I love the way you write baby, can you honour me with this prompt idea:
Mattheo Riddle loses a Quidditch match against his biggest rival, and his anger boils over. Dragging his girlfriend into the locker room, he takes out his frustration on her in a heated, rough moment of intimacy. Afterward, he leaves her shaken to vent elsewhere, but when he returns, he finds her being comforted by his rival. Jealousy and fury take over as he drags her away, scolding her and accusing her of betrayal—though beneath his anger is a fear he’s not ready to admit: that he might’ve pushed her too far this time.
Losing Game
tysm for the request babes!! this was sooo creative! hope you enjoy, it was my first time writing angst 🤭
mattheo riddle x fem!reader, extremely toxic behavior, mentions of sex, characters are of age, i think that's it
w/c: 1106
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a/n: if there are any tags I missed, pls pls pls let me know!! also, I wasn't sure if i should label it nsfw in my masterlist or not, so if you think it should be tell me and I'll change it!
Angry sex with Mattheo was something you were used to, especially after he lost a quidditch game. Everyone knew he had a temper, and even as his girlfriend, you were not immune to it. But he’s never been so hurtful. Not like this.
The physical part of it was good, as per usual, but his words struck a deeper chord than normal. The names he called you, the blatant disregard for your feelings, the way his touch felt oppressive instead of loving – it was strange, and honestly overwhelming.
So that’s how you got here, curled up in the fetal position just outside the quidditch locker room. You barely noticed the muffled sound of footsteps approaching you on the grass. Blinking back more tears, you look up, not expecting to see the Gryffindor Cormac McLaggen of all people. He was one of many on the long list of people Mattheo hated most, and you knew that if your boyfriend saw him of all people in his current tempered state, someone would end up in the hospital wing.
“You okay?” Cormac asked, crouching in front of you. His tone was softer than you would expect, laced with nothing short of concern and pity. He reached out, and you flinched as his hand brushed your arm. “You’re freezing. Come, let’s get you inside. I don’t want you to contract hypothermia.”
The warmth of his hand sent a wave of guilt through you, and the combination of your confusion and his touch made you flinch away. He’s right – it’s so cold your fingers are going numb. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of your emotions, your exhaustion, or the sheer cold, but you felt your defenses crumble, allowing him to pull you up and off the ground.
Then the locker room door opened.
Out walked Mattheo, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His hair was disheveled, his jaw set like stone. His gaze flicked between you and Cormac, his eyes burning with fury.
“What the fuck is going on here?” He snapped, his voice low and full of nothing but rage and resentment. You opened your mouth to speak, but he roughly grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his side, effectively cutting you off. Your stomach churned, and the emotions swirling inside your gut made you want to puke.
“You think this is okay?” He scolded you, his gaze narrowing into a glare. “The hell are you doing with this piece of shit?” He motioned to Cormac, scoffing. “And you, what are you doing with my girlfriend?”
“Mattheo, stop-” Your voice trembled as you began to talk, but the bitter laugh that escaped his lips cut you off.
“Don’t even try to explain,” he sneered, his grip so tightening so much it may leave a bruise. His expression was still angry, but something seemed off. Beneath the anger in his eyes, you saw a flicker of something else – something raw. Afraid, maybe. “I leave for five fucking minutes and come back to find you cozying up with Cormac fucking McLaggen.”
His words hit harder than expected, making the nausea in your stomach only grow stronger. “You’re being ridiculous,” you said, voice quiet but filled with hurt. You pressed your lips together and fought the urge to cry again.
“Ridiculous? You don’t get to decide that after this little stunt you just pulled.”
Cormac crossed his arms over his chest, his expression solemn. “Maybe if you treated her better and paid attention to her obvious distress, she wouldn’t be crying out here in the cold,” he retorted.
The room seemed to freeze at his words. Mattheo’s head snapped toward Cormac, his eyes dark and burning. The tension in the air was suffocating, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mattheo hissed.
“I know enough,” Cormac shot back, unwavering. “I know she shouldn’t be out here like this. She could get sick!”
Mattheo’s jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth could grind together into dust. For a moment, it looked like he was going to punch Cormac – he certainly wanted to – and the suspense made you even dizzier than before. But instead, he turned his glare back to you. “Get up. Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, and you could tell by the tone of his voice it was more of an ultimatum. Stay here, and you would lose him.
You hesitated, jaw opening and closing, unsure what to say. You didn’t want to fight. Not again. Not when your body already ached from more than just the physicality of what had just conspired in the locker room. So, even after all the hurt he’s caused, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. He just looked so betrayed, so afraid.
