liszt?”

you paused, turning to face him and furrowing your brows in obvious confusion, before replying to the best of your ability, “…i like you?”

he gave a smile that was only reserved for you. liebestraum no. 3 began again.

you slumped down on your side, your feet now hitting blaise’s clothed thigh, he gave a tap to your ankle, indicating recognition but not taking his eyes off the letter. with your ear now against the armrest, your breathing slowed.

you focused on every sound. the chess pieces gliding across the wood board followed by draco’s or mattheo’s huffs of concentration, the faraway wind chime carrying in through the open window, lorenzo playing that piece you had grown to love in the last few minutes, the pops of fire, pansy’s subtle soft humming, and the crinkle of the papers blaise held.

your eyes closed, whether voluntarily or not you weren’t sure, but you didn’t fight it. overwhelming comfort and content had taken you, warmth from all over allowing absolute relaxation.

“hey… hey, wake up.”

“y/n… y/n…”

the harsh nudge of your arm made you open your eyes. squinting up, you could make out blaise and theodore. you, unintentionally, matched their tone by whispering back to them, “what?”

“wake up, we’re going for a swim.” blaise flashed you the same smile from the morning, it was so genuine even your groggy mind thought of how you’d never know anyone else with one like that. theo had moved on to wake pansy.

draco’s voice came from behind the couch, “she awake?” before an answer came he peered over from above and your eyes met, “lovely. now get pans and let’s go.”

sitting up and looking around you finally realized why everything looked different - the fire had gone out. now the only light was the full moon shining through the windows. the room was coated in silver.

you rubbed your eyes harshly to adjust and looked over to see pansy doing the same, “what do you want again?” her voice was raspy and tired.

“swimming.” you answered, standing up with the help of blaise’s hand. once to your feet you realized you were still in your dinner attire, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. you stuck an arm out to her. grasping it and standing, she opened her eyes wide and blinked rapidly. her voice was abruptly normal again, “well c’mon then.”

the boys were close behind the two of you, exiting the library. the entire manor was the same coloring of silver and blue. any other place and you would’ve been creeped out and uneasy, but in this place with these people, you could never feel anything other than safe.

going your separate ways from them to change, you and pansy walked the corridors, chatting nonsensically.

entering your room, you undressed quickly, happy to get the confining dress clothes from what seemed like hours ago, off of your body. you picked a bathing suit from drawers, tossing one to pansy too, who couldn’t be bothered to go to her room. both of you helped the other tie their suit.

voices in the hall approached your door, before a series of knocks. you both called back, “yeah?”

draco’s head peered in cautiously, before noticing you both were clothed, then opening the door fully to reveal the others. he held his arm up, “we’ve got towels, come on.”

all the boys said some iteration of come on and let’s go, eager to get out. rushing, you both were handed towels. excited chatter overtook the group, voices echoing and bouncing off the expansive walls. lorenzo appeared suddenly from the back, running, and yelling at the top of his lungs.

this triggered a domino effect, everyone was now chasing each other down the halls. something in the back of your mind told you to look around, and when you did, it seemed as though childhood had come back. playing games and having races with the same people that ran beside you now. watching their faces as they passed you saw summers long gone, of late night swims and early sun-basking mornings, dress up dinners and quiet library lounging. you ran and ran and ran.

your bare feet hit the concrete of the patio before hitting the dewy grass. though night, it was still warm, humidity latched to your skin. you had joined hands with blaise, a silent agreement. the moonlight illuminated the pond, beckoning you to come forward. it was just a ways away.

lorenzo had made it first, his shout as he jumped in rattling everything in a 10 mile radius. for the rest of the summer he would go on to say that he had to have made the world record for largest splash.

mattheo was close behind, so close in fact you thought he might land on enzo’s head, though he resurfaced just in time to watch him jump in and moved out of the way.

