I JUST SAW THIS ??????? GTFO I WANT HIM TO BREAK MY LEGS RIGHT NOW

this is so cute jsjsjsjs i loved this

Old letters and cheesy nicknames. — mattheo riddle

SUMMARY: Mattheo finds old letters you've sent to him over the years and remembers how they cherished him up through tough times. You find him on your bed and end up cuddling after teasing him with a nickname you used to tease him with when you were younger.

word count: 1,662

genre: fluff | no specified reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings/tropes: it's quite cheesy i think, it's mentioned that reader has parents and that they decorated a christmas tree, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if I forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: i don't know how to feel about this but i needed to write some fluff for mattheo. i hope you enjoy it reading <3 reblogs, feedback and comments are highly appreciated and welcomed! ♡

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!

golden divider by saradika-graphics

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ navigation | my harry potter masterlist | add yourself to my taglist

Mattheo knelt on the wooden floor of your shared bedroom and went through an old box that was hidden in your closet. A chuckle left his lips as he found the letters he had kept over the years, some of them included different pictures of you or anything you wanted to share with him. He slowly got up and took the box with him; the floor creaked as he walked over to your bed. He sat down on the mattress, which slightly dipped because of his body. He turned on the lamp that was on his nightstand and opened the first envelope. A smile made its way to his lips as he started reading the first lines, it was a letter you sent him years ago when you were in your early years of being friends, back when you two were still students at Hogwarts and used to call him with those weird and cheesy nicknames, only to tease him. He used to pretend to hate them, but he secretly enjoyed every moment you came up with a new one. He cherished them, and combined with your playful and dramatic side? It made everything better for him within seconds.

“Hello, my dearest cutie pie,

how are you doing on this fine, sweet day? I just ate waaaay too many muffins. My mother made those moist muffins I told you about a few weeks ago, and they were sooo good. I wish you could smell and get a taste of them, but I may have eaten all of them already. :p I couldn’t resist them, don’t blame me.

We just decorated the Christmas tree. I even hung up the ornament you gifted me before we left. My parents love it (they really do!!!), so you know, it will be a part of the tree every year from now on. Oh, and they’d love to meet the guy I’ve told them about, maybe it can happen someday? Unless you can’t deal with my wonderful magical being anymore. That would be fine. (I would kick your ass ♡)

How are your holidays so far? Are your parents having a better time this year, or is it not going so well… I hope it’s the first option. As soon as we’re back in school, I’ll hug you anyway, even if you don’t want to.

I’m sending you much love, my cutie pie. I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.

Your sexy best friend :p”

It was one of many letters you’ve sent to Mattheo, most of the times you wrote to him were about updating him about your life during each holiday and how much you missed him, trying to cheer him up with each written word. Sometimes, you sent him a letter while you were in school, especially when you noticed that he wasn’t having a good day – you wanted to cheer him up.

Back then, you were just friends. Best friends if you want to be clearer. The bond between you became stronger over the years, some of your friends were surprised that you’d voluntarily spend time with the former Slytherin boy. Given his reputation, some people used to stay as far away from him as possible – you used to do the same in your first two years in school. Your friendship started in quietly acknowledging each other whenever you passed ways in the halls or saw him in the library. Somewhere, he was barely seen until you two started hanging out more. You often spent your afternoons with him, sometimes in Hogsmeade, sometimes in the library or outside.

Something you’ve noticed over time was that he wasn’t like the guy everyone told you or talked about in the halls of Hogwarts. Sure, there were reasons why he had his reputation, but Mattheo was acting differently in your presence. The more time you spent with each other and the more you grew closer, the more he let his walls down and opened up to you. Talking with you about his family and what it was like living with them – that it wasn’t the easiest time most of the days. You never judged him for the way he was and appreciated him even more after he told you all these things and trusted you enough to open up to you. You started to care for him and appreciate every time he was talking about the things he had on his heart and mind.

It wasn’t easy for him; he was scared that you’d find something one day that would make you hate him, but this day never came. Even today, he finds himself being worried that you might leave him. Especially if he fucked something up and you had an argument about it, he was scared. But unless he deeply hurts you, you’d never leave him. You couldn’t. You loved him too much for you to end up leaving him out of nowhere.

He opened another letter, and his smile grew, it was a letter you sent him after your graduation. It was a time when both of you had realised for a while that you had feelings for the other one but were too afraid to admit them.

“To my dearest friend Mattheo,

whom I will cherish for the rest of my life and who’ll never get rid of me.

I’m sitting in my bedroom right now, and it’s weird living alone now. I still haven’t unpacked most of my boxes, and I honestly don’t know where to fucking start. It’s weird to think about living alone now… After having shared my dorm with other students and knowing that there was always someone nearby. You weren’t alone, but now? I barely know anyone here where I live, only Hermione and Ron. Hopefully, Theo and Enzo are treating you well from now on. They better are, or else….. I’ll find something to threaten them.

Have I told you that I have an elderly lady living next to my flat? She seems nice, and kind of reminds me of Professor McGonagall in some ways. She always bakes me something and leaves it in front of my door. I think I’ll make her a gift to thank her. But other than that, I barely know anyone here. :(

I wish you could live here, so we could spend time together. Even if you think this place wouldn’t fit you, I know it would. You’ll see when you visit me!! :p

I miss you,

your smartest and hottest best friend. xx

PS.: Let me know when you plan to visit me so I can ask my mum to bake you those muffins you and I love. “

“Babe?” you called out for him as you sat on the couch in your living room. Too lazy to stand up, but you huffed and got up from your comfortable seat because Mattheo didn’t reply.

You set your book on the coffee table and walked into your bedroom. You found your boyfriend sitting on your bed with a letter in his hands. Your lips curved up into a smile as you noticed his smile and that he was rereading one of your letters.

“Oh my god, you still have them?” You chuckled and leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching him with a fond expression. You didn’t know that he kept your letters, but it made you even happier that he kept them all over the years.

Mattheo hummed happily and looked up to you, “I kept each of them.” He spoke softly and patted the place next to him, moving the box with the letters aside as you sat down next to him cross-legged.

You laughed quietly as you read the letter about the Christmas tree and the muffins. Nostalgia and memories flooded your mind as you finished reading the letter. “I forgot I used to call you cutie pie,” your voice was filled with affection as you reread the first line.

He couldn’t help but chuckle and showed you a few other letters, each of them addressed with a different cheesy nickname. “Back then, I wanted to hate you for them,” he admitted, his voice filled with amusement, but even as he spoke, you both knew that he wasn’t telling the truth.

You grinned and lifted your head to look at him, “You secretly loved them, be honest,” you teased him and watched him as he rolled his eyes playfully, which earned him a hit on his chest and ended in a shared laughter. “You never told me that you kept them.”

He slowly nodded, “I did. Whenever I got them, I was happy for a moment, especially if times weren’t….” He paused for a moment and inhaled, “When times weren’t so great at home. Your letters made me feel better, even the few ones you sent to me during school.” He put the letter he was holding back into its envelope and put the box on the nightstand.

With a quick move, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him. He let himself fall back against the mattress, and you ended up facing each other while lying on your sides. A giggle left your lips, which caused him to smile. You moved your arms around his neck and left small featherlight kisses on his cheeks, his lips and the tip of his nose. A soft hum left his lips as he melted into you even more with each kiss.

“I love you so much,” he whispered and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. You returned his kiss and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. You gently traced his neck with your fingertips and slowly pulled away from him, “I love you more, my dearest cutie pie,” you grinned teasingly and yelped as he turned you over and hovered over you. “You’re the best that happened to me in my life,” he whispered and kissed you again.

leona, i wanna give you a big kiss on your forehead because you just gave me another masterpiece to read and another FEAST to eat (not surprised because you always know exactly what you’re doing) 🤲🏻

you don't even have time to think, not when mattheo's got you exactly where he wants you-sprawled out on tom's bed, your thighs trembling in his grip, his mouth pressed against your cunt like it's his last fucking meal.

first of all, he’s so nasty for doing this lmao, and i love it, he’s really eating his sister in law’s cunt on his brother’s bed 🏃‍♀️ this man has no decency, and i fucking love him for it lmao

second of all, i fucking love when you write smut, it’s already so fucking good, and it’s only the second paragraph 🙂‍↕️

"mattheo-" your voice is a strangled whisper, your fingers pulling at his curls,

this girl is living my dream life rn, i’m jealous and i’m not afraid to admit it (i want to be her so bad

"oh, now you remember my name?" […] "that's funny. thought it was 'tom, tom, tom' with you."

he’s such a son of a bitch 😭 i love love love that you made him so provocative. he’s taunting like he didn’t do anything wrong, and it makes me feel so ^%{%{%{ !!!

"mattheo, we-we can't-"

"we already are."

— 👙❌ i mean say less (i’m not complaining

all that talk about how much you love my brother, yet look at you." he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, all mockery, all smug satisfaction. "letting me eat you out on his bed."

"so fuckin' easy,"

I FUCKING CAN’T WITH THIS SON OF BITCH, i can’t even be mad because i’m too busy drooling over your amazing smut and his attitude 😔

i love the way you write him, how his attitude interferes with the sex and makes everything even more interesting. the way he talks and provokes the reader, letting her know she’s doing something wrong but still pushing her to do it—even when he’s in the wrong too and i love that he doesn’t care if his brother finds out—it’s so fucking good 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

he leans over you, caging you in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "go clean yourself up, princess. wouldn't want tom to see you like this, yeah?"

the scene is so vivid in my head that i might need a doctor… or maybe a condom yk 💦💦💦

and just like that, he's gone, slipping out the door like he was never there, leaving you wrecked, panting, and stained with the taste of betrayal.

TELL HIM TO BRING HIS ASS BACK BC I NEED MORE, RIGHT NOW *{%{%]%\%\%%\%\%\

i love the way you write I LOVE THIS AND I CANNOT WAIT TO READ MORE 10/10 one more time

۶ৎ boyfriend’s brother!mattheo eating you out while tom’s in the shower

boyfriend’s brother mattheo x fem reader warnings ; 18+ mdni, oral f!recieving, fingering, cheating boyfriend’s brother mattheo moodboard

navigation. au collection. m.list. bfb!mattheo.

you don’t know how it got this far. or maybe you do. 

you don’t even have time to think, not when mattheo’s got you exactly where he wants you—sprawled out on tom’s bed, your thighs trembling in his grip, his mouth pressed against your cunt like it’s his last fucking meal. his tongue is relentless, messy and eager, flicking against your clit before dragging down to fuck into you, obscene sounds filling the room with every desperate, sloppy lick.

“mattheo—” your voice is a strangled whisper, your fingers pulling at his curls, like you’re not sure whether you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer.

“oh, now you remember my name?” he taunts, pulling back just enough to look up at you through dark lashes. his chin is glistening with your arousal, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “that’s funny. thought it was ‘tom, tom, tom’ with you.”

“you’re a dick.”