“Okay,” you conceded, voice barely a whisper. Cormac scoffed, but you didn’t dare look his way as your boyfriend grabbed your wrist again and led you away, his footsteps crushing the grass beneath his feet. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm – as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear.
The journey was silent as he dragged you to an empty corridor. The moment the two of you were alone, he spun to face you, his chest rising and falling rapidly with labored breaths.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he said.
“Do what?” You asked, brows furrowing.
His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “Sitting with him. Letting him touch you. Letting him look at you like – like that.”
You stared at him, disbelief bubbling up past the lingering hurt. “Mattheo, do you even hear yourself? I was sitting there because of you. Because of what you did.”
He looked shocked, but that quickly faded as he realized what you were talking about. He lowered his eyes to the ground, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed his shame. He looked like he wanted to argue, to push back like he always did in situations like this, but something in his expression told you he knew he would finally lose you if he did. For the first time, he looked unsure.
“Do you even care that you hurt me?” You asked, voice softer now, but still full of lingering hurt. In response, his whole body tensed. A long silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, barely above a whisper, so low you almost missed it, he muttered, “I do.”
It wasn’t an apology – not yet. But you knew it was as close as you were going to get for now.
Ty again for this request!! I had sm fun writing it! Sorry it took me so long to write, life and school is insane rn
Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.
Here's part 2!! Sorry it took so long. So many versions of this were written. Still not entirely happy with this one, but oh well. (Not much fluff in this one either, mainly angst. And obviously no smut either.)
characters are college age, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, whipped!mattheo, use of y/n, slight obsession, stalking implied(?), characters are adults, pov switch, i think that's it
w/c: 658
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°˖➶ part 1 part 3
Reader's POV:
Slamming the door behind yourself, you stumbled into your dorm – bag sliding off your shoulders and falling to the floor. Grabbing Mattheo’s notebook, you walked to your bed and laid down, staring at the pages in your hands. After a little contemplation, you decided to open it.
You were greeted with a compilation of sketches. Things like nature scenes, ornate architecture, people, etc. Some of the drawings were of things you recognize, some of things you didn’t. But what really caught your attention is the same drawing from earlier.
Upon closer inspection, you realized that Theo was right. It really was your eye. But not how you’re used to seeing it in the mirror. He captured more emotion, more life than what you normally notice. It was breathtaking… and a little intimidating; solely because of the amount of time and effort he must have put into all this.
As you flipped through the notebook, the drawings progressed from objects to anatomy. It seemed to all be of a girl – side profiles, views from behind her, different individual features. For example, there’s a drawing of a girl in a library, the viewer facing her back. She’s reaching for a book high on a shelf. Her tote bag caught your eye, it was full of what looked like books and stationary. On the front was an intricate design of a rose.
You looked up, and the exact tote bag is hanging on a coat rack by the door. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, and you snapped the book shut. “Why is Mattheo drawing me of all people? How is he getting all these details about me in the first place?” You ask yourself, staring at the sketchbook in front of you.
You stand up and slip some shoes on, grabbing the book again as you hurry out of your dorm. Time to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this is.
Mattheo’s POV:
Mattheo laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind was spinning – all he could think about was her. Her annoying cheerfulness, the way her smile lights up her face. It was infuriating; the way she burrowed herself into his thoughts so effortlessly, despite his best efforts to ignore her. But he just couldn’t help falling for her – couldn’t resist the magnetic pull she had on him. And the worst part? He hasn't told anyone.
Deciding he’s had enough of sulking, Mattheo sat up and walked to his desk. Sketching her always helps to clear his mind. As he opened his bag, reaching in for his sketchbook, he discovered it wasn’t there. Panicking, he flipped it over, dumping out its contents, and still the sketchbook was nowhere to be seen. Searching for it, he slammed open every drawer he could find. Desk drawers, dresser drawers, his sock drawer at the bottom of his wardrobe; nothing was left unturned. The boy even looked under his bed.
Still, it was absolutely nowhere.
A knock sounded on his dorm door, and his head snapped up in response. Standing up, he slowly approached it. His heart pounded so fast he could swear he heard the blood rushing through his veins.
All he could think was, “Where's my sketchbook? Who the hell is at my door? Fuck- I’m shaking.”
