Mattheo Riddle Smut - Blog Posts

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.

blood moon — t.n. & m.r. part 1

pairing: dark!theodore nott x fem!reader x dark!mattheo riddle. (mattheo makes his appearance in pt2)

warnings: smut 18+, dubcon, breaking and entering, violence, blood, knives (cutting into skin), rough oral sex (m. receiving), mask kink, mentions of murder, swearing

word count: 4k

summary: purge night— a night you’ve feared all year despite coming from a rich and powerful family. but when six masked men show up at your door, are you really as safe as you thought?

the purge au… moodboard. nav. more.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the purge; all other weapons are restricted. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers—”

“Blah, blah, blah… we get it. Same shit every year.” Pansy sighed dramatically through the phone, her tone dripping with annoyance. You could tell she was rolling her eyes, and you didn’t need to see her to know she was slouched lazily somewhere. 

Not much later, the ominous, bone-chilling sirens blared violently through the entire city, blasting through the walls and echoing in the still-empty streets. The all so familiar sound never failed to give you goosebumps all over your stiffened body, instantly raising your heartbeat. You briefly closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggled to control your shaky breathing. 

“Hellooo? Are you still there or have you been murdered already?” Pansy joked with a taunting laugh. Your eyes snapped open, her static-filled voice dragging you back to reality, and her humorous tone nearly making you forget the reality of this cruel night. 

Because it wasn’t just any regular night— it was Purge Night. The one night you’d been dreading all year, every year, in which all crime becomes legal for twelve long hours. Logically, you were well aware that you had nothing to fear. Your parents were successful entrepreneurs with plenty of money to afford the most advanced security equipment, keeping you safe from any outside danger.

Yes, to protect you, and only you. Not them— they were out at a purge party, the details of which you didn’t even want to know, shamelessly networking with other high-profile elites while the poor were brutally murdered in the streets surrounding them. Everything about this night gave you a sickening feeling in your stomach. But of course, you knew it would be fine. All you had to do was survive— survive in your mansion, surrounded by unbreachable security. Nothing was going to happen. 

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” you responded, your voice tinged with irritation as you hurried from your bedroom down the wooden stairs to the security room, figuring that if you could check the cameras around the house, it might calm you down a bit. You couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to tiptoe carefully down each step, as though someone might hear you— which was ridiculous, considering how large and heavily secured the house was. 

The eerily quiet house was broken by the first distant, chilling screams of pure terror from outside, making you grimace as you opened the creaky door to the small room, your eyes instantly squinting at the many bright screens that made your eyes burn. 

“It’s just… I hope this night will be over soon, that’s all.” you continued, one hand holding the phone close to your ear while your eyes fleetingly scanned over the security cameras, which were strategically placed to cover every corner outside the house. 

“Oh please, don’t be such a scaredy-cat! Every year it goes just fine, so this year will be no different. When has anything…” Pansy chattered in her usual attempt to comfort you, completely unaware that her words were only doing the opposite, when her voice slowly faded away into the background and your eyes narrowed at one of the top-right screens, which was focused on your front door. What the fuck?

With your heart nearly pounding out of your chest and your hand shakily gripping the phone, you inched closer to the screen, moving as slowly as possible, almost as if the slowness would somehow alter the nightmare playing out before you. A sudden coldness washed over you, your eyes rapidly blinking. No, no, no… this can’t be happening. 

On the pixelated, dark screen, you saw six masked men standing in front of your door, their heads tilted as they stared right at the cameras. You felt lightheaded, your left hand reaching up to lightly clasp your throat, the panic threatening to overwhelm you once you noticed the various weapons they were holding— baseball bats, knives, axes, and god knows what else.

“P—pansy… I, uh… there are people standing in front of my door…” you stammered shakily, still staring at the screen, your body frozen in place with your hand gripping the phone so tightly that your knuckles turned white and your breathing became ragged and uneven. 

“Oh, they’re probably just trying to scare you, babe. I mean, come on, they can’t even come in for fuck’s sake!” she let out a mocking laugh as the chaotic thoughts in your head raced a hundred miles an hour, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty. 

