Pompeygirl89 - Untitled

𝐒𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐜𝐞

fluff | Bestfriend!Mattheo Riddle | 💙🫂🦋❄️| Masterlist | Taglist | requests are open

SUMMARY: Y/N jokes with Mattheo about his frustrations, but her offhand comment leads to a heated moment between them.

AUTHORS NOTE: Inspired by the book Unsteay written by Peyton Corinne.

Y/N lay sprawled across her bed, her head propped up on her arm, lazily flipping through an old textbook as Mattheo Riddle lay beside her, one arm draped over his face as he stared up at the ceiling. His usual cocky demeanor was dimmed, and for once, he seemed… frustrated. His brow furrowed, lips pressed in a firm line, and every now and then, he'd let out an annoyed grunt that made Y/N roll her eyes.

"What's with you?" she asked, not bothering to look up from her book. "You're acting like someone stole your favorite wand or something."

Mattheo shifted next to her, letting out a heavy sigh. "Just been a long day," he muttered. "Too much shit in my head."

Y/N finally turned to him, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe you just need to get laid."

Mattheo froze, then slowly turned his head towards her, his dark eyes widening slightly as if he'd misheard her. "I-what?"

Y/N chuckled, closing the textbook and tossing it aside, turning to face him fully with an exaggerated shrug. "I wasn't offering, hotshot. Trust me, that's just… not a good idea."

His momentary shock melted into laughter, the sound of it filling her small dorm room. He always had this laugh—deep, rich, and infectious. She smiled, about to make another snarky remark, but before she could, Mattheo moved.

In a split second, he was on top of her, his strong arms caging her in against the soft mattress. He hovered over her, his familiar smirk playing at his lips as his dark curls brushed against her forehead.

"Right," he whispered, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "For the record, I am offering."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart beating just a little faster as she met his intense gaze. His body was warm and close, much closer than usual, and it was impossible to ignore the shift in the air between them. She bit her lip, trying to play it cool, but her pulse betrayed her.

"Mattheo," she warned softly, though there was a playful gleam in her eyes. "You're skating on thin ice."

His smirk grew wider, his eyes flickering down to her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes, a mischievous glint in them. "Good thing I like danger."

For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension building between them as the weight of his words lingered. But then, Y/N, being Y/N, couldn’t resist.

She laughed, pushing against his chest playfully, breaking the tension. "You're such an idiot."

He grinned down at her, his expression softening as he rolled off of her, flopping back onto the bed beside her with a dramatic sigh. "Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

Y/N shook her head, smiling as she turned to face him again. "Lucky me."

KINKTOBER #3– SUNKEN AND SPELLBOUND / mattheo riddle

october 8th breath play , slight blood play , outdoor intimacy

part one part two

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: mattheo’s drawn to the siren he met at the black lake. so drawn, in fact, that he’d let her claim him.

warnings: siren!reader, reader mostly takes control, unprotected piv, blood play, breath play, reader kind of almost drowns mattheo a few times (he’s fine), outdoor sex, oral (m receiving), 18+ content

words: 5.5k (smut starts after a little bit of plot)

a/n: sorry this was posted a day late…. anyways i’d appreciate if you read part 1 first!!

navigation kinktober masterlist

Recklessness was not unfamiliar to Mattheo Riddle; it was practically second nature. It clung to him like a shadow, a constant companion in his pursuit of the unknown. But as he plunged into the icy, unforgiving depths of the Black Lake, even he felt the weight of his decision.

The cold pierced his skin, seeping into his bones as the Black Lake swallowed him whole, its inky depths tightening around his chest like a vice. Yet, the deeper he sank, the more alive he felt. The water muffled the world above, leaving only the beat of his heart and the pull of something darker, more magnetic, beneath the surface

The biting chill clawed at his skin, but none of it mattered—not the cold, not the darkness surrounding him—because you were right there, your presence burning like a beacon in the depths.

You stared at him in disbelief as he floated in front of you, your mouth slightly open as if you hadn't expected him to follow through. But he had. Of course he had.

He surfaced again, shivering but with no regrets as he stared at you. Your eyes widened in shock as he swam closer, the cold surrounding him but doing nothing to diminish the heat burning inside him.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, laced with both awe and fear.

“I’m here,” he said, closing the distance between you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the cold tightened its grip on him. “I’m with you.”

You stared at him, and for a moment, he thought he saw something break in you, a crack in the armor you wore so tightly. But before he could say anything more, before he could reach for you again, you moved.

With a soft gasp, you dipped beneath the water, disappearing into the depths as though trying to escape him, trying to protect him from the monster you believed yourself to be. Mattheo’s heart clenched as he watched you go, the water swallowing you whole.

But he didn’t stop. Without hesitation, he plunged beneath the surface after you, the icy cold stealing his breath as he kicked down, following the faint shimmer of your form in the dark water. His lungs burned, the pressure building with every second, but all he could focus on was the blurred outline of you just ahead.

And then, suddenly, you were there. His hands found your waist, pulling you to him, your bodies suspended in the dark water. His eyes were closed in on your tail, your pearlescent skin, as if he couldn’t believe such a vision of beauty could ever be real. You stared at him, wide-eyed, your chest rising and falling as if you couldn’t believe he had followed you this far.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

And then your lips were on his.

The world around him dissolved. The cold, the darkness, the water—none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that existed was the press of your lips against his, the taste of salt and cold, the electric connection that surged through his veins like fire.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. The kiss was desperate, hungry, filled with the kind of longing that felt like it had been buried for centuries, waiting to be unleashed. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the water swirled around you both, the world above forgotten. His lungs screamed for air, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't. This was everything he'd been waiting for, everything he hadn't even realized he needed.

But as the need for air clawed at Mattheo’s chest, a panic began to unfurl. The world around him blurred, the darkness closing in. He pressed one final kiss to your lips, a silent promise hanging in the air, before he tried to pull away, desperation coursing through him.

But you didn’t let him go.

In an instant, the heat of the moment shifted. Your grip tightened around his wrist and he felt you pull him deeper. The instinct to fight surged within him, battling against a rush of fear. He thrashed against you, confusion mixing with dread. This wasn’t the girl he had kissed moments ago—the one who had seemed so vulnerable, so full of life. No, this was something else. This was your true nature, and it terrified him.

With a surge of adrenaline, he brought his hand to your face, desperate to reach the girl he knew was still there beneath the surface. Your eyes flickered for a moment, the predatory gaze breaking, revealing a glimpse of terror and guilt. But it was fleeting, lost in the depths of your siren instincts.

The realization crashed over him, mixing with the burning sensation in his chest. You were fighting against it, battling your own nature, but he could feel you slipping further away. He thrashed harder, panic flooding his system as he tried to push past the instinctive fear that clawed at him.