He cast one last look at his ruined bedroom before opening the door with trembling hands. Standing in the hallway, eyes wide with fear, was Y/n. He ran a hand through his messy hair, suddenly self-conscious. “Why is she here? Is she okay? She looks terrified… Am I the one scaring her?” His thoughts were jumbled, and he stared at her with concern for a few moments before stepping aside, holding the door open.
“Please, come in. Sorry, my room is a mess… I lost something,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft with her. He was afraid of scaring her more. But as she passed him, he saw his sketchbook in her hands. Shit.
Hope you liked it!! As always, tell me if you want to be added to the tag list, and ty to everyone for all the amazing support! You have no idea how amazing it feels <3
Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.
Eeek the last part of this story! Had a blast writing it, and I hope everyone enjoyed reading it!
characters are college age, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, whipped!mattheo, use of y/n, FLUFFFFFFFFF, kissing, characters are adults, pretty sure that's it
w/c: 1.2k
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°˖➶ part 1 part 2
As you passed him, the sketchbook gripped tightly in your hands, you noticed something foreign on his face. His expression was stripped of his usual confidence and sarcasm. He looked almost panicked as he closed the door behind you.
The room was in utter disarray. Drawers were thrown open, clothes and papers were scattered across the floor. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d been searching for something.
So, avoiding his gaze, you thrusted the book in front of you, practically ripping your hands away when he took it. “You left it in Divination,” was your only explanation. His eyes darted between your face and the object in his hands, surprise clear in his eyes. The tension in his room was so palpable, you felt you could hardly breathe. He seemed to flounder around for a second, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly.
“Did you look at it?” His voice was eerily calm, but the discomfort his body carried was clear as day. He set the book down on his desk, falling back into the chair beside it, and his eyes failed to meet your gaze.
“I didn’t mean to,” you say awkwardly, standing in front of him. You felt guilty when his face fell, but there was no point in lying. “It fell out of my hands,” the words were tumbling from your mouth quickly as you tried to explain yourself. “When it landed on the ground, it was open. And I just got curious. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck.” He carded a hand through his already messy hair, and finally he looked up at you.
You sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “You’re so talented, Mattheo. But I don’t understand. Why me? And how the hell do you know all that about me-” The words slipped out before you could stop them, disjointed and fast. But they conveyed the confusion and fear warring inside you; something that you couldn’t have said out loud.
He cut you off, his gaze softening. “I can’t help it. You confuse me. And God, you’re everywhere, in every fucking corner of my brain. The way you smile, your laugh. I’m reminded of you by almost everything I see.” His voice trailed off, and you stayed silent. You didn’t know what to say to that. “I tried ignoring it, I really did. But eventually, I just couldn’t. So I drew; it was the only way I knew how to deal with all these emotions.” His voice broke, and it was like a tangible thing – the rare moment of vulnerability he allowed you to see. You wanted to scoop it up and put it in your pocket. You wanted to be able to save it for later, to be able to pull it out and see it whenever you wanted.
“You know I’m not good with emotions. I’ve never felt these types of things before. But now that I do with you, I don’t understand it,” he whispered, head falling down to look at his lap. “It’s terrifying.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at him wide-eyed and flushed as his words settled over you like a heavy blanket. Perhaps the blanket was made of fire, you didn’t quite know yet. Nor did you know what to say, or how to respond to something that raw and unexpected. All you could do was sit there, trying to connect the personified chaos known as Mattheo Riddle with the boy sitting before you now, one who was vulnerable, honest, and so very human.
“I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’m flattered, Mattheo. But it’s all just so overwhelming,” you confessed, voice hushed. His head snapped up, his dark eyes searching yours, disbelief swimming in them. “It’s just—you're so unpredictable. There’s such a disconnect from what you say you feel and what you do. You act like you don’t care about anything, but then you do something like this,” you nodded to the sketchbook. “You notice things that I didn’t think anyone could. I don’t know how to handle that.”
His lips parted slightly, as if about to say something, but ultimately he decided against it. He stood up and made his way to you, sitting down beside you on the bed. His movements were cautious and measured, as if he was worried he would scare you off.
“I know I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” he started, his voice low and gentle. “At feelings. At being vulnerable with people who actually matter to me.” He stopped, taking a deep breath. He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “But you matter to me, Y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”
His words made your breath catch in your throat, the sincerity in his voice making you feel things it would be impossible to name. You liked this side of him, you wanted to know this side of him more ,and you just wished it weren’t so confusing.
So when you voiced that out loud, he nodded. “Of course. And I’m sorry. It was overwhelming for me, but I want you to know that side of me too. Here,” He said, grabbing the sketchbook from his desk and placing it in your hands. “You don’t have to give it back. If this is too much, you can keep it. Burn it if you want, even. I’ll understand.”