“mm. but i’m the one with my tongue on your pussy, not him.” he punctuates his words with a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, swirling it over your clit just to hear your breath hitch. “what does that say about you, sweetheart? you know my brother’s right there.”

panic flares in your chest, your head snapping toward the bathroom door. tom’s still in the shower, the sound of running water muffling everything, but not enough. not if you keep making noise like this. “mattheo, we—we can’t—”

“we already are.” his voice is thick with amusement, fingers digging into your thighs as he tilts his head, dragging his tongue in slow circles around your clit. “fuckin’ soaked, princess. all that talk about how much you love my brother, yet look at you.” he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, all mockery, all smug satisfaction. “letting me eat you out on his bed.”

your stomach tightens, shame curling through you, but not enough to stop you from rocking your hips against his mouth when he slides two fingers inside of you, curling them just right. your back arches off the mattress, a broken moan slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

mattheo tsks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his lips are shining with you, his chin dripping, and the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. like he owns you. like he’s already won. “so fuckin’ easy,” he mutters, pumping his fingers slow, deep. his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing light, teasing circles that have your thighs shaking. “thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

“fuck you,” you hiss, but it comes out breathy, wrecked, and he grins.

“yeah, we’ll do that too.” he buries his face between your legs again, tongue flicking, fingers thrusting, and your hands fly to your mouth, desperate to muffle the moans spilling from your lips. but he’s not having it. he yanks one of your hands away, pinning it to your stomach, his other hand still gripping your thigh open. “don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growls. “i wanna hear you. wanna hear every little sound you make.”

your head tips back against the pillows, your free hand twisting in the sheets. “mattheo—oh my god—”

“c’mon, princess. cum on my tongue,” he urges, voice thick with hunger, with something darker, something possessive. he sucks your clit between his lips, and the coil in your stomach snaps, pleasure slamming into you so hard you forget everything—where you are, who you’re supposed to be loyal to. the only thing that exists is mattheo’s mouth, his hands, the low, satisfied chuckle he lets out as he watches you fall apart beneath him.

he doesn’t stop until you’re squirming away, too sensitive, your breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. only then does he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark eyes gleaming.

he leans over you, caging you in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “go clean yourself up, princess. wouldn’t want tom to see you like this, yeah?”

and just like that, he’s gone, slipping out the door like he was never there, leaving you wrecked, panting, and stained with the taste of betrayal.

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

Santa’s Little Tease

12 Days of Dickmas - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Roleplaying in the new lingerie your boyfriend got you certainly gets spicy👀

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, modern au, dom!theo, bf!theo, dombf!theo, rough sex, anal, slight roleplaying, lingerie, clit stim, slight spitting, spanking, degrading, dirty talk, dom&sub

—Smack smack smack!- The sound of Theo’s heavy palm swatting across your ass echoed around the room. Feeling the burn spread across your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Theo was balls deep inside of your ass. Your bright red and green lace elf lingerie rode up your back as he mercilessly plowed deep inside of you.

Feeling the way your knuckles already started to turn white from gripping the bedsheets so fucking hard. “God— I love fucking your tight little hole-“

Theo physically spat down onto his cock and your ass— getting it even wetter as he used you to his liking. You turned your head back to look at him.

“F-fuck! I love it when you—“

Your words got cut off as you felt Theodore snake his hand around your body, firmly pressing down on your swollen clit. The room swirled with your moans.

The way your body tensed and clenched around his length was driving your boyfriend mad— holding back his climax as much as he could. “What was that? My naughty elf seems to have lost her words hm?”

Taunting you and incorporating the little bit of roleplay from the lingerie he had bought you— You were a babbling mess of bliss. Feeling his fingers run faster on your cluster of nerves.

“I-I— just feels s-so good!”

Managing to squeak out your words, you perked your ass higher for Theodore. Anal was something you both loved and did quite often. Being something of a kink for both of you.

Another loud and hard smack landed on your already reddened ass cheek. Wincing from the pain he railed inside of you even harder. “So good hm, Tesoro?— Dirty fuckin’ girl.”

An orgasm was approaching you— and quickly at that. The mix of anal, clit stimulation, and Theodore’s dirty talk in that thick Italian accent? Fucking Hell—

“Your dirty girl, Teddy— Fuck! Please don’t stop— Please!” You begged your boyfriend who was already drilling into you like a fucking jackhammer. “Stop?— Cazzo- I wouldn’t even think of stopping…Gonna cum for me, hm? Cum for me like the little anal slut you are?”

It was almost too overstimulating— In the best way possible. “Y-yes! Yes— Fuck I’m gonna—“ Your moans turned to screams as you felt yourself hit a very intense and pleasurable orgasm.

Your body convulsed from the euphoria that streamed throughout your body but Theo kept his rough pace, not even a glimmer of him stopping. Wanting you to feel nothing but pleasure throughout your entire climax.

“What’s my girl want hm?— Where do you want my cum?”

Theo asked, still not stopping, still going hard inside of you. Your mascara was practically dripping down your face by now, letting out a little groan before replying. “I- Fuck! I want it inside of me— please…pleasepleaseplease!”

Begging him like the good and obedient little sub you are, your boyfriend couldn’t help but smirk down at the marvelous view of you. “Fuck— Don’t have to tell me twice, bambina-“

Growling out his words, he pounded into you even faster. Something you weren’t even sure was humanly possible. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head while you felt your body go spiritual in a sense.

“Gonna fill up that perfect little hole of yours— my little anal slut- fuck— I’m gonna fill you up, Tesoro— Cazzo-“

On the 10th day of Dickmas we get…Anal, just…Anal hehehe👀🎁

Hope my bbys enjoyed! Thank you for being patient during the holidays and since I’m on vacation!

Divider pinned in my masterlist🌙

Love all my smut sluts so much! Hope everyone had a happy new year💋

i waited so patiently for this, and i finally read it, and let me tell you—it was the best decision i made today because this was genuinely amazing, and i’m wetter than the pacific ocean.

but before a single sound can even escape, theo's palm abruptly meets your cheek, your skin burning sharply at the impact and leaving a red mark on your tender skin.

i waited for times like this jsjsjsjsjs (slap me more)

without warning, he begins thrusting his cock in and out of you again, his hips snapping harshly against yours, causing you to instinctively wrap your legs tightly around his sculpted torso.

i don’t feel like a proper lady right now omfg 🧎🏻‍♀️

"and you still think 'big, scary theodore nott' can't fuck you good enough? huh?"

you can bury me already jsjsjsjsj i love this so much omfg jsjsjsjsjsj

FOUR. face slapping — brothers bsf!theo

warnings — smut 18+. vaginal sex. degradation. face slapping.

kinkmas mlist. moodboard. more.

plap. plap. plap. the sounds of theo’s brutal thrusts echoes through your bedroom, the bed squeaking with each little movement. the humid air is thick with the filthy sounds of sex, despite the pillow he strategically wedged between the bed and the wall. he just can’t seem to control himself when it comes to you— his best friend’s little sister.

“fuck! right there, yes!” you moan a little too loudly with your brother in the room next door, making theo’s eyes narrow sternly as his fast-paced movements abruptly come to a halt. one of his flexed hands resting beside your head moves to aggressively grip your face, fingers digging into your cheeks.

“hey, hey… you gotta shut the fuck up, alright? you’re being way too fuckin’ loud, cazzo. the whole fuckin’ neighbourhood’s gonna hear you.” he hisses through clenched teeth, a frustrated expression on his face as he’s still balls-deep inside of you, the tip nudging against your sensitive cervix. a naughty smile curls on your lips as you gaze up at him through hazy, fucked-out eyes.

“oh, please… always so arrogant about how good you can fuck me, but when you actually do—which isn’t often, by the way—you freak out.” you playfully lie, even though you both know damn well no other man has ever made you feel the way theo can. he scoffs at your bratty attitude, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek in exasperation as he disapprovingly shakes his head.

“idiota. your fucking brother is in the room next—”

“aww, big, scary theodore nott is scared of my brother? maybe i should moan even louder then, hm?” you tease further as you part your lips and squeeze your eyes, preparing to let out a loud, exaggerated moan, relishing the way your actions infuriate him— but before a single sound can even escape, theo’s palm abruptly meets your cheek, your skin burning sharply at the impact and leaving a red mark on your tender skin.

you freeze momentarily, baffled by the audacity with your head still tilted to the side, before your eyes narrow at him, your top lip curling in irritation. “oh, you dickhead.”

the ocean blue eyes staring back at you show expressions completely opposite to your own— mischievous and cocky, as if he knows something you don’t, with a sly smirk playing on his lips.

theo slowly leans his head closer to yours, his hot breath on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. “tsk… you can say whatever you want, but i can feel the way you squeeze around me... so. fuckin’. tightly.”

your cheeks heat up instantly, and the words you so desperately want to spit at him are caught in your throat. you can’t deny it anymore, and he can see it too in the way your facial expression instantly shifts into one of desire— it turned you on more than you’d like to admit.

without warning, he begins thrusting his cock in and out of you again, his hips snapping harshly against yours, causing you to instinctively wrap your legs tightly around his sculpted torso. you gasp at the sudden feeling, your hands darting to his muscular arms to steady yourself, nails pressing into them and leaving crescent-shaped marks into his skin.

“so pathetic.” he sneers in a condescending tone before roughly sticking his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to suck on them. you uncontrollably moan around them, sucking eagerly just the way he wants you to, making him bite his lip at the sight, the lust-driven expression not faltering from his face once.

“not much to say now, huh?” he removes his spit-drenched digits from your mouth and drags your own saliva over your flushed face, making a mess everywhere before his palm strikes your face with force once more, but even harder this time, the stinging sensation through your skin igniting a feeling of ecstasy throughout your entire body.

“finally.” he drawls, his hands traveling to the back of your thighs before swiftly pushing them up, allowing him to hit spots even deeper, your legs dangling in the air with each forceful, deep thrust.

“finally i found a way to shut you the fuck up while your damn brother is in the other room.” he chuckles condescendingly, a smug, self-satisfied expression written all over his handsome face as he practically folds you in half. your sore muscles stretch painfully, but your mind is completely fuzzy and overtaken by sheer pleasure.

“and you still think ‘big, scary theodore nott’ can’t fuck you good enough? huh?” you desperately want to retort, but you can’t, ‘cause you don’t think that now, and you never once did. the way theo can make you feel is simply indescribable, almost as if his cock was made just for you, filling you so perfectly and finding your g-spot in no time, while still making you crave for more.

“just shut up and fuck me theo! i— please, don’t stop!”

“yeah… that’s what i thought. we both know you’ll always come running back to me like the dumb slut that you are, whether you’d like to admit it or not.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

UXORIOUS — someone who’s totally submissive to their significant other

— michael townsend x fem reader

➳ warnings: major fluff, whipped boyfriend, kissing, soft behavior, bad writing (english is not my first language and i didn’t edit…ups).

The moment he laid eyes on you, Michael Townsend fell in love with you.

He knew it was strange; after all, he was one of the people who screamed at the top of his lungs that love at first sight was pure nonsense and only existed in clichés and fairy tales, which, in his opinion, only little children and naive people believed in.

But for some reason, you changed that, which practically left everyone open-mouthed.

The truth is, Michael, even though having a photographic memory wasn’t his ability, he remembered every little detail of the day he met you and every word you said, not to mention how those little things made him feel.

He remembered the hot sun at 3:07 PM on July 19th, which had made his neck sweat and had also made some of his hair stick to his forehead. He remembered Agent Tanner’s voice when he announced a new member to the natural’s theme, and he certainly remembered how his throat had tightened and his heart had started to pound the moment you walked through the door.

