*The first time he layed eyes on you, he was fascinated. Beautiful. And hot. But it wasn’t that. It was the way you carried yourself. The aura that swirled around you. The way the scent of vanilla and pure innocence filled his nostrils when he walked past you. It was something that reminded him of you. And only you. It made him curious that you had no idea what beauty you carried with yourself. Not that kind of beauty. Another kind. The one you can’t describe.

It took him twelve seconds to figure out that he would make you his. In every way possible… And it didn’t take him too long. I mean c‘mon. He is Mattheo Riddle. A party, a few joints. He had you wrapped around his finger. You thought that it was just a casual hookup. A cute little relationship. Well— wrong.

It was an obsession for him. You were his. He was addicted. When he touched you it was better than any drug he took. A shiver ran down his spine when he heard your name. He was only satisfied when you showed him affection. He beat up any asshole in this goddamn castle who even dared to look at you. He would make out with you in party’s whenever a boy looked into your direction. Everybody could know. And everybody did know that you were his. And only his.

But that was stuff normal teenage boys would do. He was just being a good boyfriend, right?