You closed your hands around the book, but blinked at him in confusion. “Why would I burn it?”
“You know… cause it’s weird,” he explained, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, who spends hours drawing a girl he doesn’t have the guts to talk to properly?”
“Mattheo…” His name fell from your lips like a sweet prayer as you chuckled. His eyes snapped to yours, filled with a mix of hope and fear. “It’s okay. It’s overwhelming, sure, but not weird.” You paused and smiled at him. “And honestly? It’s kind of endearing.”
“Really?” He asked you, and you nodded in response.
“You’re incredibly talented, Mattheo. The way you paint the world in this sketchbook of yours,” you placed it in his lap, “the way you paint me, is breathtaking.” With a flushed face, you offered him a smile.
He didn’t say anything for a long while. But eventually, he cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you. It was gentle, reverent almost, but fleeting – gone before you could process what was happening.
“Keep it,” he whispered, his breath brushing against your lips. “I want you to have it. You deserve to see yourself as beautiful as I see you .”
The tension in the air seemed to lift then, the weighted blanket from before dissipating. The air was now filled with something warmer, something quieter, more serene. You felt peaceful now, and the look in his eyes said he felt the same.
You grabbed the notebook from his lap and flipped to a specific page, showing it to him. “This was my favorite of the ones I saw. You even put my favorite flowers in the vase,” you said. He nodded in response, a wide smile on his lips. “I know. That’s why I included them.”
Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always appreciated, and thank you to everyone for all the wonderful support! It truly means the absolute world to me. And as always, let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!
A seemingly innocent and thoughtful gift turns out to have an unexpected surprise.
heheh more fluff! (Can you tell it's my fav to write?), love triangle, lots of impulsivity, slight(?) drugging, characters are adults, mattheo and theo being absolutely whipped, mattheodore?, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, theo nott x fem!reder
w/c: 1k
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a/n: so sorry this took forever to post! got sick and barely got time to sleep between puking sessions, much less write.... ANYWAY, shout out to @leona-hawthorne for proof reading for me!
Mattheo didn’t know how he got himself into this situation. He knew he and Y/n were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. He stayed at school simply to avoid his father, but she refused to give her reason why she decided to stay. The whole thing was weird, especially because she usually looked forward to going home and spending time with her family.
A few days into break, Y/n wanted to help the house elves decorate the Great Hall, and somehow she and her irresistible smile got him to come with her. So imagine his surprise when Theo, of all people, walks into the hall, ready to help her out too. Mattheo didn’t even know that the Italian was staying as well. Did she ask him to help too?
This girl just has the two of them wrapped around her little finger, and she’s so oblivious to that fact that it’s almost infuriating.
So now, the three are scurrying around the huge room, hanging tinsel and putting ornaments on the huge tree. Y/n is occupied with draping garland made of popcorn and cranberries across the evergreen’s branches, with the help of some house elves. Mattheo and Theo got stuck with the job of sorting through old ornaments, with the instructions to throw away any broken baubles they might find. However, a wooden one caught Mattheo’s eye. It was engraved with y/n’s favorite flower, and it was just the perfect gift to give to the girl.
“Psst, Theo,” the brunette hissed, looking around to make sure no one else was within ear shot. Theo turned around, an eyebrow raised. He hummed inquisitively. “You think we can give this to Y/n? She would like this, right?” Mattheo asked, passing the trinket. “You’re better at all the sentimental stuff than me.”
Theo inspected the ornament, nodding. “I think she would. Good find.” He nudged the brunette’s shoulder before waving a house elf over.
The elf assured the two boys that they never use the ornament anyways, and so Theo shoved it in his pocket. “I’ll go put this in our dorm. We’re almost done here anyway, so you guys shouldn’t miss me much. If Y/n asks, just tell her that I’ll see her at dinner, yeah?”
Mattheo noded, and the rest of the time spent decorating flew by. He ended up regretting his decision to help, solely because he didn’t get many chances to be with Y/n. He figured the elves must’ve loved torturing him.
By the time Mattheo got back to his dorm, Theo was pacing around. The Italian had the wooden trinket in his hand, holding it in a vice-like grip.
“You good?” Mattheo asked him, to which Theo responded, “Yeah. Fine. Just jittery. Where's Y/n?”