you and blaise were next, hand-in-hand again, running off the dock, your screams silenced by the water. cold consumed your entire body for the first time in months. it was relieving to have your body soaked in something other than sunscreen or sweat. feeling the last of your friends enter after you, you opened your eyes and found them. swimming to each other, you grazed skin as if to say even in water, i’m right by your side. if you didn’t need air, you would’ve considered staying down there forever.

breaching the surface and taking a deep breath, you brushed all the hair out of your face. you looked around to find some with droplets combing through from their hair to their eyelashes, and others with water slicked-back hair. each was breathing as heavily as you, half from having to catch their breath, half from pure exhilaration.

water splashed from all directions, making you squint and do the same. you weren’t sure who was splashing you for the fun of it and who was splashing you because you had splashed them. yelps and laughs were echoing off the surrounding trees. the plants were drinking well tonight.

“let’s play chicken!” someone had shouted over all the noise. cheers of agreement erupted from the chorus and subsequently the excessive pushing of water was halted.

you had fond memories of chicken. it used to be the boys on the girls shoulders, back when they all were still shorter than pansy and you. but now they were taller and had built quidditch bodies. as much as you believed in yourself, you didn’t desire feeling a draco sized weight on your shoulders.

“girls versus boys!” you announced.

theo shrugged, “not much of a competition.”

blaise took him by the shoulder, “ay, beware of the black haired one, she likes to go for the eyes.”

it was decided you and pansy versus theodore and lorenzo. they were a great duo, the two of them were the beaters on the quidditch team. they surely knew how to work together.

theo stood behind enzo, waiting for him to dip underwater.

“oi try not to pull the hair, i’ve got a sensitive scalp.” enzo reached a hand up and combed the back his head. theo looked like he was going to say something, before just shaking his head and sighing, “m’sure i’ll manage.”

a countdown from three began, then hitting one, you and lorenzo went under. water engrossed your entirety once more. feeling pansys hand upon your shoulder for balance, then her leg, you held on. within less than a few seconds she was securely on and you rose. you took a big breath once again, pushing your hair out of your face. the boys were in sync with you.

almost immediately pansy and theo were at each others throats. their arms went up, interlocking, and their bodies casted a shadow on lorenzo and you. it was like a tiny pocket. shouts came from beside you; blaise, mattheo, and draco each yelling out what could’ve been tips but when shouting over each other it really just sounded like a bunch of nothing. you were pretty sure whatever they were saying was going to be unhelpful anyways.

between keeping your balance, trying to push enzo, and still treading, you were determined to win.

“ah! ow! STOP TRYING TO PUT YOUR FINGERS IN MY EYES I CANT SEE!”

pansy clearly was as well.

it suddenly hit you who you were up against. this was lorenzo, the single most ticklish person you’d ever know. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it earlier. with a mischievous smile and lots of trust that pansy could remain on your moving shoulders, you reached to his bare stomach and began prodding at him.

just as you expected, he started to freak out. “hey! HEY!” he laughed between his shouts, “STOP- STOP THAT! NOT- FAIR!”

the boys on side were having a field day.

“ENZ!”

“I CANT-”

“DONT YOU DARE DROP ME.”

and with a strong push from pansy up top, and another prod to enzo’s side from you, both of their exclamation were stifled by gurgles of water.

pansy dived down, quickly coming up and hollering. cheers were shared all around, even from theo and enzo.

“let’s stick to quidditch.”

“agreed.”

in the midst of it all, you turned to face the house. it wasn’t foreign to any of you by any means, yet catching it in this moment you couldn’t help but feel amazed by its beauty. as if you were truly noticing it for the first time. it harbored your love within its stone. your love for this season, your love for this place, your love for these people. looking at the scene you saw your friends, you reached for them and they accepted, reaching for you. you heard their laughs, saw their smiles, and felt the same on yourself.

all in one breath you realized what lorenzo had said earlier was not just some toast; it was a definitive proclamation.

in this bubble of a world, you would live forever.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Thirteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Angst, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Emotional Manipulation, Begging, ThighRiding, Masturbation.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

The moment you stepped into Mattheo's private dorm, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions churned within you. The room, drenched in shadows and dimly lit by a few strategically placed candles, seemed to echo his enigmatic personality. Deep emerald and silver tapestries adorned the walls, and the air was heavy with the scent of sandalwood, mingled with the faint aroma of whiskey, creating a heady atmosphere that hung like a thick fog.