Then, as if you sensed his desperation, your focus shifted. The guilt flashed in your eyes again, and you acted instinctively. You wrapped your arms around him, propelling both of you upward, your strength overcoming his flailing movements.

When you broke the surface, Mattheo gasped, lungs burning as he inhaled the fresh air, each breath like a lifeline. He could feel you beside him, but the panic lingered, a raw edge of terror.

With a sudden burst of power, you pulled him forward, your body gliding through the shallows. You dragged him onto the muddy shore, tail splashing against the dirt as you clumsily crawled onto land. Mattheo lay gasping, his breath ragged as he fought to calm the storm of emotions within him.

“Why?! Why would you do that?!” you screamed, your fear for him coming out in anger. “You could have drowned!” you continued, the anger spilling over. “You could have died!”

Mattheo's chest heaved as he struggled to find his breath, his heart pounding with the remnants of panic, but there was no regret. He felt it as sure as the ground beneath him—solid and real—just like the girl lying beside him, your chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. The damp earth clung to your skin, your once-sleek tail now replaced by legs, though they shimmered in the dim light, pearlescent scales still clinging to your thighs as if they, too, couldn’t fully let go of the water.

You looked wild, like you belonged to the night itself, hair wet and clinging to your face. Slowly, he dragged his gaze up from your scales, following the soft curve of your legs and up to your face, the moonlight casting delicate shadows across your features. You were otherworldly—beautiful in a way that words couldn’t capture, a creature that belonged to the deep, dark waters. But you were also something more, something terrifyingly human in this moment, lying beside him in the dirt, torn between two worlds.

You didn’t look at him, your breath still uneven as you stared at your legs, your hands brushing across the silvery scales as if you could wipe them away, banish them along with the instincts that had nearly overtaken you. He could see it—the guilt, the fear of what you’d almost done. Of what you still could do.

He shifted, dirt sticking to his damp clothes as he sat up, still watching you with a mix of awe and something deeper, something that twisted in his chest. He didn’t want to look away—couldn’t look away.

Your eyes flickered toward him then, and for the briefest moment, something vulnerable and raw flashed across your face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a hard edge of anger, but Mattheo had seen it. You were terrified—not of him, but of yourself.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, voice rough but steady as he tried to calm you, to reassure you. But the words did little to ease the tension in you. You weren't fine. Neither of you were.

Your lips parted again, your breath shaky, but you didn’t speak. Not yet. Instead, you pushed yourself up, knees sinking into the dirt, and turned your gaze back to the lake, your expression torn between longing and dread. The water still called to you, still tempted you to return. Mattheo saw it in the way your body tensed, the way your fingers curled into fists.

“You don’t have to go,” he wanted to say, but he held the words back, unsure if that was what you needed to hear. Slowly, you moved. You turned back toward him, your eyes locking onto his.

“You shouldn’t have followed me.” Your voice was quiet, hoarse, but it carried a weight that hit him square in the chest. “You don’t understand... what could’ve happened.”

He swallowed hard, his throat still raw, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t care.”

Your brows furrowed, frustration flashing in your eyes, but underneath it, he could see the fear—the guilt eating away at you. “You don’t get it, Mattheo. I could’ve killed you.”

“But you didn’t.”

Your hands curled into the dirt at your sides, knuckles whitening as you fought whatever battle was raging inside of you. “I almost did.”

He leaned forward, his hand reaching out to touch you, but he stopped just short of your skin, waiting. “But you didn’t.”

Your gaze snapped to his, wide and desperate, as if you didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer. “Why did you go in the water?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Why do you keep coming back?”

“Because I can’t stay away from you,” he said, and his voice was so quiet, so raw, that he barely recognized it as his own.

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his, something fragile breaking apart between you. Mattheo leaned closer, the dirt beneath him grounding him as he closed the distance between you. He could feel the warmth radiating off you, a tantalizing contrast to the cool night air. Your eyes widened slightly, but there was no fear in them, only a mixture of uncertainty and something that felt like yearning.

He captured your lips again, his heart racing at the sensation, the intoxicating taste of you lingering on his tongue. He couldn't shake the thrill that coursed through him, the twisted attraction that tugged at his core.

You had almost drowned him, and yet here he was, completely captivated. It was almost sickening, how easily you pulled him in. The girl who haunted his thoughts, the one he barely knew but felt closer to than anyone else.

"I want you so fucking bad, Y/N," he breathed against your lips, the words spilling out before he could hold them back.

Your breath hitched, eyes flickering with a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something that resonated within him. "Mattheo..."

"You're so fucking beautiful, you don't understand,” he mumbled desperately, a man reduced to a pathetic mess of need. "I can't stay away from you. I can't. You haunt me.”

The truth of it crashed over him like a wave, pulling him under once more. You were a siren, and he was lost in your song.

"Let me have this," he urged, voice low and intense, a plea wrapped in desperation. "Just for tonight."

"I don't want to hurt you," you whispered.

"I trust you," he replied, his conviction strong. It was a risk, he knew that, but every moment spent away from you felt like torture. "I won't let fear stop me."

The night was eerily still, save for the soft rippling of the Black Lake lapping against the shore. The weight of your lips on his made Mattheo's pulse hammer against his skin. You were intoxicating, your every breath, every touch, pulling him deeper into your web.

Your control over him was palpable. Mattheo was used to having the upper hand, used to getting what he wanted, but not here—not with you. Your kiss was laced with dominance, your siren nature swirling in the air between you, wrapping around his limbs like invisible chains. You toyed with him, your lips a whisper away, teasing him with just enough contact to drive him wild but never fully giving him what he craved.

When you finally pulled away, the cold night air rushed between you, making the heat of your body even more tantalizing. Your fingers, delicate yet undeniably strong, trailed along the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He leaned forward again, wanting more, needing you closer, but you held him back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

You leaned in close, your breath brushing his ear. "Do you trust me?" you whispered, your voice a soft, dangerous melody.

"I... I do," he breathed, the words slipping out before he could think. He wasn't sure if they were true, but something about you-wild and untamed-made him powerless to resist.

Before he could react, your hand pressed against his chest, and with a forceful shove, he was falling backward into the freezing water. The shock seized his lungs, the icy grip of the lake wrapping around him. His mind screamed for air, but before he could surface, you were on him, pushing his upper body down into the shallow water.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you kissed him fiercely beneath the surface. The cold water closed in from every angle, heightening the heat of your lips against his.

Every nerve sparked with sensation, the icy water and the warmth of your body creating a whirlwind of contrasts.

But then the burn in his lungs began. He tried to pull away, desperate for air, but you held him there, hands tightening, nails grazing his scalp as you deepened the kiss. A thrill coursed through him, mingling with fear, as his body struggled beneath you, thrashing against the weight of your grip.

And just when he thought he couldn't take it any longer, you pulled him to the surface.