Fuck, you were so beautiful; you are so beautiful.

He still remembered the white dress that had hugged your delicate curves, leaving his mouth dry, the way the summer sun had made your skin glow, making him feel stupid in front of everyone, how your slightly messy hair had made him bite his lip to hide a smile, and how his body had frozen when your hands touched, and when you had finally said your name.

From that day on, Michael knew he was completely whipped, and honestly, it was one of the first times he had expressed excitement about feeling emotions so openly.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Sitting in one of the chairs in the small office of the FBI’s naturals’ room, you let your tired eyes wander across the screen of the small laptop in front of you, which displayed some notes on the case you were trying to solve, while you fought against the drowsiness that seemed to be pushing you to close your eyes and fall asleep.

11:42 p.m.

Michael was leaning against the doorframe, his muscular arms crossed, and his messy brown hair swaying slightly as he watched you in silence, what felt like the thousandth time that night.

He knew you should be asleep. In fact, anyone who’d worked as hard as you did that day would already be out cold by now. But you never knew when was the time to stop, and that left him torn between thinking you were the most determined and intelligent person he knew or the craziest.

The cold light from the laptop screen illuminated your face even more, highlighting the small crease between your eyebrows and the fatigue taking over your already sleepy eyes. He recognized that look; he had seen it too many times, more times than he liked to admit. He knew you were fighting against sleep, insisting on staying awake, even though your body was begging you to do the opposite.

Michael let out a soft sigh, finally pushing himself off the wall and walking over to you, stopping behind your chair, leaning slightly forward to better see the face of the person who made his heart almost leap out of his chest.

Your hair was a bit messier than usual, one of your hands resting on your head while the other lazily slid across the laptop’s touchpad, and you didn’t have the most pleasant expression at that moment. But even so, to him, you were still so beautiful that he could feel his knees starting to weaken.

Fuck, sometimes it was hard to believe that you were his, or rather, that he was yours.

Without saying a word, Michael placed his hands on your tense delicate shoulders and began to massage them slowly, his thumbs pressing into the tight spots on the sides of your neck while he placed soft, gentle kisses on your head. And he couldn’t help but let out a little laugh when he felt your body flinch reflexively before you finally relaxed under his touch, letting out a sigh falling from your lips.

That felt so good.

“It’s almost midnight, baby,” he murmured against the top of your head, leaning down to place another soft kiss there, another smile slipping out of his lips when he heard your giggles. “I think that’s enough for today, or would you rather stay here frying your pretty brain?”

You mumbled something unintelligible—something that, to him, sounded suspiciously like a curse—but you didn’t protest when he calmly reached for your laptop’s mouse and closed the document before you could even complain.

“Michael…” you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep as you turned slightly to look at him, your face flushing when you realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt and how close he was.

Damn these teenage hormones. And damn your insanely handsome, unbelievably hot boyfriend.

He smiled against your head at your reaction, feeling satisfied knowing he had the same effect on you as you had on him. Then, he slid his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his bare chest, hugging you from behind. Making you feel the warmth of his skin against yours and sending a familiar rush of butterflies through both of your stomachs—just like it always did, no matter how many times you’ve done this before.

Your body molded perfectly against his, like it was meant to be there—and honestly, it was. And Michael took his time, appreciating the moment, letting himself hold you just a little longer. His nose brushed gently against your hair, and he inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo, a quiet sigh leaving his lips as he tightened his hold around you.

“No excuses,” he murmured, his voice full of affection but with a firmness you knew all too well. “Come to bed with me. You promised I’d be your personal heater, remember? Or do you want to break the deal and crush my poor heart?”

You chuckled softly at the usual drama, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“And what if I say I need five more minutes?” you teased, fully aware that there was no point in arguing with him when it came to you or your well-being.

You were his top priority since the moment he saw you.

Michael rolled his eyes, pretending to be irritated, though it was clear that wasn’t the case—at least not with you. The truth was, he loved this little game between the two of you.

Well, he loved everything that involved you, especially.

“I’d say you’re the most annoying person I know,” he replied, his lips brushing against your hair as he spoke, as if he couldn’t imagine being apart from you. “And still, I’m completely in love with you, just like a good boyfriend I am.”

You smiled softly, your fingers lazily intertwining with his, as if you were finally ready to surrender to the exhaustion.

“Okay… okay I’m going to bed but just because I’m almost dying.” And because, honestly, you didn’t know how to deny him anything when he said such sweet words.

Michael smiled back, feeling satisfied. But before letting you stand up, he turned his face slightly and pressed a soft yet firm kiss to the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, making you hold your breath.

Your poor heart.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered against your skin before he stood on his feet, gently pulling you up with him, making you grumble at the loss of contact. “Let’s go to my… ups, our bed,” he corrected.

11:59 PM.

But just before you two reached the door, you stopped suddenly, causing his bare chest to bump slightly into you. He looked down at you, curious, and when he saw that little smirk on your pretty tentatively lips, he knew something was about to happen.

Without a word, you gently pulled him by the neck, bringing him closer until your bodies were pressed more tightly together than they had been just moments before, your warm breath grazing his skin. Michael felt his heart race even more—not only because he was so close to you again, but because he genuinely didn’t feel brave enough to ask what you were planning.

You looked into his eyes, smiling softly. And before he could say another word, you pulled him into a kiss, as gentle as it was, making him melt under your touch.

The taste of your lips made him lose himself in the moment, his fingers finding your waist, while the kiss deepened and you both felt your tongues touching again and again…

“Okay, I’m definitely not complaining, but what was that?” he asked when you finally broke the kiss, blinking slightly, his cheeks flushed.

You smiled at him, a mischievous yet genuine grin that thank God he knew well, but that still made him swallow hard.

“Happy birthday, Michael,” you murmured softly, still close enough for him to feel the vibration of your voice in his ears and chest.

He stood there, speechless for a moment, the world around him disappearing as he allowed himself to feel the love of simply being with you, feeling you. But before he could respond, you whispered in that relaxing tone only you had…

“And now, we can go to our bed.”

He smiled, his heart racing 200 beats per second. Yes, he was definitely completely whipped, but in a way he would never trade.

© gibsluv 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

so, leona just dropped another masterpiece we’re not surprised i’m going to eat this so bad 💳💥💳💥

❦ BOYFRIEND’S BROTHER!MATTHEO

— boyfriend’s brother!mattheo ; the problem you never asked for, wrapped in a smirk and bad intentions. he's always there—leaning against the counter when you visit, waiting for the moment you walk out of tom’s room so he can catch you alone, thinking of all the ways he could ruin you, and he’s not afraid to flirt with you right in front of his brother. whispers filth in your ear and shames you for it like it's your fault for listening. you tell yourself it's harmless—that you love tom, that mattheo is just a nuisance—but then his hand slides up your thigh under the dinner table, and suddenly, harmless doesn't exist anymore.

navigation. au collection. m.list. boyfriend’s brother!mattheo

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

(yes this au will involve cheating. please simply scroll or do not interact if you are uncomfortable with that.)

SIXTEEN. drugging — stalker!theo

warnings — smut 18+. noncon. drugging. reader is passed out. male masturbation. ejaculating on an unaware/unconscious person. theo being very creepy. modern au (phones). you are responsible for your own media consumption.

kinkmas mlist. moodboard. more.

“i’m just… going to lie down for— for a bit…” were the last words to escape your mouth as you collapsed onto your soft bed and slowly lost consciousness, much to theo’s satisfaction. he reassured with a soothing tone, telling you it was okay to rest a bit if you needed to and that he could find his way out, as he watched your pretty eyes grow heavy and your body go limp.

theo didn’t have any bad intentions, though— he only wanted to snoop around a little, to freely explore your room without any rush or worry. so he sneakily slipped something in your drink, just enough to help you sleep. but you— you were lying there so peacefully, so breathtakingly still, lightly snoring with your tousled hair falling across your face. he found himself unable to shift his attention away from you.

he tried to fight against it, to just let you be while he took advantage of the freedom to explore your room, but of course, he couldn’t. he should’ve known that beforehand though, that he couldn’t ever resist you, even now, as you lay unconscious on your bed, not moving an inch except for your chest that’s steadily heaving up and down.

so before he realises it, as though losing control of his own actions, he hastily unbuckles his pants and slips his hands into his boxers, rubbing over his stiffened erection, a relieved sigh escaping him. unable to hold back, he frees his leaking cock from his tight boxers, the tip pink, swollen and slick with precum.

oh, how can someone be this beautiful, theo thinks to himself while watching you with full admiration, a sparkle visible in his darkened eyes every time they linger on you. his gaze roams over every inch of you—from your soft hair, down to your bare feet—as he strokes himself with a frantic urgency. every single part of you, he loves. every single part of you, he worships. every single part of you, is his. even if you don’t know it yet.

it only takes a few minutes—two, to be exact, and that’s him trying his best to savour to moment and last long as long as he can—before thick ropes of cum uncontrollably shoot from the head of his cock. and well, fuck. he didn’t necessarily plan to cum all over you and make such a mess, but is it the prettiest, most breathtaking sight he has ever seen? oh, absolutely.

from your face, all the way down to your legs, you are covered in streaks of cum, but still entirely unaware, as you peacefully snore, fully relaxed on the soft bed. theo immediately grabs his phone from his pocket after putting his pants back on— there is no way in hell that he’s leaving without snapping some pictures of the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. useful for later.

he quickly tries to clean you up, wiping away all his traces and pulling the covers over your slumbering body. he stares at you for a moment, his facial expressions softening, before he slowly draws closer and gives you a gentle yet firm kiss on your forehead, making you hum softly in your deep sleep.

one day, theo thinks to himself. one day you will realise that you are all his.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

need this, need him, need your writing

being with you doesn't feel like drowning,

from vi

ᰔ pairing . . . m. townsend !

ᰔ with . . . a f!reader

ᰔ category . . . angst. hurt with comfort. one - shot. requested.

ᰔ in which . . . when you saw michael's injuries, everything falls apart. trust is broken, & the connection you two had is tested. michael attempts to keep the truth from you, but it's too late▰the damage is done. now, both of you have to deal with the repercussions of your actions.

ᰔ tags . . . 5.4k. major spoilers. reader is not a natural but not invisible. raised in the house, still feels like a guest. trust issues ft. too many secrets. blue-purple bruises. “i never asked you to love me” <— okay jane austen boy, ouch. the slow burn of breaking down walls. everyone knows but no one says it. fbi = feelings buried indefinitely. friends who read you like crime scenes. windowsill confessions. love, interrupted. trust issues but make it cozy. held together by forehead kisses. he reads you better than his files. love in lowercase. statistics say he shouldn't love this hard (he does). he’d classify you as essential personnel. ooc. grammatical errors.

ᰔ look around . . . m. list , m. townsend & the naturals m. list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. AAAAA, nonnie,,, this was supposed to be 7k but it DIDN'T save💔 im sorryyyyy😭😭

002. you sent this around three am ish & i was LOCKED in❕❕

003. idk if i did you justice, nonnie 💔💔

004. horrible writing because i started writing this at,,,, 3 am

005. also... i couldn't keep this spoiler free😭😭 my head was blank because WHAT WOULD THE TOPIC OF THEIR ARGUMENT BE????? so i js... tweaks & tweaks..