Your anger simmered just below the surface as you practically shoved Mattheo off you, his arrogant figure slumping onto the edge of the opulent bed, running a battered hand through his messy hair as he stared at you. The room's opulence felt suffocating, practically a mirrored image of the turmoil roaring within you. Your eyes roamed the space, catching glimpses of Mattheo's life--scattered parchment filled with scribbled notes, half-empty potion vials, and a tangle of dark robes strewn carelessly on a chair.

You couldn't ignore the mounting frustration, the way his careless demeanor clashed with the chaos he had unleashed in your life.

"This," you seethed, running your hands through your hair as you fought to keep your voice steady, "this has to stop, all of this."

Mattheo met your gaze, his expression unreadable. The room seemed to shrink around you, suffocating you between its walls. Your anger crackled like electricity in the charged air, the weight of the night's events pressing on your chest like a crushing burden. You knew you should leave, escape the suffocating atmosphere of his room, but an inexplicable force held you in place, rooted to the spot. The battle within you raged on, torn between the allure of his dangerous world and the need to protect your own sanity.

"Here we go again," Mattheo mumbled, his voice carrying a tinge of exhaustion, collapsing back on his green duvet. "Give it to me, Raven. Get it all out."

"Can you please not be insufferable for five fucking minutes?" Your words sliced through the charged air, your frustration escalating with his casual dismissal of your anger. "Do you even understand what just happened? Your already suspicious brother just found me walking you back to your dorm on a Saturday fucking night while you pretended to be blackout..."

You took a determined step forward, your anger palpable, radiating off you like heat waves. "Oh, but wait, you wouldn't know that he was suspicious, because when I tried to tell you about it, you basically told me to shut the fuck up, among other things..." you let your words hang, heavy and loaded, hoping they would pierce through his indifference. "Your ignorance is going to ruin my life, Mattheo. I don't think you realize it...or maybe you do, and you just don't care."

"My brother doesn't know fuck all." Mattheo grumbled, his frustration evident as he brought both palms to his face, rubbing his eyes wearily. "And even if he did, what's he going to do? He has no proof."

You rolled your eyes, exasperation boiling within you. "He could still kick me out of the guild...could tarnish my reputation with Dumbledore...the possibilities are fucking endless, Mattheo. Didn't you see the way he was looking at me? Did you not hear what he said?"

"Yeah, I saw the way he was looking at you alright," he said, irritation lacing his words. "Fucking pri-"

"Enough, Mattheo," you spat, your voice cutting through the air as you stepped closer to him. "Stop acting like you own me, like I'm yours to protect, control, or possess. It's time to face the facts. This is becoming too much. We've both admitted that we can't stop thinking about each other...how can we continue this after that?"

"Same way we always have, Raven," Mattheo said, sitting up to meet your eyes, leaning back on his palms. "We have this conversation every week. One of us says we can't do this anymore, but then the cycle continues...you know you can't resist this..."

"Gods, Mattheo...even on my tiptoes I wouldn't be able to reach your fucking ego." You hissed, stepping closer again, your skin pricking with frustration. "And I love how you say that like I've ever had a choice...like you haven't already embedded yourself in my fucking soul..."

Mattheo's lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he remained silent, his eyes searching yours for answers. The air between you crackled with tension, heavy with unspoken emotions. His usual confidence wavered, and for the first time, he seemed at a loss for words.