He gasped, breaking through the water, chest heaving as he sucked in air. But with the fear ebbing, something else took its place-a need, an aching want for more. He wanted you. All of you.

Your voice, soft and hypnotic, drifted to his ears. "I told you I could be dangerous," you whispered, your lips grazing his ear like a secret only for him.

He turned, breath still shaky, but his voice steady. "Then be dangerous," he growled, hands already reaching for you again.

Your eyes darkened with something untamed, and a wicked smile curved your lips. Without warning, you shoved him back under the water. This time, he didn't resist.

When your lips claimed his again, it was a collision of heat and desperation, a kiss that left no room for gentleness. He matched your ferocity, his teeth grazing yours, tongues battling as his need for air warred with his need for you.

When he surfaced again, he was met with your soft laughter-low, teasing, full of dark delight. "You're reckless, Mattheo," you teased, eyes gleaming. "What would you do without me?"

"Maybe I wouldn't need saving if you let me breathe," he shot back, the tension between you palpable.

"Do you want to breathe?" you challenged, your voice dipping into something more sensual. "Or do you want to drown?"

A slow grin spread across his face, his gaze locking onto yours with an almost obsessive hunger. "Both," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "I want to drown in you."

He surged forward, crashing his lips into yours. His hands roamed over your body, rough and insistent, nails digging into your skin. You responded in kind, your claws extending, raking through his shirt and leaving lines of crimson across his chest.

Pain mixed with pleasure, every sensation more vivid in the cool water. He shuddered as blood began to trickle from the fresh cuts, staining the surface of the lake. You licked your lips, eyes gleaming as you eyed the crimson marks with a predatory hunger.

"You taste exquisite," you purred, your tongue flicking out to lap at the wounds. He groaned, head falling back, every touch sending fire through his veins.

Your hands traced the lines of his body, lingering on the fresh marks, each touch claiming him, marking him as yours. When your lips found his again, they were tinged with the taste of his own blood, the mix of salt and copper intoxicating.

You pushed him back onto the bank, your body pressing down on his, pinning him beneath you. Your hair fell like a curtain around him, the world disappearing, leaving just the two of you-raw, primal, and connected.

You kissed him with a hunger that was more than physical, a need that was both possessive and intimate. He held you close, his fingers tangling in your hair, anchoring himself to you as you devoured him.

When you finally pulled back, leaving him gasping, you trailed your lips down his throat, pausing to nip at his pulse. "You're mine," you whispered against his skin, the words vibrating through him. "Every breath, every drop of blood... it's all mine."

Then, slowly, you shifted, fingers deftly working at the fastenings of his trousers, your gaze never leaving his, the connection between you deepening with every beat of his heart.

Mattheo gasped, his breath catching in his throat as your fingers grazed over the hardness straining beneath his trousers. His chest rose and fell in quick succession, eyes locked with yours, the promise of what was to come thick in the air. There was a tenderness in the way you teased him, your claws leaving faint, stinging trails on his skin-not meant to hurt, but to remind him he was yours.

"I want you to beg," you whispered, your lips hovering over his, your words filled with more emotion than threat. "I want to hear you ask for me."

His chest tightened at your touch, not just from the sensation, but from the overwhelming need for connection. There was a flicker of something in your eyes— something more than lust. Slowly, deliberately, you hooked your claws into the waistband of his trousers, peeling them away from his body with excruciating slowness. The cool night air brushed over his exposed skin, but it wasn't the cold that made him tremble.

It was you.

You looked at him, really looked at him, your eyes drinking in every inch of him like he was something to be cherished. Your fingers, delicate yet firm, wrapped around his aching length. The featherlight touch had him arching into your hand, but you kept your movements maddeningly slow, savoring every reaction as though it mattered.

"Please..." Mattheo's voice cracked, his pride crumbling under the weight of his desire. But more than that, there was something in his tone—something raw, vulnerable. “Fuck,” he whispered

A smile tugged at your lips, but it was softer this time, touched with affection. "Oh, I intend to," you murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to his thigh. Your lips lingered there, warm and gentle against his skin, the contrast to your earlier dominance making his heart pound harder.

You lavished attention on his tip, circling your thumb around his slit as he found the urge to thrust up into your fist.

“Give me more,” he choked out, his voice raw with need and desperation. “Please.”

His breath hitched when your mouth finally hovered over him, the warmth of your breath against his sensitive flesh sending shivers down his spine. But when you took him in your mouth, he felt like he was about to implode.

Mattheo's hands fisted in the dirt, his body going rigid as he fought the instinct to push you deeper, to lose himself in the wet heat of your mouth; but you were in control.

Mattheo threw his head back with a guttural moan, his hips jerking involuntarily as you bobbed up and down his length. The wet heat of your mouth engulfed him, your tongue fluttering along the underside, hitting that spot that made his vision go white.

Your mouth moved with practiced precision, and every flick of your tongue sent him spiraling deeper into pleasure. He could feel the tightness building in his stomach, the desire overwhelming him as he fought to maintain his composure. He didn’t understand how you seemed to know him, know his body, in a way no one else ever had.

His voice came out ragged, filled with more than just desire. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"You're so fucking perfect," Mattheo breathed, the words slipping out before he could catch them, raw and unfiltered. His eyes fluttered shut as you continued your slow torment, his body tightening with every teasing stroke. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of bliss, so close to losing control-until, with a wicked smile, you pulled away.

The cold air hit his overheated skin, a sharp contrast that left him gasping. His eyes snapped open, meeting yours as you simply looked up at him with that maddeningly innocent smile.

"You don't get to finish yet," you whispered, amusement lacing your voice as your hand moved lazily over him, keeping him right there on the edge, denying him the release he craved. It drove him wild.

"Y/N..." His voice was hoarse, rough with desperation, but you only laughed softly, leaning down to press a kiss just below his navel, your lips brushing against his skin like a promise.

"You'll take what I give you," you commanded softly, and the words sent a shudder through him.

Something in him snapped. With a growl, Mattheo flipped you onto your back, his larger frame pinning you beneath him. His breath came hot and fast against your cheek as his intense gaze locked onto yours, the air between you charged with unspoken challenge.

"You think you can toy with me? Make me beg, then deny me?" he growled, the words low, full of dark promise.

You smirked, leaning back as the moonlight caught the delicate scales still faint on your legs, your eyes flashing. "You think you're in control here, Mattheo?"

His grin was predatory as he grasped your wrists, pinning them firmly above your head. "Let's find out," he murmured, his voice dangerous, sending a thrill through you. He relished in the way your body responded to his touch, the way your breath hitched, your lips parting in surprise.

With deliberate slowness, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You've been playing games, love... but now, it's my turn."

You gasped, your heart pounding as his grip tightened, pinning both your wrists above your head. The thrill of helplessness, mixed with the burning desire coursing through you, made your pulse race. "Please," you whispered, the word slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Mattheo's dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "You'll have to be more specific," he teased, savoring the sight of you-flushed, desperate, teetering on the brink.