006. as i said in note four,, this is badly written so don't expect much 😭 I CAN'T WRITE ANGST

you weren't supposed to be here.

judd had instructed you to remain where you were, michael would return tomorrow.

& sure, perhaps you were snooping, perhaps you shouldn't have gone into his room without knocking, but you were missing him, and the jacket he'd left behind still smelled of him.

besides, you've done the groceries.(that usually takes you all day because the group chat keeps adding more things to the list.)

so you'd gone in.

& hell broke loose.

because the moment you laid eyes on the bruises, the cut on his jaw, the way he winced when he reached too far▰your breath caught in your throat.

you weren't a profiler, hell, you're not even a natural but you weren't stupid either.

you knew what a beating looked like. & michael could lie with a smile, but his body was always honest. especially to you.

he turned just as you walked in.

froze.

like a deer in headlights.

like he hadn't meant for anyone to see him this way.

you didn't speak.

he didn't either.

just stood there, half-shirted, ribs smeared with ugly blue-purple marks.

& god, it was like someone injected ice water into your veins.

because he told you it was a family business.

he told you he was fine.

& you believed him.

"what the hell," you said, hushed. too hushed.

he hauled down the hem of his shirt. "it's nothing."

"don't," you said, & your voice broke in a way you despised.

"don't do that."

he sat on the edge of the bed like this was normal. like you didn't just interrupt something that made your chest too tight to breathe.

"you're back early," he said, staring at the floor.

"& you're bruised," you snapped. "so maybe we both have bad timing."

he sighed. "it's not a big deal."

"not a big deal?" you had said, voice rising before you pushed it back down. "michael, what the hell are you even saying right now?"

he didn't glance your way.

didn't blink.

just kept his eyes fixed on the floor as if he remained silent long enough, all of this would disappear.

"you went back there," you told him. "to your dad."

"i told you i was visiting family."

"you lied."

he glanced up then, and sure, maybe you did wait for that. maybe you needed to see his face.

because he didn't look angry.

he looked exhausted.

so exhausted it curled your stomach.

"what do you want me to say?" he asked.

you blinked. "i want you to say something."

he got up, & you resented how slow & deliberate his movements were.

you resented that he was accustomed to pain like this.

like it was normal.

like it was a habit.

"i'm fine."

"you're not fine."

"this happens," he said. "it's not new."

you stepped forward, fists curled at your sides. "you've been my boyfriend for months. & i never knew."

"because i didn't want you to know."

that line hurt more than it should have.

"why?"

"because it's my problem," he stated, finally, like something in him cracked open.

"it's not yours. it's not anyone's. i've been dealing with this my whole life▰"

"that's the problem," you cut in, voice low. "you deal with it like it's your fault."

he paced slightly, running a hand through his hair. "don't psychoanalyze me."

"i'm not," you said. "i'm begging you to talk to me."

he fell silent again.

& you hated that.

because he was so good at this▰retreating into silence, allowing you to talk until you quit.

but you weren't quitting. not today.

"do you even trust me?" you asked.

his jaw clenched. "don't do that."

"don't do what?" you snapped. "don't ask if my boyfriend▰who's keeping this from me▰trusts me?"

he remained silent.

"you didn't tell me," you breathed. "you didn't tell anyone, but▰"

"lia knows," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

you stiffened.

you glared at him like he slapped you.

"what?"

he gazed away once more. "she figured it out. it's not like i told her."

"but she knew," you replied. "and she didn't say anything."

"that's not her job."

"it's not yours either, apparently," you snarled.

the silence that hung between you afterwards was colder than anything else.

you didn't weep. you wouldn't.

but god, you wished to scream.

"do you have any idea how dumb this makes me feel?" you asked, voice trembling though you resented that it was. "do you have any idea how it feels to be excluded from everything because i'm not one of you?"

his eyes grew cold. "this has nothing to do with you not being a natural."

"doesn't it?" you asked. "because you tell them things. they know things. & i'm just the girl who was raised in the house & still gets treated like a guest."

he opened his mouth. closed it.

& that was the worst part▰he didn't argue.

he didn't fight back.

because maybe he knew you were right.

"i've been here since i was eight," you said. "i grew up with you people. judd raised me. hell, tanner used to read me silly bedtime stories, i cleaned up after sloane when she spilled powdered sugar all over the place, i held lia's hand when she got stitches, i taught dean how to braid hair because his kept falling in his eyes, i let cassie stay in my room because that stupid locke haunts her every time.”

your voice cracked again.

you're no natural, just someone scarlett hawkins took in before she died. & judd didn't send you to an orphanage because he knows that this is what his daughter wants. you don't know what she sees in you, but there was something. you had skills, enough to be qualified in the fbi. if it weren't for your age.

"but i'm not a natural. so i'm not one of you."

michael didn't look at you.

& that only made it worse.

"you were the only one who made me feel like i belonged," you said softly now. "you were the only one who didn't look at me like i was on the outside. so i don't get why you shut me out too."

he finally looked up.

& he looked destroyed. wrecked.

"because it's not about you," he told me, & his voice wasn't angry. just tired. "it's about me. it's about not wanting to see your face change when you look at me. it's about keeping the only good thing in my life safe."

"safe?" you echoed. "from what? the truth?"

"from me."

you looked at him.

& this time, you said nothing.

he exhaled & sat back down, as if standing was now too much work.

"you weren't supposed to see," he said. "i know how to handle it. i've done it before."

"& how's that working out for you?" you asked, frustration boiling. "you keep going back, michael. you keep getting hurt. what, you think that's brave? you think it's strength?"

"i think it's survival," he said harshly.

"then perhaps you should learn a new means of survival."

he didn't say anything.

you took a trembling breath, pacing now, because if you stood still the room felt like it was closing in on you.

"you should've told me," you said. "even if you didn't want to be helped. even if you didn't want me to make it better. i'm not asking to be your savior. i'm just asking to know."

he nodded once, slowly.

but it did not feel like an honest answer.

it felt like he was folding in again on himself.

closing off.

retreating.

"you don't get to make choices about me," you said, coming closer again. "you don't get to choose what i can or cannot handle. if you didn't want me on board, then maybe you should not have gotten me to fall in love with you."

his head jerked up.

you hadn't intended to say it like that.

but it was out now, & you weren't backing down.

"i never asked you to love me," he said, voice low but cutting.

& wow.

that hurt more than it should've.

you blinked. "no. i guess you didn't."

he shut his eyes. ran his hands through his hair once more. "that's not what i meant."

"but it's what you said."

he glared up at you again. "i didn't mean it like that. i just▰this▰"

he pointed vaguely at his ribs.

"this is ugly. & i didn't want you to see it."

"well, i did," you said. "so now what?"

he didn't speak.

you looked at each other for what felt like an eternity.

neither of you saying a word.

& perhaps that was worse than the words.

because it meant you were both suspended in the in-between.

not broken up.

not fine.

just there.

distant, angry, & unsure what was next.

the ssilence between you & michael was heavy for days.

it wasn't just the fight anymore▰it was the way it landed in the space between you.

you weren't broken up, but the air was thick with things unspoken, with questions still hanging, unasked.

you tried to concentrate on the work.

attempted to bury yourself in homework, in assisting the team, despite your heart feeling as if it were walking around with a pain you could not rid yourself of.

didn't help that everyone else seemed to be able to tell something was wrong.

lia saw someone was off first, naturally.

she always did. she knows you. & that isn't because she's a lie detector or anything of the sort.

she was a lie detector, & even when you tried to smile, she was aware.

the way your shoulders stiffened every time michael entered the room. the manner in which you always averted your gaze before anyone had time to ask. you could sense her gaze upon you, could sense her attempting to read you & send shivers down your spine.

but you never allowed her to ask.

you couldn't.

not yet.

cassie. oh, cassie. she noticed. when she came to your room that night, asking for comfort, your eyes looked puffy. red.

you looked like you didn't want to talk about it. so she didn't. only hoping her embrace will at least make you feel better. hoping that the next time she enters your room, your eyes won't look tired or puffy or red or sad.

& then there was dean.

dean. someone who knew you since you were twelve.

dean. someone whom you thought of as a brother in every sense that counted.

dean, who observed you going in & out of the safe house with michael, who guarded you with a look that made his eyes keen & his fists even keener.

you noticed it in the way he looked at you now.

the way he questioned you with his eyes, with the way he stayed too long when you entered the kitchen for breakfast.

you detested that look.

you hated that he could see through the cracks, but you didn't want to speak up.

so you didn't.

instead, you concentrated on the people who didn't ask the questions▰like sloane.

sloane, who always had a way of seeing things without mentioning them.

she was quiet in her noticing.

but she could sense the tension, & she was there when you needed her most.

you were sitting at the kitchen counter, doing your best to ignore the glaring emptiness in your chest, when sloane came over, sitting beside you, her hand casually brushing yours.

you didn’t flinch.

you didn’t pull away.

but it was comforting.

it was sloane.

“you okay?” she asked quietly.

you swallowed.

“yeah. i’m fine.”

sloane didn’t buy it.

& she didn’t press either.

she simply left her hand hovering close to yours, a gentle pull, a comfort that didn't demand anything back.

it was in these small moments that you felt the cracks in your heart start to mend▰slowly, agonizingly, but they mended.

but even the tiniest crack won't go undetected.

not when lia's around.

the instant you walked into the room, lia raised an eyebrow.

you attempted to escape her stare, but she saw you anyway.

she rose to her feet, approaching you, her expression impossible to read.

"tell me," she told you, voice soft but slicing all at the same time. "what happened?"

you stalled.

you knew she knew.

you just didn't know what to say.

"nothing's wrong," you grumbled, attempting to brush it off, but lia was not accepting anything.

"nothing?" she repeated, folding her arms. "then why do you look like someone stole your soul?"

you bit your lip.

you couldn't lie to her, not like this. "we fought," you said, voice strained. "that's all."

lia's expression softened, but her frown grew deeper.

"about what?" she asked. you shook your head, already knowing what would happen if you told her.

she knows. you were upset at first. but you knew it's not her fault for knowing.

she didn't need to know everything. "it's just. it's complicated." lia looked at you for a long time.

& for a moment, you'd hoped maybe she'd let it drop.

but no.

lia wasn't the kind of girl to let something go.

particularly when it involved you.

"so. he hurt you," she stated, not a question, but fact.

you bristled, heart skipping a beat in your chest.

you couldn't meet her gaze. because pergaps she wasn't wrong.

"no," you asserted hastily, shaking your head. "not like that."

but lia could see right through you.

she always had. she moved a little closer, voice low & guarded.

"i won't help you unless you tell me."

you groaned.

"i'm not hiding anything. i just. i don't know how to put this into words. i just need space."

lia gazed at you for a moment, & you could see her considering her words.

then she just said, "just don't push him away. whatever it is, it's not worth losing him over." you nodded, feeling the heaviness of her words hit you.

you didn't want to lose him. but you didn't want to hurt him either.

you and michael were moving around like strangers.beyes not meeting. words few and far between. but it wasn't easy to forget. not when you shared a house full of people who noticed everything.

at dinner one evening, judd sat beside you, observing you with his characteristic silent watchfulness.

you were fiddling with your food, shoving it round your plate, hardly eating it. he didn't tell you what was the matter, but you could sense him looking at you▰like he was waiting for you to talk. & at last he spoke.