The brunette gave him a questioning look, but responded nonetheless. “Don’t know for sure, but I would assume her dorm. She said she was tired when we left.” Theo nodded in response, and set the ornament he was holding down, quickly racing out of the shared space. He looked jittery and oddly excited, uncharacteristic of the Italian.
However, Mattheo decided to shrug it off. He picked up the trinket, turning it over in his hands to examine it. This compulsive curiosity began to morph into a full-blown exploration, his mind focused on the girl this gift was meant for. Suddenly, an abrupt wave of confidence washed over him, making him feel unusually warm and tingly.
He set the bauble down, eyes flitting toward the door. Maybe he would go and talk to Y/n too, just to have a little chat. Or better yet, he could admit how he feels. He’s had a thing for her for forever, his mind never failing to wander to more romantic places when in her presence.
His feet moved on his own, carrying him through the castle and to her dorm; and before he knew it, his fist was knocking on her door. It swung open, and he was greeted by a fond smile spreading on her lips when she saw him. He stepped inside, and wasn’t surprised when he saw Theo standing in the room as well.
“Are you here for what I think you are?” Mattheo asked the other boy, to which Theo nodded. “Mhm. I just told her I love her.”
The other boy’s bluntness surprised Mattheo a bit, since indelicate and direct comments were usually the brunette’s forte. It must just be an odd day.
“Well,” Mattheo gently took Y/n’s hand, getting her attention, “I feel the same way about you that Theo does. I love you, darling. You’ve been such a bright light in my life.”
Her eyes went wide with surprise, and she went still. Mouth floundering a bit, the girl struggled to form a response. The boys noticed and chuckled, Theo reassuring her. “I'm not sure about Mattheo, but I know I’m not going to make you choose. I just want a chance.”
Mattheo nodded in agreement. “God no, I wouldn’t dream of putting you through that stress.” Y/n relaxed a bit at that comment, but she was still a bit weary, due to their odd and overly impulsive behavior.
“You guys are always a bit reckless, Mattheo especially.” She gives him a little nudge. “But what’s up with you two?”
They both shrug. “Dunno. Just got you this present, which made me think about you a ton. I guess thinking about you so much made me want to tell you?” Theo guesses. “I felt the same way. Hey- did you get that weird rush when you held it too?” Mattheo queried, now invested.
“Weird rush? What, was it laced with liquid luck?” Y/n asks with a laugh, albeit a slightly apprehensive one. Her comment earned shocked looks from the boys, quickly followed by laughter.
“That’s it! I didn’t think much of the weird giddiness, though I should have,” Theo said between laughs.
“Nor of the sudden rush of confidence,” Mattheo agrees, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “We should get her a new gift, huh?”
Theo nodded in agreement, and the group laughed about it for a while. The boys certainly didn’t hear the end of their accidental potion mishap for quite some time, Y/n teasing them about it relentlessly.
Thank you all for your patience while I've been sick! I'm not too happy with this, but I needed to get it out lollll <3
tag list: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink
sexual themes (so 18+), an incubus is literally a demon, I am not responsible for your media consumption.
Incubus!Mattheo who, unlike common folklore stories, would rather not take advantage of sleeping women. He wants them fully consenting.
Incubus!Mattheo who uses his otherworldly handsomeness to seduce women, and eventually fuck them.
Incubus!Mattheo who is a total munch. He needs sex to survive, after all; so he might as well make sure his partner is enjoying herself.
Incubus!Mattheo who isn't a total monster, not having intercourse with a woman more than twice because he knows it could cause serious harm, or even kill her.
Incubus!Mattheo who finds it utterly hilarious when men ask him how he gets laid so often.
Incubus!Mattheo whose deep, rumbly voice and honeyed words capture every woman's attention.
Incubus!Mattheo whose heart breaks and soul shatters when he realizes that the one woman he wants most -- you -- would be seriously harmed by being with him.
Mattheo Riddle would be the type of man to despise silence. It reminds him of the eeriness that encompassed his childhood home. The long, dark hallways where every creaking floorboard could hint at upcoming doom. The cold draft that always seemed to follow him, no matter where he went in the manor. The whisper of the thin curtains flowing by the window in the parlor. The smell of dust and something ancient. Now, when silence falls upon him, he's overcome with the need to fill it. Whether that’s with words, music, or the tap of his fingers against wood; no matter what, he finds a way.
Incubus!Mattheo is the kind of mythological creature to stray from common folklore. He's seductive, sharp-tongued, and deadly. His sweet words enrapture every woman he sets his eyes on, but his touch is pointed like a knife, and his presence alone is enough to kill.