"Don't make me say it," you mumbled, but his smile only grew, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing near-kiss. The tension between you felt like it could snap at any second.

"Tell me what you want," he urged softly, his voice like silk, smooth and coaxing. "Beg for it."

Your heart warred with your pride, but the aching need between your legs won.

"Please... I need you inside me. I need to feel you."

His eyes darkened, satisfaction rolling through him as he released your wrists, his hands sliding down your sides with deliberate slowness, savoring every inch of you. In one swift motion, he flipped onto his back, pulling you on top of him.

"Take what you need," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

Your hands trembled as you reached down, feeling his length throb against your palm. With a slow, deliberate motion, you tugged your panties to the side and guided him to your entrance, teasing both of you with the anticipation.

Mattheo's low groan reverberated through the night air, his fingers gripping your hips as he felt your heat envelop him. "Fuck... you feel incredible," he breathed, his eyes locked on yours, a fire burning in their depths.

Slowly, inch by inch, you sank down onto him, the delicious stretch and fullness making your head spin, both of you caught in the intensity of the moment.

Mattheo's grip on your hips tightened as you sank down fully, his thick length filling you completely. For a moment, you both savored the intimate connection, reveling in how perfectly your bodies fit together.

Then, you began to move, rolling your hips in a slow, tantalizing rhythm that made his head spin.

"F- fuck," he breathed, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you ride him. "You—god, you're perfect."

With every thrust, he bucked up to meet you, driving deeper into your slick heat. The intoxicating sensation of being filled by him made you crave more, and you quickened your pace, chasing that elusive peak of pleasure.

"Oh, fuck... you feel incredible," he groaned, his hands roaming over your curves, tugging your bra down to tease your nipples and squeezing your ass. Each rough caress ignited a fire within you, and you could feel the coil of pleasure tightening in your core.

Suddenly, he surged upward, pressing soft kisses along your neck, whispering apologies for the bites he left behind.

But you broke away, a playful glint in your eyes. "You want to play?" you purred, your voice sultry and inviting. "Let's see how long you can hold your breath."

With that, you pushed him underwater, testing his limits as you continued to ride him, denying him air.

Beneath the surface, Mattheo's body went rigid, panic flaring in his eyes. But even as desperation clawed at him, the pressure of your sex against his throbbing cock sent jolts of pleasure through him, heightening his desire despite the urgency of his situation.

His mind raced, desperate for a way to breathe, but the overwhelming sensations stole his willpower. As the need for air grew unbearable, he surrendered, succumbing to the intoxicating pull of your body.

Just as his vision began to blur, signaling blackout, you finally pulled him up. He gasped for air, clinging to you like a lifeline. "Shit, Y/N," he panted, voice shaky with relief and lingering arousal. "You're going to kill me."

Mattheo's chest heaved as he gulped in air, heart racing wildly. "You're insane," he gasped, a mix of awe and disbelief coloring his tone.

"Absolutely fucking insane."

Yet even as he spoke, he knew there was nowhere else he'd rather be than right here, lost in the depths of your daring game.

His hands slid up your slick skin, resting on your hips as he pulled you flush against him, grinding his hardness against your aching core. "I told you a million times. I’m not scared of you.”

A wicked smile curved your lips, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "That’s why I like you," you purred, tracing a finger along his jawline before gripping his chin firmly.

With a sudden yank, you wrenched his head back, exposing the delicate column of his throat. Your teeth sank into the tender flesh, marking him as yours, and he let out a guttural moan, the pain blending seamlessly with the pleasure radiating between you.

"You wanted me to be dangerous, didn't you?" you taunted, nipping and sucking at his pulse point. "Is this what you imagined?"

Mattheo could only whimper in response, his cock twitching inside you as you found a particularly sensitive spot.

"No," he managed to choke out, voice strained with a heady mix of pain and ecstasy. "It's better. So much fucking better."

Mattheo's hands gripped your waist tightly, his nails digging into your skin as he fought to retain control. But with every wicked twist of your hips and sharp nip of your teeth, his resolve crumbled, surrendering to the relentless waves of pleasure crashing over him.

"More," he pleaded, his eyes wild and desperate. "Please, Y/N. I can take it."

His desperate plea ignited a primal hunger within you, a desire to push him further and test the limits of his endurance.

With a feral growl, you released his throat, your mouth trailing down to his collarbone, biting and sucking the soft skin there. You quickened your pace, riding him with abandon, your inner walls clenching around his pulsing cock.

Mattheo arched beneath you, a hoarse cry escaping his lips as he neared the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N! I'm gonna-"

You silenced him with another brutal bite, your teeth sinking deep enough to draw blood. The coppery taste fueled your frenzy, driving you to ride him harder, faster, determined to prolong his pleasure.

A wicked smirk curled your lips at his plea, and you obliged with sadistic delight.

Gripping his hair, you forced his head back, exposing more of his throat to your merciless attentions. Each bite left its mark, and you reveled in the way his body trembled beneath you.

"Look at you," you purred, voice laced with disdain. "So weak, so desperate."

Mattheo's face twisted in a blend of pain and pleasure, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled to process the overwhelming sensations. "I'm not—mmnph… not weak. I'm just—fuck! Letting you have your fun."

You leaned in closer, your hot breath ghosting over his ear. "Is that so? Then why do you look like you're about to pass out?"

He shook his head, fighting through the haze of pleasure. "Because you're torturing me," he groaned, a hint of admiration threading through his voice. "Not because I'm weak."

"Whatever you say. Keep telling yourself that."

As if to emphasize your point, you resumed your relentless pace, riding him with renewed vigor. The wet slap of flesh echoed through the air, punctuated by Mattheo's ragged gasps and moans.

Suddenly, his hips bucked erratically, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise as his orgasm crashed over him. "Fuck, Y/N!" he cried, back arching off the dirt, waves of pleasure consuming him.

But you showed no mercy, riding him through the aftershocks. The sensation of his pulsing cock combined with the overstimulation of his release was almost unbearable, yet you persisted, driven by an insatiable need for your own peak.

"Shut up," you snapped, pushing his head back under the water when he tried to speak. "I'm not done with you yet."

Mattheo's mind spun as you rode him mercilessly, ignoring his spent state. The water filled his lungs, darkness creeping into his vision, yet he clung to consciousness, enduring the exquisite torture.

His body jerked beneath you, overwhelmed by the relentless friction and the knowledge that you wouldn't stop until you wrung every last ounce of pleasure from him. Despite the desperation, a twisted thrill surged through him at the sheer depravity of it all.

He could feel you tightening, your movements growing erratic as you neared your own climax. The thought of bringing you over the edge fueled his fading strength.

You gasped through gritted teeth, your pace frantic as you chased your release.