"you have to talk to him," judd said, his tone as quiet as ever. he doesn't know what happened. & he won't ask.

you shook your head hastily.

you're not even surprised that he knows.

"i can't."

"why?" he asked.

you bit your lip, not meeting his eyes.

"because i don't know how. because everything's all screwed up, and i'm. i'm afraid. i'm afraid that whatever this is, it's gonna ruin everything we have." judd sighed, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

"you've been through worse, kid. you know that, right?" you glanced at him.

which is correct. you not being a natural doesn't excuse what you've been through. scarlett hawkins. lacey locke. your past.

when scarlett died, judd knew he wasn't the only one struggling.

yes, he had lost a daughter, & you have lost a sister. not by blood. & blood wasn't a necessity for scarlett when it came to you.

briggs making the program was what saved the both of you. dean saved the both of you. not just dean. he saved veronica sterling.

"yeah, but. this feels different."

"of course it does," he whispered. "but you can't keep running from him. you have to figure this out."

you were quiet for a long time, taking in his words.

he was right.

you couldn't just hide from him forever.

you had to confront him. just… when?

it was late when michael appeared in your room that night.

the door creaked quietly as he pushed it open, & you looked up from where you sat at the window. you didn't say anything at first. didn't know what to say. he didn't wait for an invitation.

just walked in and shut the door behind him, standing beside it for a moment. "can we talk?" he asked, voice low.

you nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek.

michael leaned against the edge of your bed, a couple of feet from you.

you remained by the window, uncertain if you should approach.

the tension between you was thick once more.

both of you being so cautious, as if anything wrong would break it all. "i'm sorry," he broke the silence.

his voice low, too quiet. "i know i messed up. i didn't mean to hurt you. i just. i didn't want you to know. i didn't want you to see me like that." you at last turned to look at him.

"but you lied. you kept things from me, michael." he nodded, downcast eyes.

"i know. & i'm sorry. i just. i didn't think you could handle it."

"you don't get to decide that," you breathed, moving in close to him.

"you can't shut me out like that."

he stared up at you, his face filled with regret.

"i know. i messed up." you sat beside him, the gap between you still too great.

but you couldn't help it. you were afraid.

"i'm just angry," you confessed quietly. "i'm angry that you didn't trust me enough to share. i'm angry that you think i can't handle it. but i don't despise you, michael. i could never despise you."

his hand crawled out, touching your fingers softly.

you did not jerk away. you let him.

"i know i've been stupid," he declared. "but i never had any intention to hurt you. i just. i'm just so used to facing it all alone. i don't even know how to ask for things to be easier."

you took a jerky breath, eyes dropping from yours to fall upon your other hand, still clenching his.

"i'm sorry," you explained, voice shaky.

"i'm probably being selfish. i just. i just need to know you're okay. i don't want to keep pretending like everything's fine when you're falling apart." he shook his head softly.

"you're not being selfish. i'm just stupid for not seeing how much you care." you paused for a moment, gazing at him.

"are you okay?" he closed his eyes, tightening his grip on your hand.

"yeah. i'm getting there."

"it's okay," you whispered softly, reaching up to brush his cheek.

"it's okay to not be okay."byou overanalyzed every little touch, making sure not to hurt him.

but michael drew you in, holding you tight, his head against yours. "stop overthinking it," he whispered. "you're not hurting me. you never will."

& for the first time in days, you felt the tension finally release.the evening following your conversation with michael, things were quieter, more gentle. the air between you two wasn't as stifling, but it wasn't completely healed either. nonetheless, there was a shift.

the house was quiet that evening. everyone was in bed or otherwise occupied, leaving you & michael alone in the living room. the gentle hum of the fridge & the muffled sounds of traffic somewhere outside were the only things disrupting the silence.

michael sat on the couch, the same spot where you’d spent so many nights together. this time, though, it was different. there was no tension, no walls between you. just a quiet, comfortable silence.

you sat at the edge of the couch, uncertain at first, not wanting to know what to do after all that happened. you did not want to intrude upon him, did not want to make matters worse by pushing his limits.

but michael, as ever, appeared to be reading you like an open book. without uttering a word, he eased slightly to the side, opening up space for you to sit beside him. his eyes were warm, the slightest suggestion of a smile pulling at his mouth, as if he was promising you something.

"come here," he breathed softly, his voice gruff but gentle.

you bit your lip, nervousness rising up in your chest. "are you sure?" you asked softly, still not knowing if your touch would hurt him.

he smiled at you, the kind of smile that was only for you, & nodded. "yeah, i'm sure. you're not gonna hurt me, y'know."

you paused for another second, then slowly walked towards him. as you sat beside him, his arm fell naturally across your shoulders, drawing you closer.

but you tensed slightly, still overthinking every little thing, every small touch. you weren't accustomed to feeling so guarded, so attuned to everything.

"i don't want to hurt you," you breathed, voice so soft it was barely audible. "i'm just. i don't know how to do this without hurting you more."

michael smiled gently, the warmth of the sound enveloping you like a blanket. "you're not going to hurt me, angel. you're not.”

he tugged you a little nearer, & this time you let yourself slip into his side. being close to him felt so normal, so comfortable, that you couldn't help relaxing slightly, allowing your head to lean on his shoulder.

"i just▰" you'd begun, but michael interrupted, raising his hand to tilt your chin up carefully so that you were facing him. his eyes were so soft, so knowing. as though he could penetrate right through your fears.

"it's all right," he whispered. "i know that you're being careful. but you're not going to break me, you know that?"

you nodded, but the knot in your chest did not completely dissipate. you still wished to ensure that you were not doing anything wrong, even in a momeent such as this, when all you wished for was to feel close to him.

michael appeared to sense the restlessness still present within you, & his hand softly cupped your cheek. "hey," he whispered, "if you're not comfortable with anything, you can let me know, okay?"

you smiled softly, grateful for his patience. “i’m okay now. just. just scared of hurting you.”

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re not going to. just trust me.”

you blinked your eyes shut for a second, allowing the heat of his hand seep into your skin, & gradually, all your tension dissolved. you felt the calm rhythm of his breathing, the way his pulse beat in sync with yours in perfect harmony.

"i'm sorry i was acting weird earlier," you mumbled, voice hardly above a whisper.

"don't apologize," he told you, his thumb making little circles on the back of your hand. "you've got nothing to be sorry for."

he was right, but the guilt still hung in your chest. you couldn't help it. you cared too much. you just wanted to protect him, even when he wasn't asking for it.

you moved closer, not bothering to be cautious anymore. the way his arms were wrapped around you was stabilizing, like

"thank you for not giving up on me," you whispered, your fingers tracing across his arm. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

michael pulled you nearer, his arms tightening around you in a warm grasp. "don't worry about that. i'm never leaving, angel. you're stuck with me." he doesn't know what he'd do without you either.

you smiled quietly, running your fingers over & over his chest in gentle, soothing patterns. "good," you breathed. "i think i prefer to be stuck with you."

he leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head as he sighed contentedly. “same here.”

you stayed like that for a while, just existing in the quiet, the soft rhythm of each other’s breathing the only sound that mattered. there was no rush. no pressure. just the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence.

soon, michael moved a little, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch & draping it over both of you. his hand migrated to your waist, & he pulled you in closer, as if too close did not exist when it came to the two of you.

"you know," he mused softly, now teasing, "you're the cuddling champ."

you smiled softly, rolling your eyes. "oh, really? is that so?"

"yeah," he said, his fingers running along your side in that special way that always made you shiver. "if i had a dollar for every time i thought about how perfect it feels when you're in my arms, i'd be rich." well, he already is. but you know what he means.

you smiled, your heart filling with love. "you're cheesy, you know that?"

"perhaps," he grinned, "but you adore it."

"perhaps i do," you confessed, the tension in your chest melting away now entirely. "just a little."

he leaned against you, the sly grin on his face as his lips whispered against yours in a soft kiss. "just a little?"

you smiled against his lips, the sense of his warmth spreading through you like the gentlest kind of comfort. "okay, perhaps a great deal."

"that's what i thought," he whispered, kissing you again, this time deeper, slower. like he was tasting the moment, like he was ensuring you both knew this was real, this was something you were going to cling to.

you smiled & leaned back a little, your forehead against his. "you know," you whispered, barely above a sound, "if i could spend every night like this, i'd be happy."

"me too," he said, his fingers running through your hair, drawing you back into his arms. "me too."

the gentle glow of the tv danced around the room, illuminating soft shadows on the couch where you & michael were snuggled together. all was calm, so calm that you nearly forgot the world existed outside of this moment. the soothing sound of his breathing & the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat against your ear made everything seem right.

until, of course, you heard the distant sound of footsteps from the hallway.

you blinked, the serene moment interrupted. michael must've heard it too because his body stiffened slightly, his hand reaching out to lightly rest on your back as he turned his head towards the door.

there was a gentle tap before the door groaned open, & there, in the doorway, was sloane. her dark eyes were opened wide in a mixture of sleep & curiosity, & she rubbed her eyes as if by accident.

you blinked in shock, but a gentle smile curled your mouth. "hey, sloane," you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful moment. "what's going on? why are you up so late?"

sloane shifted her weight, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. "i. um. i couldn't sleep. i was just. thinking about things," she stammered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

you raised an eyebrow, worry flashing in your chest. sloane wasn't typically one to struggle to sleep, & when she did, it was typically because something was wrong. you could tell she was holding something back, not wanting to confess why she was actually awake.

"sloane," you said quietly, your tone full of love, "you know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

she paused for a moment, but then nodded slowly, although she still did not look entirely at ease. "yeah. i just. i don't know. sometimes it's just hard to sleep."

you knew there was something more to it, but you didn't push her. instead, you shifted slightly on the couch & gestured to the space beside you. "come here, lovely. let's talk."

sloane didn't budge immediately, but after a moment, she crept over, crawling onto the couch next to you. you put an arm around her, drawing her into a hug. the hug was nearly motherly, & it came so instinctively to you that it was like second nature.

michael moved a bit, but he didn't look uncomfortable. he knew the relationship you had with sloane, just like he knew the relationship you shared with everyone at the house. you weren't just a friend to them▰you were like their secret garden, the one they could rely on.

"hey," you murmured softly to sloane, "you know you're not pestering me, right? if something's troubling you, tell me. we'll sort this out."

sloane let out a deep sigh & leaned against your shoulder, wrapped in your embrace. "i know. i just. i don't want to intrude on you & michael. you two look like you're snug as a pair of bugs.

you chuckled, gently stroking her hair. “don’t worry about us. you’re never a bother. but you should probably head back to your room, huh?”

sloane looked up at you with a small frown. “i don’t want to sleep alone.”

you smiled softly at that, the protective instinct inside of you flaring. “you’re not alone, sloane. you’ve got cassie, remember? she’s in the room with you.”