“Pansy, what the fu— you know what? Forget it.” you snapped, your trembling fingers tapping frantically at the screen before finally ending the call, frustrated at not being taken seriously by your best friend— though, to be fair, when had she ever? 

You hastily slipped your phone into your back pocket, already dreading the snarky text she was sure to send you for ending the call, before shifting your attention back to the screen. One of the men removed his mask, prompting you to move even closer with narrowed eyes, your forehead nearly touching the cold glass. 

“Good evening.” he called out in a stoic, chilling voice, his shiny black hair neatly styled, and his stance tall, commanding and unmistakably intimidating. 

“Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, but let me kindly introduce myself. My name is Tom, and these guys— they are my friends.” The scene you were intently staring at filled you with pure terror— this unknown man named Tom, surrounded by men in masks, each carrying weapons that could easily kill you, weapons that were already completely soaked in blood, the dark droplets dripping ominously onto your front porch. 

“This can go one of two ways; you simply let us in, and we will steal— sorry, I mean take whatever we desire, and then, we leave! Or…  we can do this the hard way. But I can assure you, you will not survive the latter.” His tone was almost amused as he finished speaking, and through the grainy pixels, you could see a controlled, sinister smile spreading across his pale face. 

“Do not think you are invincible. We can enter any home we want. And we will want, as wanting is our will on this fine purge night. Do not force us to hurt you.”

His menacing words sent tingles across your skin, all the muscles in your body tightening. And for a good ten minutes, they did nothing but stand there, staring straight into the camera, waiting—expecting—for you to open the door for them. 

It was a chilling sight. Almost as if you were staring at a photograph, the men stood completely still, their blood-covered hands tightly gripping their equally blood-soaked weapons, knowing your blood would be next to splatter across them, mixing with that of other poor, helpless victims. 

When they realised you weren’t going to open the door, Tom gave his men a quick signal, waving his finger in the air, which caused you to cock your head in both curiosity and unease.

“Alright then.” He said, the sinister smile on his face growing wider. But it was fine. You knew they couldn’t come inside anyway. Your house was so securely protected, there was no way they could come in and— Is that a fucking blowtorch? 

“Yes, we are prepared. And you— oh, you chose the wrong option.” Tom coldly stated as if he could read your mind, dragging the words in a chilling tone. Two of his men quickly got to work, the blowtorch slowly cutting through the thick metal doors, meanwhile, Tom continued to stare directly at the camera, his evil, dark smile never faltering, his soulless eyes not blinking once.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was when real panic set in, your eyes flickering with pure terror as you slowly backed away from the screens, gripping whatever furniture was nearby to steady yourself. You hurried out of the room, realising this was the time to hide.

Quickly but silently running up the stairs again, you heard the agonising sound of the blowtorch cutting through the metal, sending shivers all over your body and urging you to move faster. 

You burst into your room, breathless, slamming the door behind you and you panickedly scanned the small space, frantically searching for the best hiding spot. There weren’t many options, but the closet seemed like your only chance, so without hesitation, you flung the door open, stepped inside, and crouched down, wrapping your trembling arms tightly around your knees. 

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” You kept repeating to yourself in a quiet, trembling voice, desperately trying to gaslight yourself into believing it. But who the fuck are you kidding? They were inevitably coming in, and then… well, you didn’t even want to think about it.

You gasped loudly at the sudden sound of a loud bang, followed by distant voices and approaching footsteps downstairs. Nibbling on your bottom lip and one hand clutching your throat, you struggled to calm your ragged breathing, but hoping to make out the conversation happening downstairs— although you weren’t even sure if you wanted to hear it in the first place. 

“We are coming, aha! And we will find you, you little fucking bitch” an unfamiliar voice taunted from down the stairs followed by a menacing laugh, clearly relishing the undeniable fear they were instilling in you as the footsteps and faint chatter grew louder with every passing second.

“Mattheo, control yourself. Search for the girl downstairs, and Theo, you check upstairs. The rest of us will take whatever is valuable and leave for the next house.” You heared Tom instruct two of his men, his voice stern and cold, before adding, “Oh, and whatever you do, make it as painful as possible. I want her to suffer.” 