Mattheo felt your walls clenching around him, pressure building to a breaking point.

With a final, brutal thrust, you slammed down onto him, crying out as your orgasm tore through you. Your body convulsed, milking his spent cock for every last drop as you ground against him.

Even as the waves of pleasure ebbed, you remained impaled on him, your weight pressing him into the dirt as you caught your breath. Mattheo lay there, dazed and utterly spent, wondering if he'd ever be able to move again.

As you slowly regained your breath, your heart still racing from the intensity of your release, you looked down at him. The moonlight danced on his skin, illuminating the wild, desperate hunger in his eyes. There was something intoxicating about the way he gazed up at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“You meant it,” you whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair away from his forehead. “When you told me that you weren’t afraid to drown”

His breath came in ragged gasps, and the truth hung in the air between you. “No,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “Maybe I just want to be near you, guppy.”

That drew an unexpected, breathy laugh from your lips as you stared down at him, trying to process that he was real.

“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled.

“Whatever you say, guppy.”

kinktober taglist: @mattheoriddles-slutt @theeslutintheroom @esmerai-artemis @gigival @cloudyyydayzzz @sn000py @abeoavita @yesiamthatwierd @shaquilles-0atmeal @roseofsharron438 @iouinotes @romantasyreader28 @c3liaaaaa @sleepiibunniiii @chemtrailsoverhogwarts @daenerystorgaryen @emma-grace0 @tori-303 @ilovehpb0ys

the man on the moon—

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ description ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

death eater!regulus black x fem!reader

regulus is bound to a fate predestined for him by his family and their notion of profound duty bestowed upon the noble house of black. he cannot escape it now. he wishes nothing but for you to be kept safe, innocent and joyous—and to achieve this he must keep a dark secret. a secret that will lay claim to his life, and a secret that will prove to be a tiresome burden.

A chapters are small flashback chapters. B chapters are the main, plot driving chapters.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ chapters ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

༉‧₊˚. chapter 1A — solace | 1B — emergence

༉‧₊˚. chapter 2A — hope | 2B

༉‧₊˚. chapter 3A | 3B

༉‧₊˚. chapter 4A | 4B

༉‧₊˚. chapter 5A | 5B

༉‧₊˚. chapter 6A | 6B

༉‧₊˚. chapter 7A | 7B

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ extras ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

: ̗̀➛ series playlist

: ̗̀➛ series moodboard

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ taglist ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

🏷 @homesweetnothings @ghostlycurses @spidermansfangirl @maverickgalathynius

… send an ask or comment on this post to be added !

KINKTOBER #3– SUNKEN AND SPELLBOUND / mattheo riddle

october 7th no smut in this part

part one part two

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: mattheo can’t helped but be absolutely entranced when he meets a siren at the black lake. are you luring him in on purpose or is he just obsessed with you?

warnings: siren!reader, tension, no other warnings really, this is just context and build up for the smut in part 2

words: 4.1k

a/n: if this wasn’t for kinktober, i would’ve made it into a full series tbh. also PLEASE watch this video, it heavily inspired this fic and i want you to picture the scene just like this <3

navigation kinktober masterlist

The darkness was palpable. Shadows from the towering trees crept along the edges of the Black Lake as if warning him not to venture too far. The moon hung low, veiled behind wisps of cloud, casting a pale, silver sheen over the still waters. In the center of it all, Mattheo sat alone in a canoe, a single lantern flickering at the bow, its faint glow reflecting off the black water like a shimmering ghost.

He didn’t know what had drawn him here tonight. The Black Lake was no place to linger after dark, not with its depths harboring creatures only whispered about in the corridors of Hogwarts. But something called to him—something unspoken, something that pulled him like an invisible thread until his canoe drifted in the heart of the lake, surrounded by the inky expanse.

That was when he saw you.

At first, it was just a ripple. A disturbance on the otherwise glassy surface, as if the lake itself had shuddered. His eyes sharpened, scanning the water, but there was nothing there. Nothing he could see.

Until there was.

Beneath the surface, just at the edge of his vision, a figure moved. Fluid, graceful, like a shadow cast by the water itself. His heart quickened. He leaned forward, squinting into the depths, but the light from his lantern barely penetrated the water.

And then you rose, your fingers pearlescent and slender as they curled around the edge of his canoe, your skin illuminated in the soft glow. The water slipped off you like silk, your form rising slowly, carefully, until your face emerged from the blackness.

He recognized you at once. Y/N. The quiet girl who sat near the back of the classroom, who rarely spoke and often slipped into the background. But here, in the moonlit silence, you weren’t just a girl anymore. You were something else entirely.

Your eyes glistened like jewels in the dark, reflecting the lantern’s dim light, and your hair clung to your skin, wet and gleaming. He noticed your lips parted, but you said nothing, only staring up at him, as though expecting something.

Mattheo’s breath hitched. What the hell were you doing here? His mind raced. The Black Lake, in the dead of night, in its freezing waters…

His heart pounded, confusion swirling through him. He should have turned back, he should have rowed away, left you there in the cold and silence of the lake. But he couldn’t move. He was stuck, entranced, his eyes locked on yours.

Without a word, you began to sink again, fingers still holding onto the edge of the canoe. Your eyes never left his, even as you descended, your face tilting ever so slightly beneath the surface, lips dipping just below the water’s edge.

No. He couldn’t let you disappear like that. He had too many questions. He just needed to remember how to speak. He leaned forward, his body tilting dangerously, lantern in hand, face following yours, his breath shallow and ragged. He should have stopped. He knew it was reckless. But something about you, something in the stillness of your expression, the way you slipped away like a ghost—he couldn’t let it happen.

Closer. His face hovered over the water, his lips mere inches from where yours had been just moments before. His hand trembled, his fingers clutching the lantern like a lifeline, but still, he leaned further, chasing you as you sank lower and lower.

Then, in an instant, you were gone.

The water rippled where you had been, as if you had never existed at all.

Mattheo’s chest tightened. He blinked, staring into the empty space where you’d vanished. The cold air bit at his skin, his fingers aching from gripping the lantern too hard. His mind whirled.

He’d just witnessed something no one else had. Something no one knew.

Y/N—quiet, kind, reserved Y/N—was a siren.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the water, as if waiting for you to resurface, as if hoping for another glimpse of you in that strange, beautiful, terrifying form. His breath fogged in the night air, his heart pounding in his ears. He should have been scared. He should have been terrified. But despite the fact that he hardly knew you at all, all he could feel was an aching need to see you again.

And he did. Night after night.

Every evening, just before the moon reached its peak, he would return to the lake.

“I know who you are,” he’d called out one night, his voice low, echoing across the lake’s stillness. His words hung in the air, unanswered, as his eyes searched the dark water, desperate for any sign of you. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, each beat punctuated by the endless silence that stretched between them.