“yeah,” sloane muttered, “but she’s already asleep.”

you smiled softly & glanced at michael. he nodded slightly, understandingly, his hand on your back as if he were giving his silent approval to the moment. "how about this," you told sloane, "you go to your room, & i'll escort you there. if you're still upset, we can discuss it tomorrow, okay?"

sloane paused, but then nodded. "okay." she murmured.

you got up, still holding sloane gently by the shoulders, & began to lead her towards the door. when you reached it, you turned back to her. "sloane, it's all right to be vulnerable sometimes. you don't have to keep that from me. okay?"

sloane's face relaxed, & she smiled at you weakly. "yeah. i guess so."

you smiled back, hugging her quickly before she turned to go towards her room. "get some sleep, s," you whispered. "i'll check on you in a bit."

she nodded, a bit more at ease now as she headed toward her room. "goodnight, you two," she said softly, just before heading down the hall.

you faced back toward the couch, your heart feeling a bit lighter now that sloane was at least going back to her room. you headed back to michael, who had waited patiently for you to finish soothing her.

he looked at you as you came back to sit at his side, a warm smile on his face. "everything alright with her?”

"yeah, just. a bit disturbed," you told him, getting back into your seat beside him. "but she's going back to her room now."

michael nodded, his arm instinctively coming around you as you leaned back against him. the heat between the two of you still lingered, constant &,,, unchanging even after all that had occurred.

"you're good at this," he murmured, his lips feathering across the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. "good at taking care of everyone."

you smiled up at him, your heart filling with his words. "well, i am their emergency contact, so,, it's easy." you whispered. "but. it's not always easy, is it?"

he sighed, wrapping you closer so that you were snuggled under his arm. "no. it's not. but i'm glad you're here with me."

you curled into his chest, the beat of his heart calm you like a lullaby. "me too. i don't think i could do it without you."

there was silence for a moment, and then michael kissed your forehead, the touch so soft that you hardly felt it. but you did, and you dissolved into it, sensing the gentleness in the way he wrapped his arms around you.

"you're not doing it for them, though," he whispered, his voice low & seductive. "you're doing it for yourself too. & that's what makes you unique."

you gazed up at him, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "you're cheesy, you know that?"

"you adore it," he smiled, his fingers stroking along your jawline.

you smiled & drew him into a kiss, slow & deep. michael kissed you right back, his lips against yours like he couldn't get enough of you. the kiss was sweet at first, but then it deepened, becoming more desperate, more urgent. your hands wandered to his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you drew him in closer, desperate to feel the connection between you two, to drown out everything else in the world.

when you finally broke away, gasping, you gazed up at him, your vision misty with love.

"more?" he whispered, his voice a little hoarse.

you nodded, your forehead pressed against his. "always.

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which mattheo seeks power and needs your help to perform a blood ritual. WORDS. +6.3K (ups). english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, porn w//plot, mean mattheo, aged up characters, friends to fuck buddies, blood play, blood kink, cuts, spitting, nipple sucking, oral sex f!receiving, pussy drunk mattheo, handjob, dirty talk, biting, marking.

navigation -> masterlist

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying. Every move he made, every word he spoke, every breath he took was saturated with confidence and superiority.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

Mattheo was like a storm no one could outrun, an enigma without resolution, and that was exactly what made him so intoxicating. There was something in his presence that pulled people toward him, whether in admiration or fear, and no one could quite decide if it was for better or worse. He wasn’t just hard to ignore; he was impossible to overlook. He demanded attention simply by existing, and it was maddening, the way he could dominate a room with nothing more than a simple glance.

It could have been for a lot of reasons. Maybe it was the way he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, the sharp, biting comments he always seemed to have ready, words that stuck like blood on stone.Or maybe it was the fights, the way he seemed to throw himself into them too often, always coming out with the same satisfied expression. After all, he was the only son of the Dark Lord, and that alone was enough to draw all kinds of attention.

Whatever was the reason, chaos seemed to follow him everywhere, like he thrived on it. Perhaps he didn’t care at all. No outsider really knew, and no one ever tried to figure him out. Nobody had the courage to do so.

Either way, there were always whispers about him, cruel rumors about his personality and massive ego, some saying he was just like his father, or maybe even a darker version of him, while others came from students eager to get close in obscene ways, hoping to spend a night with their bodies tangled in his. 

Yet Mattheo didn’t show that he cared, always pretending to be focused on his own goals, moving through the chaos unshaken and unbothered, though deep down, the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

But you had seen enough to know the truth. He was cruel, ruthless, and everything people whispered about him, perhaps even worse. And yet, here you were, trapped in his chaos, each moment with him drawing you deeper into the darkness.

You were trapped. Absolutely trapped.

Perhaps it was in the way he looked at you, his deep brown eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away, leaving you struggling to keep your heart from racing, as if he saw something inside of you that you weren’t capable of seeing. Or maybe it was the way his words stayed in your mind long after they were spoken, carving their way into your thoughts like a knife you didn’t want to pull out, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already in too deep.

If you thought about it more, you didn’t know what had brought you here. The main factor to why you were so attracted to an ongoing fire.

Could be the adrenaline from his strange proposal, or the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his presence always glued to your mind. Could also be the need to be near him, the way your body moved toward his as if it had no will of its own, or perhaps it was the way he seemed to control your heart in a way you couldn’t even understand. It was twisted, even a little scary, but neither of you cared.

After all, you were friends.

You didn’t know when it stopped feeling like curiosity—just a lingering thought— but the doubt never really went away. Instead it became prominent, tight in your chest whenever he was around. There was something darker about him, something dangerous in the way he lived recklessly, only focused on his own desires, how he thrived on the attention he got, pulling you deeper without even trying.

And now, standing there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever came next, there was no turning back. No escape.

The Room of Requirement was cloaked in dark shadows, the silence broken only by the faint hiss of flickering candles. Their soft, wavering light offered a fragile sense of comfort, though it did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, saturated with the acrid tang of burning incense and something darker, almost unspoken.

Torchlight flickered across the cold stone walls, making jagged patterns that twisted and stretched with each almost shiny flicker. That night, the requirement room felt weird, unlike the form other students seemed to used—every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

The faint metallic scent in the air lingered, sharp and heavy, mixed with something even more heavy, felt almost like a warning. On the stone floor, crude runes spiraled out in precise, jagged lines, their edges glowing faintly as though alive and energetic, pulsing in time with the biting silence as if they were watching, waiting to know what was about to take place.

In the center of it all stood Mattheo Riddle, the one person who seemed to take up every space in your mind, his dark robes draping loosely over his strong frame, giving him an effortless air of power, his features, defined and almost angelic, partially hidden by his messy curls that always fell into his pretty eyes.

The flickering torchlight danced off his hair with every movement, making it seem almost alive; there was something strange about how his appearance seemed almost angelic, yet you knew Mattheo’s true personality, making him all the more dangerous, like a trap just waiting for you to step in.

He could look still, even controlled, but there was nothing controlled about this. Nothing about him was controlled.

Mattheo looked at the dagger in his hands, his gaze drifting over the blade, but it wasn’t the dagger that had his attention. It was you. Your eyes were on him, and it felt like he was being torn apart with just that look. It wasn’t like the attention he was used to—no fear or admiration in it.

No, this was different. It was more like an assessment. The weight of your gaze was almost suffocating, as if you were digging into him, getting under his skin in a way that made him feel stupidly exposed and making him feel a strange sensation tighten in his chest, choking his throat in ways he couldn’t understand, and he hated it.

He hated how you made him feel like this—torn between wanting to get closer and wanting to run away from that. And even if it was good or bad; neither mattered. He didn’t want to know. The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers. He wasn't certain which would provide him with greater comfort, but he was certain that if you gave him that satisfaction, he will never be the same again.

Mattheo sighed and shook his head rapidly, making a dramatic gesture as he attempted to avoid your concentrated, evaluating stare on him once more. He concentrated on the tiny silver dagger in his hand, trying not to hold it too firmly in his palm, but nothing could take away the sensation, and even if it didn't cause him any discomfort, the pressure that made it was obvious.

He let out another sigh, this time frustrated, rubbing his forehead, but couldn’t help releasing another, this time a relieved one, when he saw your attention shift to the two circles drawn around him, almost like some kind of illustration, and he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly as he noticed the change in your expression; at the confusion in your eyes and at your furrowed brows as you tried to make sense of the strange symbols, carefully etched inside the circles on the floor.

Mattheo looked away, quickly shifting his focus to the symbol at his feet. In comparison with the other symbols, this one was far more complex, with each line and curve being meticulous and precise. As he raised his chin in satisfaction with what he did, Mattheo couldn't help but widen his smirk into a full grin, an equal amount of pride and arrogance coming across his expression.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you. Even though you were there not completely voluntarily, you still had a place in it, whether you liked it or not. 

This time, it was Mattheo who looked at you with an intense, almost predatory gaze, his hand tightening once more around the blade in his palm as he kept his eyes on you. He was already preparing to take the first step toward the power he would gain from what you two were about to do. All he needed was your final confirmation and for you to step into the middle of the circle with him.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice broke the silence, low and almost a purr, making you look up at him. Ready? Fuck no. In fact, you were terrified. Every part of you screamed to run, to get as far away from this room and this stupid ritual as possible. But your body didn’t listen to your brain. Your heart didn’t either. Instead, you stayed still, frozen, your eyes locked with his own, already filled with amusement and something darker, like a challenge. 

You knew this was stupid. Hell, it was almost suicidal. A ritual to give him more power, cutting your own hand, spilling your blood, mixing it with his just to make him stronger. It was madness. More than that, even.

But then again, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to leave a piece of yourself with him, to bind yourself to him in some twisted way. And for some fucked-up reason, you craved that. You wanted to be marked by him, to have a part of you inside him forever. Mattheo had already carved his mark into your mind, into the darkest corners of your heart, and now you wanted to do the same.

Stupid curiosity.

“Well?” Mattheo asked again, his voice dripping with amusement, though you could hear the faint edge of annoyance creeping in. He tried to hold onto his usual confident, relaxed demeanor, but it was slipping. “What’s it gonna be?” The same damn question. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to make him ask a third time. 

“I…” You paused, your voice cracking, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath as you felt his gaze digging into you, waiting for the answer he wanted. “I think I’m ready,” you finally said, taking a step forward, ignoring the part of you screaming to get the hell out of there. Yet your body moved faster than your mind, and before you knew it, you took an unconscious step closer to him, making his eyebrow quirk in amusement. 

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?” he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. He almost laughed; if it were not for the situation you two were in.

“Fuck—” you hissed under your breath, cursing yourself again, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched wider. “I’m ready.” You corrected yourself, the words tasting wrong. “I’m ready,” you said again, this time to convince yourself more than him.

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand. The sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as his voice echoed in your ears. When he looked back at you, his eyes were softer than before, though the usual intensity remained, as if he was offering something that, despite not being comfort, somehow left you feeling relieved in a way.

He stretched his hand towards you, his voice calmer than before but still firm. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner this thing is going to end.” The sooner he would have control. Mattheo called you again, and you let out a soft sigh before taking that first step.

Each step you took was filled with hesitation, but your body didn’t seem to care. It moved toward the circle, fighting the doubt gnawing on your mind. When you finally stepped inside, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh as your hand found Mattheo’s. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing as you saw the same smirk on his lips, the reaction causing a tug on your heart. He didn’t need to say anything; you could feel how much he enjoyed this, how much he knew the effect he had on you.