"I was fine with this until you took it too far, until you started making things complicated...the Tom thing has me sick..." you continued, your voice softening despite the anger that still lingered within you. "We're trapped in this vicious circle, Mattheo. Every time I try to pull away, you pull me back in, or vice versa...we're both tangled in this mess we've created, and I don't know how to break free..."

His expression remained unreadable, a mixture of frustration and helplessness flickering in his eyes. It was as if the reality of your words had finally caught up with him, forcing him to confront the depth of your entanglement. A heavy silence settled between you, Mattheo's gaze locked onto yours, his facade of indifference crumbling in the face of your honesty. He swallowed hard, his throat working visibly, but no words escaped his lips.

"Why?" you whispered, the weight of your words hanging in the tense space between you, crackling with unspoken emotion. You took a single step closer, your eyes searching his for a glimmer of understanding. "Why can't you admit that this needs to stop? That this can't continue?"

Mattheo blinked, his gaze flickering over your face, his lips parted, and his voice, tinged with uncertainty, left his throat in a hoarse whisper. "I...I don't know."

"You don't know?" you hissed, frustration bubbling within you. "You're willing to ruin my fucking life over an I don't know? Do you seriously hate me that much?"

As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo stood, closing the distance between your bodies in a movement so forceful that you stumbled backward. His large palm found your arm, steadying you in place in front of him. His eyes, darker than the midnight sky, bored into you, filled with emotions you couldn't decipher.

"I don't hate you, Raven," he said, his voice firm, the intensity of his gaze paralyzing you.

Your heart stalled, your body near collapsing under the weight of his words. "You don't--"

"I never hated you," he repeated, his tone harsher this time, his grip on your arm tightening. "I couldn't fucking hate you even if I tried, and believe me, I have tried."

You were left speechless, entirely at a loss for words. The revelation shook you to your core. "You...but..."

"You make me fucking crazy, you make me feel like I'm always on the verge of losing control...and I don't lose control, Raven...not like this..." he growled, his voice a low, husky timbre that sent shivers down your spine.

Anger radiated off him, tangible and wild, as if it could set the room ablaze, surrounding your body with ease.

"You're a fucking mystery...everyone sees you as the school's brilliant little good girl, buried in books and academics...but underneath all that, you're so much more..." his free hand found your other arm, pulling you closer. "You're everything...you're honest, remarkably witty, and fuck, you have the sharpest snark that could keep any bloody asshat on their fucking toes..."

The intensity of his gaze softened for a fleeting moment, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath the rage.

"You said I don't know half of the woman you are, but I do...I know all too fucking well, and part of me wished I didn't..." his voice was almost a whisper now, your heart hammering against your sternum like a frantic caged bird. "And that's only because you make it impossible to hate you."

"You're drunk..." your breath hitched, caught in the raw honesty of his words. The air seemed charged with tension, heavy with unspoken desires and regrets. "You don't mean any of this..."

Mattheo's jaw clenched, the tension in the room escalating with each passing moment. His grip on you tightened, the pressure sending a shiver down your spine. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, his internal turmoil mirrored in his intense gaze. It felt like his words were crashing against the walls of your mind, struggling to find a place to settle, leaving you in a state of emotional disarray. He averted his eyes, as if seeking refuge from the intensity of the moment, his silence speaking volumes, his thoughts a storm brewing behind his gaze.

"Raven...I..." his voice escaped him like a fragile whisper, hanging in the charged air between you. "I don't hate you...I hate Berkshire for fucking touching you...I hate my brother for trying to fucking get with you...I even hate Zabini because I overheard him telling Malfoy that he'd have your virginity in a fucking day if he tried..."

His words hung heavy in the room, a raw confession that left you speechless. Mattheo's eyes, usually steely and confident, now held a vulnerability you had never seen before. The truth of his emotions enveloped the space between you, suffocating yet strangely liberating. You found your voice, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

"I don't want you to hate anyone...you shouldn't hate anyone over a girl you can never fucking be with..." you said, your voice laced with a mix of frustration and resignation, the reality of your situation hanging heavy in the air. "Don't you see the problems here..."