Goosebumps covered your entire body hearing the chilling words, and you could tell that these guys didn’t fuck around. Everything about them was incredibly organised and prepared. This wasn’t their first time purging. No, they knew exactly what they were doing.

Heavy, resolute footsteps then made their way up the stairs, each deep step resonating through the house, making the silence feel like it was closing it. Theo. There was no way out of this. The only thing you could do was pray that he wouldn’t find you. But deep down, you knew he would. 

“You can’t hide from me, piccola.” a deep, husky voice teased, his voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore. It surprised you to hear a foreign accent— Italian, you guessed. And fuck, you could punch yourself in the face right now for finding it… hot. 

The steps grew louder, tantalisingly slow, until his footsteps reached your room. Your hand flew to your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your brows furrowed as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on steadying your breath. Your heart beat out of your chest, and you worried it was beating loud enough for him to hear. 

Then it was quiet. No sounds. You swallowed, your mouth feeling dry with tears brimming at your waterline, and you gasped when you suddenly heard his voice so close to you. Thank fucking god you still had your mouth covered. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” He said in a dark, knowing manner, and the only thing you could do at this very moment was repeat ‘please don’t find me’ in your head while only hoping your death would be less painful than Tom had ordered it to be. “I know you are...” 

The closet door then abruptly swung open, causing you to let out a loud, surprised gasp. The tears you had so desperately tried to suppress now uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as your head shot up. Soft ‘no’s slipped from your lips when he grabbed you by the arm and aggressively pulled you out of the closet, the words barely audible and you panickedly shook your head, feeling lightheaded due to pure fear. 

“Shut up, cazzo.” he muttered irritably as he threw you on your bed with exasperated aggression. And you immediately complied— not only because he asked you to, but because you didn’t want Matthew to hear you, knowing that Theo had found you, worried of what he might do to you. Matthew… Was his name even Matthew? 

He stood still before you, and for the first time, you took him in, scanning him from head to toe as his imposing, tall frame loomed over you, casting a shadow over where you sat on the bed.

A white mask fully covered his face, and in his right hand, he held a bloody, sharp knife, causing you to gulp in fear. Oh, he looked fucking terrifying— but there was something else, something other than fear deep inside of you. A feeling you desperately tried to suppress. A feeling you felt ashamed to feel. A feeling you could not bring yourself to admit. 

“Huh.” he commented, his head tilting slightly to the left. “Tom didn’t tell me you were such a pretty little thing.” he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing over your cheek, causing you to instinctively pull away, stiffening under his touch. 

“Così carina.” he chuckled mockingly, and your eyes were drawn to his hand that was expertly spinning the knife. His other hand then abruptly gripped your hair, making you gasp, and he slightly tilted your head to expose your neck. 

From your peripheral vision, you could see the bloody knife drawing closer to your neck, making you instantly shut your eyes with furrowed brows, knowing this was it. 

“Can’t wait to see these white sheets turn red.” Theo taunted, but you were shaking, crying and nervously biting down on your lip so hard that blood welled up, waiting for the moment you finally felt the sharp knife against your delicate skin.

And then you did. You felt the cold blade lightly dig into the skin of your neck, the sharp, stinging sensation causing you to tightly grip the sheets, followed by fresh, crimson droplets of blood slowly trickling down your skin— but then he stopped.

“Hm. You know what, bella?” Theo paused for a moment, crouching down to get on eye level with you. The closer he got to you, the faster your heart raced, your whole body heating up with a mix of fear and something else. The deep sense of guilt you felt for feeling… this way gnawed at you from the inside. 

“I might just have other plans for you.” Your head snapped toward him, and you hissed at the fresh cut stretching open, your hand instinctively reaching to the wound, carefully dabbing your fingers on the blood still trickling out.

“You wanna live?” He questioned, and you reluctantly nodded, still unable to shake off the feeling of unease, even as a slight sense of relief—or maybe hope— began to grow inside of you. 