Sometimes you wanted to punch him. 

As soon as you took his hand, Mattheo’s confidence wavered slightly; his heart pounded just by your touch. However, he couldn’t hide the dark amusement in his eyes as he watched your flushed cheeks and how your body betrayed you. It was too easy.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the intricate runes carved into the floor with the tip of his dagger, his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there. “It’s going to hurt like hell.” He said it with such ease, as if the pain and the blood were just a minor part. You swallowed hard, the confirmation of what you already knew settling deep in your stomach. “At least for you,” he added with an eyebrow raised, his voice laced with amusement.

His words weren’t reassuring at all—not that you expected them to be. He didn’t care about calming you or making this easier to bear. That wasn’t his style, and it never had been. Mattheo thrived in chaos, in mess, and he wanted you to feel every bit of it. He wanted to pull you into the madness, to push you until you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re not exactly helping me calm down, you know?” you said through gritted teeth, barely stopping yourself from telling him to go fuck himself. 

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence. “Glad to know, sweetheart.” He said casually, like it didn’t matter at all. “But who said I want you to calm down?” he murmured, and you might have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the fact that you had known him for years.

You scoffed at his lack of sympathy. It wasn’t surprising, though; his attitude was one of the things that drew you to him, even if it wasn’t exactly healthy. You watched as he lit more candles, the flame dancing with every step he took, highlighting the sharp lines of his features. He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one. 

After a few seconds, Mattheo stood up, still holding the dagger in his hand. He glanced at you, and for a brief moment, something in his gaze made his heartbeat almost thud down his ribs. He took a few steps toward you, and your eyes met. His dark eyes were intense, unreadable, and the weight of the air between you made your stomach twist. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, with a hint of mischief in his tone. The corner of his mouth twitched, the excitement creeping slowly.

“Take off your shirt.”

You blinked, shocked, and for a few seconds, all your fear vanished. “Excuse me?!”

Mattheo observed you, almost as if he were stripping you bare. “Your shirt,” he repeated, his tone annoyingly dismissive. He spun the dagger in his palm with flawless precision, taking a step closer as if your hesitancy pleased him. “Take it off,” he said almost coolly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

You crossed your arms, feeling your heart race as your face flushed with heat. “And why, exactly, do I need to do that?” You snapped, your voice sharp. You had fantasized a thousand times about Mattheo asking you to do this, but you never imagined it would actually happen, especially not now, in this situation. 

“For the ritual,” he said simply, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that bordered on taunting, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “I need access to your skin, sweetheart. The magic won’t work otherwise.” His words were smooth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling they held a hint of mockery.

You hesitated, studying him closely. There was something about his response that didn’t sit right, too casual in a way that felt almost taunting, like he wasn’t being completely honest. “You’re making that up,” you said flatly, letting your arms drop to your sides, your eyes narrowing as you searched on his face for a sign of truth. 

His smirk widened, and he continued to twirl the dagger between his fingers, his eyes locked on you. The sight of your flushed cheeks only seemed to make him think with his other head. “Am I?” He took another step closer. 

“Please, Mattheo, I know that’s bullshit!” you spat out, trying to ignore how his smug expression made your skin heat, though particularly of you couldn’t help but consider it.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the tension between you nearly unbearable. His voice dipped, rough and almost deliberate, as his dark eyes shamelessly trailed down your body before locking onto yours again.

“Alright,” he murmured, a smile laying wickedly on his lips. “Maybe it’s not entirely necessary. But it helps. A lot.”

The dagger moved lazily in his hand, the sharp edge skimming his palm without cutting his palm. His gaze never left you, steady and intense, like a predator watching its prey. “And we both know you want this to work out, don’t we, sweetheart?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, a truth you hated to admit even to yourself. You wanted him to notice you—really notice you—the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare, peeling back layers you didn’t even realize you had. But the sharp flare of anger clawed its way up your chest, tangling with the strange pull he always seemed to have over you, leaving you somewhere between furious and helpless.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head, the disappointment cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You weren’t sure if it was aimed at him or at yourself for falling into this moment—this trap. Probably both. 

“And yet,” he said, taking another step toward you, “here you are.” He mocked you, making you bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off. 

The space between you two was basically nonexistent now, and Mattheo fucking hated it. Hated that it was him moving closer, like he couldn’t help himself. Hated how his body had a mind of its own, reacting to you in ways that made him feel like an idiot. The thought of you, without your shirt, without anything, was driving him insane, his imagination running wild no matter how much he tried to shove it down.

Fuck. He could already feel the strain in his pants, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. It pissed him off—how easily you got under his skin, how fucking hard it was to keep his cool around you. 

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice rougher than you felt, and Mattheo’s smile twisted with satisfaction, practically waiting for you to do it. You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way his eyes were glued to you. Your fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt, heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find the guts to go through with it. 

Mattheo’s smirk only deepened, his eyes never leaving you, and for a moment, it felt like he was inside your head, reading you like a damn book. His gaze dropped low, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. You seemed so fucking soft. “Need help?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery. 

“Shut up, Mattheo” you snapped, yanking the fabric over your head in one swift motion, a shiver running through your whole body. Shit, you didn’t have your bra on.

The second the shirt left your body, the air felt heavier, but you felt the coldness against your exposed skin and nipples. Mattheo’s expression shifted, his smirk slipping for a moment as his eyes scanned over you, taking in more than you were prepared to show. You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra under the thin fabric, your chest bare under the dim torchlight and his searing gaze. Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

The second the shirt left your body, the air felt heavier, but you felt the coldness against your exposed skin and nipples. Mattheo’s expression shifted, his smirk faltering for a moment as his eyes scanned over you, taking in more than you were prepared to show.

You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra under the thin fabric, your chest bare under the dim torchlight and his searing gaze. Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second. 

You couldn't help but feel trapped by his piercing stare as his eyes remained on you, shamelessly tracing your hard nipples. He seemed oblivious; nonetheless, his eyes burned with need as his mind wandered, thinking about the taste of his tongue on your nipples, sucking and biting until all you could think about was the feel of his wet tongue. He held the dagger tightly, only reacting when the blade cut into his flesh.

“Well,” he began, attempting to put the thoughts flowing through his head to the back of his mind, his voice rougher than before, “guess you were more ready than we thought.” He mocked you again, but it seemed like he was also mocking himself.

You could feel your cheeks burning, a mix of anger and something else boiling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to block him out, but the moment you saw the way Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you filled with desire, your hands fell to your sides, betraying your own brain. You wanted this. You wanted him to see you, to really see you.

But as you realized you were staring at him in the same way, you quickly shook your head, trying to push down the desire and need, force some control back into your own voice. “Just get on with it,” you ‘snapped’, trying to hide how much it stung, how much you craved that attention. 

Mattheo’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, full with devilment. He took another step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and gestured toward the circle with a lazy flick of his hand. “As you wish.”

His expression didn’t shift, his confidence simmering just below the surface as he stepped even closer to you, trying not to look at your bare chest. His eyes flickered to the symbols on the ground, their faint glow reflecting in the depths of his gaze. Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care. He didn’t look at you but still waited for your reaction. You had already drawn one from him—only fair if he returned the favor, right?

You, on the other hand, swallowed hard, your gaze shamelessly tracing the lines of his abdomen and bare, muscular chest. The candles and torchlight cast sharp shadows across the scars etched into his skin, and you held your breath without meaning to. When he glanced forward slightly, his eyes still on the ground as he did so, he had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of your clenched fists, trying to control yourself.

This was going to be fun, at least.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke or moved. The silence stretched thin, both of you consumed by the same thoughts, the same dirty images racing through your minds. Your chests rose and fell heavily, both of you struggling to regain a normal breath. It was fucking madness. 

Mattheo quickly composed himself, standing at the point of the small symbol on the ground, making sure you mirrored his position on the opposite side. Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin. He gave a low sigh, words slipping from his lips in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice deep and commanding.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the symbols on the floor pulsed to life, glowing with an eerie light, while the candle flames flickered wildly, as though responding to his words. 

He looked at the dagger in his hand, a proud glint in his eyes before letting his gaze drift up to your face. His eyes lingered on your features, the softness of your eyes, the way your lips parted just enough to drive him insane. He almost couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch you, but he stayed still, his jaw tight. “Are you ready?” he asked, his lips moving without sound. “I am,” you mouthed back, the hesitation in your eyes impossible to miss. But he ignored it, choosing to focus on the way you stood there—no turning back now, and honestly? He didn’t want you to cover up. 

Mattheo gripped the dagger with steady hands, his brown eyes flickering briefly to the runes as if making sure everything was aligned. Without a second thought, he pressed the sharp blade to his palm, slicing through the skin with quick, practiced precision. The blood surged from the cut, dripping thick and dark onto the glowing runes below. They reacted violently, flaring brighter, more alive, as if the blood was feeding the symbols, feeding him. 

You held your breath, knowing you were next. But you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the ground, watching his blood drip onto the floor beneath both of your feet.

After a few seconds, he lifted his chin, pride in his eyes, his curls moving like the magic around the circles. He grabbed your hand without a word, pressing the dagger into your palm, his gaze never leaving yours. He was waiting, daring you to cut yourself just like he had. 

You felt his blood drip onto your wrist, the warmth of it sending a jolt through your veins. As the dagger pressed into your palm, a breath caught in your throat. The weight of the blade was more than you expected, and for a moment, your eyes lingered on the crimson stains left by Mattheo’s cut, almost hypnotic, tempting you.

Your heart quickened, your pulse echoing in your ears. You hesitated—for a moment. His eyes found you once again, a look that urged you to continue. The hesitation lingering in your heart suddenly dispersed; you wanted nothing but to mark him as yours.

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did. The pain was sharp, fleeting, quickly replaced by the blood spilling down your skin, as the runes reacted violently to your action, their glow flaring in response. 

It was instantaneous. The moment your blood touched the floor, the room seemed to exhale, the light flaring brighter and the air humming with a charged, almost electric energy as the ritual began. But the reaction was brief, for Mattheo’s focus shifted.

Mattheo’s gaze was fixed on the cut on your hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he was mesmerized by the crimson blood streaks trailing down your wrist, mingling with his the drops of his blood already on your skin. His jaw clenched, and you swore you saw him swallow hard as he continued to look, his chest rising and falling with a depth of intensity you’d never seen in him before. 

“Mattheo?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your heartbeat quickening against your bare chest. Yet, it was enough to break his attention.

His eyes naturally met yours once again, vulnerability flickering in his gaze, though the rest of his expression remained unreadable, like a contrast to the hunger simmering beneath. But Mattheo didn't step back. Instead, his calloused fingers brushed against the blood on your wrist, smearing it slightly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, neither of you remembered how to breathe.

“Mattheo…” you called out again, but this time it was almost a plea for him not to stop. He obeyed your unspoken request, his fingers tracing your skin as if exploring new territory, so gently that it almost made you forget the lingering sting in your hand. 

Mattheo’s hands moved deliberately, spreading the blood from the deep cut on your hand. He seemed oblivious to the matching wound on his own skin as he dragged the crimson trail up to your neck, smearing it across your skin. Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood. He let out a low groan at the taste, and you couldn’t suppress your own when you felt the warmth of his tongue against you. 