Mattheo's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes clouded with an emotion he refused to acknowledge. Slowly, he released his grip on you, his fingers trailing away reluctantly as he retreated towards the worn-out couch in the corner. With a flick of his wand, he cast a spell that enveloped the room, muffling any sound and concealing the scent of the illicit substances he was about to indulge in.

Sinking into the couch, he seemed to meld into the shadows, the dim light casting eerie shadows across his face. His hands moved with practiced ease, rolling a blunt with expert precision. The room filled with the acrid aroma of marijuana as he took a long, deliberate drag, the smoke swirling around him like a protective veil, momentarily shrouding his vulnerability.

"You're right," he said, exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around him like a shield. "I see the problems, Raven. I see them crystal fucking clear."

Your heart pounded forcefully, its rhythm echoing the turmoil within you. Mattheo's ease with the weed fascinated and disturbed you simultaneously. He inhaled the smoke effortlessly, hardly flinching at its burn, filling the room with a scent that made your head spin and your body loosen, momentarily dulling the ache that was roaring through your limbs. Your throat felt drier than cotton, aching with the need for moisture, as you released a long, shuddering sigh. You blinked, unable to tear your eyes away from him, taking a hesitant step closer.

"Why do you do that?" Your voice was a fragile whisper, laden with genuine curiosity. "Drink, smoke...it's like you're never sober."

Mattheo's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, a guard descending over his features as he took another drag from the blunt. The smoke swirled around him like a protective shield, veiling his true sentiments.

"It's numbing, Raven," he said, his voice a low rasp, smoke curling around his words as he spoke. "Quiets the chaos for a little while." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, a raw honesty flickering in their depths. "And it’s just a temporary fix...then I'm back to reality, back to wanting things I can't have."

Your pulse quickened; Gods, he was scarily vulnerable tonight. You'd never seen this side of him, and it left you utterly bewildered. Every word he uttered tugged at the strings of your empathy, threatening to unravel your carefully crafted resolve. You knew you had to put an end to this, had to sever the ties that bound you, but his vulnerability was like a persuasive melody, tempting you to stay, to comfort him, to succumb once more to the magnetic pull of his pretty words.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you huffed, forcing a small, half smile. "Those pesky demons, huh..."

Mattheo's laughter rippled through the room, punctuated by the tendrils of smoke that swirled around him like spectral dancers.

"Yeah," he said, the bitterness in his voice cutting through the air, his tone dropping to a near-missable whisper. "Who would have known that the worst one would be disguised as a fuckin' sweet little angel..."

For the hundredth time in twenty minutes, you felt like your lungs had seized function, the air in the room growing heavy. The smoke from the blunt hung in the air, a haze of confusion and desire, intertwining with your senses. Your fingers trembled, desperate for the feeling of being buried inside his hair, craving the intimacy that only Mattheo could provide.

Unable to find the right words, you let your feet carry you closer to him, drawn like a moth to a flame. His eyes met yours, the intensity in the room building with each step, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air like a storm on the horizon. As you stopped roughly an arms length away from where he was seated, the room seemed to pulse with raw, unspoken desire, the tension between you reaching a breaking point, yet neither of you dared to move further. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in a suspended moment, where everything seemed possible and yet infinitely complicated.

"Come here, Raven..." he murmured, putting the blunt out on the tray next to the couch. "Please."

The moment he'd uttered that word, the moment it had left his lips, your defiance crumbled, leaving your sanity in tatters. With timid steps, you approached him, and he drew you onto his lap. Your thighs straddled him, his battered hands finding firm a hold on your hips, the grip so tight it felt like it could crush bones. The intensity of his touch ignited flames on your flesh, just like it has done endless times before.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still, your surroundings fading into insignificance. His touch became a lifeline, grounding you in the tumultuous sea of emotions. His lips barely moved as he uttered the words, each syllable laced with a heaviness that echoed the weight of your shared desires.