“Then I advise you to get on your knees before I change my mind.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you heard him correctly. Surely not. 

“I— what?” You stammered, breathing in so fast you nearly choked on air as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

“Oh, you heard me.” He rose to his feet, and your eyes intently followed his every movement. The way the moonlight seeped through the blinds illuminated him, and for the first time, you could clearly see his ocean-blue eyes gazing down at you with intense focus— the only feature of his face that was visible through the mask. 

He reached the knife out again, causing you to flinch, but this time he pressed it under your chin to lift your head, the pointy end digging into your soft skin.

“You don’t think I noticed?” he began, and you sat frozen, knowing that a single movement would press the knife deep into your skin. 

“You don’t think I noticed the way you looked at me with those pretty eyes?” You raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, unsure of what he was hinting at, and you absolutely hated this— the vagueness of his words. You hated having to guess what he meant. It made you anxious. 

“I have purged a lot of people, bella. And there is one thing aaall of them have in common— they all have this same, fearful look in their eyes.” he continued, and it made you wonder what he saw in yours. 

“But you… cazzo. With you, I see something else sparkling in those pupils.” The way the mask muffled his voice made you unconsciously lean in closer to hear him better, and he did the same, but for an entirely different reason, until you were merely inches apart. It was a strange observation to make in such a moment like this, but oddly enough, he smelt nice, very nice. A pleasant, musky cologne with the undertone of cigarettes filled your senses. 

“With you I see… lust, yearning, desperation.” he whispered into your ear, the knife digging deeper into your skin, yet still not deep enough to draw blood. Your eyes shot wide open before locking with his, and you felt caught. He hit the hammer right on the nail. 

“Go on, tell me I’m fuckin’ wrong.” but you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Because he wasn’t. Your eyes darted nervously around the room, unable to meet those intense, piercing eyes as the ache between your legs only grew stronger. 

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Bet your panties are soaked already, aren’t they?” you heard a muffled, condescending chuckle coming from under his mask as he slowly twisted the knife under your chin. You so desperately wanted to bite back, to defend yourself, to tell him that he was being ridiculous— but the words were stuck in your throat.

“So… back to where we were.” he growled as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, suddenly remembering Matthew wandering around downstairs and being able to walk in at any time, causing him to rush. 

“C’mon sweetheart. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me if you want to live, a’ight? If Mattheo finds us, it’s over for you.” Ohhhh, Mattheo… right, right.

You hesitantly walked over to him before getting on your knees right in front of him— right in front of his already hard erection trapped in his boxers, desperately wanting to escape as the tip formed a wet patch of precum on the fabric. 

“Well… you know I could just kick you in the balls right now and run away?” There it finally was— the words that had been stuck in your throat, and the boldness inside of you that had finally come free. It was that unexpectedly tender demeanour of his emerging in brief moments, causing you to see him in a humane light, which stilled your fears. 

He scoffed before aggressively gripping your hair and pulling your head back, causing you to hiss at the fresh wound on your neck stinging at the movement. He drew closer to you before suddenly holding the knife to your throat again, the softness you’d glimpsed earlier vanishing in an instant.

“Oh yeah? You don’t think I’m gonna find you and cut you open? Go for it. Give it a try. Let’s see how that ends.” he warned in a low, menacing tone, your brows furrowing as you clenched your teeth, staring right into his narrowed eyes. 

“Acting as if you aren’t practically begging to suck me off right now, tsk. Hurry the fuck up.” he ordered in a harsh tone, abruptly letting go of your hair and retracting the knife from your throat.

Realising you had no other choice but to follow his orders, you stared up at his masked face, before your gaze fell on his boxers. You could tell he was big just from the imprint through the thin fabric— oh, there was no doubt in that. Reluctantly, you drew your head closer to his crotch, teasingly using your teeth to pull the waistband of his boxers down before slowly sliding them off. 

“See, I knew you were a fucking slut.” he growled, his amusement evident as his erection sprang free against his toned abs, precum glistening at the tip. Oh, well fuck. He was indeed huge, causing your eyes to widen momentarily as you swallowed hard. You glanced back up at him one more time, and he gave you a sharp nod, his hand on the back of your head pressing insistently, urging you closer. 