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.” His teeth continued to drag along your skin, while his hand slid down your arm, seeking more of your blood. His fingers tightened around your palm, squeezing to draw out more of the liquid, making you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure as the burn surged through you. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, biting your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin painfully. He didn’t care about the grunt of pain that escaped your lips, not when more blood joined the one already staining your throat. Right after his first bite, you moaned, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to ease the wetness in your cunt. 

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured against your throat, pressing his lips to the marks he had left with his teeth. But when he noticed you hadn’t answered, he bit your neck harder than before and squeezed your stomach, causing more blood to spread across the area. 

You swallowed hard, locking eyes with him as you tried to form a sentence, but the only words that escaped your lips were a barely audible, “Yes, fucking yes,” which only made him laugh harder. He tightened his grip on your skin, sending a sharp sting through your own body. 

“Of course you do… such a fucking slut,” Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as he tasted your blood again on his teeth. His tongue throbbed with desire, savoring the metallic taste. Holy shit, he could cum just from the taste of your blood. “But you taste so damn good.” 

He seemed to have completely forgotten the ritual, and you, too, had let it slip away. You didn’t want to remember, not when his blood stained your skin, not when your own blood marked him, and not when his mark lingered on you. 

Mattheo pulled back slightly, looking at your state and the way your plush lips were parted as you stared at him, your eyes filled with the same desire he showed. 

Without warning, Mattheo grabbed your cut hand with the one resting on your stomach, his blood mingling with yours as he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth. 

You let out a loud moan as you felt his tongue teasing the tips of your bloodied breasts, the taste of your blood on his tongue making him swirl around your breast more eagerly. The sensation only made him harder beneath his robes, each moan of his growing louder as he savored the taste of you. 

You were lost in the pleasure of his mouth, concentrated with the way his tongue lapped like a hungry animal. The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger. You didn’t hear nothing but the sounds of his mouth nor saw how he desperately reached for release, your body causing him to react out of character.

“Fuck...” he murmured, his hand releasing the softness of your skin as he reached down towards his pants. Fast, uncoordinated, he released his cock from the restraints, his bloody hands wrapping around his cock that dripped with precum. His movements grew faster, driven by the growing intensity of the taste of blood on his tongue.

You looked down, catching a glimpse through the small crease of his neck as he dragged his palm over his hard cock while sucking on your nipples. You couldn’t help but moan louder, your bloody hand gripping his shoulders as you tried to ignore how your body was responding—the wetness between your legs that you knew he could feel. 

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

“Fuck, your blood tastes so fucking good.” He moaned louder, and as he sucked harder on your nipples, his mouth closing around the bud tighter. Your chest was now covered in his bites, the marks of Mattheo Riddle, almost like a sign of ownership. Your body quivered against his hold, rubbing pathetically against him as you felt the tingle flutter in your stomach. You were close, lost in the daze, you had no idea whether it was from pleasure or the lost of blood—or both. You were desperately clinging to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a spell.

The hold on his length tightened in his hand, and he came instantly. Another hoarse moan escaped his throat, and he pulled away from your chest for a moment, gasping for air. You gripped onto his shoulders once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. So sudden, so quick you fell against his hold as your body convulsed with pleasure.

Mattheo leaned against you, allowing himself a moment to relax. But when he noticed the blood still running down your throat from where he had placed your hand, he couldn’t help but let out a growl. He yanked your hair back harshly, making you gasp and exposing your throat, your scream barely escaping as he did so. 

“Mattheo…!” You tried to speak, but he didn’t care; he never did. He only pushed you further against him, your nipples pressed against his bare chest as he licked your throat, letting out another groan as he tasted the metallic flavor again. His tongue traced the line of your throat, dragging the blood up to your chin, before he licked it off obscenely, making you sigh at the sensation. 

Mattheo’s hand in your hair tightened, and in one swift motion, he turned you onto your back, pulling your hair even harder as your back arched against him. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

The kiss was rough and erotic, the fire burning from the inside making it impossible to avoid it. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, and it only made your cunt wetter, the intensity overwhelming. It was too much—more than you’d ever imagined.

You had pictured moments like this, where you and Mattheo would kiss, tasting each other’s tongues, but this was different. It wasn’t the fantasy you had dreamed of; it was raw, wild, and rougher than anything you could have ever anticipated. His teeth clashed with yours, and your tongue tangled with his, as he unleashed his most primal side. He was giving you a taste of the part of you he had consumed, and you were trapped, just as you always would be.

You didn’t care about the pain in your scalp, only the hand that held you.

Mattheo’s hands were rough, touching everything he could. His mouth marking you over and over as he swallowed every small noise you released. He was warm, too warm, a sting feeling in your mouth as he sucked and bit into your lips, the softness of your skin tethering as his mouth was once again filled with the sweetness of your blood.

He was about to lose his mind.

Mattheo sighed against your now split lip, “Stop me… Tell me to stop, and I will.” He wouldn’t; you both knew it.

You held him against you tighter; you were already too deep into him—all you wanted was to devour him, mark him enough to show everyone he belonged to you, only you. You wanted to inflict a pain he would never forget, a pain similar to the pain he caused you, so you did. Your hands wrapped around his neck, your mouth tracing his lips, then his cheeks, then suddenly the warmth of his neck. Mattheo gripped you hard; he made no sudden movement, anxiously awaiting your motive. You bit into his neck, sucking the flushed skin as your teeth marked him with the same strength he did to you. 

Another soft flow came into your mouth, you gasped, the metallic taste odd in your mouth but enough to send your heart thundering.

Mattheo whimpered, his dominant facade slipping as he sickly enjoyed the way you took control. You were so sweet, so delicate—you were completely the opposite. The idea he corrupted you twisted a sick, powerful thought in his brain. You were his. 

Your tongue reached towards his mouth again, finding yourself eye to eye with the man you wanted nothing more than to control. “Don’t ever stop; I need you.”

Mattheo grinned, his lips bloody, his brown eyes becoming dark as he suddenly pushed you towards the runes that glowed against your body. The symbols glowed, vibrating with the blood that dripped onto it. As he stood over you, he wished to capture the moment forever. You looked so fucking pretty.

He leaned over, his knees staining with the blood smeared against the cold tiles. His fingers moved quickly, desperately. He watched as your body spoke to him, reacting to every touch. Your breasts covered in his marks, his blood and yours on them that caused his cock to twitch violently.

He wanted more than the taste of your breasts; he wanted to taste the juices that gathered in the silk of your panties. He wanted to feel the way your cunt twitched and throbbed against his mouth, and damn, did he want nothing more than to have you fuck yourself on his tongue. The sweetest angel from Hogwarts all displayed for him, to hell with the ritual; now he just wanted to swallow you whole. 

Without warning, he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders with an almost violent urgency, a deep moan escaping his lips as he leaned closer to your wet pussy. The intoxicating scent filled his senses, making his bloodied hand tighten around your thigh, gripping it as if commanding you to choke him; a command you had no intention of disobeying.

Mattheo looked at your face, the dried blood around your parted lips, your cheeks flushed from everything he was doing to you, and your dilated pupils watching him anxiously. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and you instantly bit your lip. Fuck, he was about to get hard again. 

“Please, I need you, Mattheo,” you begged, rubbing your hips desperately, trying to get closer to his flushed face. You needed his mouth, and he was more than willing to be a good friend and give you exactly what you wanted. 

“No need to beg like a slut, sweetheart,” he said, moving closer to your pulsing cunt, the light from the dunes making your wetness glisten even more. You held your breath as his warm breath ghosted over your slick folds. “I’m eager to give you what you want,” he murmured, leaning even closer, his nose brushing against your arousal as he took in your scent. Just as you were about to beg him to do something, his tongue was quicker—teasing, tasting, and finally giving in to the need to lick you.

Mattheo followed his instincts and hunger, his palms gripping your thighs even tighter, leaving bloodstained marks on your skin just as he had on the rest of your body. The sting of his own cut burned with the pressure, but he didn’t stop, sliding his hands to your hips as his tongue moved swiftly against your folds, savoring and memorizing every inch of you.

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this—only after his hunger was completely satisfied. Your back arched, heat swirling in your stomach as Mattheo licked your pussy with reckless desperation.

He was ravenous, savoring every part of you, and when your nails dug into his scalp, he let out another growl, pushing himself even deeper between your legs, making you moan even louder.

“Fucking yes, sweetheart,” he murmured against your pussy, sucking harder as your cries of pleasure filled the room. “Keep moaning like a slut, keep saying my name.” He bit down on your flesh, making you moan even louder, your legs trembling around him. He chuckled darkly, the vibrations of his laughter sending shocks through your body and making you cry out even more.

Fuck the ritual, fuck the power—the only power he craved was the power he held over you.

“Mattheo,” you moaned even louder, rocking your hips against his face as your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him closer. “Right there, oh my—!” you cried out, feeling him lose himself between your legs, consumed by his thoughts and the blood still staining his lips.

Mattheo’s fast, steady movements continued, his almost feral tongue lapping at your cunt as his hands roamed your body. He could feel his cock harden at the sound of your sweet moans. Fuck, the taste of your blood mingled with your arousal was divine—almost too much for him to bear. 

He continued kissing your clit, desperate to savor your full taste, his tongue messily exploring your folds, drinking in every drop he could. All you felt in the moment was him. The sounds muffled as if underwater. Your fingers dug into his scalp, causing him to flick his tongue against your bud faster, his fingers circling it, his grin plastered with pride as he heard you cry loudly.

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

You only released a jumble of words, your bare back arching as you squirmed beneath him. You were on the edge, and you could feel it—both of you could. The anticipation was electric, and you were both eager for the release. All he wanted was to make you cum.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your folds, the scent of your cunt making him dizzy. “Come for me.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than you let out a final scream, the orgasm hitting you hard as your body arched, feeling your cum dripping from your pussy.

Mattheo groaned against your cunt once more, lapping at your release as he lost himself in your flavor. Quickly, he grabbed your cut hand, spreading its blood over your pussy to mix with the cum. When he felt it was enough, he ran his tongue over your folds, savoring the metallic taste of blood combined with the sweet remnants of your orgasm, only stopping when not a drop remained, and you pushed him away.

The runes still flickered on the ground, glowing brighter with the smell of your release in the air. Blood stained both your bodies, marking each other, the connection between you that neither of you wanted to escape. Mattheo stood there, watching you, his brown eyes intense. His eyes traced the blood on your skin, lingering on the cut on your hand, before meeting your eyes again.

“We didn’t finish the ritual,” your voice soft, timid once again compared to the wildness you held as you took control of Mattheo, your body still shaking from one of the best orgasms you ever experienced.

Mattheo’s smirk grew, just a little as he continued to look at the mess he had done. “It’s fine, sweetheart. We can always try again.”

He was right; after all, friends helped each other.

© 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝₂₀₂₄ — 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

— please be nice, it’s 4 am it probably has some mistakes!

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

also a big thank you for my favorite beta readers @earth4angels & @astrxq , without them i couldn’t write all this!! i love you both off you forever

venting: i hate english bc my hard lines in portuguese didn’t make sense :(