"One more night," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against the charged air. "Then that's it."

A reluctant agreement hung on your lips, the weight of reality pressing down on your shoulders like an unbearable burden. The ache of impending separation settled in your chest, and yet, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull that kept drawing you back into his arms, no matter the cost.

"One more night," you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if acknowledging the fleeting nature of your shared moments would make them more tangible, more real. "Then we're done."

A soft hand glided along your side, its roughened patches snagging slightly on the fibers of your cardigan. He traced the contours with a careful touch, his gaze drifting down to your chest, tracing the hidden curves beneath your attire. With a subtle pull at the hem, he met your eyes once more.

"Take this off..." he whispered, the desperation clear in his tone. "Take it all off."

Not needing a second prompt, your trembling fingers delicately worked on the buttons, skillfully releasing each one, your eyes never wavering from his intense gaze. His hands, possessing a gentle yet electrifying touch, traced a sensuous journey up your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Every movement felt like a carefully orchestrated dance, a silent agreement between you two.

The sweater cascaded to the floor, a soft thud underscoring the charged atmosphere, before your hands moved to your blouse, the air thick with anticipation and desire. As soon as it was undone, Mattheo helped you shimmy it off and tossed it onto the growing pile on the floor. You shivered at the sudden cold air on your bare chest but the warmth from his body quickly enveloped you, heart stalling as he leaned into you, reaching behind your back to expertly undo your bra. After a moment, it too fell to the ground.

"Fuck..." he purred, darkened obsidian eyes fixed on your chest. "Look at you..."

His hand moved to your neck, his thumb tracing a path down your collarbone, before sliding over to one of your breasts. As he twisted and pinched your nipple, your head fell back with a moan, your body arching towards him, evoking a deep growl from his chest. Your hands moved to the hem of your skirt, ready to peel it off your body when he halted you, pulling your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

"That can stay on..." he murmured, voice hoarse with desire. "My sexy girl in her short little uniform skirt."

He leaned in to capture one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin and sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You moaned, sinking deeper into his lap as pleasure overtook you, shuddering as you felt the outline of his erection pressing against your needy centre.

"Take off your panties," he commanded gruffly, his hand moving to slip his fingers beneath the waistband of your skirt. "I want to feel you..."

You eagerly complied, shimmying out of your panties and tossing them aside. A moment of hesitation washed over you, a wave of shyness and vulnerability making you feel exposed. Your gaze faltered, tracing a path from his lips to his chest, a nervous lump forming in your throat. Despite the anxiety, your fingers found their resolve and moved to the buttons on his shirt, meeting his eyes once more as you began to slowly undo them.

"I want to feel you, too, Matty..." you murmured, your voice horse as he met your eyes. "Please..."

Without wasting a second more of time, Mattheo manoeuvred himself out of his shirt, tossing it to the pile on the floor before leaning back, allowing your eyes to roam his now bare chest. Your lungs stalled, your cunt clenching with need as your gaze trailed from his thick shoulders, adorned with a tapestry of scars, cuts, and bruises--down to his defined, sculpted abs.

Each mark seemed to carry a weighty narrative, a testament to his resilience and strength. Your eyes traced the lines and contours, your thoughts weaving a web of admiration and empathy. Mattheo's abs were sculpted with precision, each muscle defined and rippling beneath his skin. They formed a chiseled landscape, emphasizing his strength and dedication to physical fitness. The play of light and shadows in the room accentuated the contours, creating a captivating pattern that drew the eye. His abdomen, toned and firm, brought an unspeakable heat between your thighs.

Mattheo's gaze raked over your naked body, lips parted in exasperation, releasing a long breath before he shifted closer only a little bit, his eyes focused on your hips.

"Do you ever touch yourself?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper, slipping his hand toward your heat.

Your lungs stalled, taken aback by the question, but when his eyes met yours, you nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment spread over your face.