Your head slowly inched closer to his intimidatingly large cock, and you started with placing soft kitten licks on the tip, tasting the salty precum, when suddenly a mischievous smile began to curve your glossed lips. In one swift, unexpected motion, you wrapped your mouth around his throbbing length, firmly pressing your teeth into the skin while at the same time your hand darted to his balls, your sharp nails digging deep into the sensitive flesh. 

“That fuckin’ hurts, you bitch. Cazzo!” Theo cursed, aggressively pushing you back until you hit the bed, yet the same mischievous smile on your face only widened. It confused him how the terrified, weak girl he saw earlier had transformed into… this. 

“Didn’t expect you to be such a fucking pussy.” you challenged him, fire burning in your eyes. Not because you wanted to die, but because deep down you knew you weren’t going to. If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done that already. With the precum leaking from his painfully hard erection right in front of you, you knew the only thing on his mind was finding his release. He was a man after all— simple, driven by his desires.

“You better shut that little mouth—” 

“Or what? You're gonna threaten me again with that stupid little knife—” before you could even finish your sentence, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you roughly towards him, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat instantly, triggering your gag reflex as you struggled to breathe around his thick, aching erection. He quickly set a brutal rhythm, bucking his hips aggressively into your mouth, and you felt your eyes well with tears, saliva running down your chin. 

“If you stop, I’ll make you fucking regret it.” His hand gripped your hair in a tight ponytail, pulling you to meet his thrusts as he relentlessly fucked your mouth. Gagging sounds filled the room as he forced your head down as far as possible, groaning at the sight beneath him— a sight that could so easily make him come already.

“You wanted this from the start, huh? Such a pathetic—” Theo’s sentence was then abruptly cut off when the door suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall, causing you both to freeze and stare, wide-eyed and horrified. A chill ran down your spine as you noticed another masked man standing in the doorway, holding a blood-soaked baseball bat while casually leaning against the doorframe. Oh no.  

“Well, well, well… look what we have here. You really thought I wouldn’t find out, Theodore? How cute.” 

Mattheo. 

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

a/n: thank you sm for reading ^_^!!!!!!! this was supposed to be one long fic but i decided to cut in into two (or maybe more if needed) parts! im not sure when the next part will be posted but ill try to work on it soon !!! <3

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i’m asking for help yall 😭😭😭 i’ve been stuck on this one draco malfoy fic i saw and i can’t find it but my memory is very vivid about it. It’s set years later and (y/n) is a model and like she’s very well known, They basically go to hogwarts for a teacher day thing and like Ginny and Harry’s daughter want an autograph. MAIN THING IS THAT DRACO AND Y/NS SONS FRIENDS THINK THAT SHES HOT AND STAY AT A SLEEPOVER AT THERE HOWS AND CATCH DRACO AND Y/N FUCKING.

PLEASE HELP ME FIND IT IM BEGGING YALL 😭😭😭😭

I got you

Mattheo Riddle x femReader

After a grueling day, you can finally relax in your dorm. And your loving boyfriend is more than happy to help you with that.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise kink, swearing, established relationship, soft!mattheo, aftercare, using of 'baby girl', 'good girl'

A/N: I didn't intend to write smut, but the last few days got the best of me draining my soul. Hope my work will help you feel better as much as it does me.

Thanks to a sweet angel, Jess, for proofreading my first smutty work 💕

It was rare, but it happened. The kind of day when everything just felt like too much. Too noisy in the Great Hall during breakfast, too hard to understand the material in class, too incomprehensible to write down your answers for homework, too annoying to hang out with your friends — even though you loved them with all your heart. Everything today was just too much.

You walked to your dorm after spending two frustrating hours struggling over your Potions essay. No matter how much you tried, the words didn’t feel right, and the more you stared at the parchment, the worse it got. You knew you could do better — but not today. Not when every ounce of energy and focus had drained out of you. Maybe if you went to bed early, you could rewrite it tomorrow morning?