For a long time, there was nothing. The lake remained eerily calm, as though it had swallowed every secret and refused to give anything back.

Then, a movement.

Barely there, just beneath the surface, your head lifted. Your eyes—those same, hauntingly beautiful eyes—peeked up at him from the depths, shimmering in the moonlight. You didn’t rise, didn’t reveal yourself fully, but your gaze met his, intense and unblinking.

And in that moment, everything else ceased to exist.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded softly, hoping you could hear him when your ears were still beneath the surface.

The air between you crackled with unspoken intensity, a tension he couldn’t explain but didn’t want to escape. You were so close, yet so far—just out of his reach, just beneath the water where no one could follow. Your hair fanned out around you like tendrils of darkness, floating in the cold lake. The way you watched him, unblinking and unreadable, sent a chill down his spine.

But this time, you didn’t run. You stayed.

Mattheo’s breath quickened, the cold air burning in his lungs. He didn’t understand this—whatever this was. The fear he had felt that first night was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous. Curiosity. Hunger.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft lapping of water against the canoe. He wanted to say more, to ask you the questions that burned in his mind—What are you? Why are you here? But all of it felt useless in the face of this moment.

You blinked slowly, your gaze unwavering. Then, as if in response to his voice, you rose just a little higher, your lips barely brushing the surface of the water. It was a silent invitation, one that made his pulse quicken and his body move forward of its own accord.

Mattheo leaned down, his face just inches from yours now. His breath ghosted over your skin and he could feel the pull towards you like gravity, something deeper than desire, darker than fascination.

“You should go,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm, like the pull of the tide. Your words clung to the air, drawing out the tension between you both, but Mattheo didn’t move. His brow furrowed as he stared down at you, the cold biting his skin, though it was nothing compared to the chill he felt from the thought of leaving.

“Why?” he whispered back, eyes searching your face for answers you seemed unwilling to give. You remained silent, lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, you sank lower into the water, your fingers beginning to slip from the edge of the canoe.

Mattheo’s hand shot out before he could think, fingers wrapping around your wrist, cold and slick from the lake’s depths. For a moment, you froze, your gaze snapping back to his, your dark eyes widening slightly at his boldness.

“You keep coming back, Mattheo,” you said finally, the words heavy with meaning. “Why?”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up, but there was something darker behind his grin. “Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

Your expression didn’t change. Serious, still unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—something he couldn’t quite place. “This isn’t a game.”

“Who said anything about a game?” Mattheo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “I think I just like seeing you like this. Out here. Alone.” His grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, thumb brushing along your skin in a way that sent shivers up your arm. “You sure you’re not the one who keeps pulling me back?”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before shaking your head slowly, pulling your arm free from his grip. “You don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice almost too soft to hear. “You shouldn’t keep coming back.”

A chuckle escaped his lips, light and playful, contrasting the tension hanging between you. “Yeah, well, too bad. It’s a little too late for that, guppy.”

The nickname, meant to irritate, had the desired effect. Your eyes narrowed, and you clicked your tongue in disapproval, pushing yourself a little further from the boat, but you didn’t leave. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” He leaned back casually, resting one arm on the side of the canoe as if he had all the time in the world. “It suits you.”

You huffed, though the irritation in your gaze didn’t seem as sharp as it could have been. “It’s not funny.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Didn’t say it was.”

Despite your stern demeanor, there was a faint softness to the way you watched him now, as if the constant back-and-forth had become something familiar. Something comforting, even if you wouldn’t admit it. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“Mattheo,” you warned, though your voice had lost some of its edge.

“I’ll stop… when you give me a better name,” he shot back, winking. “Something less aquatic.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, sinking just beneath the surface once more, your hair floating like dark silk around you. Yet you stayed close, your presence lingering, even though you weren’t speaking.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmured to himself, staring down at the rippling water where you hovered just out of reach. He knew you were still there, watching him, listening. He always felt it. And no matter how many times you warned him, no matter how many nights passed, he would keep coming back.

He didn’t even fully understand why—just that he couldn’t stay away.

One night, as he settled into the familiar quiet by the water’s edge, he noticed you already waiting, your head barely visible above the surface. This time, you weren’t shrouded in mystery, not hidden beneath the waves like before. Instead, you floated lazily, your eyes trained on him as he approached, a faint frown tugging at your lips.

“You’re persistent,” you muttered, the water rippling slightly with the movement of your arms.

Mattheo shrugged, smirking as he crouched down by the edge of the lake. “I’m starting to think you like seeing me here every night.”

You scoffed, but didn’t swim away, staying just close enough for him to see the way your eyes sparkled in the low moonlight. “I think it’s more that you like coming back, no matter what I say.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a nonchalant grin. “But let’s be honest—if you really didn’t want me here, you’d have dragged me into the lake by now.”

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze flickering toward the horizon as if weighing his words. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Over time, you’d both grown accustomed to the quiet moments, the unspoken conversations that said more than words ever could.

Then, without warning, his smirk widened, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. “So, how’s the water tonight, guppy?”

Your eyes snapped back to his, narrowing instantly. “Mattheo, don’t—”

“What?” He feigned innocence, sitting back on his heels, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just asking a simple question. I’m curious.”

“You know I hate that name,” you muttered, glaring at him.

He chuckled, clearly unfazed by your frustration. “That’s why I keep using it. I like seeing you get all prickly.”

There was a flicker of something in your eyes—annoyance, maybe, but also something softer. Familiar. You huffed, turning your head slightly as if you could hide the faint amusement creeping into your expression. “You’re impossible.”

“I get that a lot,” he quipped, leaning closer to the water’s edge. “So… what’s the deal? Am I going to get the cold shoulder tonight, or are you going to tell me more about that little secret of yours?”

You sighed, floating a bit closer, your wet hair trailing behind you like dark ribbons in the water. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you, guppy.” He winked, clearly enjoying himself, though his tone carried an undertone of something deeper. Something real. You shook your head, but the smile that threatened to break through was unmistakable.

Here, in the light, you seemed harmless. Beautiful. Enigmatic. But he knew what sirens could do—what they were capable of. The stories of sailors who had been lured to their deaths, enchanted by their beauty, their voices, their pull. The line between danger and desire blurred when it came to creatures like you. When you were human, when the water hadn’t yet overtaken your mind, it felt safe. At least, that was what he told himself.

But now, seeing you here, suspended in the dark waters of the Black Lake, your true form only a whisper beneath the surface, he couldn’t shake the question that haunted him.

What were your limits?

Would you hurt him if he got too close? If he dared to touch you, would you snap, the water consuming you, pulling you into the primal instincts that lived in your siren blood? You hadn’t tried to harm him, not yet. You hadn’t sung—hadn’t used that infamous voice that could drive men mad, make them lose themselves in you.

But what if you did?