"And do you think of me when you do it?" he continued, his thumb circling your clit and sending jolts of pleasure through you.

"Yes," you gasped, your hips moving involuntarily against his hand. "I do..."

Mattheo's eyes were intense, locked onto yours as he stimulated your body, jaw tensing as you ground against his crotch, fingers digging into the flesh on his shoulders as though it could anchor you to reality.

"Yeah?" He leaned in further, nibbling on your earlobe, slowing his pace on your clit, leaving you squirming against him. "You think of my hands? Touching you like this?..."

Your breath caught in your throat at his bold question, but there was no denying the raw desire coursing through your veins. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, Mattheo..." you gasped as he sunk his teeth into your earlobe now, groaning as your fingers dug into his skin. "Your hands...your mouth...all of it..."

A wicked grin curved on his lips as he leaned back, his eyes locked with yours. "Show me," he murmured. "I want you to touch yourself for me...show me what you like...show me the effect I fucking have on you..."

Without giving you a chance to respond, Mattheo's strong hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer before he shifted you over so that you were straddling only one of his thick thighs, covered still by the fabric of his black trousers. You gasped as a jolt of arousal shot through you, and he leaned in close, hands finding purchase on your hips.

"Ride my thigh," he said roughly, his eyes dark with desire. "Show me how you'll take care of yourself since I won't be able to anymore..."

Your heart slammed your sternum, an unadulterated lust scorching your skin melding with an inexplicable hurt in your chest. Masking your pain, you pulled bottom lip between your teeth, slowly beginning to roll your hips against his thigh, gasping as you felt his muscles flex beneath you.

"Yeah, just like that, Raven..." Mattheo growled, aiding your hips in moving, gripping them tightly with his strong hands and pressing you down firmly against him. "Fuck, you're so wet...that's all for me, isn't it?"

He watched you intently, his gaze focused on every move you made, and as you rubbed yourself against his leg, his eyes turning darker with desire.

"Yes, Matty..." you moaned, breath torn with overwhelming pleasure. "All-fuck-all for you..."

His abs flexed as you moved against him, rippling beneath his skin with each thrust. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and smell the scent of his musk, making you wild with need for him. Your fingers moved to your clit, rubbing fast circles around it as you felt the pleasure rolling through you. You whimpered softly, the heat building into a slow burn as the sensations grew more intense. You spread your legs wider, pressing down on Mattheo's thigh with increasing pressure as you moved faster.

Mattheo watched in rapt attention, his gaze fixed on your fingers as they played with your clit. His own body was tense with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, singlehandedly spurring you on.As you continued to grind against his thigh, you could feel the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. Every movement, every touch of your fingers, every flex of Mattheo's muscles was driving you toward the edge of ecstasy.

"Fucking hell, Raven..." he groaned through barred teeth. His gaze was fixed on you, intense and hungry, like a predator stalking its prey. "You're making me so fucking hard..."

His body was a wonderland beneath you: hard and smooth, with rippling abs and strong thighs that tensed and relaxed as you worked yourself against him.

"Shit..." you mewled, spurred on by his words, his eyes, his hands, everything about him. "You wish I was doing this on your cock, don't you, Matty..."

The sensations were overwhelming: the friction of your slickness against his leg, the feel of his hands on your hips, the sound of your breathing growing ragged and uneven as you drew closer to orgasm. You pressed down harder, panting with need as you felt the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Mattheo's eyes never left you, drinking in every detail of your movements, savouring the sight of your flushed skin, your lips parted in ecstasy, and the way your body quivered with desire.

"Fuck, yes, baby..." his pupils dilated with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, feeding off your pleasure as though it were his own. "I would fuck you so fucking good...I'd make you cum on my cock so many times you'd lose count..."

"Oh...shit..." His abs flexed noticeably with each grind of your hips, the defined muscles contorting beneath his smooth, pale skin. You could feel the power and strength beneath your fingertips as you reached out to touch his sculpted abdomen, tracing the lines and feeling the firmness beneath your touch. "I wish you fucking would..."