With a heavy sigh, you tossed your bag to the floor near the table. The day felt like an endless stretch of torture, and you were finally free — finally in the quiet comfort of your room. Here, you didn’t have to be anything but a lazy bundle wrapped in a blanket, free from responsibilities and expectations.

You opened the closet, reaching for something more comfortable. Your fingers brushed against a familiar grey shirt — Mattheo’s. It was oversized and soft, and even after multiple washes, it still carried the faintest scent of him. You slipped it on along with a pair of wide, comfy shorts, hoping the feel of his clothes would ease some of the tension humming beneath your skin.

With another dramatic sigh, you plopped onto your bed, letting your tired body sink into the mattress. Your eyes felt heavy, the weight of the day pulling you under as you burrowed deeper beneath the blanket.

For a few blissful minutes, the silence wrapped around you like a cocoon, and you let yourself breathe — slow and deep. But just as your mind began to drift, a knock at your door pulled you back.

Your brows furrowed in irritation. You didn’t want to see anyone. Not now. You ignored the sound, hoping whoever it was would get the hint. But then the soft click of the door opening made you lift your head slightly.

The annoyance faded the second you recognized the guest.

"Hey there, baby girl," Mattheo’s voice was warm, smooth like honey, and the sight of him sent a flutter through your chest. His dark curls were tousled as if he’d run his fingers through them on the way over, and the usual edge in his eyes softened when they landed on your form wrapped in the blanket.

He crossed the room, settling on the edge of your bed. His hand found you immediately, brushing down the curve of your shoulder and along your hip through the duvet — a touch so familiar, so comforting, it made your whole body relax.

“I haven't seen you since class," he murmured, his tone playful but laced with quiet concern. “Thought I’d come check on my girl.”

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the day loosen slightly at his presence. “Just… tired,” you admitted, your voice muffled as you tucked your face into the blanket. “It’s been a long day.”

Mattheo hummed in understanding, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your side. “Poor thing,” he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’m always here for you.”

His words settled something fragile inside you, melting the last traces of tension. Without a second thought, you shifted closer, and he took the invitation immediately — lifting the blanket and sliding in beside you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed softly in your ear.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know,” Mattheo whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, easing the ache that had followed you all day. His hand never stopped moving — gentle, absent-minded strokes along your back as if he was determined to chase every last trace of stress away.

For a moment, you let yourself melt into him, your body softening under his touch. But then Mattheo shifted slightly, and his fingers trailed up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His lips pressed a soft kiss against your temple — tender and lingering.

“You work too hard,” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. “You should let me take care of you sometimes.”

Before you could answer, he tilted your face gently toward him, brushing his lips across your cheek. The kiss was featherlight, but it sent a shiver down your spine. Another kiss followed, this time at the corner of your mouth, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

His thumb traced along your jaw, tilting your head slightly to give him more access as his lips trailed a slow, deliberate path across your face. Each kiss was soft, unhurried — like he had all the time in the world to remind you how much he adored you.

“You’re too sweet to me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

Mattheo's hand slided down to the small of your back, his fingers splaying possessively but gently over the curve of your ass. He pulled you closer until every inch of your body was pressed against him, from your soft breasts to your long, slender legs. He wanted to absorb your warmth, your soul, your goodness. He wanted it to seep into his bones and heal all the broken, jagged pieces of himself.

"Too sweet?" he scoffed quietly at your words. Salazar, if you only knew how he was afraid that one day you would get tired of him. Of his darkness, of his recklessness, of his demons inside. No, he could never be too sweet for you. He just liked to show you his appreciation for your presence in his life, his awe of your existence, his utter and deep love for you.

“I’m not sweet,” he murmured quietly, but the teasing edge in his tone softened when he pressed a kiss to the delicate spot just beneath your ear. “I’m selfish. I just want you all to myself.”

The heat of his breath against your skin made your stomach flip in a familiar way. His kisses wandered lower, trailing along the curve of your jaw before he found the sensitive spot on your neck. His lips lingered there, soft and warm, as he placed an open-mouthed kiss against your pulse.