Would you sing for him? Would you lure him closer, draw him into the water, and drown him without a second thought?

He leaned his body down closer to the water over the edge of the canoe, his chest tight with anticipation, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Your lips parted slightly, just a breath away from the surface, your eyes never leaving his.

His voice, low and rough, broke the silence. “Why are you hiding from me?”

Mattheo wondered if this was how it would end—whether he’d be the next victim in a long line of men who had fallen for your kind, chasing after something they could never fully grasp.

But you weren’t like the others. Were you?

And for the first time, Mattheo didn’t care if he drowned.

“I wonder,” Mattheo whispered, his voice barely above the soft lapping of the water, “would you try to drown me if I got closer?”

For a moment, you said nothing. The only sound was the soft ripple of water against the canoe. Then, slowly, you began to rise, hands holding onto the wood of the canoe and pushing you up, your face mere inches from his, water dripping from your hair, your lashes.

“You don’t know what you're asking,” you murmured, your voice low, dangerous, yet strangely gentle.

Your breath brushed against his skin, and for a moment, Mattheo didn’t care about the danger. Didn’t care that you could destroy him in a heartbeat. He leaned closer, his face inches from yours.

“What if I do?” His voice was rough, a challenge wrapped in a whisper.

Your eyes darkened as your fingers reached for his, brushing against his hand, cold and wet. His breath hitched, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away, to break the spell you had over him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Because at that moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to escape.

Your touch was freezing, a sharp contrast to the heat that coiled in his chest. Mattheo’s breath hitched, his heartbeat a thunderous echo in his ears. You were dangerous. Every part of him knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Your eyes flickered, a brief flash of something—was it hunger? Or was it fear?

Your hand lingered against his, the touch ghosting over his skin as if testing the boundary between you, seeing how far you could push before he would flinch. But Mattheo didn’t flinch. He couldn’t. He wanted to know—needed to know—what you were thinking. Were you holding back, controlling the primal urges that lived inside you, or were you toying with him, drawing him deeper into your web until it was too late to escape?

His lips parted, breath shallow as he whispered, “Why don’t you sing?”

Your gaze snapped to his, sharp, calculating. For a moment, he thought you might laugh, or lash out, but instead, your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Because I don’t need to,” you said, your voice as smooth as the surface of the lake, a dark promise lurking beneath. His pulse quickened at your words.

You didn’t need to sing, didn’t need to lure him with your voice, because he was already yours.

You had him in the palm of your hand without needing to utter a single note. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he wasn’t in control here. He never had been.

Your fingers trailed up his hand, your touch sending a shiver down his spine as you slowly, deliberately, let them travel up his wrist. Your eyes never left his, locked in a gaze that felt like it could see straight through him, peel back every layer of his defenses until there was nothing left but raw need.

He knew what sirens were famous for. But this—this felt different. you weren't luring him, weren’t pulling him under the water. You were just... watching. Waiting. And that was almost more terrifying than the alternative.

His chest tightened, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him. He was playing with fire, dancing on the edge of something he couldn’t fully understand. And yet, despite every instinct telling him to pull back, to run, he leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he whispered, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Whatever I want,” you murmured.

His hand reached out before he could stop himself, fingers brushing against your wet skin, slick and cold beneath his touch. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just watched him with those dark, unreadable eyes as if daring him to go further.

“You’re here every night,” you said, your voice soft, carrying across the stillness of the lake. There was something different about you tonight—something more vulnerable, almost hesitant. “Every night, you return with your silly little lantern and row into the middle of the pitch-black water. Why do you return every night?”

Mattheo swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. He didn’t have an answer, not one he could put into words. Why did he come back? Why did he risk everything—his sanity, his safety—just to be close to you?

“You think you could follow me?” Your voice was cool, almost mocking, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something darker. “You’d drown, Mattheo.”

“I know how to swim, guppy.”

Your lips curved into a sad, knowing smile, your eyes dropping for a second, as if what you were about to say cost you something. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

The silence between you stretched, the air thick with tension, your gaze searching his, calculating like always—but this time, there was a flicker of doubt. Your voice softened, barely a whisper as your words faltered for the first time. “I… I could…”

Mattheo leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest, his voice quiet but urgent. “What could you do?”

“I could take you under.” Your eyes met his, wide and filled with a fear he’d never seen in you before. “And I don’t know if I’d let you come back up.”

The words hung in the air, a cold truth that settled deep in his bones. Mattheo’s breath caught in his throat. He knew the danger—he felt it. You weren’t just telling him that you could kill him, that you could drown him and drag his body down into the depths forever. You were warning him that if he got too close, if he pushed too far, you might not have a choice. That your nature might take over, and he would be lost.

But instead of pulling back, instead of retreating like any sane person would, Mattheo felt a wild thrill rush through his veins. He leaned in closer, his voice low and reckless. “And what if I want that? What if I want to drown?”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mattheo.”

A dangerous game. Of course he was. This whole thing had been dangerous from the start. From the moment he saw you in the water that first night. He wasn’t stupid—he knew that sirens lured men to their deaths. But the more he watched you, the more he realized something was different.

You hadn’t tried to hurt him.

Not yet.

“I’ve been coming here for weeks,” he said, his voice almost teasing, though the tension still held him in its grip. “Shouldn’t you have tried to, I don’t know, eat me or drown me by now? Or whatever it is that you sirens do?”

Your lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners. But it didn’t reach your eyes, which remained dark and heavy with unspoken fears. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered.

“I care about you,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your eyes snapped to his, the vulnerability back, your lips parting as if to argue, but nothing came out. You just stared at him, frozen for a beat too long before moving forward to grip the edge of the canoe once more. “You don’t even know me.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’m obsessed with you.”

Your grip on the canoe loosened, fingers dipping beneath the surface again as you drifted back, your face slowly sinking into the water once more, his eyes holding yours until you were just a shadow beneath the surface.

The moon reflected on the water, casting a pale glow over the lake, and Mattheo leaned forwards over the edge of the canoe, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm his racing heart. His mind whirled with thoughts of you, with the danger, the thrill, the temptation. He could still feel you, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin, and it drove him mad.

He was playing a dangerous game, but he didn’t care.

Mattheo's breath hitched, his gaze locking on your lips, so close yet agonizingly out of reach. He wanted nothing more than to dive into the cold, murky depths of the lake, to feel your skin against his, to be surrounded, enraptured by you in every way possible.

"I need to be closer to you," he whispered, his voice rough with the raw desire he could barely contain.

Your eyes flickered with something that looked almost like fear. You backed away just the slightest, your fingers loosening their grip. "Mattheo, you don't understand what I am," you murmured, voice barely above a breath, the hesitation clear. "I can be dangerous."