The sensation of your fingers sliding against your clit sent electric sparks of pleasure coursing through your entire body. The strokes became faster, more urgent, driving you closer to the edge. Every nerve ending was alight with desire, amplifying every sensation, every breathless moan that escaped your lips.

"Don't fucking say that right now, Raven..." his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you against him with even more force. "I'm barely fucking holding on...one more word like that and I'd flip you over so fucking fast..."

Your eyes rolled, your lungs sputtering, his words filling your veins with magma. "Fuck, Mattheo..."

As he watched you, he began to grind his own groin against your thigh, adding to the sensations that were already pushing you toward orgasm.

"God you're so fucking hot," he murmured, his voice low and breathless. "I'll be thinking about this every time I jerk off...fuck, you're just the dirtiest little thing Raven..."

You could feel the muscles beneath your skin tensing, ready to explode with pleasure. Every touch from Mattheo was like fire on your skin, every sound he made was like fuel to your already raging inferno. You could hear his breath quickening as well, matching the rapid pace of your own.

His grip on your hips tightened, his voice tight as he fought through a groan. "You're close aren't you, princess?"

"Yes," you moaned, head falling back, fingers increasing their pace on your clit. "I'm so close, Matty..."

"Fuck," his breathing was ragged as he ground his groin against your thigh. "Beg for me, bitch...beg to cum all over my thigh like the good little slut I know are."

The words sent a thrill through your body, stoking the fire that was already burning within you. You met his gaze with wide, pleading eyes, your orgasm on the very edge of rattling through you.

"Please, Matty..." you whispered, the desperation clear in your tone. "Please let me cum...please let me cum for you..."

"Mm." Mattheo's fingers dug into your skin as he ground his groin against your thigh, his movements growing more urgent as he sensed your climax building. "That's it, let go for me baby..."

Your whole body tensed as you felt your orgasm approaching, like a wave rising inside you. Mattheo's leg was slick with your arousal, and the thought of covering him completely sent you over the edge. You cried out, your voice raw with pleasure, as the first tidal wave of your orgasm hit you like a fucking train. Your whole body shook as you rode out the waves of pleasure, your hips bucking against Mattheo's leg. He held you close the entire time, his hands gripping you tightly as you convulsed in ecstasy.

Your breath came in short pants as you slowly came back to yourself, your head resting against his chest. Mattheo let you catch your breath for a few moments, his own breathing still ragged as he held you close. Finally, he leaned back to look into your eyes, his hand cupping your cheek.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, admiration clear in his voice. "Absolutely fucking filthy...but beautiful...so beautiful..."

Your heart swelled with affection for him, and you leaned in to kiss him without even really thinking twice about it, his lips were hot and insistent against yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated dance. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and dip with hungry fingers. You could feel the fire starting to build within you again, the memory of his touch sending shivers down your spine, his insistent erection pressing against your thigh, your fingers crawling down his chest before softly grazing over it.

"Let me take care of you now," you whispered, your words a gentle caress against his lips, acutely aware of the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch. "Last chance, Matty..."

"No." His response was unwavering, his grip firm yet tender as he pulled you closer, repositioning both of you so you lay lengthwise on the couch. His body enveloped yours, offering a comforting embrace, while his fingers traced a soothing path, brushing your hair away from your face. "You've done more than enough for me."

Your mind reeled with disbelief, completely taken aback by the intimacy of the moment. Your body tensed involuntarily as you found yourself pressed against the warmth of his chest, small beads of sweat glistening off his skin. Inhaling sharply, you caught a scent that mingled with his natural aroma, a hint of weed still lingering in the air. As you exhaled, a sense of surrender washed over you, your eyelids growing heavy with drowsiness as you eventually drifted off without even realizing it.

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Here’s chapter fourteen->

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