A quiet sigh slipped from your lips, and Mattheo hummed in satisfaction, clearly pleased by your reaction. “That’s better,” he said, his voice huskier now. “You’re finally relaxing.”

His hand slid from your butt under the blanket, finding the bare skin of your waist beneath his oversized shirt. His touch was gentle — slow, almost teasing — as his thumb stroked lazy circles over your hipbone.

“You smell like me,” Mattheo murmured against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. “I like it.”

His confession made your chest tighten in the best way. You tilted your head slightly without realizing it, giving him better access as his mouth continued its exploration — kissing, nipping softly, then soothing the spots with his tongue.

“Mattheo…” His name slipped from your lips, barely more than a breath, but it was enough to make him pause. He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours, and the warmth you found there made you swallow.

"I'm right here," he murmured softly, brushing his nose against your. He pecked you gently, upper lip at first, then the lower one. "Gonna be a good girl and let me help you relax, yeah?" His tone felt better than any soft and warm blanket, making your heart stumble on its rhythm. The familiar heat pooled down to your stomach.

"Yes. I will, Matty," you whispered in his lips, feeling the anticipation tingling in your body.

His warm smile made something clench painfully in your chest. Mattheo's hand moved further, from your hipbone to your stomach, running his fingers there slowly.

"That's it," he murmured softly. His hand moved further, his touch was careful. It was obvious he knew exactly where to go, where to touch, where to kiss. His calloused fingers slid with confidence and gentleness against your heated skin, as he took on the mission to leave no inch of your body untouched, and his own body shivered in response to the sensation of you — feeling every dip and curve under the shirt, his shirt that you were wearing.

He pressed his lips back against your skin, a soft kiss here, a soft kiss there. Your body responded every single time, your muscles relaxing under his touch.

Mattheo felt the tension in your body ease with every touch and kiss he placed. This was exactly what he wanted — you to relax, to let go of the worries of the day, and trust him completely.

His thumb traced a slow, soothing circle over the sensitive skin of your hip, his gaze roaming your face, taking in every detail — every flutter of your eyelashes, every soft exhale of your breath.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured quietly. "So damn beautiful." It was as if he couldn't believe you were real — that you were his, in his arms, letting him touch you, kiss you, make you feel good.

As his thumb continued its journey, tracing a path along the waistband of your shorts, his lips found that spot on your neck again. He sucked gently at your pulse point, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

Mattheo's words and actions made your body shiver, the sincerity in his voice making your breathing uneven. You lifted your hand, fingers tangling into the dark mass of curls at his nape, tugging him closer.

His touch was slightly rougher now as Mattheo played with the waistband of your panties. He wanted to feel your entire body respond to him, to have you arch your back against his hand.

Mattheo shifted slightly and gently tugged at the fabric, his lips moving to your ear. "Don't move," he whispered gruffly, his tone commanding. "Just let me take care of you."

The possessive edge in his voice made you swallow. You could hear the want and need in his words — the hunger for you, for your body in his hands.

His lips left a trail of kisses along your jawline as he continued to explore. His hands moved more confidently, his fingers dancing over your skin as he slowly pushed your shorts down your already trembling thighs.

Mattheo's hand skimmed along the bare skin of your legs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, in his oversized shirt, underwear, and nothing else, sprawled out in front of him on the bed. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," he murmured, his words a soft exhale against your neck. "So good for me. So fucking beautiful."

There was a note of reverence in his voice, as if he was worshipping you with every word. His hands began to move again, his large and warm palms sliding up the inside of your thighs, spreading them gently apart.

His hands went to remove your panties, his touch caring and soft. In his position, he was laying between your legs, his face was just above your mound. You tremlled at the sight of his eyes on you. "You look so perfect like this," he said in a low, a bit hoarse voice.

Mattheo leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his hot breath. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his tongue darting out to tease you. Then, in one smooth motion, his mouth was finally on you.

He started off slow, tongue tracing patterns along your folds, exploring, tasting. Mattheo knew exactly what he was doing, each movement calculated to give you pleasure, to worship you in the most intimate way. He took his time, every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as if he could savour you.

