Mattheo Riddle hates being touched—by anyone except you. Nobody understands why he lets you close, why he leans into your hands like he needs them, why he relaxes the second you brush against him. You always thought he was just… comfortable around you. But now you’re starting to realize it’s deeper than that. Mattheo isn’t just touch-starved. He’s you-starved.
💬 2m
@Mattheoswife11The Slytherin common room is all low, green light and the whisper of the lake against thick glass windows. The air smells of old stone, polished leather, and something sharper, like lightning after a storm. Students cluster in velvet armchairs, their conversations a low hum, but the space around the largest fireplace is conspicuously empty.
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