The way you said it—like you were something to be feared, like you were the monster lurking in the shadows—only made him want you more. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat urging him closer, whispering that this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

"Then be dangerous," he answered, leaning forward, closing the gap between the two of you. He could see the inner struggle in your eyes, the battle you fought against yourself. But he wasn't afraid. He never had been. “Be dangerous, Y/N.”

You stayed still, lips parted as if you wanted to speak, to warn him again, but no words came. And then, with a quiet exhale, you pressed yourself closer to the canoe, your face just inches from his. "You see beauty," you whispered, voice trembling as your eyes searched his face. "But there's darkness in me, Mattheo."

His heart clenched at the vulnerability in your voice, the admission you'd been holding back for so long. you weren't telling him something new—he knew. He'd always known. But it didn't matter to him.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," he murmured, his words steady, resolute.

He didn't give you a chance to respond. Before you could stop him, before he could second guess his decision, Mattheo pushed the lantern aside and let himself slide off the edge of the canoe.

kinktober taglist: @mattheoriddles-slutt @theeslutintheroom @esmerai-artemis @gigival @cloudyyydayzzz @sn000py @abeoavita @yesiamthatwierd @shaquilles-0atmeal @roseofsharron438 @iouinotes @romantasyreader28 @c3liaaaaa @sleepiibunniiii @chemtrailsoverhogwarts @daenerystorgayren @emma-grace0 @tori-303 @ilovehpb0ys

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𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇! ||𝐙𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄!𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄

Synopsis: accidentally killing one of the most popular Slytherins, you tried to bring him back only for him to not be the same as before.

Inspired by American horror story; Coven

Viewer discretion: brain dead Theo, choking, biting, slight panic attack, Zombie!Theodore not knowing personal space, gore/blood/death mentionss.

MONSTOBER

Shit… shit.. shit…..SHIT! You don’t mean it! You didn’t at all! Your eyes are blown out wide at the dismantled body in front of you. You can’t believe you killed him…You didn’t mean to kill him. Your heart beating loudly in your ears as you fell to your own knees. You slowly felt tears prick your eyes.

You were only practicing your magic. Your own magic. Not Hogwarts, not dark magic. Your own. You didn’t hear Theodore coming from behind you. But it was too late as he startled you into shooting him. Shooting him with the magic that killed him. A pool of blood reaches to you. Scatters of brains sprayed the crisp green grass. You scream backing up, gripping your wrist as a sort of calming gesture. But it’s helping. You kept saying, “it’s not your fault.” But it is, isn’t it? You gotta fix this. You can’t let anyone know that you killed the Theodore Nott. Not a single witness.

Dragging Theodore’s body. It felt sickening. You couldn’t really pick up his damn body. He was taller than you! And with his playing quidditch, he definitely has some pounds on him.

Finally getting to your dorm. You set him on the floor, getting your magic book your folks had gave you so you could practice your own family magic. That’s where you found the spell to bring back the dead. Without hesitation you chanted the words, placing your dominant hand on the bloody chest. The lights flickered in your room, each word you chanted a green and gold aura surrounded you and the dead Slytherin. As the spell ended, you opened your eye and waited it out.

Soon, Theodore stared to groan softly. His normal dead eyes looked..more dead. You gasp shocked. He looked emotionless as he only eyed you in your dorm. His skin was so pale that you started to curse in your mind. Before you knew it, Theodore snapped and attacked you. Gripping your throat with a strong grip, grumbling nothing but mumbles. You clawed at his arm. “Th-theo! Sto-" he suddenly stopped. Loosening his hold on your neck as his eyes looked normal before returning to that dead look. He let go and sat down like a child.

You coughed holding your neck. Getting your breath back. Theo stared at you again. With that dead look that made you shiver. “I…I’m sorry Theo..you must be mad I killed you. But you’re back.” You smiled a weary expression. Theodore tilt his head, clearly confused with his own emotions. Narrowing your eyebrows you slowly moved towards him. Reaching your hand to him, he bit you. “AH! MOTHER FUCKER!” You kicked him at his chest gaining a small groan. “Gr…aughh..” you let out a groan, getting up you checked if the bite was deep only to sigh out of relief. “Fuck…fuck…okay so you don’t really have the normal brain. Fuck me…”

You hissed still holding your bitten hand. Theodore however seemed to be in his own world. His messy brown hair sticking to his forehead after your kick. It seemed he was actually thinking for once as he’d seen you walk back and forth. You were also in your own world. Thinking about how you were gonna talk to the professors about your mess. Or more so your own people. Maybe they can make him more normal? You didn’t seem to realize a tall brooding body behind you. You turned around to only flinch.

He towered over you. Theodore opened his mouth, his lips chapped lips sticked together as he did so. “…Y…Y/N…..” your eyes widened. Backing up with each step, he stepped to you closer. Theodore grabbed your arm, pulling you close to him. “Y…y/n…” you couldn’t believe it…no fucking way. Theodore started to hug you. And you just stood there confused and scared. Was he slowly gaining his memory back? Or was it some sorta of confusion? Connection? Whatever it was. You didn’t know if you liked it or not. As whatever this Theodore was doing, he was making sure you won’t leave his side.

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐔𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐞

fluff | Mattheo Riddle | 💙🫂🦋❄️| Masterlist | Taglist | requests are open

SUMMARY: Y/N demands Mattheo follow her without question, but he only responds with flirtation.

AUTHORS NOTE: Saw this bit of dialogue from the Book King of Sloth by Ana Huang on TikTok and it gave me Mattheo Vibes so wrote this.

The moon was high, casting a silvery light over the dense trees, shadows dancing ominously along the path. Y/N walked briskly ahead, her eyes set with determination, but her frustration was palpable. Mattheo Riddle trailed behind her, his usual smirk in place, clearly amused by her urgency.

"Where exactly are we going, princess?" Mattheo’s voice broke the silence, laced with that infuriating, cocky tone he always seemed to use.

Y/N didn't break her stride, her boots crunching against the forest floor. She threw a glare over her shoulder. "Just shut up and follow me."

Mattheo’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He sauntered after her with far less urgency, clearly entertained by her commanding tone. "Yes, ma’am. I love a woman in charge."

Y/N rolled her eyes so hard she could practically feel them in the back of her skull. She didn’t bother responding, knowing he thrived on her irritation. He always had a way of getting under her skin, finding amusement in every little reaction she gave him.

"You know, if you wanted to boss me around, you could’ve just asked," Mattheo added, his voice low as he closed the distance between them. His hand brushed her arm as he fell into step beside her.

"Or," Y/N shot back, not slowing down, "you could just stop talking for once and actually do what you're told."

Mattheo chuckled softly, but said nothing more, the sound of his laughter lingering in the air between them. She could feel his eyes on her, that smirk probably still plastered on his face, but at least he was quiet now. Small victories.

They continued deeper into the forest, and though she’d never admit it, there was something oddly comforting about having him there. Even if he was a pain in the ass.