"Oh fuck," you gasped softly. His tongue found your sensitive bud, and he circled it, flicking it tenderly before taking into his mouth, suckling and tugging gently on it in all the right ways. You couldn’t help but moan, your fingers burying in his hair, holding onto him as if your life depended on it. He continued to pay worship to you with his mouth, like you were a holy place he had long waited to pay a visit.

"Such a good girl, letting me take care of you," he cooed lowly as he sank a finger deep inside you, reveling in the tight heat that welcomed him. He moved slowly, savoring the slick glide as he pumped his finger in and out in a leisurely, steady rhythm. Your body reacted immediately to his presence, soft gasps and moans spilling from your lips.

Every stroke of his digit made your body arch, your breathing ragged and uneven. It felt so good, but yet not enough. "Mattheo," you whined breathlessly, your voice a quiet plea. "Please..."

"Shh, baby girl. It's okay. I got you," he murmured, returning his mouth on your clit. A second finger slid inside, joining the first one in their steady pace. You felt like heaven to him, like the best thing he had ever tasted. His name slipped from your lips, a moan that was music to his ears.

The wet sounds of your heat filled the room, punctuated by your own ragged pants and the occasional whimpers that escaped your mouth. Mattheo continued his ministrations, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure that you deserved. He could feel you getting wetter under his touch, responding to every move he made. He knew he was good, but the way you always reacted to him, the way you trembled and moaned, made him feel a surge of masculine pride, made him feel like a god.

"I love making you feel good. Love how I can make a pretty, intelligent girl like you whimper like that," he murmured, his tone a seductive and satisfied purr.

The pleasure he was giving you felt endless, a tidal wave of sensations that threatened to drown you in ecstasy. But nothing could prepare you for the moment when he curled his fingers inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars.

The blissful feeling was building, mounting with each flick of his tongue, each expert stroke of his fingers, each praise he was giving to you. Mattheo was relentless in his mission to make you feel wanted, needed, loved — his focus entirely on you. And you fully felt it.

His name spilled from your lips, a mixture of a moan and a plea. Mattheo responded to each of them with a low, satisfied hum, his eyes never leaving your face. He wanted to see every expression, every twist and gasp. He was drinking in the sight of you, completely focusing on your pleasure, on bringing you to the edge and making you feel good, just like you deserved.

The feeling of his fingers and lips on you was nearly overwhelming, and you couldn't help but whine, your voice catching in your throat. Your hands gripped his curls, desperate for something to hold onto, as you felt the tension coil low in your stomach. You were so close, and he knew it by the way your walls started to flutter around his fingers.

"Come for me, love," he coaxed against your skin, the words vibrating through your core. "Be a good girl for me and let go."

Mattheo's words sent another jolt of pleasure through you, and your body obeyed, clenching around his fingers. You felt yourself tipping over the edge, your fingers curled in his curls almost painfully as the tidal wave of the climax crashed over you.

He could feel you arousal gushing around his hand, essence dripping down onto the bed. The sight and sound of you coming undone on his fingers and mouth filled him with a deep sense of pride, possession, and love.

Mattheo didn’t stop. Even as you trembled and bucked against him, he continued his assault, his mouth and tongue relentless as they dragged every last aftershock from your trembling body. His lips and chin were covered in your juices, and the scent of your arousal only made him feel more hazy.

Just before he could overstimulate you, Mattheo carefully withdraw his fingers and mouth, placing the last gentle kiss on your inner thigh. He sat up, licking his fingers with a small smile on his lips, looking like a sated cat under the sun.

Then he bent over to the night table, taking your wand and casting the cleaning spell on both of you before gently pulling your shorts back on. With a satisfied smile he looked down at you, eyes shining with something warm and soft, something that made your heart flutter.

"Feel better, baby girl?" he murmured quietly as he slid back up the bed, gathering you in his arms, his body a comforting weight against yours.

"Always. You're mine to take care of, love," he said quietly in your hair, placing a gentle kiss on your head.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, nuzzling in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Matty," you mumbled, feeling your body go limp as the tiredness of the day finally caught you in this relaxed and sated state.